Wednesday's Child

grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrra;lwk;drn;aksjdn;knfjewofiUZpoc iuvJNAlkxrn;lFJAD;LFJ

easier_to_run416@yahoo.com — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 01:18:49 GMT

I NEED ADAM LAMBERT'S ALBUM RIGHT THE FUCK NOW. THESE GLIMPSES AND TEASERS ARE JUST NOT DOING IT FOR ME ANYMORE, OKAY, AND TEN DAYS IS A LONG FUCKING TIME WHEN YOU'RE WAITING FOR SOMETHING WITH BAITED BREATH.

NGHERESA;SLKDFRN;AWNDCNANCVA;SLKDJRKJALJDSLNDMANSFSDJF;AJS;LDF;AQW;EOR;ANDV;JZDPIUFPOAINER;KNA;SDKJV;AJSDFKBAKDHFV;LKJASD;LKJF;LANSKRDBKQWJEFPOIUDOC IH;AJSBDFKBAWKJER;KJWEBRLKJBASLKDHJVOSHUDVBPOUADSOFJLKWABELRKJQHWEOIUFPOAUDBLKAJDVP;lkja;dslknflkanewr;had;ofiboajsndnfrqw;er;alfdv;obaodfja;lsnfd;lqrew

SORRY HAD TO DO SOMETHING TO RELIEVE THE UNHOLY PRESSURE. THE ANTICIPATION IS KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILLING ME.

just one thing

easier_to_run416@yahoo.com — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 05:25:12 GMT

I only have one thing to say regarding the most recent episode of Supernatural:

LOL

But something else regarding the preview of next week's:

DNW (Dean/Jo)

the little bitch i am

easier_to_run416@yahoo.com — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 21:23:46 GMT

Even though I know Jared's going to die, I'm still going to cry like a stupid little bitch when it happens. I like him, dammit!

Also, God, the whole show has been fucking amazing this week. I'm not even sorry Kish isn't on today, how wild is that? I fucking love this show!

big bang theory = WIN

easier_to_run416@yahoo.com — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 02:59:04 GMT

Oh my god, Sheldon! ILU SO MUCH. IT IS BEYOND WORDS HOW ADORBS YOU ARE.

He's so cute that I want to adopt him. Not even kidding, I hope I have a child just like him.

wut?!

easier_to_run416@yahoo.com — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 20:56:49 GMT

HOLY SHIT, WHAT THE CRAP WAS THAT?

O.o

WTFOMGLOLYAY!!!!!~

easier_to_run416@yahoo.com — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 01:46:48 GMT

Holy crap! Sherlock Holmes! Movie!

YES!

things i would really like to have, ranked highest priority to lowest

easier_to_run416@yahoo.com — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 20:30:10 GMT

1. $500,000 or more
2. A job I don't passionately hate
3. A new battery for my car
4. T1 broadband
5. An iPhone
6. All 40 bajillion volumes of Naruto manga. Like, the actual books that I could read in the bathtub if I wanted to. Which I totally would.
7. The courage/means to just move to New York City and lose myself there.
8. An attention span longer than 2 seconds

You know that question that's always asked on every single personality test: Would you rather have 1,000,000 dollars or find true love? I always always always pick the money. I don't even care if that makes me shallow. True love is for the movies, and I could do a lot with a million bucks.

10 websites I love in no particular order.

easier_to_run416@yahoo.com — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 16:46:48 GMT

1. http://xkcd.com
2. http://rageprufrock.dreamwidth.org
3. http://www.gamefaqs.com/
4. http://silentreaper.deviantart.com/
5. http://delicious.com
6. http://flyff.gpotato.com/
7. http://fleetingfancies.nokoru.net
8. http://sekra.deviantart.com/
9. http://www.televisionwithoutpity.com/show/american-idol/recaps.php
10. http://recapist.com/tv-shows/torchwood

I realize that everyone doesn't have to agree with me...

easier_to_run416@yahoo.com — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 16:17:21 GMT

...but life would be so much less stressful, if they did.

I was thinking earlier, and I would be fucking awesome as an absolute dictator. Control freak--check! Idealist--check! Would definitely give my family members positions of authority--check! My dictatorship would be the best dictatorship that ever failed. It would be epic. I'd probably be assassinated and that would be so cool. If I had to pick a way to die, assassination would be at the very top of my list. Right along with poisoning, trapped in a room filled with carbon monoxide, and ODing on sleeping pills.

Wow, we are in a morbid mood today, aren't we?

Sorry folks.

Delicious Potato Soup

easier_to_run416@yahoo.com — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 23:41:50 GMT

We had this tonight, so it occured to me to share. I have a big family, so this makes enough to feed almost an entire infantry division. (Seriously though, about twenty bowls full). Also, I'm not a big fan of measuring (and by now I don't have to) so these are rough guestimates more than anything else. Don't be afraid to improvise or experiment--that's how I perfected it! It's just the perfect quick, easy, and hot soup to make on a cold day.

Creamy Potato Soup

Prep time: about 20 min
Cook Time: about 30 min

Ingredients:

5 lbs potatoes, peeled, diced and rinsed
1 medium onion, diced
1 bag frozen chopped broccoli (or fresh broccoli. whichever)
2-3 stalks celery, diced
10 oz. diced ham
3 tbsp ham base powder
2 c. milk or water
3/4 c. white flour
2 tbsp melted butter
salt and pepper

Instructions:

First put a large pot half-filled with water on to boil. Add potatoes, onion, broccoli, celery, ham, and ham base. Cook until potatoes are soft. In another bowl mix milk or water and flour until flour is completely dissolved (I use a whisk), then add to the potatoes, veggies and ham. Cook about ten minutes longer. The soup will thicken as it cooks. (If you like a thinner soup add less flour, if you like a thicker soup add more--but you probably knew that :D) Salt and pepper to taste, and you have a nice, homemade soup that should have taken less than an hour to make!

