defenderofdesmoines | Entries tagged with what: sir reginald is a fucking monster

So, Annie had never been teleported unexpectedly before, but now she knew for sure that it was an experience she did not enjoy.

As was clearly evidenced by how she'd staggered over to throw up the contents of her stomach (mostly coffee, gross) into a gutter as soon as her legs were steady enough under her to move.

"Damn it, Five!" she yelled, wiping a hand across her mouth and leaning her hands on her knees to try to get her vision clear again. While that had been initially disorienting, it was a relatively quick mystery in terms of what had actually just happened to her. "I wasn't going to hurt him!"

That was...optimistic. She had definitely thought about hurting him.

[for he who is being yelled at, or anyone else who'd like to catch this little show outside the trooper station!]

So, with all the excitement, this had absolutely been one of the most memorable weeks of Annie's life.

It had, also, notably, been weirdly...inactive, in other ways. In, specifically, a way in which she was usually pretty active these days.

There had been the whole flaming-hot apartment/freezing-cold shower issue on Tuesday, the whole jello shot issue on Wednesday, and between life and training and packing (yes, the new place was furnished but what if she needed something?), she and Diego had been sort of...missing each other.

Which was why Friday morning, when Annie sleepily meandered into the bathroom and turned on the shower -- and the water came out pleasantly warm, as it should, thank you -- it only took her a moment to get an idea.

"Hey, Diego?" She ducked her head out of the bathroom, pulling a towel around herself loosely. "Can you come here?"

Her tone, at least, was very much not one of distress, so hopefully he wouldn't, like, feel the need to come running. (Unless he did. Seriously, it had been since before the kids got here. That was like centuries in sex time.)

[for someone(s).]

So given that Annie was supposed to start imparting all of her pageant-related wisdom on Friday - or at least the performance stuff (she wasn't sure yet whether things like putting Vasoline on one's teeth, or the many uses of hairspray would be part of this) - she had started the arduous task of writing a syllabus and lesson plans. Not that she had the first idea of what that meant, but she'd gotten ahold of her roster and spread out on her coffee table with her laptop and a bunch of hand-written notes, and that seemed like a start? (She also had highlighters. Not sure what she was going to do with them, yet, but they seemed like they should be invited to this party.)

Of course, her roster had actually caught her attention when she'd looked it over, and that was distracting her from adding to her incredibly useful, competent (maybe a week on juggling?????) notes, because not only was this going to be more annoying than she thought, but now she also had more questions.

[for the fella omg]

I'm a fighter

I'm gonna take that son of a bitch's head clean off his body.

Entries tagged with what: sir reginald is a fucking monster

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