#mary knew what the movie playing was awhile ago so she already wanted to go | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

25% of US internet users with an annual income of $80-100K use Tumblr.

#mary knew what the movie playing was awhile ago so she already wanted to go

puppypeter · 3 years

Text

1999 words Stucky prompt? *sorry*

Ok so I couldn’t go to sleep last night because I kept thinking of this Stucky AU where Steve is an ex-military medic who is now retired because his wife passed away and he has to look after the family. He has like 10-12 kids between his own and adopted, big family, big house, a dog. The kids range between barely 1 year old set of twins to grumpy teenagers. He had to come back from war when his wife sadly passed away while giving birth to the twins and so he didn’t really get any time to re-adjust and he lives with the regret that he wasn’t even there for her when she needed him. He is struggling a lot, but tries to hide it for the sake of the kids. He runs the house a bit like a military base, there’s time tables, bathroom times, meal plans and menus, budgets etc wakes the troops up early in the morning to get them ready for school (he still struggles in the kitchen cause he’s barely used to having decent food again himself, let alone make something all kids eat!!), the oldest have to help with the youngest etc a big chaotic disaster of a family, but he’s trying. The kids miss their mom too, but it’s been a year now and daddy is still sad. He doesn’t know that they know he is. They see him stare into nothing at times, they know Sunday mornings are the day nobody is to bother daddy until he comes down for lunch (which he prepared on the Saturday already) because sometimes daddy finds it hard to sleep and other times he finds it hard to get out of bed. He always wants them to eat their greens, yet standing on the staircase late at night they’ve spotted him sitting on the couch eating ice-cream straight from the tub and weeping over Disney movies. And that has happened more than once.

So one day they’re at the park. Steve is laying down on their red and white cloth on the ground with all the food bags and the tiny twins next to him. They’re so cute, wiggling around at all the sounds and colours, he should want to play with them but all he feels is tired. The other kids are scattered around the park, between playing ball and looking at insects and on the swings. The younger kids have been talking about what they should do to make daddy happy. That’s when little Mary spots two men sitting on a bench. One of them is playing with a leash, probably of the big dog that’s just sitting at his feet, not even caring about going far. The other is wearing a leather jacket, slightly unzipped and a white furry kitten head pops out of it. “Which one of them do you think?” Peter asks. “That one!” Mary shouts just pointing at the guy with the kitten “look at his hair! he looks like a disney price, dad will love him!” (they don’t even know their dad is bisexual, bucky is just pretty so they’re confident he’ll like him).

So her and some of her siblings make their way over to the men and start asking them questions. Their names are Sam and Bucky (“That’s a weird name” Mary says). Sam teases Bucky by calling him prince charming, having heard the previous comment, and Bucky’s cheeks go pink. This little boy with his thick glasses on gets overly excited when he sees that one of Bucky’s hands is made of metal “So cool, like a robot!” and asks if he can touch it (cause daddy thought them it’s important to ask before). And Bucky just feels overwhelmed. He hasn’t been around this many people since he came back, the most people he’s had around were a bunch of doctors when they operated on him roughly a year and half ago, but he was sedated and unaware. He struggled for a while to get out of the house, to accept his disability, accept having a prosthesis he can’t really do anything with, having to learn to do everything one handed (he only ever wears it outside the house cause he doesn’t want people to stare at his empty sleeve, but the moment he’s at home he likes to give his shoulder a break).

Sam, he works as a counsellor at the VA has helped him a lot, and now they hang out together, but not in crowded places. This is why they like coming to the park. But now there’s a bunch of kids in his face and for the first time he doesn’t mind having many people around. Maybe because they’re little people and he knows they won’t hurt him. Maybe cause one of them is geeking out about his prosthesis he always felt self-conscious about. Mary invites him over to meet her dad (Sam cackles), but Bucky is definitely not ready for any form of relationship, let alone a romantic one. So he blushes and declines.

The kids leave a bit upset. After a while Mary comes back saying she’s hurt and lost. “You look fine to me kid!” Sam replies. So she dramatically throws herself on the grass and big fat tears start coming out of her eyes. After they laugh at her overly dramatic attitude, she stands up huffing and puffing and leaves clearly kicking her feet in the ground. “I mean maybe you should go for it!” Sam insists “It’s not like you have to marry the guy. You’re just meeting a new person, nothing has to come of it. Maybe you’ll make a friend, maybe you’ll never see him again, but you’d talk to someone that wasn’t me or the cashier at the deli by your flat”. Bucky knows that’s true, but he really can’t bring himself to. He still hasn’t talked to his family since he’s been back. Something about getting your arm blow off and seeing your mates blow up when it should have been you instead makes it difficult to relate to normal people.

It’s only maybe 20 minutes later when a blur of blonde hair and orange dungaree comes rushing towards them crying. “It ain’t gonna work missy!” Sam jokes. But Mary looks clearly upset. “Help my daddy please!”. They doubt her for a second, thinking it’s her amazing acting skills and they’re gonna go there and her dad is gonna be fine. But her lower lip is wobbling and she sounds seriously distressed. Plus they all see a bunch of kids clearly surrounding someone sitting on a blanket. So they follow her, cause that’s the right thing to do. When they get there they see this big burly man folded in half on himself with his hands in his hair, gripping at it, shaking, panicking. Sam immediately drops on his knees, but doesn’t touch him yet. Bucky has seen him do it plenty of times with himself, when he barely got out of bed to finally have some food and then started crying if he dropped a spoon on the floor or spilled a bit of coffee. He would be forever thankful to have had him as a counsellor and now as a friend.

Bucky steers the kids a bit away, asking the older ones to give them some space to help their dad. Together with a young woman, he scoops up one of the two babies in onesies that were on the blanket and leans one up on his chest. He can’t really do much with his metal arm, but geeky kid is currently holding onto it. After they move a bit further away, he passes on the baby to another older teenager and goes back to Sam. He sees that he has managed to get the man to unclench his fists from his hair and sees him panicking when he can’t see his kids. “They’re alright, they’re ok, they’re all together”.

And so that’s how they meet and they all go to a diner to get food (taking over like 4 different booths). They find out Steve is ex-military from the dog tags shape Bucky sees under his shirt. Steve has apparently had the ability to lie his way through his psych test coming back from the war simply because he knew he would lose his kids if he admitted how he was truly feeling. He is struggling with depression and has PTSD, but he’ll never admit it out loud. He has a family to care about. He says none of that, but Sam knows. He invites him to the VA, “just to talk, we’re not gonna call anyone on you my man, and it seems like you’re doing an amazing job considering you got a whole football team”.

The following week Sam and Bucky go over to his house for a bbq, bringing dog & cat along for the joy of the kids. It’s loud and it gets a bit much for Bucky at one point so he sneaks out to have a second of quiet. Steve finds him and they get talking. At some point Sam has to leave, an emergency with one of the veterans. But Bucky stays a little while.

He says he can leave when Steve calls out bed time for the youngest, but Steve asks him to stay, if he wants, it’s not gonna take him long, have a beer. Bucky glows seeing how Steve runs the bedtime routine for 10 kids, the older ones helping the younger ones to get to stay up a little longer. When he comes back they sit out back on the porch, sharing a cigarette and having a couple of beers. It’s quiet, they don’t talk much. Bucky’s shoulder is starting to ache a bit so he keeps rubbing it. They get talking about that, well.. the most that Bucky can say (how it happened, where it happened, then blackout. He can’t go into his feelings about it). “You.. you were from that unit?” Steve asks seemingly speechless. “That’s, that’s where I was operating. We rescued 3 people but we couldn’t get to everyone on time. There was someone closer to the explosion and their arm was….” he cuts off. “Steve” Bucky looks at him unable to breathe “are you telling me that you’re the one that rescued me from under the tank?” ((and it goes from there. it takes awhile but they get together and smooch (Mary acts like she’s about to throw up “But not because you’re two guys, just cause that’s daddy!!”). Bucky learns to open up and getting more comfortable around Steve without the prosthesis on. Steve still cries at Disney movies while eating ice cream, but this time every other spoonful goes to Bucky’s, whose arms he’s wrapped in on the couch. Steve starts going to see Sam at the VA and deal with his issues, because he wants to be there for his kids as they grow up, he doesn’t want to give up on them or himself. He deals and accepts what happened with his wife. He gets to grieve and heal. Sam comes over to their house so that his Missy (his dog) can hang out with her new buddy Dodger *wink wink* and because since starting to deal with his issues Steve has made an effort to reconnect with his friends and there’s a very beautiful redhead that hangs around his house at the weekends... Sam wouldn’t mind spending more time with her. A few more friends from the military come back into his life too - Clint, Thor, Maria, Sharon - and the kids have now a bunch more aunties and uncles to play with. At some point in the distant future, Bucky moves in. He never thought he’d get to have that. A big family, animals, a house. Maybe they have more kids at one point? Bucky reconnecting with his family? & lots more smooches and cuddles!!))

22 notes · View notes

bisexualsforprompto · 4 years

Note

If you’re still doing the jealous!Adrien headcanons, could you please do one with Garmari (BB/Marinette)? it’s my latest JAM and hnfhg its so c u t e

Jealous! Adrien Garmari Headcanons fic

Ummmm I got carried away?

Marinette opened her locket that was carefully placed on her mirror. Inside were two kids, almost unrecognizable after everything that happened and everything that came between them.

Marinette ran across the hot, sandy yard, panting when she finally reached her destination.

“I win!” Marinette called to an out of breath redhaired boy.

“Just you wait!” Gar panted, “One day I’m gonna be faster than you!”

“Yeah right!” Marinette laughed.

Marinette stared blankly at the locket. Seeing the redhaired boy with green eyes smiling face, she reached out to close it.

“We should get married!” Gar exclaimed as Marinette picked at the flowers around her. She thought about it for a moment.

“Okay!” She grinned, showing her missing two front teeth.

“Marinette Dupain-Chang will you marry me?” Garfield asked, offering a ring that he had fashioned out of flowers. Marinette giggled and slid the makeshift ring onto her small finger.

“I do!” Marinette exclaimed.

Marinette closed the locket abruptly, trying not to remember the last time she saw Gar. She didn’t even get to see him when he needed it most.

“Why not?!” 10 year old Marinette pleaded to her parents.

“Honey, you know we want to support him. It’s awful that such a tragedy happened to him. His parents were good people, they left too soon.” Sabine said averting her gaze, “But he’s deathly sick, we can’t risk you getting it too.”

“It’s not fair! I wanna see him!” Marinette stomped off upstairs.

She still regretted it. She didn’t hear about Gar again. She didn’t know what happened. For all she knew his sickness could’ve-

Marinette grabbed the locket off of her mirror and clasped it around her neck. She felt the urge to wear it, although, she hadn’t in almost eight years. She walked downstairs, Kaaliki and Tikki already in her bag.

“Are you excited for the trip today sweetie?” Sabine asked, handing her a bag of food. Marinette pulled her suitcase behind her,

“Yeah, it should be a fun four days.” Sabine noticed the locket around her neck.

“It’s been awhile since you’ve worn that.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” She said before embracing her mother, “Goodbye Maman.”