OLTL Fic: The Kennedy Controversy

easier_to_run416@yahoo.com — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 23:11:59 GMT

~~(I need a Kish Icon D:)~~

Fandom: One Life to Live

Title: The Kennedy Controversy

Pairing: Kyle/Oliver

Author:ashleigh_lin

Rating: NC-17
Warning: kid!fic, but then that's canon

Word Count: 5,000+

Summary: “I don’t want to take her from you! I’m a part of her, Stacy, whether you like it or not. I’ve already missed months of her life; I just want a chance to know her.”

tl;dr Author’s Note: I tried to tone down my bitch-face in regards to Stacy, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t totally succeed. A lot of things I wanted in here didn’t make it because I couldn’t find room—some of it I still find a bit awkward because I had to force it to fit. Some parts might be a little dry or boring because my major ruined me and now I have to compulsively research things I put in a story to make sure I’m getting it right. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. I enjoyed writing it. Also: Unbetaed, so all mistakes are belong to me.

His palms wouldn’t stop sweating, no matter how many times he wiped them on the ill-fitting trousers. The entire suit hung awkwardly on his frame; too large at the waist, too small at the shoulders, and the pants were just slightly too long, but it served its purpose well enough. He tensed to stand, to start pacing again, to do something with the restless energy inside him that refused to dissipate. A hand landed on his knee, gentle and quelling at the same time; asking him to stay put rather than demanding it. He looked over at Kyle. He couldn’t muster a smile, but he linked their fingers and squeezed to let his partner know he appreciated his presence. Téa, on his other side, probably appreciated it too, bless her. She’d been a God send, not least because of her patience with him. That, however, was only one reason he would be eternally in her debt.

()()()()()()()()()()()()

“Miss Delgado? I’m Oliver Fish, we talked on the phone.”

The professional, severe-looking lady behind the desk was a far cry from the desperate, almost panicked woman he’d attempted to restrain at the long-ago press conference. She sat back and gazed at him coolly for a moment. Oliver submitted to her regard, and mostly resisted the urge to squirm. Finally she sat forward and clasped her hands on top of the desk. “Have a seat Mr. Fish.”

He did so, keeping to the edge of the chair.

“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? You can’t afford me,” she said bluntly.

“I’ve spoken with the bank—” Oliver began stiffly.

“However,” Téa interrupted with a sharp glare, “I find the circumstances of this case as you outlined them…unique, to say the least. I’m willing to waive my customary retainer and hourly fee. You’ll still pay court and litigation costs, but those are relatively inexpensive, considering. They’re still a bit steep, because I don’t come cheap, but not enough to break you,”

Oliver blinked. “W-why?” he finally managed when he could speak again.

“Truthfully? I want it. It’s an interesting case, as well as extremely controversial. The press is going to be all over it. I’ll receive recognition just for taking it—when I win, I’ll be renowned. What I lose in waiving the fee for you I’ll make up a hundred times over with the clients I’ll gain on the basis of notoriety,” Téa shrugged. “It’s a compromise I’m willing and happy to live with,”

Oliver didn’t understand a lot of that and wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to. He focused on the part most relevant to his interests. “You think you can win?”

Téa's grin resembled nothing so much as a crocodile. “She’s an ex-stripper who lied, coerced, extorted, and sometimes used illegal narcotics to get her way. I don’t think I can win—I know I will.”

Ironically, her confidence humbled him. All he could manage around the lump in his throat was a simple “Thank you.”

“No thanks are necessary, Mr. Fish—Oliver. I stand to benefit from this arrangement as much, if not more than, you do.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you—not for what you’ll be giving me if you win. I’m not talking about money, Ms. Delgado.”

It was nothing quantifiable, but Téa seemed to soften then, ever so slightly. “Please, call me Téa,” she requested and held out her hand.

Oliver took it.

()()()()()()()()()()()()

Téa had previously explained that as a case involving a minor, the hearing would be closed. The only non-court officials allowed in the court room at all times were the parents and the lawyers. He missed the calming presence of Kyle like a limb, but he understood why he couldn’t be present. He told himself he had to believe in the system he dedicated his life to. He had to trust that it would do the fair thing.

“All rise,” the bailiff called. “The honorable Judge Lucas presiding.” The judge emerged and took his seat behind the bench. “Take your seats,”

Oliver looked across the room to Stacy. Her lawyer had apparently advised her that she needed to clean up for the hearing, because the stylish suit she wore was a drastic departure from her usual wardrobe. She caught his eye with an unreadable gaze for a moment before her lawyer commanded her attention and gave a sharp shake of his head.

Oliver spared a moment of regret that they hadn’t been able to settle this in mediation. He’d never wanted it to come to this, but she’d forced his hand.

()()()()()()()()()()()()

“Mr. Stanton, if I were you I would advise my client to take this more than generous offer.” Téa said. “Alternating weekdays and weekends, with Mr. Fish taking care of all transportation costs and offering voluntary child support seems very liberal of him considering the circumstances and Miss Morasco’s track record,”

The lawyer looked like he’d probably agreed, but Stacy, apparently, didn’t, “No way in hell. Supervised visits once a week is the deal: take it or leave it.”

Oliver, who’d been silent throughout the session, rose to his feet. “Roxy told Kyle that Rex has been looking after Kennedy. She said you go out with your friend almost every night. She said that you can barely stand to hold her. Stacy, I want my daughter.”

