yeah..i should've seen that coming + the pacific + fic
So... In a foolish move to try and change myself, i bought the Jillian Michaels 30 Day Shred because I really really want to do it - and i hear it works, and i LOVE working out.
but apparently if you've been handi'd for a few years, and had your hips cut off and put back, you can't even do jumping jacks... huh... I knew I'd have a hard time with it, but damn..
i can't do jumping jacks. I honestly didn't see that one coming.
I guess I'll just go back to my bb richard simmons sweatin to the oldies + the elliptical.
oh well.. you have to discover your limitations somehow, and mine was feeling like i was going to throw up while trying to get my legs to work in jumping jacks...
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The Pacific was so beautiful last night ♥ ♥
(from tumblr)
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and HAPPY BIRTHDAY meeks00
I wrote this for her for her birthday - she suggested i post it - so here you go, babe:
It’s rainy, late as hell, and all Walt wants to do is get home. He plans on laying in bed, calling Ray - who had to leave town for a family emergency - and jacking off (probably doing those last two at the same time).
Not the most exciting birthday he’s ever had, but better than the one he spent in the Middle East.
When he pulls up outside his apartment building the rain picks up. “Fucking beautiful,” Walt mumbles, zipping up his jacket. He hops out of his truck, feet immediately soaked from the water running through the parking lot. All he can do is dip his head, and run for the door.
He didn’t think to keep his keys handy, and it takes him a while to dig them out of his pocket. Once he’s inside he stomps some of the water off of himself, running his hand through his hair. Walt doesn’t think he’s been this wet since Ray tackled him into the pool at Gunny Wynn’s house last summer.
Walt grabs his mail, ignoring the fact that he’s dripping all over and flips through it while walking up the steps. He’s got a few birthday cards and bills. There’s also a post card from Ray. Why the man insists on sending Ray post cards whenever he leaves, he’ll never figure out. This one has a dog sitting in a birthday cake on the front of it. He flips it over and there’s a very crude drawing of two stick figures having sex in a nearly impossible position.
Laughing, Walt can’t believe the post office would even allow something like that to be sent. But he knows that Ray would charm anybody into doing anything, so he’s not surprised.
He is surprised though when he opens the door to his apartment and it smells. Smells good. Like a mixture of heat, cake, and smoke. Walt just stands there in the dark, breathing it all in, and that’s when it hits him.
Ray is supposed to be out of town and not… asleep on the couch.
Walt just stands there looking down at him, feeling the emptiness that he’s felt the last week fill up. Ignoring his wet clothes, and knowing that Ray won’t care, Walt straddles his legs and lays down with his head resting on Ray’s chest.
He feels Ray shift underneath him, bringing a hand up to the nape of Walt’s neck. Walt grins into his chest, pressing a kiss against the fabric there.
Ray takes a deep breath and Walt knows he’s waking up, so he just closes his eyes and waits.
When Walt wakes up, Ray is face to face with him still fast asleep. They’re close. So close that it makes Walt think that Ray woke up, slid down, kissed him, and then fell right back asleep with his face only an inch from his.
Walt closes the short distance and kisses him; it’s nothing more than a press of their lips together. And then he’s sliding away, trying to move without waking Ray up entirely.
He likes to think he almost made it, that he could withdrawal himself from Ray’s grasp without rousing him. Walt didn’t. Ray tightens his arm around Walt’s back, holding him there.
“Oh no you don’t.” Ray mumbles, not even bothering to open his eyes. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m gonna change. My clothes are still wet.” Walt raises his head to look at Ray who is smiling over at him now.
“Like I care.” And then Ray is making this movement with his eyes that says lay-the-fuck-down-right-now, and so Walt does. He only pauses to throw the blanket on the back of the couch over them.
“Walt,” Ray whispers after they’ve settled back into each other again. “Happy Birthday.”