“Goodbye Marinette. Don’t forget to call!” Sabine exclaimed, but Marinette was already outside of the house.

Marinette ran down the street, the last thing she wanted was to miss the bus. And she knew they’d go without her.

She stepped onto the bus and saw Alya’s apologetic expression when she was sitting with Nino. The only empty space was next to Adrien.

Alya🦊: Sorry, girl. He insisted. I tried, but I didn’t want to make a scene.

Marinette sighed at the text and sat down next to Adrien.

Mari: It’s okay Al. It’s just until we get to the airport anyway.

It wasn’t though, when they got to the plane Adrien ended up sitting next to her. She was able to tune out his flirtations for the most part, but ever since they revealed identities as their superhero alter egos Marinette’s crush dissipated quickly and Adrien’s grew stronger.

She ended up trying to sleep in order to get him to leave her alone, and she drifted off.

She woke up when they landed and the memories of her dream came flooding at once. She dreamed about Garfield, something that happened occasionally, but this time it was different.

Most of her dreams about him were nightmares where her fear was confirmed and he had died along with his parents.

This one was more hopeful, she supposed, she saw Gar again, but really only his eyes, just the green. But then his green eyes morphed into Adrien’s.

And that was the end.

She was no Freud, she wasn’t even going to try to think about her bizarre dreams. She walked into the aisle and met up with Alya. Alya was able to save her from talking to Adrien, by leaving the blonde with Nino and taking Marinette by the hand and exiting the plane.

“Okay class!” Miss Bustier clapped, “We’re walking over to the studio now!”

A chorus of groans was heard from the class.

“Don’t complain! It’s only about a ten minute walk, let’s go!”

Marinette and Alya begun walking, Alya pointing out all the sights.

“That’s the Hollywood sign!” Alya squealed, “Maybe we can go to it later!” Marinette grinned and nodded. Alya was more interested in the culture of Hollywood and California than Marinette was, but the bluenette was looking forward to looking at the trending fashion!

“Oh you know I know the the lead actor of the movie we’re going behind the scenes to see today!” Lila remarked loudly. A cacophony of ‘wows’ and ‘that’s so cools’ was heard from the sheep in Bustier’s class. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but actually my connections with him were the reason we got to come on set today!”

Marinette and Alya rolled their eyes, they both knew that the reason they were going backstage was solely because of Marinette winning a contest for the class. They ignored Lila and talked with each other the rest of the way.

“Oh girl!” Alya had said when the studio came in view, “I don’t think I’ve seen you wear that locket before. It’s cute!”

“Thanks.” Marinette smiled, “It’s from awhile ago, my friend and I are in it.”

Alya knew not to pry when she saw the wistful expression on Marinette’s face. They rounded the bend and Miss Bustier scanned the security card she had been sent. The door opened for them and the class walked in.

The set was truly breathtaking, it was space themed and a large prop spaceship graced the center of it all. Marinette glanced around it all and saw the costumes. They were amazing and obviously hand stitched, but there were two missing from the rack. Marinette saw the director come to them.

“The actors will be out soon! unfortunately, only two were available today, but your lucky class will be able to see the lead of our movie!”

The class cheered, but Marinette was still focused on the costumes.

“Now which one of you sent in the contest entry?” The director asked. The class gave each other confused looks.

“It was Marinette, ma’am!” Alya said pointing to the bluenette.

“Oh wonderful!” She exclaimed, “Your entry was delightful! You’re truly a talented artist.” Marinette blushed.

“But Lila, I thought you-“

Rose was cut off by the starstruck Oohs and ahhs when the actors stepped out. They were in full costume, including their helmets that covered their entire face. The first actress removed her helmet.

“Hello all!” She said, “I’m Grace Kingsley! I play the female lead in the movie.”

“Hey!” Said the second voice. A voice Marinette recognized. She turned around from the director and saw the boy take off his helmet. She was met with familiar eyes.

“Oh my god.” She whispered underneath her breath. She made eye contact with him briefly. It couldn’t have been Gar, could it? He was green all over, and his red hair was replaced with green. The only thing that looked the same about him were his eyes.

“Marinette?” He gasped. Marinette gripped onto her locket.

“Gar?”

“Garfield Logan!” Chloé swooned.

Marinette stepped forward and Garfield ran over and embraced her.

“You two know each other?” Asked the director. Alya was awestruck.

“Yeah.” Gar said breathlessly.

“I’m so sorry.” Marinette cried as she hugged him tighter, “I wanted to be there, but-“

“It’s okay, I was sick.” Gar said, “I almost died if not for a blood transfusion, that’s why I’m green by the way, I wouldn’t want that to happen to you.”

“I still feel horrible, but ummm, on the subject...”

“You wanna talk about my greenness?” Gar laughed.

“It’s just a little different.” Marinette giggled.

“It’s Martian blood, I can actually shapeshift into any animal because of it. I’m a hero here, Beast Boy.” Marinette didn’t end up being too surprised, after all she’d trust Gar with a miraculous, “I guess I can be faster than you now.” He laughed.

Marinette gaped, “Wait a second! Why did you tell me all of this? Your secret identity-“

“Well when you’re green it’s kinda hard to have one.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Marinette relaxed.

“Wait!” Rose exclaimed, “Don’t you know Lila too?”

“Who?” Gar asked.

“Lila, she said she knew you.” Rose repeated.

“I’ve never met any Lilas sorry. Marinette is the only one I know in your class.” Gar said dryly. “Also, Mari, are you free tomorrow?”

Marinette nodded.

“Do you think we can catch up?” Gar asked nervously, “I can introduce you to the other Titans, maybe we can grab lunch too?”

“Are you asking me on a date Gar?” Marinette laughed.

“I guess I am.” Gar said going pink.

“Sure, we’re already married, right?” Marinette winked. Gar laughed and nodded.

“Seriously?” Adrien muttered. Everyone turned to him. “I mean, I’ve known you for years and when I ask you out you say no, but this random guy you’re saying yes to?”

“I’m not a random guy.” Garfield barked, “We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

“I’m so done with this.” Adrien gritted his teeth, “Come find me when you’ve come to your senses Bugaboo.”

Marinette rolled her eyes as Adrien stalked off and Miss Bustier ran after him.

“Sorry about him.”

“No need to apologize, I’ve met plenty of famous people like him. Entitled.” Gar scoffed, “So, tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

~•~•~•~•~•~

Bonus:

Marinette walked into Titans Tower with Gar admiring the architecture.

“Welcome!” Garfield exclaimed as the elevator dinged.

“Beast Boy...who’s this?” Robin asked.

“My friend, Marinette. I’ve known her forever, you can trust her I promise.”

“Oh, it is the lovely to meet you!” Starfire grinned shaking Marinette’s hand frantically.

“You too.” Marinette laughed.

“Hey, I’m Cyborg.” Cyborg greeted, “BB has talked a lot about you.”

Marinette blushed, “Really?”

“Really.” Raven said looking up from her book, “Nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet all of you too, I’m so happy I got to see Gar. It’s been so long and-“

A blaring alarm cut Marinette off.

“Titans! Trouble!” Robin yelled, the other Titans, save Garfield, fell into formation. “Down at the bank, we need to go now! It’s the HIVE.”

“I’m so sorry.” Gar sighed, “Can I drop her off?”

“Wait!” Marinette exclaimed. The team turned to face her, “Do you need help?”

“We shouldn’t get civilians involved, it’s dangerous.” Robin stated.

“Yeah, Mari, I really don’t want you to get hurt.” Gar said placing his hands on her shoulders, “You don’t have powers or any-“

“Spots on.” Marinette whispered, welcoming her transformation.

“Woah.” Cyborg yelled as Ladybug stood before him.

“Miraculous magic.” Raven assessed, “I thought I sensed magic off of you.”

“So...how do you feel about help now?”

Two weeks later the newest Titan from Paris was announced, and the talk of the community was the French superhero Ladybug who was dating Beast Boy.

And back in Paris a certain cat was furious, and plotting revenge.

Btw, this won’t be continued, sorry!

Taglist:

@northernbluetongue

@queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm

@luciferge

@legendaryneckjudgestudent

@interobanginyourmom

@beaversuenightly

@worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry

@mochinek0

@shamefullove

@emjrabbitwolf

@actual-disaster-human

@littleredrobinhoodlum

@elijahcoser

@daminett4life

@18-fandoms-unite-08

@kawaiigiantjudgefish

@myazael

@kass-is-weird

@dramatic-squirrel

@novicevoice

@abrx2002

@corabeth11

@mochegato

@the-fusionist

@lesscoolloki

@aegyobutpsycho2

@spiritofchaoticdreams

@shizukiryuu

@luleck

@moonystars14

@minightrose

#maribat #garmari

548 notes · View notes

bamby0304 · 5 years

Text

Apple of my Eye- Ch.14

Series Masterlist

Summary: When Sam and Dean were pulled back into their world, you were left behind. Stuck in the hustle bustle of Hollywood life, you have no choice but to play along, leaving almost all of your old life behind. Seven years later, when a rip in time and space opens up, you are finally able to go home… but you don’t go alone.

A/N: Thank you @moonlitskinwalker for the help!! xx

Warnings: Fluff. Angst. And… uh… smut. Explicit language. Dry humping. Fingering. Unprotected sex.

Bamby

Frozen had finished a while ago, but none of you had moved to put on another movie. Instead you were lying down and staring up at the fairy lights, pretending you were stargazing as Dakota talked away.

“I’m happy Elsa and Anna have each other,” she said out of the blue. “Mummy and me were always by ourselves. It would be lonely without her.”

Dean turned his head to look at her. “You’ve got a good mum, huh?”

“The best.” She gave a sharp nod. “What about your mum? Is she a good mum?”

Everyone fell silent.

The reason Jack had found you was because he’d been looking for Mary. She was in another world, a horrible place, with Lucifer of all people- not that he was a person. Jack had gone to the ends of the earth to bring her back, and instead he’d found you.

Sam and Dean might not talk about it, or her, but you knew they missed their mother. Before you were left behind, back when you were still their hunting partner and fooling around with Dean, he would tell you about Mary. While talking about her, he got this sparkle in his eyes that was very boy-like. He became the kid he was before he lost her the first time.

“Oh,” Dakota gasped, clasping a hand over her mouth, “I forgot. Jack told Mummy and me about your mum… I’m sorry.”

You frowned, leaning up on your elbow to look over Dean at her. “Jack told me, not you. You were supposed to be sleeping.”

She shrugged, looking away guiltily. “I was awake.”

Dropping back down, you sighed. “Typical.”

Reaching out, Dean intertwined your fingers with his as he continued to look at your daughter. “It’s okay. We’re gonna get our mum back.”

“And then I could meet her?” Dakota’s face lit up.

“Of course.”

“You think she’ll like me?”

“She’ll love you,” Sam answered from the other side of the tent.

Dakota hummed happily, settling back into her spot.

The conversation made a few turns as the five of you talked away. Soon enough, though, Sam was fast asleep. Dakota chuckled lightly, but left him alone, still chattering away. Dean hung on every word she said.