Stacy’s face contorted and she hissed, “She’s my kid. Mine. You are not taking her away from me!”

“I don’t want to take her from you! But I’m a part of her, Stacy, whether you like it or not. I’ve already missed months of her life; I just want a chance to know her.”

Stacy sat back in her chair and stared up at him defiantly. She wasn’t going to give an inch. If she’d agreed on weekends he would have taken it, but she wouldn’t budge. It was the last mediation before the trial date; the last chance for a peaceful custody settlement. If he did not agree to her terms he would have to fight her. There wasn’t really a choice.

“I’ll see you in court,” he said flatly, and waited until she flounced from the room before burying his head in his hands.

()()()()()()()()()()()

The judge asked for the opening statements, and Téa stood. “Your Honor, I represent Mr. Oliver Fish, in his petition for custody of his child. Through the testimonies of friends and coworkers I will establish his status as an upstanding citizen of Llanview, an exemplary law enforcement officer, and his fitness as a potential custodial guardian. I hope to convince the court, as I am convinced, that the child would be best served if the court granted sole custody of the child to Mr. Fish. Thank you, Your Honor.”

After Stacy’s lawyer made his own opening statement, Téa called Kyle as the first witness. He offered Oliver a smile from the stand, after he swore to tell the truth. He answered Téa’s questions calmly, and didn’t flinch as she brought up his less-than-stellar past; his part in his sister’s machinations and the DNA fraud he’d helped commit with Stacy and Roxy. Then she subtly began steering him to the present: He was in medical school again, wasn’t he? Didn’t he perform community service above and beyond what he’d been ordered to by the court; volunteering with the local LGBT group, and participating in blood drives and other events at the hospital? Wasn’t he in a committed relationship with the petitioner—hadn’t they, in fact, participated in a commitment ceremony and filed for a formal civil partnership?

“Mr. Lewis, have you ever had a chance to observe Mr. Fish with his daughter?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What is he like with her?”

“Oliver loves Kennedy. I mean, it’s obvious whenever he looks at her or talks about her or even thinks about her. He’s smitten. He carries about a hundred pictures of her in his wallet and he shows them off whenever he gets the chance. You think it’d be funny watching a grown man go so completely, insanely gaga over a baby, but it’s not. When he holds her he gets this look on his face, like he’s delighted and terrified at the same time, yet completely in his element. She adores him. Oliver’s good with kids, but it’s on a whole other level with Kennedy. If she’s crying, all he has to do is pick her up and she quiets right down, and she’ll smile or go back to sleep in no time. When he comes in the room, she’s instantly happy and laughing. If anyone else had told me that’s how it was I would have thought they were exaggerating, but I’ve seen it myself. It's amazing.”

Téa smiled. “Thank you Mr. Lewis. I’m finished with this witness, Your Honor,”

Stacy’s lawyer was ruthless. And as he watched his partner, his lover, his best friend do this for him; recount events that still caused him pain and shame, Oliver thought he might burst with pride and awe that he was able to share his life with such an amazing person. Kyle might not have been thrilled at first, but he’d refused to let Oliver withdraw when he might have, and he’d come to love Kennedy as much as Oliver. did.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

“What?” Kyle asked blankly.

“Stacy’s baby. She’s mine. It must have happened the night Layla broke up with me. I was a mess. My parents were due any day, and I was desperate to prove I was straight. I got drunk and slept with her; I don’t even remember it. Kyle, I’m so sorry.” Oliver was near tears. His shock was all mixed up with guilt, because he knew this had to be hurting Kyle… and then there was elation, because the one thing he wanted that he never thought he’d have was a child. But he’d never wanted it at the cost of Kyle. Their relationship was strong, with a foundation of love and built with the knowledge that that love had survived, intact, the very worst one another had to offer. But there was still some residual hurt on both sides that they’d been working through with counseling, and Oliver wondered if that foundation could survive Stacy and a baby.

“I need some air,” Kyle said, still with that blank stare. He moved to the coat rack.

Oliver reached out, “Wait, Kyle I—”

Kyle jerked away. “Don’t. I have to think about this. I’ll be…back.” The door didn’t slam; that was the most frightening part.

Kyle didn’t return until one A.M.; Oliver had waited up. He sat bent over, head in hands. He looked up through red eyes, though he knew Kyle couldn’t see. “I’ll move out,” he said quietly. “The rent’s paid up until January. I can go stay with Cristian and Layla until I find my own place.”

“What the hell are you…? Wait. No way. No way are you leaving me, you jerk.”

“This is too much to put on you. I should have…”

“Should have what? Made sure no one was passing your kid off as someone else’s before we got together? C’mon Oliver, there’s no way you could’ve known. I assume you asked her when you found out she was pregnant and she lied to you?” Kyle crouched down in front of him.

Oliver nodded miserably. “Still, it’s too much. You shouldn’t have to do this, it’s not fair.”

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but life’s not fair. I mean, no, this isn’t how I would have chosen for us to have kids, but this is what happened. I don’t blame you, I’m not angry with you, and I’m sure as hell not letting you leave over it. This is what couples do, Oliver. We deal with each other’s shit until we can’t separate whose is whose. Not that I’m saying a baby is shit. But they do shit. Poop. I suppose I’ll have to start watching my language, huh?”

Oliver laughed, but it sounded watery even to him. “I love you. I love you so much. I don’t deserve you after everything I’ve put you through.”

“Oliver, I’ve warned you several times about quoting punk-pop lyrics to me.” Kyle crawled up beside him and they huddled together. “I love you, too,” he whispered. “Don’t tell anyone,”

“Who’d believe me?” They sat quietly in the dark for a while. “What are we gonna do?” Oliver asked eventually.

“We’re gonna deal with it, each day at a time. We can start with you figuring out what you want.”

“I want her,” he admitted. “It’s weird. This afternoon I didn’t even know I had a kid, but now I love her so much I can’t breathe. She’s beautiful, Kyle.”

“Well, she gets that from her dad, I’m sure,”

Oliver snorted. “You’re the pretty one,” he argued.

“Yeah, I am aren’t I?”

“You!” Oliver growled. He tipped Kyle onto his back and crawled over him. “I want her,” he whispered. “But right now, I want you,”

“You’ve got me,” Kyle said, all traces of humor gone from his voice and his shadowed face. “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere,” he tipped his head up, offering his mouth and Oliver took it. Over the past year, he’d learned how to take everything Kyle offered, and he’d learned how to give back. He’d keep learning as long as Kyle wanted to teach him.

()()()()()()()()()()()()

Rex came next, then Gigi, Roxy, and Schuyler. Other than Roxy, their testimonies had little to do with Oliver, and everything to do with Stacy’s dubious character. Afterward Layla, Cristian, and a parade of Oliver’s coworkers—even John McBain—testified on his behalf. Oliver was touched by how many people turned up to tell the court he was a good person. Some of the cops even had stories about times Oliver had demonstrated his rapport with children while at work.

“Dispatch got a call about a domestic disturbance. When we arrived on the scene, the front door was open and a man was screaming at a woman, in the kitchen. The woman was beat up pretty bad. We subdued the man and found out from the woman that there was a little boy somewhere in the house. She’d told him to run and hide. We found him in a closet; by then another squad car and bus had shown up. All of us took turns trying to coax him out, but he wouldn’t budge from that closet. We didn’t know if he was hurt, so we were about to send in a paramedic to pull him out, but here comes Fish, talking all soft and calm, and darned if that kid didn’t come out in a minute flat. Wouldn’t talk to anyone but Fish, either. And Fish took a vacation day to stay with the kid at the hospital till his mother was cleared, then he drove ‘em home. There’s not a man I’ve ever met, including myself—and I got four—that’d make a better father than Oliver Fish, no matter who he chooses to spend his life with.”

Then it was Stacy’s lawyer’s turn. They only had one witness: Kimberly Andrews, who came off as belligerent as she always did. When it was her turn, Téa picked her apart, and Oliver could see the suppressed smirk on her face while she did it.

After that, the judge called the social worker, Lisa Walters, who’d been assigned to their case to give her testimony. She would not be questioned by either counsel; instead she would give her testimony, then Judge Lucas would question her for additional information if it was required.

“I conducted five random visits to both Miss Morasco’s and Mr. Fish’s residences: once to inspect the respective environments, once to observe each unit without the child, and three more to observe each unit with the child. Miss Morasco’s residence has adequate. She shares a two bedroom apartment with Miss Andrews. Each of the adults has her own room, while the child has a crib in Miss Morasco’s room. On the first visit, the house was immaculate, however on subsequent visits the house was in severe disarray. I observed what appeared to be several days’ worth of dishes in the sink, several days’ worth of laundry in the bathroom, and clothing scattered around the house. I observed no toys suitable for an infant in the residence. In the kitchen I found an adequate supply of formula, but most of the food in the cupboards and refrigerator qualified as “junk.” Upon answering the door, Miss Morasco appeared surprised and throughout my inspection, insisted that if I’d warned her I was coming she would have cleaned up.

“In my observations of Miss Morasco and the child, the mother rarely set the baby down, but neither did she appear to engage with her. If the child cried, Miss Morasco would methodically check the diaper, try to feed her, and change positions until the child stopped crying. If the child did not cease, Miss Morasco became flustered and embarrassed. On these occasions, the child would not stop crying until she fell asleep, and Miss Morasco would then lay her down in her crib.”

“And Mr. Fish?” Judge Lucas prompted.

()()()()()()()()()()()

They’d spent weeks looking for the right place. Finally, they’d found it: a three-bedroom, two and a half bath townhouse in a gay-friendly neighborhood. In fact, their next door neighbors were a lesbian couple raising two children. By begging and pleading and threatening their friends into helping, they got moved in and unpacked over the course of a Saturday and Sunday.

Oliver was tired, but happy, standing in the doorway of the room that would be Kennedy’s. “It should be pink,” he’d said, and Kyle and Layla had outright laughed at him. Neither he, nor Roxy, nor Cristian had got it.

“Come on, let’s get cleaned up. You stink,” and before he could take offense to that, Kyle pulled him out of the incipient nursery and down the hall. In the bathroom, they stripped each other and showered together until the water ran cold. When they landed on the bed, Kyle above him, they were both desperate, mouths crashing together, tongues tangling until they were panting and dizzy from sharing breath.

“I love you,” Oliver said and groaned when Kyle sat up and made Oliver watch as he slid two slick fingers inside himself. He loved and hated this. On one hand, he wanted to do it, to feel Kyle squeeze and come apart from the inside out; on the other hand, it was really, extraordinarily hot watching Kyle squirm and writhe on his own fingers, moaning, eyes going glassy with arousal. Rather than choose, Oliver decided he should have both, reaching down and pushing one then two of his own digits in alongside Kyle’s. He could get a deeper reach, and when Oliver found and fondled Kyle’s prostate, he gasped and lurched, pulling his own fingers out and grabbing Oliver’s shoulder for support.

“Oh God!” Kyle moaned, thrusting back trying to get Oliver’s fingers where he needed them. “Come on, come on, do it. Please, Oliver, I can’t, inside me, get in me,”

Oliver loved this Kyle, the one that was so far gone on lust and desire that he couldn’t censor what came out of his mouth. He babbled and the pleas and demands that left his mouth were filthy and hot and made Oliver burn.