Eventually Dakota began to drift off. You put on another movie, knowing she would focus on the screen and fall asleep. When she was softly mumbling and sighing, curled up next to Jack who was still wide awake, Dean turned to you.

His eyes met your as his tongue slipped out to wet his lips. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Your cheeks flushed a little. “Thanks for tonight.”

“You’re welcome.” Reaching out, he brushed your hair behind your ear as he leaned in a little closer. “I had fun.”

Sucking in a breath, your eyes darted from his to his mouth and then back. “Me too.”

“You tired?” he asked, cupping the side of your face.

“Not at all.”

The kiss was light, gentle, and made your head spin. Moaning against him, you grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer, seeking out as much of him as possible. He shifted onto his knees, settling in between your legs as he deepened the kiss, licking into your mouth.

Someone cleared their throat, making you both pull away.

Jack sat there awkwardly, doing his best not to look at the two of you.

Dean chuckled under his breath before pulling back to sit on his heels. “Come on.” He reached a hand out to you.

Lips pulling into a grin, you let him help you out of the fort. He didn’t let go as you crept out of the library, doing your best not to wake Sam or Dakota as you snuck out and towards the bedroom.

As he descended the stairs into the corridor, he turned and grabbed your waist before lifting you off the ground and pulling you close. Your arms wrapped around his neck in an instant as he tilted his head up to brush his lips against yours.

This kiss was just as light as the first, but quickly became more. You melted into him, moaning at the feel of his tongue sliding against yours deliciously. His grip on the back of your thighs, holding you in place, was so strong and secure. You felt safe in his grasp. Safe and wanted.

Reaching his room, Dean pressed you against the wall, grinding into you as he fumbled with the door handle. When the door swung open, however, he didn’t walk the two of you inside. Instead he kept you against the wall, enjoying the feel of you now pressing against his crotch.

Pulling your lips from his, you panted as your eyes locked onto his lust darkened gaze. You both moaned and groaned as you rocked gently, giving each other just a taste of the pleasure that was coming.

“Dean,” you whined. “I need…”

“I know.” He nodded. “I know.”

Pushing away from the wall, keeping your legs wrapped around him, he walked into his room. He kicked the door closed behind him, pressing his lips to your again, wanting to taste more of you.

Dropping you onto the bed, he followed, keeping his lips on yours as you landed on his memory foam mattress. His fingers plucked at your shirt, pulling it open to reveal your bra. As his fingers ran over the lace, he tore his lips from yours to admire the view.

“Wow,” he breathed as his gaze landed on your bra.

It was nothing like the usual cheap stuff you wore before being left in the other world. Before you bought what was cheap and available. But this? This was Victoria’s Secret, blush pink with rose gold lace… and it had cost you just under a hundred dollars.

Fingers creeping further down, he made quick work of your jeans and pulled them open to reveal your matching thong.

“Fuck me…”

“Together, that’s over a hundred and sixty dollars… you break ‘em you pay for them,” you told him.

Dragging his eyes up to meet yours, he pulled a cup of your bra down to free your breast. “What kind of person spends that amount on underwear?” he asked before he circled his tongue around your nipple.

Sucking in a breath, you arched into his touch. “A T-TV st-star. Tha-at’s who.”

Grinning against you, he sealed his lips against the bud and sucked it into his mouth. You cried out, running your fingers through his hair and held his head in place.

Chuckling, he pulled away to look down at you. “Been awhile?”

Moaning, closing your eyes and licking your lips, you nodded. “I haven’t had sex in years… and no one was ever as good as you.”

Trailing light kisses down your body, he began to slid your jeans and panties off. “Mmm,” he licked lightly at your stomach, “you don’t need to butter me up, sweetheart. I’m already yours.”

You whimpered and whined as he tore your clothes away. Leaning over you, he stroked your slit, groaning at how wet you already were. Two fingers slid into you, dragging along your walls, seeking out that sweet spot.

Crying out, you clutched at the blankets under you once he found it- which took practically no time at all.

“There you are.” He grinned, watching as you bucked against his hand below him.

It was torture, and you loved it. He paid close attention to the spot that made your nerves sing, but didn’t give you enough to tumble over the edge you were already hanging from.

“Dean… Dean please, fuck. Just… just fuck me. I need… fuck I need you so bad.”

Pulling away, he quickly slipped off the bed to undress. While he was gone, you unclipped your bra and tossed it away before turning your eyes to him.

Seeing Dean undress- albeit hastily- was something else. You’d liked him years before you first hooked up, and had often thought about your moments together during your ‘private time’ back in the other world. You never forgot what he looked like… but the memory of what he felt like had faded.

“Dean…”

His eyes snapped up to meet yours as his thumbs hooked into his briefs.

“Hurry up.”

Practically tripping out of his underwear once he tugged it down to the ground, he then quickly climbed back onto the bed and between your thighs. His lips sealed over yours in an instant as he lifted your leg to hook it over his hip.

Lining himself up, he began to push into you.

The first feel of him stretching your walls was intense. It had been so long since you’d had someone or something so big inside you. He was warm, thick, and long, fitting into you a little too tightly but that made it all the more pleasurable.

“Move,” you panted in his ear, digging your nails into his back. “Please move.”

Dropping his forehead to your shoulder, he shuddered as your walls squeezed him. “Hold on.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Been a while?”

Hearing the teasing tone of your voice, he pulled out and then thrust back in, making you suck in a gasp. Falling silent, you held on as he set a steady rhythm, fucking into you hard but slow, enjoying every flutter of your walls and every sound you made.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you held him close as you whined in his ear, feel him pick up the pace gradually. He slammed into your sweet spot with every thrust, making your body tingle with your approaching orgasm.

Reaching between your bodies, he flicked at your clit, pushing you over the edge.

Burying your face in his neck, you cried out as your body shook around him. He held you close, still thrusting, still flicking your clit as he drove himself to his own ending. Pace faltering, he groaned against your chest as he spilled inside you.

Neither of you moved, holding onto each other as you rode out your orgasms. He pressed gentle kisses against your chest, licking lightly here and there. Arching into him, you whined as he rolled over to drop on the bed beside you.

“Wow,” he let out a heavy breath.

You giggled a little, turning onto your side to look up at him. “Was it like how you remember?”

Stretching his arm out across the pillows, he tucked it under your head and shrugged. “Quicker… but still hot.”

“Very hot,” you agreed.

“I wanna do that again… and again… and again.” He turned to you quickly, pressing a peck to your lips. “And again, and again, and again, and again, and-”

“Okay!” you laughed. “I get it.”

Chuckling, he leaned down to press a kiss to your neck. “Just making sure you got the message.”

“It was loud and clear. I got it.”

“Good.” Rolling you onto your back, he grinned down at you suggestively.

Your eyes went wide as you realised what he was trying to say without actually speaking. “Already? Seriously?”

“Not ready for more sex, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun.” He winked. “After all, we’ve got seven years to catch up on.”

Bamby

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #apple of my eye

231 notes · View notes

the-canary · 6 years

Text

Retro - B.B (6/8)

Summary: Please, third times the charm, right? Because James Barnes is tired of failing at this thing called love. (Modern AU!Reader/Bucky Barnes).

Prompt: “If you focus on what you left behind, you will never be able to see what lies ahead.”

A/N: This is for @buckyofthemyscira 5k challenge. this is more of a filler chapter and it sounds a little stupid, but i hope you enjoy it either way.

Please enjoy! Feedback is always welcomed.

“So, how is everything going with Mr. Romantic?” Rhodey can’t help but ask while the two of you are working on the new summer issue that is due in a couple of weeks. The two of you like to look over each other’s work and department to make sure that nothing is out of form with what the other is covering -- if there is one theme and to make sure that it is overarching to the other side of the magazine.

“As well as it can be,” you murmur as nonchalantly as you can, while Rhodey looks at you with a skeptical look to make it a concise edition.

To be truthful, things had been going well with James since the first date and you had gone on a couple of more since then. You soon came to realize that James Barnes was a real romantic at heart -- he always brought flowers or some kind of small gift for you. The most recent date had been a bike ride through Central Park and before that it had been a trip to Coney Island -- all his ideas, as he showed you the places he liked around the city. However, you weren't ready to make it official with the photographer just yet.

It was endearing, but you were skeptical because all this time his job assignments soon had been in the city. James was going France and Portugal for some photo assignments, and you knew that if the cat’s away the mice would play -- it had happened once before, not that you liked to dwell on it too much.

“You’re gonna break that poor pencil,” Rhodey remarks, talking you out of your inner thoughts as you put the pencil down and give him a strained smile.

“Don’t worry, it’ll all work out,” he states with a smile, because he has never seen you this stuck on a person before -- things, trends, animals those were all things that kept your fascination, but for you to be thinking and hoping that it turned out alright with James, well that was crazy in and of itself and Rhodey was cheering for your happiness.

“How about yellow? That’s a good color.”

James is going over last minute details for his shoots and flight details when he hears a ping from his phone. He walks up to it and looks at his lockscreen for a moment, as a lovestruck smile blooms onto his face. It was a badly shot picture of a certain red karp bag next to some flowers --that he had given her-- on the grass while they were having lunch that day. While, Bucky had wanted to take a picture of both of them together, she was still apprehensive about the whole situation -- this was the compromise instead and while she still didn’t have a good grasp of the camera--even the one on her phone-- he enjoyed that she was trying.

His work had caught her attention enough that she wanted to try it out, and Bucky knew that was good step in the right direction. He swipes his passcode in after seeing in the preview that it’s a message from Tony Stark.

Tony: Good luck on your trip! ;)

Bucky couldn’t help but stare at the emoji for a long while. He knew that Tony never used those types of things, at least never with him, that was until he started dating his favorite editor and Tony Stark became like a father watching over his daughter from afar. Bucky wondered if she knew, though he understood why Tony would act in such a way, he had done it once or twice when his younger sisters started dating.

However, as he looked at his locked screen once more and that badly taken photo, Bucky knew that he wouldn’t do anything to mess this --whatever they had-- up.

Bucky : Understood.

James has a red eye trip from New York to Paris, though that isn’t why you are standing in his kitchen with Steve, as he makes a few last minute packing decisions before heading to JFK. You had had dinner with him a few hours ago, but had chickened out in the last minute to give him the little box in your hands. It was a little silly, but it would make you feel a lot better in the long run.

“What have you got there exactly?” Steve asks, as he had been watching you play with the box for quite some time, as Bucky finished up in his room. While, you and the blond hadn’t interacted a lot since that first night you had meet, you could tell from all of his stories that Steve Rogers played a big role in James’ life and visa-versa.

“I was really into gems and stones for awhile,” you start off a bit nervously, “Still sort of am, and I just...wanted to give something to James for the trip, for protection.”

You pause and wait for moment as blue eyes crinkle with a smile, “It’s silly, no?”

“I don’t think so,” Steve states with a grin, as you’re left stunned for a moment, “I’m sure he’ll appreciate the thought.”

“What thought?” the man in question asks, as he looks from you to Steve with an raised eyebrow at how nervous you are acting just now. Steve grins, as you step and hand Bucky a small white box.