He was burning now. It was always like this with Kyle, even when it was sweet and slow he still felt like he was being burned alive from his gut and spreading outward. The need that wouldn’t be banked, the current of electricity that ran just underneath the skin, it all served to make him almost frantic.

He wanted to let Kyle ride him, but he didn’t think he had the patience for it that night. Kyle always had to go slow at first, to acclimate himself to the deeper, more intense angle, but Oliver felt like he would die if he didn’t get inside his lover in the next second, so he pulled his fingers free, flipped them over, pushed Kyle’s legs up and apart and thrust into him.

It was tight and wet, and Oliver still wanted, and Kyle was still making hungry, growly noises and shifting impatiently, but now that Oliver was where he needed to be the urgency was fading.

“Oliver, if you don’t move in the next two seconds they will never find your body.”

Oliver sat up and grinned down and the only man he could ever imagine loving. “I think I can do that.” He leaned down and kissed that pretty mouth as he pulled out, out almost all the way…then slid back in slowly.

Kyle whined, when Oliver did it again. “This…is not what I had in mind.” His voice sounded strangled and guttural. He was shaking, almost vibrating. Oliver thrust in three times, quick, sharp, shallow, at the perfect angle and Kyle threw his head back arching up, trying to set a rhythm, but Oliver stopped again.

He took it slow, building them all the way up then keeping them there, right on the edge, until he couldn’t take it anymore himself; until Kyle was thrashing and cursing. As he finally set up a real rhythm he reached down and began jerking Kyle’s neglected cock in time, and that was it. He felt Kyle arch and come shoot into his hand, but he’d closed his eyes as his orgasm ripped through him. When he found the strength to open them, spots danced across his vision.

He knew he must be crushing Kyle, but it was a few seconds before he could roll onto his side and off his lover. When he looked over he saw Kyle hadn’t minded; he was sound asleep.

()()()()()()()()()()()

“The child has her own room in Mr. Fish and his partner’s residence. Each of the time I visited, the house was neat and orderly. I was only able to observe Mr. Lewis with the child once, but he seemed comfortable with caring for her the time I did observe. Mr. Fish was attentive with the child and engaged her with speech and games. The child cried only when she was hungry or uncomfortable with her diaper. In the presence of Mr. Fish she appeared bright and happy. Though she was often held in my presence, Mr. Fish and his partner put her down for a nap whenever she seemed tired. In her room there are a number of objects to attract the attention of an infant. The child seemed to particularly enjoy the mobile above her bed,”

()()()()()()()()()()()

After a thousand painstaking arguments, Oliver finally caved in his insistence that Kennedy’s room be pink. Instead, they’d agreed on Sea Foam green with white trim. He had to say it went well with the hand-crafted furniture set his father had gifted them with. His excitement over having a granddaughter sort of blurred his disapproval.

“What do you think?” Kyle asked when the paint had dried and the furniture was set up. The mobile over the crib featured (pink) cartoonish animals—Kyle’s fond concession to Oliver’s obsession with the color pink.

“I think it needs Kennedy.”

“Well, duh. But it’s nice, right? Good enough?”

“Yeah, it’s beautiful.” Oliver wasn’t looking at the decór. Kyle had a white smudge on his right cheekbone and green flecks all over his face and hair and clothes. He was wearing overalls and a once-white dress shirt. If he’d ever looked more adorable Oliver couldn’t remember when. And the softly pleased expression on his face only added to the picture.

Oliver suffered a random fit of uncertainty. “You want this right? You’re not having second thoughts about having Kennedy here?” he asked anxiously.

“What? No! I want her here. Really, Oliver. She’s yours. And what’s yours is mine, remember?” Kyle delivered it like a joke, but his expression said otherwise. It said. ‘I want her, too,’ and it filled Oliver with so much love and gratitude for this amazing man that it caught in his throat.

“Thank you, I love you, you’re fantastic,” he said, tugging Kyle to him and burying his face in his shoulder. Kyle wrapped his arms around Oliver and sighed.

“You’re hopeless. I love you, too,” he said and pecked Oliver on the forehead.

()()()()()()()()()()()

“What is your recommendation, Ms. Walters?”

“From my observations, Mr. Fish seems to be best equipped to care for an infant. I recommend the child be placed with him for the time being,”

“Thank you, Ms. Walters. You may step down.”

The social worker left the court room and the judge regarded each of the four people left.

“I have made my decision. It is not the usual practice of this court to separate a child from his or her mother if it can be avoided.” He gave Oliver a severe, but not unkind look. “I have read the transcripts from the mediations, and I agree that Mr. Fish took the only course of action left to him. Miss Morasco, his offers have been extraordinarily generous. Why did you reject them?”

Stacy’s mouth was open, but she couldn’t seem to speak. “I-I didn’t want—I wanted—I don’t know Your Honor,” she admitted in a small voice.

“I’m afraid it is too late now, my dear. I am awarding custody to Mr. Fish, with visitation by Miss Morasco to be decided at his discretion. Court adjourned,” he banged his gavel and left the room.

Oliver stood up and scooped Téa up into a bone-crushing hug. “Thank you,” he said fervently. “I can never, ever thank you enough, no matter what you say,”

“You’re welcome, Oliver. Go on. Get your daughter, I’ll take care of things here.”

Oliver didn’t even bother to pretend to argue. He found Kyle on his way out and grabbed his sleeve. “I won. We won,” he said, hardly able to believe it.

Kyle threw himself at Oliver, laughing. “What the hel…ck. What the heck are we waiting for? Let’s go,”

“Oliver, wait!”