“You don’t have to wear it or anything,” you explain as he opens said ring with an aquamarine stone as its center, “I just thought it might be good to keep you save and...stuff.”

“Thanks,” he gives you the biggest grin as he puts the ring on, “And it helps that aquamarine is my birthstone.”

“It is?”

“March baby, through and through,” Bucky laughs as Steve joins in, as if it’s their own private joke, while you take a mental note to find out the exact date later on. After a few words, Bucky picks up his bags and the three of you head out of the apartment and into the hallway.

“Take care,” you say as he smiles like he’s the luckiest guy in the world just to have you there, while Steve just shakes his head.

“Don’t miss me too much,” he answers back. Bucky gives you a kiss on the cheek before heading towards the elevator.

You wave goodbye to the two of them, all the while trying to ignore that fluttering feeling in your stomach like you’re already missing him.

Bucky spends two weeks in Paris before spending a couple a days in Lisbon before going back to Paris once more, and while he thought that going cold turkey on a lot of the things he used to do would be easy -- it really wasn’t. Gorgeous models and pretty crew mates throwing themselves at him and while once Bucky would jump at all the attention. He was now trying his hardest not to.

He looked at the silver ring and played with it in thought from time to time. He wondered what she was doing, if she was working or playing with that little black cat back in the shelter. Maybe, she was talking to Stan or getting some takeout only to pass out midway through a movie, something she had been doing more often as she spent more time on the magazine since the latest edition was due soon.

He goes to after parties, but leaves sober and alone. He shows off his ring by moving it side to side whenever he can. He tends to look at his phone and that stupid karp bag whenever a pretty face smiles his way. He knows that she’s trying her hardest and he doesn’t want to break her heart, to destroy this precious thing she has decided to give him. Thus, leading to him leaving another party early as he walks down a small side street.

You know I’ve never gotten a teddy bear before, it would be sort of cute.

Bucky takes a deep breathe as an idea suddenly pops into his head, as he remembers one of the models talking about a local bear workshop. He tries his hardest to remember the name since French had never been his best language compared to Russian or Romanian.

It’s takes him nearly an hour of getting lost and moving around the subway system to finally reach his destination, as he looks at the mountain of bears in front of the glass panel. Blue eyes glance down at his ring and he smiles, Steve’s voice echoing like a drill master in his mind.

If you focus on what you left behind, you will never be able to see what lies ahead.

Bucky couldn’t think about his old habits or the might-have been, there was only the present and what he could have with her. Any relationship was two way street and he had to ease her fears, so he picks the phone and dials her number.

“Hey, doll,” he states as her tired but happy voice answers back, “What’s your favorite type of job for a teddy bear?”

L’Ours du Maris.

Yes, this was definitely a good first step towards finally moving forward.

Part 7

#sams5kdisneycelebration #james buchanan barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes modern au #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fanfic #fabiola trying to write #series: retro

144 notes · View notes

oranges8hands · 6 years

Text

there's only so much silence a home can take (various ages)

totally forgot to move this over sooner // [carpenter verse] // can read on A03 // cw: terrible teacher? (in v.)

summary: Living with other people can be good

i. medicine delivery

Dean is perhaps not as gentle as he should be when he pushes Cas back into bed, tucking the extra blanket around him and frowning, but this is the fifth time Cas has tried to get up for non-bathroom related reasons and playing corral-the-sick-husband was not a fun game.

Dean points to the tray on the night stand. "Your mint tea, your herbal tea because you couldn't decide, a glass of water, pills and cold medicine, your book from downstairs, and your glasses. I called Naomi and explained your absence. You've emailed your T.A.s' their work. You can get your laptop and cell back in two hours. Take a nap. Read your book. Do not get up unless your bladder is gonna burst."

"You're not the boss of me," Cas says, like he's five, and is asleep three minutes later.

ii. mice are not pets, they are snake food

Dean is stirring the pot when he hears a loud yelp and then Josephine's voice yelling, "Mr. W!" and Emma's just as loudly calling, "Dad!"

He drops the wooden spoon and races into the living room, where the girls are standing in the corner, Josephine holding up her math book and Emma with the fireplace poker. "What?" he says, glancing around; their bags are by the table and he can see the various crap (papers, books, bag of chips they shouldn't be eating so close to dinner) that surrounded the area where they were sitting while they did their homework, but everything else looks fine. "What is it?"

"We just saw a big ass rat run under the TV unit," Josephine says, and Dean can feel the blood drain out of his head. Fuck.

iii. um murderers (sorry, I mean "loud noises")

She shouldn't have watched the movie, ok, she admits it, but her Dads were both jam packed with work and she kept the volume on low and Josephine saw it with her older cousins and also are they allowed to show that much blood at 8 o'clock, really aren't there supposed to be family guidelines or something?

The thing is there was a very long hallway between her and her dads' room, and the bathroom door (opened a crack, just enough to see the shower curtain was closed) and the closet door (sure, it should have shelves too stuffed with items to hide a body, but maybe that's just what they want her to think) were between them, and Emma is way too old to be freaked out about the lack of night lights (someone could trip and die! why was her Dad not worried about that!), but also...

Emma pulled the blankets over her head. The main problem is before her Dads’ room, and the bathroom and closet door, and the entrance into the hallway, was that really weird shadow beside her huge dresser, the one that had just enough space between it and the wall to hide Mr. Saw-n-Chains.

She was going to die.

iv. exhausted bones

Dean cooks 90% of the time. Mostly because he's (way) better at it than Cas, partly because he likes it (and boy did that take awhile for him to admit to), somewhat because he's used to it, and a little bit because he loathes grocery shopping and this seemed like a more than fair exchange of chores with Cas. He likes the routine of it, Emma usually doing homework on the kitchen table while he preps, Cas coming up behind him to lean over and watch his hands work. He was providing for his family, tangible, necessary things that they could enjoy, and Dean liked that even more than just the relaxation of cooking.

But as he's been discovering over the years (and Cas's various insistence into healthy food, non-gluten food, the three weeks of vegetarianism because Hael was his least favorite of Cas's sisters, and that semester Cas was doing his absolute best to avoid writing his second book and insisted on taking over any and all chores in one of the saddest versions of procrastination Dean has ever seen), liking cooking and coming up with a healthy/cheap/different dinner plan every night for years were sometimes two very, very different things.

He checks the clock on the stove, feels the echoing weight from the frankly ridiculous amount of lifting he's had to do today, and calls Cas.

"You're in charge of picking up dinner tonight."

v. can you believe this shit?

"Michael has not fired him yet," Cas says, setting aside his work bag and crossing into the kitchen to grab a glass of water when he gets home that night. "I'll help you with History in a minute, Emma, I just need to write up my notes about his actions."

"And then I had to spend an hour calming her down," Cas says, stabbing his steak a little too hard at dinner. "She's devastated; all her work wiped out, and it's too late to restart this semester, so she's really losing twelve weeks of work."

"He told me it was 'no biggie'," Cas says, changing out of his day clothes and into his sleep shirt and sweats for bed, the finger quotes obvious even without the accompanying hand gestures. "Like it didn't matter at all."

"He is a prick," Cas says, voice like an announcement on a mountain top, curse word slightly unfamiliar in his mouth. Dean very carefully does not groan into his pillow where two seconds ago he was almost asleep. "He is an absolute prick."

vi. you scratch my back, I scratch yours

Emma had lice, which was one of those normal kid things Dean half-remembered from his own childhood and definitely remembered from Sam's, like the chickenpox or the idiot who introduces your child to sugar for the first time. (Though, in Sam's case, he was that idiot. In his defense he was also eight and didn't have trouble with the resulting sugar high, having one of his own at the time, but yep, his fault.)

Still, Dean thought, stuffing Emma's pillowcase into the washing machine, trying to ignore the itch between his shoulder blades, this was definitely one of the less fun sides of parenting, like nightmares and bruises. (At least his kid wears a helmet, and Jesus he owes Mary an apology.)

Cas comes in with her towels, probably stuffing the washing machine a little too much but frankly he was foreseeing a lot of laundry in his immediate future and couldn't be assed to care at the moment about one possibly-too-large load. He nudges Cas with his shoulder, presenting his back as he pours out the liquid soap, and Cas scratches with fingernails that should maybe be cut soon.

vii. the tall bastards club

Dean owns five ladders. One in his house, two at work, one at Gordon's (who borrowed it a million years ago, and will be giving it back probably around the same time Dean returns Gordon’s mom's ceramic pie plate, so never), and one that tended to float around between friends, who had a much better return rate than Gordon and didn't see any reason to have their own. But five ladders, count them, and at least seven people he could borrow one from if all of his magically disappeared.

So why the hell Cas was standing on the kitchen chair (and of course he managed to grab the one Dean hadn't fixed yet, because there were three perfectly good chairs they could use for dinner for their family of three, sue Dean for prioritizing it low, but Heaven forbid Cas use one of those), frowning up at the ceiling, was beyond him.

"Hey, so how many angels does it take to screw in a light bulb?" Dean asks, pulling Cas down from the chair, smiling his best shit-eating grin when Cas turns his scowl on him.

viii. dancy party

"You don't have to go oh oh oh oh oh,” Dean sings, Emma’s feeding spoon in hand like an imaginary microphone, “you don't have to goooo."

Emma does the drum solo against her high chair table.

Cas is already grinning as they both sing (wildly out of tune from each other and the song) "Ay ay ay ay ay ay."

ix. my back doesn’t bend that way

By the time Cas comes upstairs, Dean is already laid out on the bed, jeans off and boxers pulled below the curve of his ass, head planted into the pillow. Cas straddles his upper thighs, tweezer in hand.

“So how did you get a splinter in your ass?” Cas asks, and Dean should probably give credit to Cas for managing to get that sentence out with a mostly even voice, but there was a ten-minute laughter spree in the kitchen so fuck him.

Like he fucking knew his jeans had a hole in the ass when he sat on the chair before sanding it.

x. skin hunger is a legitimate issue

“So how much longer is this?” Dean asks, running his fingers lightly up and down Cas’s neck as he leans into Dean on the couch. He wishes he’d grabbed popcorn or something before they started; salt and butter could only distract so much from people in puffy outfits spouting bad poetry, but better than nothing.

Emma snorts, tilting her head back from where she’s sitting on the floor in front of them, using Dean’s calves as a backrest. “It literally just started, Dad.”

“It is one movie, Dean, while you made me sit through three Star Battles. Be quiet.”

“Oh my God.”

#spn #the orange carpenter verse #wrote this before moving and forgot to add it here #more notes at the a03 ch #also the formatting was fucked up; think I fixed it all but tumblr has fooled me before

4 notes · View notes

captainswanandclintasha · 7 years

Text

Where words fail (music speaks)

A small gift for both @shoedonym and @thejollypirate because Julia’s birthday is today and Casey’s birthday is tomorrow. My darlings, I didn’t know if I would be able to post today but guess what!

Please forgive me for any mistakes, the story is not beta’ed by anyone but my own brain. Just remember that I love you!

Summary: Emma Nolan wrote a new song and she has to do a music video for it. Her biggest problem is that she needs a man to appear with her in the video and she can't find the right one.