It was Stacy.

“Stacy, I want you to know that I’ll never keep her from you. Any time you want to see her, all you have to do is call, I’ll bring her to you or you can come—”

“I’m going to school!” She blurted out.

“You’re—what?”

“I got my acceptance letter yesterday. It’s a dance school in California. I’m going. My flight leaves tonight,”

“You’re not taking her,” Oliver said. His voice was hard; uncompromising. In this, he would stand firm.

“I know. I’ve been stupid. And I’m sorry. The truth is that I can't be a good mother to her right now. Not as I am. I wanted her for all the wrong reasons and when my plans fell apart I resented her for it. I love her, but I can’t be what she needs. You can. You and Kyle. I hope when she’s older she’ll be able to forgive me. I hope she understands that I only wanted what was best for her.”

“Why did you fight today?” This whole conversation was so surreal, Oliver was having a hard time wrapping his head around it.

“I don't know. I wanted to know I was doing the right thing? And maybe a little because I didn't want to make the choice. But I don't have any doubts; not anymore. She's with Rex, you can pick her up at his apartment. Um, I know I don't have any right to ask but...Rex really loves her. Maybe you could let him...?”

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, of course. He's welcome to visit her anytime. I'll tell him,"

"Take care of her. And take care of yourself too. You're a good man. And you'll be a good dad. She's lucky to have you," She touched his arm, smiled; then she walked away.

“Huh,” Kyle said, and it was amazing how much confusion and skepticism he communicated with just that small sound.

“Yeah. Weird. I hope she does…whatever it is she needs to do. Get's her head on straight,"

"I guess," Kyle didn't sound convinced.

They fought their way through the throng of reporters to the car, Oliver chanting “No comment,” to the persistent microphones they kept sticking in his face. He hoped their novelty with the press would wear off soon.

They picked up Kennedy from Rex and took her home. Their home. Her home, finally. They unplugged the phones and kept the television off for the rest of the day; instead they passed the time playing with their daughter. It was…it was great. Really great. Kyle looked at her like Oliver did; it was something he’d never really noticed before. He did now, and he hadn’t thought he could love Kyle anymore but he’d been so wrong.

That night, Oliver watched Kennedy sleep until his vision started to swim. The exhaustion and stress of the day were catching up to him. Somehow Kyle knew just the right moment to pull him to bed. He was asleep within seconds—after checking to make sure the baby monitor was on, of course.

()()()()()()()()()()

“Do you want to hold her?” Rex asked. He looked a little harried. The child was screaming her poor lungs out. She sure made a lot of noise for something so small.

“Uh, sure,”

Oliver knew how to hold babies, but he nearly dropped her when Rex set her in his arms and she almost quieted almost instantly.

“Oh my God!” Rex moaned in near ecstasy, and let his head drop to the Formica counter of the diner. “Blessed silence.” He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “How’d you do that? She never shuts up when she starts wailing like that.”

Oliver shrugged slightly. He couldn’t stop staring down at her. It was strange, like a piece of a puzzle clicking into place. There was an instant recognition, a spark of familiarity he’d never felt before. ‘I know you.’ The child was staring up at him with curious eyes he somehow knew were always going to be that vibrant shade of baby blue.

“What’s her name?” he asked softly.

“Kennedy Renee Balsom.” Rex said proudly.

“Hi Kennedy. Hey sweetie, you’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

“Isn’t she gorgeous?”

At first he thought it was Rex, but it came from the wrong direction. He forced himself to look up and found Kyle on the stool on his other side, watching him with a soft smile.

“Yep. So are you.”

He leaned forward and kissed Kyle’s smile with his own.

/End

I already have a part two brewing. What is my life?

oh my god so tired

easier_to_run416@yahoo.com — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 11:25:38 GMT

*moans* Oh my god. Just finished writing a 5000 word Kish oneshot. Will edit when I wake up from my coma. Bed. Now. Sleepy.

Beta offers wouldn't be out of place, but I don't know if I'll take them up.

jfc adam. jfc. way to troll america dude

easier_to_run416@yahoo.com — Sat, 31 Oct 2009 03:56:28 GMT

Adam. You are. Wow. Just. Goddamn.

I seriously have nothing coherent to say. Even if it wasn't Adam and I wasn't therefore predestined to love it, I still would because OMG THE LYRICS. THE MUSIC. THE MOTHERFUCKING SEX OOZING FROM EVERY MOTHERFUCKING NOTE.

I don't think you understand. This song makes me want to write hardcore BDSM with spankings from a holey wooden paddle, and leather cuffs, and biting just to the brink of drawing blood, and "get on your knees and suck me bitch".

Dude, I barely like to read BDSM, so yeah. Weird.

oh god no

easier_to_run416@yahoo.com — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 02:26:31 GMT

Oh god no. Brad. No.

I am sitting here, literally sobbing my eyes out right now right now. Oh my god.

THIS IS WHY I FUCKING HATE CHARACTER DEATH. GOD. DAMMIT.

Seriously. I cannot deal. Oh my fucking god.

:/

easier_to_run416@yahoo.com — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 04:47:12 GMT

So, a little late on the uptake here, but today was the first I've had a listen to Adam Lambert's new song. You know, the one for that disaster movie that I'm going to enjoy the crap out of because, hello! disaster movie + John Cusack = :D Time for Miracles that's it!

I hate it.

Now wait. His voice is as awesome as ever but omg that song. It's just. I cannot even describe how awful this song is. It's big and blustery and so empty. God, it's so freaking empty. And I'm not one of those people who only likes songs with meaningful lyrics, okay. Paparazzi, Know When to Walk Away, any song by JLC. Those don't make sense. They're just random phrases jumbled together. And yet I love them, because they're held together by something. The music, or the sense that the singer knows what he or she is singing about, even if the lyrics don't actually say it.

I don't get that from Time for Miracles. It's like eating popcorn. No matter how much you eat, you're still hungry twenty minutes later. Ultimately unsatisfying.

People have been pussyfooting around it, going, "Well...it's, you know, big. Big is good. We like big."

No. I don't. Not when the big thing is a pile of shit on my new beige rug, I don't.

I can't wait for his real first single.

jonathan jackson

easier_to_run416@yahoo.com — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 19:54:12 GMT

First thing, I LOVE HIM SO FUCKING MUCH. Seriously. I have never loved another Lucky like I loved his, and back in the day I watched General Hospital specifically for his and Elizabeth's great big heartbreaking-in-a-totally-good-way romance. I'm just not certain he can be this Lucky. Like, I can't imagine Jonathan's Lucky ever being a cop. Or having a drug problem. Or dating Sam. Or not being completely devoted to Elizabeth, certainly not cheating on her with Sarah or Maxie or any of the other bimbos he's cheated on her with in the last, what? Ten years or so.

I guess what I'm saying is that, as much as I love JJ, I don't know how much I'm going to have to suspend my disbelief in order to buy him as present-Lucky. Greg's is so fucked up, and so damn earnest, but in like a self-flagellating way. Jonathan's Lucky never did that kind of earnest well--intensity, sarcasm, protectiveness, dizzy with love--those are what I remember him for.

Also I don't get all this "He's back" stuff. Aren't they just replacing Greg? They don't usually acknowledge replacements do they? I AM SO CONFUSED.

hurray!

easier_to_run416@yahoo.com — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 01:19:06 GMT

Jesus, White Collar is going to be more gay than House, I think. This is going to be awesome.

oh nosies!

easier_to_run416@yahoo.com — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 00:01:48 GMT

Most embarrassing thing to happen to me today: Left the computer for a moment, mother sat down out of EXTREME NOSINESS and started reading what I had been reading. GUYS. IT WAS PORN. OH MY GOD. I CANNOT EVEN. GAY PORN. HOLY SHIT.

DDD:

RE: House

easier_to_run416@yahoo.com — Tue, 13 Oct 2009 00:20:49 GMT

*sigh*

This episode makes me nostalgic for the first ~~three~~ two and a half seasons.

my serenity prayer

easier_to_run416@yahoo.com — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 03:13:05 GMT

God grant me the serenity to ignore the douchebags I cannot change
The courage to be the better person.
And the wisdom to remember that some people never change.

That is all.

Cure for the Common 2/?

easier_to_run416@yahoo.com — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 06:20:21 GMT

AN: This is why it's so hard for me to write: I am a perfectionist, and therefore I have to look shit up. I spend most of time I should be writing just looking shit up. Like, I wasn't even two paragraphs in and I had to look up, in order: "airplanes", "airports in colorado", "colorado springs to seattle", "colorado springs airport" and "laptops on airplanes." FML for never ever having flown. Oh, and then I realized I was writing in the wrong tense. I am super duper together, here guys. Really.

Cure for the Common 2/?

The thing is that even though John loved to fly more than almost anything, this was basically only true when it was him doing the flying. He hated crowded airports, and he hated crowded commercial jets, and he really, really hated not being in the cockpit. Dreading it made him moody and irritable the entire day before the flight out. In the middle of snapping at one of the marines for the third time, he was abruptly overcome by embarrassment for his behavior and turned tail back to his quarters where he sulked the rest of the afternoon and evening.

It was actually kind of anticlimactically okay, though, once they arrived at the airport. Neither it nor the plane were horribly crowded, and Rodney's running commentary was enough to distract him through two hours of the five the flight took, and the last three he dozed to the familiar white noise of typing. John blinked his eyes open when he heard the laptop click closed, then startled fully awake when he realized he'd somehow slumped over and rested his head on Rodney's shoulder. "Why didn't you wake me up?" he hissed.

Rodney shrugged, stashing his laptop and various cords and papers back into the travel bag. "No harm, no foul Colonel. Besides you looked ever so peaceful, drooling on my shoulder. Also, it was the perfect blackmail shot."

John narrowed his eyes. Rodney was bluffing. "You're bluffing. You didn't bring a camera,"

"But I did bring my laptop with a built-in web-cam," Rodney replied with unholy satisfaction. "I warned you I'd get you back for that conga debacle," he added defensively when John glared. And, okay, maybe he deserved that. Three months later, people were still making macros out of those pictures and leaving the printouts around Atlantis.

John opened his mouth to reply when the pilot came over the intercom to announce they would be landing in a few minutes and he leaned back instead and told himself, sternly, not to grip the armrests. He didn't. Mostly. If Rodney noticed his distraction he didn't say anything, therefore John was inclined to think he hadn't noticed.

After baggage claim, John ducked past the, God chauffeur, holding a sign that read "Sheppard party," towing Rodney along before he could protest. "What the hell?" he finally managed when John stopped long enough to hail a cab. John didn't answer, just gave him a look, but it looked like Rodney was digging in his heels on this one: he had his arms crossed, his feet planted, and a mulish expression on his face. "There's probably a limo," he whined.

John sighed and waved the two women waiting behind him into the cab, smiling wryly. "I try not to do what my father wants me to do whenever possible." Please don't ask, he pleaded with his eyes.

Rodney blinked. "Oh," and followed John into the next cab he managed to hail.

"My father forbade me from going to university in the United States," Rodney said abruptly. "I applied for and was granted emancipation when I was sixteen and transferred to CalTech. I sent him a sweatshirt for Christmas every year I attended."