Musician/Actor AU!

Also on AO3

_____________________________

On Monday morning, Emma was walking towards the studio, angry and ready to kill someone. And she was almost certain that the new corpse in the building was going to be her brother’s, who, sadly for him, was also her manager. In exactly one week she had to start filming her new music video, for the song "Burn my love" and she still did not had an actor to play with her in the video. She entered in David's office and started to talk not even bothering to say hi first.

"David!” she yelled as soon as she entered in his office. “What are we going to do? We need someone to appear in this video,” Emma continued to tell him.

"Emma, it's not my fault you didn't like the actors who came here all week," David said looking at her desperate.

"Well, none of them was good enough!"

"Emma! All of them were actors. Really good actors and yet you found something you didn’t like in every single man that walked in here,” David told her.

"I want someone who can express the message of the song,” Emma started to explain to him. “I want someone who can be a bad guy and at the same time I want someone who is not afraid to cry in front of the camera. The actors we’ve seen all week were guys full of themselves, who wanted to make an image for themselves or keep the good image they already had and refused to cry in front of a camera," Emma finished, letting out a deep sigh.

Emma was very proud of her new song, mostly because she was the one who wrote it and now she had Regina Mills in her team. Regina was the best producer in the country and she promised Emma an amazing video. She showed her a script and told her what will happen in the video, but Emma had a big problem. She needed a man to be in the video with her, and because she wanted this video to be the best, she refused to let some amateur appear with her.

She didn’t want just anyone, she wanted the one, that man that can express the suffer and lose, that man that can go from the bad guy to the good guy in seconds, the man that can make you fall in love with him in those 3:30 minutes of the video. Most of the guys they’ve seen couldn’t express more than “hello, wanna sleep with me after we are done here?” so yes, she denied everyone and channeled all her power to not slap some of them.

"I think I have a right guy. If you want someone who can make all these, I think I know the perfect man," David told her breaking the silence that feel between them.

"Who?" Emma looked at him with narrowed eyes. He said the same thing about the last two men they’ve seen.

"Do you remember Killian Jones?" Jones. Yes, she remembered him. She had a big crush on him when they were in college and him and David were best friends.

“Act like you remember just his face, Emma, not the feelings you had for him. Act cool,” said a voice inside her mind.

"Your friend from college?" she asked nonchalant.

"He is the one!" David said.

"No!"

"Why?"

"I want someone who can do his job without flirting with the girls from the makeup and hairstyle," Emma said, remembering the way Killian Jones flirted with everyone back in college.

"Jones could be perfect for this role, Emma."

"Jones was with every girl from the college. Except me, because I was your sister and Mary Margaret, because she was your girlfriend." Emma said, even if sometimes she wished she was one of these girls.

"He's an actor."

"He's an ass."

"I promise he will do his job," David pleaded for his old friend.

"I will slap him on his first day if he flirts with someone," Emma threatened David.

"So is this an yes?" David asked almost too excited.

"Do I have another option?" Emma asked, already tired of everything.

"No," David said smiling.

"Fine!"

"Good! I will go and talk to him," David said with a big smile on his face.

After that Emma left to go and talk some details with Regina. She let David alone in his office while he was getting ready to call Killian Jones. She had to admit that deep down she was a little excited too, even if she didn’t want to admit it. It's been awhile since she even heard of him and if she didn't even knew that he became an actor, then that said many things about her and her interest in who was Killian Jones now, ten years later after college.

_____________________________

Killian was in his living room when he heard a knock at the front door and went to open it. He already knew who was on the other side of the door but that didn’t stop him from opening the door with a smirk on his face.

"David! What a surprise! What are you doing here mate?" Killian said, making room for his old friend to come inside.

"You knew I was coming. I called you," David said with a smile.

"It's still a surprise."

And it was. It's been awhile since they talked the last time and David's call took him by surprise earlier.

"I wanted to talk something with you," David said, taking a place on Killian’s leather couch.

"It's always something like this. So, what can I do for an old friend?" Killian said looking at him, while David took his serious face.

"You're an actor, right?"

“One without a job, but still an actor,” Killian said in his mind.

"I am, yes. Why?"

"Do you need a job?" David asked smirking at him.

“Of fucking course I need a job!”

"It depends. I didn't know you started to make movies," he told David, raising his eyebrow.

"I didn't. It is for my sister," David explained.

“His sister? Emma? His beautiful, blonde, sister, Emma?”

"Emma?" his heart beat so loud in his chest that he was worried David will hear it.

"Ah, so you remember her."

"How can I forget a beautiful lady like her?" Killian looked at David with an eyebrow raised.

Back in college, Killian had a crush on Emma and David knew it, yet, David insisted that Killian should stay away from her.

"She is still my sister, Jones," David said, using his protective big brother voice.

"I know, I know. What can I do for your sister?"

"She has to do a video for her new song and she needs an actor."

"Um… I don't know mate… Videos aren't really my thing."

"Please. We really need someone and Emma refused everyone."

"What do I have to do?" Killian asked considering David’s offer.

"Be a bad guy, burn a rose, drive a car."

Be a bad guy? Check. Killian was that since high school. Drive a car? He drove his car every day. Burn a rose? Huh? This is something new.

"That's all? Sounds like something I would do in a movie," if he would have been in an actual movie in the last two years. "Except for the rose,” Killian said, remembering that part. “What is with that, anyway?"

"It's in the script,” Killian said shocking his shoulders and rolling his eyes at Killian. /;So, are you in?" David looked really rushed.

"I don't know…," he said scratching behind his ear.

"You will kiss Emma," David said suddenly.

"Are you serious?" Killian asked a little too fast.

"Very."

"I'm in," Killian said without thinking again.

"Hm…," David looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"Don't worry, Dave. I won't hurt your sister with a little kiss in a video."

"I know that look, Jones. I'm not worried about Emma. I'm worried about you."

"Me?"

"You will understand."

After that David told him he will send him an e-mail with more details and then he left. David has never been more cryptic than this and it made Killian very curious, but one thing he knew for sure. He is not ready to see Emma and revive his old feeling for her.

_____________________________

It was their first time on set. David sent him the script and the lyrics of the song two days ago, and Killian had to admit that he was surprised. The song and the video were about a couple, as always, but they were different than other music videos.

In the video, Emma, was his girlfriend. She was a ghost showing to the audience her story, their story, their love story, and the story of about she died. They were together, he was her boyfriend and he loved her, but he also loved the speed. One day, while they were together in the car, they entered in a forest and he started to drive faster and faster. She tried to stop him but he continued to drive and then they stopped. In a tree. The car was in fire, she was on the ground, almost dead, he had to take her in his arms, talk to her, try to kiss her while the ambulance was on the way.

But when the doctors come they were too late, she was already dead. The rose was one he gave her two days before the accident, and Killian was going to burn it because he knew that the accident was his fault and she was dead because of him. The burned rose was going to be the symbol of their love, now dead.

It was an emotional video and Killian hoped that he could hold Emma in his arms while she was "dead" and transmit the emotions of the video. He didn’t want to fail Emma and on the other hand, this could be a perfect opportunity for him to get new roles.

He was on set with the blonde who was supposed to help him with the makeup, Elsa, when they heard a voice behind them. Killian turned and he saw none other than Emma Swan. She was dressed in a pair of black jeans, a white shirt and a black leather jacket, her hair falling on her shoulders like a waterfall.

He had to admit that she was even more beautiful that he remembered. "Hello, Swan," he said turning to face her while he tried to act casually.

"Jones," she saluted him and then turned her head to the blonde wanting to say something, but Killian stopped her.

"Ah, so you remember me."

"David remembered me about you."

“Liar,” Killian said in his mind.

"Ah. But you can't deny the fact that you still remembered who I was before Dave told you about me."

"You know I never liked you, right?"

“But I liked you. Very, very much.”

"You just don't want to admit that you like me," he said winking at her.

"If this is what you believe" she said and then turned again to Elsa, but he stopped her again.

"Do you want to bet?" Killian said with a smirk an eyebrow raised.

"What?"

"That after this week of filming, you will like me," his words came out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"I don't make such bets," and then turned her back at him.

"Are you afraid?"

"What do I get if I win?" she said turning again to face him, this time faster.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Hmm… I don't know right now, but I will tell you when I'll win," she said mirroring his smirk.

"Okay. If I win, you go on a date with me."

"You really think you will win?" she said smiling at him.

"Deep down, you know I will," Killian challenged her.

"In your dreams, Jones."

“You have no idea, Emma,” a voice inside his head added.

"See you around, love," Killian said, and then left her with Elsa.

_____________________________

The next time when they were together in the same room it was right after they kissed. They had to kiss just minutes ago, because their characters were kissing in the video, but she wasn't prepared to feel what she felt. She thought, or more like, she hoped, that she won't feel anything for him, but she knew that she had zero chances. He kissed her with more passion that it should have and she couldn't take it. He put so much passion in that kiss that she would have fall on the ground if she wouldn’t have been already in his arms, with her arms around his neck and his hands hard on her hips. Another thing that worried her. How right it felt to be in his arms.

After that she left the room without another word. She ran and she knew that, but she couldn't stop. After Regina yelled "Stop!" she looked at him, and then ran to her cabin.

Now she was on her couch, thinking about everything that just happened when she heard a loud knock on the door. When she opened the door, she was face to face with Killian.

"You ran, Swan," was all he said.

"I didn't. I just remembered that I had to do something. And because we take a break, I decided to do the thing now," making him room to enter in her cabin, even if she knew that she shouldn’t do it.

"And that something is sit on a couch for fifteen minutes?" he asked while entering in the cabin.

"What is your problem?" she asked sharply.

"I just wanted to ask you the same, love."

"I'm not your love, Jones!"

"Not yet."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Just tell me, Emma. Why did you run?"

"It was just a kiss. Why do you care so much if I ran?" she said the words without thinking.

"I never said something about that kiss. I just wanted to know why you ran."

Fuck. That was right. He only asked why she ran. He did not say anything about the kiss. Or how it felt when they kissed.

"I just don't have time for this now, Killian,” Emma said trying to make him understand that she didn’t want to talk about that. “And I am not in the mood for whatever this is," Emma said pointing with her arm between them.

"Emma you know me."

“Do I?”

“Emma, we were friends once,” Killian said, his voice sounding almost desperate. “You know me, you can talk to me. And I know you, you are still an open book for me. I know you didn’t run for nothing.”

"Killian, yes! You are right, I knew you! You know what I remember? I remember that you were always the guy who was at arm with another girl every week! I don't want to be one of those girls and now you are trying to make me one of them because of this stupid video!"

She knew that that wasn't true. She knew Killian didn't tried that, but she was too furious to think about what was right..

"You needed my help! I came here to help you!" he yelled at her.

"No! Don't tell me you are here for me, because you aren't. You are here for David. Because he asked you and he is your friend!" she yelled back.

"I was never in a fucking video music! And yet, here I am. Do you really think that if I would've told David that I don't want to appear in your video, he would have insisted? No! I am here because he said you need my help. This is why I am here. To help you!" Killian yelled again at her.