John recognized the peace offering and snickered.

"Where are we going?" Rodney asked a few moments later, frowning out the window.

John consulted the itinerary one of his father's assistants had faxed him, though he'd long memorized it, "Wedding guests are booked at the Crowne Plaz--"

"Unacceptable!" Rodney interrupted, tearing the creased and battered paper from John's hands. He read it, frowning, then flung it back in supreme disgust. "Driver, cabbie!" he called up front.

"Yes sir?"

"Take us to the Fairmont Olympic,"

"But--" the cabbie's eyes flickered over to John anxiously.

"It's okay," John said, resigned. "Do as he says,"

"Thank you so much, Colonel," Rodney grumbled.

It was pretty comical, actually, in an uncomfortable way. They trudged up to the check in desk, John in a ragged hooded sweatshirt and jeans, Rodney in a pull-over and khakis, both of them unshaven and dead tired, in the lobby of this huge, opulent hotel. It was a credit to the lady at the desk that she didn't flinch or otherwise react to the way they had to look. "Two executive suites," Rodney said.

"Certainly, sir. Your reservation?"

"No reservation,"

"I'm sorry sir, we don't--"

Rodney glared at her and dug for something in his pocket and finally, triumphantly pulled a card from the depths and flung it down on the counter. The woman took one look at it and her eyes widened. "One moment sir," she said and walked away briskly. True to her word, she was back in record time, with a man who was probably the manager, or whatever their equivalents were in fancy five-star hotels. When he finally got a good look at them, his polite smile turned genuine

"Dr. McKay! What a pleasant surprise." And surprisingly, he seemed to mean it.

"Yes, nice to see you, too. David, tell me you have two executive suites. It the off season."

"Of course, Dr. McKay. You may go Maxine, I'll take care of this," David told the woman, who nodded, gave them one last wide-eyed look before she left.

John was apparently more exhausted than he'd though, because when Rodney touched his shoulder a little while later he startled, and realized he'd been on the verge of falling asleep standing up. Rodney looked tired too, but he was smirking. "Come along, Colonel," he said, herding John to the elevator. John made some sleepy protesting noises about paying his share, which Rodney merely rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Sheppard, I have more money than I know what to do with. It's my treat."

John didn't really have the energy to keep it up, so he stopped arguing.

Rodney dropped him off at his room and pointed to the door across the hall a few yards down, "I'm there," he said, handing John his key card. He seemed to be waiting for something, so John nodded. Apparently satisfied, Rodney continued on. When John got inside his own suite he didn't even bother to turn on the lights or undress: he simply staggered to and fell on the bed. He barely remembered to kick his shoes off. He was asleep within seconds, feet still hanging over the edge of the bed.

oic

easier_to_run416@yahoo.com — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 01:50:54 GMT

From now on, I'm only going to talk to smart people.

¬_¬

i love it when fandoms converge. it's like ice cream with hot fudge and sprinkles

easier_to_run416@yahoo.com — Sat, 03 Oct 2009 05:53:13 GMT

I'm sure it's no secret that I am very easily amused. Like, just now, I'm watching Stargate Atlantis, the fifth episode of season one, and all of a sudden I see what I think is... yes, that is him! And I burst out delightedly, "Hey! I'll be dipped, that's Dante Falconeri!" (From General Hospital, of course, and looking endearingly young.)

Hey, no judging, I take my happiness where I can find it, okay?

sgu

easier_to_run416@yahoo.com — Sat, 03 Oct 2009 03:48:16 GMT

So I'm watching SGU and firstly: I'm very very confused. Secondly: I really wish Rodney McKay was around to smite this Eli. He's super duper annoying.

ETA: Dude, I give up. I can't make heads nor tails of this.

Supernatural 5.04-The End. Spoilers

easier_to_run416@yahoo.com — Sat, 03 Oct 2009 02:04:51 GMT

Well what can I say? I could do a numbered list of everything I loved and hated, but the truth is I loved everything and hated very little. So just a few things.

-- Sam and Dean are back together and I am at peace with that. Well, perhaps that's too strong a sentiment; I'mresigned, anyway. Dean wasn't wrong, and I will maintain that for as long as I live. Maybe for the world, separating was the wrong decision, but not for him (and I'm not convinced that he actually believes he was wrong either, I don't care what he said. Ackles was playing it awful close to vest in that last scene, in my opinion.) And once again, he's back with Sam, not because he chose it or because the hurtful stuff has magically disappeared and all is forgiven, but out of necessity. The world and Sam need Dean and need Sam and Dean together and that is a combination no Dean in any time will ever be able to refuse.

--Some people are becoming uneasy with the little bits of fan-service/fan-acknowledgement Kripke keeps throwing in to make it ABSOLUTELY CLEAR that he knows fandom exists and that HE. IS. WATCHING. US. I, personally, am loving it, but I'm really easy. Give me Dean saying he tried on pink satiny panties AND LIKED IT, or Dean adjusting Castiel's collar and tie and I won't even care that they're poking fun because I will already be halfway over the moon. I will direct you to this post, which Pru made way back when 501 aired and all the fangirls started shrieking in horror. Specifically point 3, where she talks about this very thing at length and why it delights her rather than horrifies her. She's absolutely right.

--As much as I love stoner, hippie Cas, (and I loved him, really, embarrassingly a lot) I still love Angel of the Lord Cas more and my sentiments were exactly those of Dean's at the end. "Don't ever change," indeed.

One more, slightly silly thing. I will never ever be able to look at Chuck without seeing that guy on ' Waiting' who couldn't pee in public bathrooms and used tears as lube. A Kripke-sue? Maybe.