She saw the truth behind his eyes and she knew it wasn't a lie. She knew that he was there because he really wanted to help her. That was what it scared her the most. The truth behind his eyes and the possibility that he might care about her.

So she did what she knew the best. Again. She ran again, leaving him alone in her trailer. They had just another day to film together and they still didn't film the scene when she had to be on the ground, dead while he kept her in his arms. She had to admit that she was afraid of that scene and the emotions that they needed in that scene.

_____________________________

It was already past midnight when they finally filmed the last scene. Emma was on her knees, on the ground singing the last line of the song. When she finished she stayed like that for a few moments until they stopped the camera.

"And stop! Good! This is very good! We finished the filming people! Go home and relax for today. Emma. I'll see you at the studio on Monday. Okay? I want you to be there to see the final product," Regina told her.

Emma had to admit that at the beginning she hated Regina because she was a bitch, but then she found out that Regina was pregnant and she was a bitch because of her hormones. So Emma tried to ignore her and do her job as best as she could.

"Okay," she told her and then started to walk back to her cabin.

She stopped when she saw Killian standing in front of it. He was dressed in black leather and she wondered how he can move dressed like that. His head was bent and he looked like he thought very intense at something.

"What are you doing here?" she asked when she was in front of him.

"I wanted to apologize," he said softly.

"For what?"

"For yelling at you, love," he raised his head and looked in her eyes.

"I should be the one to apologize. I yelled at you first," she knew it was her fault and she hated to admitted, but she had to.

"That you did," he agreed.

After that none of them spoke and silence came between them.

"You were right, you know?" she said suddenly, looking in his eyes.

"What?"

"The bet. You won."

"I don't care about the bet, Emma," he said softly looking at her with big eyes.

"Sure you don't," she said sarcastically.

"I don't. I want to tell you something."

"What?" She asked raising an eyebrow.

"Promise me you won't run."

"Why?"

"Because I know that what I will tell you it’s going to scare you. But I hope that after I will tell you this little story, you won't run."

"Okay. I promise."

Killian took a deep breath and then started to talk. "When we were in college, I liked you. A lot. But I didn't want you to know. Firstly because you were David's little sister, and secondly because he threatened me that he will castrate me with a pair of scissors. So I told him to keep his mouth shut and not mention anything."

"David knew?" his confession surprised her and the fact that David knew that, it surprised her even more.

"Yes. And he was such a good friend because he did what I told him, for once, and he hadn't told you. It was a time, when I really wanted to tell you, but you were with Neal, so I started to date other girls. I don't know if you saw, or if you cared, but many, if not all of them, had something in common with you. One was blonde, another had almost the same color as your eyes, another had a beautiful voice but not as beautiful as yours and the list can go like this for ten more minutes. When David told me about your video, I didn't want to help because, in a way, I was afraid of what it will do to me to see you again."

"Why did you accept?"

"I know it will sound stupid, but David told me that I will have to kiss you and I thought that if I will kiss you, maybe I could make you feel what I fell."

"This is why you made that bet," she said, watching him nodding.

"Aye. I hoped that maybe I could make you like me, but yesterday I realized that I was stupid."

"You were," Emma agreed with him, letting her head down.

"I know."

"You should've told me,” Emma said, looking at him again. “When we were in college, you should've told me what you feel."

"You were with Neal."

"Neal cheated on me and made me build my walls. I have a feeling that if it was you, instead of him, you wouldn't have hurt me."

"I would never hurt you."

"I know this now," she said in a low voice.

"Were you serious? Earlier, when you said that I won. Were you serious?" Killian asked her and she could hear the hope in his voice.

"Yes. I liked you before and I like you now."

He came closer and looked into her eyes. She knew he was reading her and she let him. He had to see that she was meaning every word.

"Can I kiss you, love?"

"You already did that for the last three days."

"That was for a role. I want to kiss you for real, this time."

"Okay,” she said smiling. “But not now," Emma said serious.

“What?" Killian said, surprised.

"You promised me a date," Emma said laughing.

"That I did,” Killian said, starting to laugh as well. “Are you free now?"

"Very," Emma said, with a big smile on her face.

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fan fic #cs au #musician/actor au #captainswanandclintasha

38 notes · View notes

dprwolfgang · 7 years

Text

Lights Down Low // Jay Park Series

3.Me Like Yuh

I Know it’s a bit fast pasted but it’s that way to get to where i want it to be.

Part 1 Part 2

Gray’s P.O.V

"Did you call her? Is she coming?" Jay nagged for the thousandth time this morning.We were back in LA so he could finish up the last track on his album but Jay being Jay decided he wants to shoot a music video here as well.Every choreographer that came through he turned down but if you ask me I think he just wanted an excuse to see Leya again.In the two months we've known her she seems to have him wrapped around her fingers and she didn't even know it.He thinks I don't know where his inspiration for Drive came from but I was the main witness to that.

Even though she complained that Jay is a pain they still exchanged numbers so I really don't get why I'm doing his dirty work.As Jay continued whining someone knocked on the door.Loco got up to get it.

"uhhh,Gray there's a real nice bottle of cherry cola asking for you." Loco shouted making me jump out of my seat and rush towards the front.

"You're lucky you're adorable so I'll let the cherry cola comment slide." She told Loco smiling before she noticed me."Sunghwa." she smiled again.

"Gray woman,G-R-A-Y." I replied hugging her sideways."Are you gonna change my name from 'Spicy Enchilada' in your phone?" she countered.I shook my head smiling.

"Then I'm not calling you Gray."

"I can definitely see why Park's whipped." Loco said. I rolled my eyes at him before the cups in her hand caught my attention.

"Coquito?" I questioned hoping that it was. I tried getting it at that Hispanic place not far from Jay's back in Korea but it just wasn't the same.She nodded an passed me a cup then turned to Loco.

"I didn't know we'd have company so I only brought three.You can have Jay's own though." She said offering the cup of heaven to him just as Jay came out.

"My what?" He asked."Nothing." Both her and Loco said at the same time.Loco quickly grabbed the cup and sat beside me on the couch.Leya sat down on the one opposite us and Jay plopped down beside her and before taking her cup out her hand and sipping on the drink.She rolled her eyes at him before speaking."What's so important that I had to be up at 7am?"

I simply pointed at Jay and sat back in my seat mumbling to Loco to enjoy the show.Her eyes turned to Jay who had already gotten out his seat next to her and backed up a few to put distance between them."Now before you eat my head off or decide to pull my ear off this time just hear me out." He pleaded.

"I'm listening Jaebum."

"I'm in need of a co-choreographer to help with the routine for my new video aswellasavideogirl." Jay replied saying the last part so fast I almost didn't catch what he was saying.

"Repeat that last part."

"I need someone to play the lead in the video and I was wondering if you would." He said slowly,backing up creating more space between them.

"Look I'll help you with the dance but I'm not playing your main girl.I'll text you the studio address and I'll meet you there later so we can get started."

Leya stood up picked up her bag and walked over to where Loco and I sat.She leaned over a kissed both my cheeks before she turned to the door.

"What about me?" Both Loco and Jay said at the same time.She chuckled and turned around blowing a kiss to Loco who caught it and put it in his shirt pocket causing her to smile.

"In another lifetime Park." She chucked up the deuces at him and made her way out the front door,both Jay and Loco eyeing her as she left.

"Damn.Cherry Cola got any Korean in her?" Loco asked.

"What?" Jay and I looked at him."What?..I'm just asking maybe she'd like some in her." He shrugged his shoulders and smirked at Jay. I think I saw Jay's eye twitch before he threw a pillow at Loco.

Loco laughed telling Jay how whipped he was before he switched the topic back to the album.

Leya’s P.O.V

"So let me get this straight he asked you to be the lead in his video and you turned him down?" My friend Bella asked as we sat down on the floor of the studio. I nodded and sipped my coquito.Bella was a pretty little mix of Puerto Rican,Italian and let me tell you she took the best parts of each.She's been one of two of my only female friends and even though she's a bit loud mouthed she keeps it real with me no matter what and that's what I like about her even if she lives on the other side of the world.

"I know this isn't what you want to hear but from everything you've told me since you guys met I'm gonna assume he likes you. The man could probably choreograph that entire video by himself but he flew all the way to California for you. The boy is whipped.Are you sure you didn't give him any kitty?" She raised her eyebrows suggestively at me.See what I mean no filter on her mouth.

"I didn't fuck him,you know that's not me."

"All I'm saying is you need to let loose and have some fun.You haven't been the same since that asshole and I'm sorry but if I was you I would of been putting in work and taking out my stress on that fine ass Korean you got rooming up in your house.It's been two years,not all men are the same.You taught me that so now you gotta practice what you preach and stop giving the man a hard time.What does he even look like anyways?" Bella asked looking at me after her speech.She knew Dean was my brother, blood or not and she still insisted that I try that out.Pulling my phone out of my pocket I pulled up his Instagram and passed my phone to her.I could of sworn her eyes were about to pop out and roll around.

"And you aren't riding his dick backwards because?" I sighed.Note to self stop asking Bella Marie Gomez for advice.Taking my phone back I quickly texted Jay the address and put my phone down.He texted back right after telling me that Loco would be with him as Gray went to the studio with Cha Cha.

"Park's coming and he's bringing company.Be nice."

"When aren't I?" She replied smiling at me.

It didn't take long for them to get here and as soon as Loco laid eyes on Bella that was it.They migrated to the far corner of the studio as Jay I got down to work. The song was catchy and I liked the whole island vibe it had to it which made it easier for me to come up with moves.As much as I hate to admit it I was having fun and we worked well together.We kept going for a couple hours until Jay called it quits.Looking around I couldn't see Bella or Loco anywhere.

"They slipped out like an hour ago." Jay spoke from behind me making me jump.Sliding to the floor I sat leaned up against the wall.

"Why do you hate me?"

"I don't know you to hate you Park." I replied not looking at him.

"Okay let me rephrase that.How come you smile every time you see Gray,hell even Loco but you look at me and it's just a straight stale face?"

"Because the first thing you showed about you was that of a typical fuckboy and since we've met you've never given me reason to think differently of you. The only time you talk to me is when you're making Sunghwa do it. I know I'm not the most approachable female cause I'm forever looking like I have a serious case of resting bitch face but I don't bite."

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair then spoke."I know I came off as a cocky asshole when we first met but I'm nice I swear. I only made Gray text you cause I figured you'd ignore me if I did it myself."

"How about we just start over?"

"Hey I'm Jay and I'd like to take you out to dinner someday." He smiled cheekily at me extending his hand for me to shake.Giggling like a little school girl I took his hand.

"Cataleya and it's nice to meet you too."

"So what's your story?" he asked turning to face me.

I told him there wasn't much to know about me but he still insisted so I told him.He was an easy person to talk to when he wasn't being cocky. I liked this laid back Jay don't get me wrong business mode Jay is cool but sometimes we all just need a moment to remember that we're still human.

"So you've never been to Korea?" He asked and I shook my head.

"Bella lives there though.She's always telling me I should be there but I haven't had time.Dean once threatened to strap me on a surf board and send me through baggage claim just to get me in Korea." I laughed lightly at the memory.

"Your mom's Korean,how come you've never been?" he asked.

"Cause I'm adopted and not Korean.Never knew my birth parents and because of my eyes people never questioned whether I was adopted or not. They just assumed that my father wasn't Asian that's why I looked different from my mom."I explained to him.

"What's your idea of a perfect first date?" He asked changing the topic.

"Dinner,movie and chill and by dinner I don't mean going out to some expensive restaurant.We cook,watch a movie and hangout." I hadn't been on a lot of dates but I'd always wanted a first date like that and once again here he goes being all sweet and making me melt. I needed to get out of here fast.

"I'm about to head out,you want a ride?" I asked him.

"Yeah. I guess.Loco said he'd be awhile." He replied getting to his feet and helping me up.After turning off everything and locking up Jay and I walked outside to the front desk only to be stopped by the rain.Rain is always welcomed in California but the shit was always falling unexpectedly and fucking shit up.Plus I didn't have an umbrella.

"Cataleya."

"I'm right here Jay you don't have to shout." I turned to him.

"I didn't say anything."

"Cataleya!" It came again but much closer this time.Jay turned towards the voice and I suddenly regretted turning around too.There in all his fuckboy glory was my ex boyfriend Yashel.Not giving a fuck about the rain I grabbed on to Jay's hand and started walking fast.

"Who's that?"

"Satan." I replied to him still tugging on his hand. I didn't care if I got soaked in the rain and ended up sick. I wanted to be as far away from Yashel as possible.

"Cataleya I know you hear me calling you." He called out.

"And I know you see me walking away from you." I kept pulling Jay towards the exit but before I could step out into the rain Yashel grabbed onto my arm tightly and pulled me back to him.When the fuck did he get so close?

"Let me go Yashel!"

"Come on baby don't be like that. I said I was sorry." his grip getting tighter the more I tried to get out of it."I miss you.Come home."

"I am home now let me the fuck go.You're breaking the restraining order Yashel.This isn't 100 feet." I pushed against his chest causing him to stumble backwards and let me go. I spun around to leave with Jay only to be pulled back again.Yashel spun me around and put his lips on mine. I pushed against his chest my hands in fists pounding against him but he didn't let go until he was finished. I slapped him hard. The imprint of my hand across his cheek.

"You little bitch!" he hissed at me holding his cheek.

"Vete a la mierda Yashel.Stay the fuck away from me.Next time I'll make sure they lock your ass up." I fixed my bag back on my shoulder and turned around to find that Jay wasn't there. I ran out into the rain looking for him but I couldn't see him.

"Shit! Fuck,Fuck,Fuck." I cursed loudly trying to get my keys out my bag. I was already soaked from the downpour,Yashel was still standing where I left him looking at me and I had no idea where the fuck Jay was.Fuck I lost Jay Park. I fucking lost Jay Park.Ay dios mio Sunghwa is gonna kill me.His fucking fan girls are gonna hunt me down.Pulling on my hair slightly I groaned loudly.My phone had died during rehearsals and I forgot my charger home so I can't call him.Aish.

Finally fishing my car keys from the bottom of my bag I unlocked it and opened the door only for someone to grab my hand from behind making me jump.Slowly turning around I saw Jay.Soaked from head to toe just like me,his jaw clenched like he was pissed but I didn't care I hugged him. I didn't get a hug back but it's okay cause I get to live another day.

"Where the hell did you go? Leaving me alone with him." I snapped at him.

He looked at me and rolled his eyes and the slight tick in his jaw told me he was holding back from saying something."can we just go before we both catch a cold or something." came his clipped reply.He walked pass me to the other side of the car but I closed my door and locked it before he could open the door.

"Unlock the door Cataleya."

"No!Not until you tell me what crawled up your ass,we were good just minutes ago now you're behaving like the asshole you were when we first met.Until then we gon' stand in this damn rain." I said.

"Don't make me come over there and take the damn keys woman.Stop being childish and open the damn door." he shouted walking over to where I stood. I scoffed,the only person acting childish here was him and I made sure to tell him that as I poked him in the chest.

"Who's he?" He asked out of nowhere pointing to where Yashel once stood.

"Nobody.Is that why you're behaving like this?" I questioned."you know what never mind.You're right let's go before one of us gets sick." I unlocked the car but didn't get a chance to open the door as Jay pushed me up against it.His lips covering mine in a slow tantalizing kiss.His lips soft and inviting that I soon found myself kissing him back.My hand against his cheek and his hands on my waist as we stood there in the rain.

He pulled away from me tugging my bottom lip as he went.He smiled at me and then turned around and went to the other side." Come on let's go." He said opening the door and getting in as I stood there in a daze.It took me a couple minutes before I got in my car and headed in the direction of where Jay was staying.

#thewritersnetwork #aomg scenarios #aomg #jay park #park jaebum #gray lee #khh #khiphop

41 notes · View notes

furrieswillrise · 6 years

Text

Edd and Marie fan-fiction

I do not own ed, edd, and eddy. It is the sole property of cartoon network and company. This story was written by me Furrieswillrise and is my first one so please be easy on me also rated T for mild language.

THE NEW KID

Chapter one: The NEW kid

It was a bright morning in the cul-de-sac of peach creek the sun had just began to rise and birds could be heard. It was mid june and school would return soon which made all the kids there hate this time of the year even more so that they would have to start high school they would be fresh meat to the upper-class men. Ed (aka the big lug) was laying his bed trying get some sleep while he could before his alarm goes off. He had stayed up watching his monster movie marathons again forgetting that he was starting school in the morning. Suddenly the alarm began going off making a loud ruckus and just opened his eyes slowly to look at the numbers 6:50. He had set the alarm to that so he could shower and get ready which was a relief to everyone that he became more hygienic after hitting puberty. He got up and made his to his closet the get his usual attire but had changed his big green coat in for a redder one which seemed to fit him well. After he finished showering he proceeded to grab his backpack and headed upstairs and into the kitchen where he found breakfast waiting for him that his mother made before heading to work. As he walked into the kitchen he saw his younger sister Sara sitting at the table eating her cereal she then looked up at ed and shoot him a evil smile."morning bro you might as well eat cause it may be your last cause your going to get eaten alive at school today." Ed didn't respond to her he just merely grabbed the buttered toast had headed out the front door to eddy's house.

Eddy had grown over the years once puberty hit he was about as tall a ed now and had put on some muscle not enough to notice but enough for him to handle himself if needed. Eddy had also changed up his wardrobe as well inside of his 80's style yellow shirt it was now a purple one with a dark red strip down one side everyone bet its was his older brothers but he didn't care he wore it anyway. Eddy had been up for awhile getting ready and was waiting in his kitchen eating when he heard a knock on his front door. He knew it was ed and got up and walked to the door unlocking it opening it and there he was, ed just standing there with his goofy self. "Hay lumpy just let me grab my bag and we'll head out." Eddy then turned around then walked into the living room to grab his bag and threw it over his shoulder and then rejoined ed at the front door. Ed nodded and they proceeded outside eddy turning around to lock his front door since most of the time he always beat his parents home first. They then turned and headed to the bus stop to catch the bus to school. As they walked they looked over to double d's house that had a for sale sign in the front yard. Double ds family had accepted better job offers and moved to a different state which meant double'd had to go as well. It had been three years since they last saw their skinny friend. Double d didn't even get to tell his best friends bye they just up and left one day without a word. "I wonder what sock-head is up to these days?" Eddy asked to ed still looking at the house "I don't eddy maybe we will see him again one day." They both had been missing their friend so much, it was like a huge piece was missing in their life's. They just weren't themselves anymore even the other kids noticed and decided to change their attitudes towards the other two and started to treat them with little more respect. As a result the eds had finally been accepted to the group and had become friends over the years.

As the two faced away from the house arriving at the bus stop they stood there waiting and then three more familiar faces appeared from around the corner. It was the kanker sisters and they also had changed over the years as well. May had got her teeth fixed and filled out nicely into a hour glass form which made her a bit more popular with the boys. Due to this she gained confidence in her self and started to wear dresses more bringing out of her shell and no one really complained about it. Lee had also changed as well she already had a nice figure but her body refined further into a nice hour glass figure as well and her attire showed it well. She had decided to dress like pip up girls attire, a red polka dotted top that fit well and a red bandana holding her hair out of her face and a pair of red pomp’s with a pair of skinny jeans with a rip near her left knee. Then lastly there was Marie she also had shaped into a nice hour glass form but she didn't to show it that much. Her outfits had become way more darker then she used to wear. Her hair was dark blue with a skull clip attached to one side, her sleeveless shirt dark with huge skull on the front of it a bullet belt hang loosely from her waist, dark baggy jeans with chains hanging from them and a pair of black converse with skulls drawn on the that she did herself, she had also got a tattoo of a panther on her right arm and a pair of gauges in each ear. In all sense she wanted to the bad-ass bad girl of the school and was in all sense she was. She was playing on her phone ignoring the world around her. "well hay there cuties long time no see." Lee said facing the eds they had left most of their bad habits behind after they started to enter high school it seemed to childish for them at that point.

"You saw us two weeks ago lee we were at the dinner eating when you showed up there with your ma. How is she anyways?" Eddy loosened up on the man calling at them after double d left its like everything changed when he left."You do care don't ya muffin, she's good she still works full time at the diner so we barley get to see her but she's good." Eddy just shrugged at lee's comments then he turned to face at ed who was fixated on something. "What you looking at lumpy?" Ed then lifts his hand and points in the direction of double d's house. "look eddy there's a person taking up the for sale sign." eddy turned now looking at the lady in a red coat with a real-a-state badge on it. "really?! someone bought it!" both eddy and kankers said at the same time. As they walked to get a better view the bus came stopping in front of their view. "Really!" said eddy then he ran onto the bus trying to land a seat where he can still see the lady. She was putting the sign into the trunk of her car while the rest of the little group followed suit and got seated when a moving truck drove past the bus followed by a nice black gto decked with black racing rims and dark tented windows where you couldn't see anyone in the car then a loud sound came flooding by the bus. Then the bus started to move and everyone on the bus sighed as the gto was out of sight before they could see who the driver was. It wouldn't have made a difference you could not see inside of the car but still they would try. Marie looked looked up from her phone to see what the commotion was about. Marie saw what the others were looking at and just went back to her phone trying to not let her emotions show she was heartbroken but she had a rep. to keep. "Things are about to get interesting." said ed looking at everyone who just nodded and faced forward. The bus left towards the high school.

#ed edd n eddy #eddxmarie #fanifiction

3 notes · View notes

nightingveilxo · 7 years

Photo

The Film “Stay” and How it Brings Things in Sherlock Together

Right after TFP aired, I did this short meta about how the deaths and accidents in Sherrinford looked staged, and by that I mean they had too little blood, angles were wrong, etc. I was annoyed, because I started off the episode aware that Eurus’s eyes were the wrong color; not the contact lens issue, I mean the little actress playing Eurus had brown eyes while adult Eurus was revealed to have blue, which didn’t make sense. Unless something else was wrong, like little Eurus suddenly appearing in 221B, and the trio suddenly appearing on the beach (as mentioned in TLD), outside the old Holmes residence.

In March, I was working on meta about repeating events, and how to work through things or stage them to look a certain way. It narrowed down to the editing, lighting, and directing choices--throwing in many film, tv, and lit references, in order to create possibly two seasons of content. I say possibly, because I watched S4, hoping it would explain things that still made no sense in S3 (wrong dates, Sherlock taking over the blog, and repeating things off the blog). It just got stranger in S4, and I still don’t know if we’re going to end up back in the aftermath of TRF or HLV. I will say though, that if you follow the plot, flickering lights, disappearing people and objects, staging, camera, and directing choices in Stay, S4 of Sherlock will make a lot more sense. I didn’t know that many people when I did my original meta, and wasn’t aware people hadn’t seen Stay. I was glad it seemed to help a few people.

The image at the top if from the film Stay. It says Forgive Me over and over again, because Henry (Sherlock) not THoB Henry Knight, but that works too, because he also lost his parents in a traumatic event, writes it about his guilt over those deaths. Henry Knight was also a Sherlock mirror, and it’s possible that it was his parents that died in a traumatic way (based on evidence in TEH that I’ve already covered), causing the rift between Sherlock and Mycroft (or possibly their father having an affair). Henry’s been suicidal for quite some time, and the whole of Stay revolves around his traumatized brain trying to make sense of things in his last minutes alive. Compare that with the note John receives, because some of us contemplated that it was actually meant to represent the note Sherlock didn’t leave in TRF. “Ordinary” is also what John says about Sherlock’s parents in TEH, and it’s the word Mary uses about having a life with John.

Note the line from Stay about suicide. Naomi Watts’ character is speaking to Sam (John), a plaid-and jumper wearing, bicycle-riding therapist who was standing in for Henry’s regular therapist or so it appears. She’s tried suicide before, and she’s quoting Henry’s favorite artist, who also took his own life. It’s important to note that Lila tells Sam (John) he can’t understand being in the kind of pain that she knew, and that Henry seems to be experiencing. It’s the same sort of idea that many of us have had about how John treats Sherlock in S3 and 4, without having been in his shoes. Lila does mention how there is too much beauty in the world to end things, though...

Compare this with Sherlock in TLD, speaking from his own experience with taking his life in TRF.

(Part of this is a direct quote from ACD canon The Veiled Lodger--)

Sherlock: Your life is not your own. Keep your hands off it, do you hear me?

Sherlock: “Taking your own life.” Interesting expression. Taking it from who? Oh, once it’s over, it’s not you who’ll miss it. (Resting one hand on the railing, he looks westwards along the river towards the London Aquarium. In a brief cut-away, a pistol fires towards the camera, then there’s a brief shot of the exterior of the Aquarium as the gunshot echoes and then smoke rises from the end of the pistol. Sherlock now has both hands on the railing as he continues to gaze along the river.) Sherlock: Your own death is something that happens to everybody else. (Faith has looked in the direction he’s looking but now turns to face him again. He lowers his head, his back to her.) Sherlock: Your life is not your own. (His voice becomes strained.) Keep your hands off it. (As he looks down, it’s as if he and the railing are suspended in mid-air with no ground or river below them. His feet are not touching anything.) ( x )

This is important, because all the events that actually happened in Stay, take place on the Brooklyn Bridge.

Henry is in hell. Sherlock: I’m burning up. (See more below). Mary: Sherlock, go to hell. Mycroft: I can give you a map reference for hell. ER number 999 becomes 666.

We also have The Burning Child (a story told by Freud, who was brought up in TAB and all of S4), which is told by Henry’s father. It’s repeated, just like The Merchant story is in S4 of Sherlock. In Henry’s case, the father is manifesting as blind, because he possibly never took notice of his son or his art. Remember the idea that was going around for awhile that John had been shot in the eye, and was blind? It’s also why I sometimes refer to people (esp Mary in S4) as manifestations, thoughtforms or compilations of various people.

It goes with this, where characters Athena and Lila are morphing, because Henry’s mind is becoming more and more unstable.

This is what Athena actually looks like, and she’s practicing Hamlet (Henry Letham anagram--we know Mycroft loves those), a play about contemplating death.

Here’s our Athena/Anthea, who is associated with marriage.

This is in Magnussen’s MP (which also looks like Mycroft’s theatre).

The number 21 comes up four times in this film, because that’s how old Henry was going to be when he committed suicide, but he fell in love with Athena. In one instance, it looks like 2121. 221B anyone?

The original meta I did associated with Stay. The rest of these images will make more sense if you view it, but I didn’t want to make this meta too long.

Henry in Sam’s office. Yes, the couch and bookshelf look like Sherlock’s chair.

The glass sphere theme, like the one Arwel bought for S4.

Twins and triplets everywhere.

Leon, Henry’s dad, and Sam playing chess. Sam also has giant chess pieces on his office desk.

Henry’s mother and Mary in T6T. Henry’s mom and Henry both have this bleeding head issue, because Henry hit his head during the car wreck. The injury is very much like the one when Sherlock goes off the roof in TRF, which is another reason why I can’t definitively say that things started getting weird in HLV.

The aquarium (although that is also from The Lady of Shanghai, as are the multiple mirror reflections in HLV)

Stairs like in Magnussen’s place.

Olive, Henry’s dog who was put down years ago, just like Redbeard was.

Empty fridge, like Mycroft’s.

MRI scans in a not-quite medical facility, similar to in Sherrinford.

When Henry visits a strip club, these scenes begin to show up on the screen behind the dancer, although the burning effect that happens when Mycroft watches his film is also referencing the film “Sinister”.

I’m going to end this here, because you really should watch Stay for yourselves. This link will bring you to it on YouTube. I’m working on two other meta for Naomi Watts films that factor into Sherlock, but you should also read

@may-shepard The Ring meta, because it’s amazing, and a second one by

@swimmingfeelsinajohnlockianpool that filled in some more information. I’ll be interested to see if we end up with a seven days scenario, since weeks = years.

More links and tags under the cut...

Lit, Film, and TV References Master Post: ( x )

*EMP/Unreliable Narrator/Alibi/Editing All Give Sherlock His Audience ( x ) (Part II of Justifying John Watson)

Justifying John Watson/Johnlock as a Player in the Drama ( x )

Time Is a Leveller & We Get Six Napoleons ( x )

*Magnussen’s MP is Mycroft’s Home Theatre ( x )

A Happy Ending or Mycroft Has Been An Idiot ( x )

Lestrade Has Been Helping All Along (Whether He Knows It or Not) ( x )

Sherlock and John Become a Unit/Couple in TLD (Or it’s their memory of doing so—TD12?) (x)

*Stories Making TEH Unreliable ( x )

More Internal Editing in S4 ( x )

In T6T, Sherlock Becomes Left-Handed and John Becomes Right-Handed, But Only When Lestrade is Present ( x )

Ajay in a Memory of Nuclear Codes ( x )

Sherlock and John Became a Couple in TLD ( x ) Part I

Sherlock Became Captain Watson’s Soldier in S4 ( x ) Part II

Stag Night Results in Culverton’s Hospital and the Morgue Scene ( x )

Eurus in Mycroft’s Home Movie Transition ( x )

@monikakrasnorada @mrskolesouniverse @ebaeschnbliah @gosherlocked @devoursjohnlock @sarahthecoat @loveismyrevolution @kateis-cakeis @holmesianscholar @sherlockshadow @tendergingergirl @sherlockians-get-bored @posh-boy-clever-boy @princesse-des-lucioles @fellshish @iris-wallpaper @antisocial-otaku @love-in-mind-palace @darlingtonsubstitution

205 notes · View notes

remy-strange-lebeau · 7 years

Text

Secret Heist Chapter 1

WARNING: MATURE LANGUAGE, CONTENT, AHEAD

Background: Remy and Anna LeBeau began planning a large-scale heist, including several magical item stashes.

One last member. That's all the Cajun needed for his heist. Anna was easy to convince, considering they were married. Wade took chimichangas and tacos down in Acapulco to join. For Logan, it was enough that Wade hadn't joined before then, plus a lot of whiskey. As for Dr. Stephen Strange, the Sorcerer Supreme, the knowledge of magical artifacts won him over. Standing outside an Irish pub, right in the heart of Dublin, Remy LeBeau could hear the man he wanted. Bullseye, one of the few men to have never missed their mark. The pub emanated Celtic Punk, the smell of dark beer and whiskey melded with fried fish and chips around the kitchen. Right inside, the atmosphere was apparent right away. A lot of wood detail could be seen, a rowdy sing-along going on. It reminded Remy a lot of home, back in New Orleans. The nights in the jazz clubs, blues bars, and pubs with his queen of hearts by his side. This was different though. This was business. Ordering a whiskey from the barkeep, the Cajun could feel the odd glances he was receiving, just from his accent. Looking around, he saw what he needed: a dart board. Walking over, he saw the man he needed, wearing a black leather trench coat.

“Ya mind if ah join ya for a game?” There was one sure thing that would catch his eye, and that was a demonstration of skill. “You don't look like much, lad, you sure you can keep up?” Bullseye’s response was cocky, his Irish heritage coming through. His build was just an inch shorter than the Ragin Cajun, but he was stockier. “Ah sure think ah can. An, if ah win, you gotta hear me out.” “Alright, yer on. And if I win, you buy me a round.” Lester handed the newcomer a set of darts, a smug grin on his face. Throwing a dart, the origin of the man's name was apparent. “Lemme see what ya got, lad.” “Well, ah wouldn't want ta show off, but,” the Cajun shrugged as he lobbed a dart at the board, hitting the bullseye,”ya asked fer it.” “How in the world?” Bullseye looked at Remy closer, noticing his red and black eyes, and that grin that was too charming for anyone's good. “You, you are Remy LeBeau, aren't you? I surrender this game, I'm buying you a couple rounds as we talk.” “Sounds good, mon brave, ah will grab a table.” Gambit watched the man as he grabbed a couple pints and a bottle of whiskey, sitting at the only empty table left. As soon as Bullseye was seated, Remy poured them each a glass of the liquor, attempting to establish some sort of common ground to work from. “Ah have an offer for ya, a job. Six person crew, equal cuts. Ah wanna hit dem hard, an get out right quick. Ah heard you was good wit weapons, and you have larceny in ya blood. Ah coul use a man like you.” “Wait, you're tellin me, that the most famous thief in the world, the King of Thieves at that, wants me, for a job? Tell me where to sign up. I would be honored, I am honored.” The newest member of Remy's little party was genuine in his statement, being able to work with a man of Gambit's caliber, being hand chosen by the man himself. Of course he would do it, especially since Remy doesn't hit small targets, his cut would be quite generous. “Glad ta hear, come to New Orleans, right in da French Quarter, you'll find a bar dat ah own. We all gon meet dere. One week.” Remy downed the whiskey, chasing it with a swig off his beer. He had a dream team now, the perfect balance of smarts, muscle, and weapons.

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

“Sugah, you are lookin kinda nervous, come sit down.” Anna Marie, the woman who had stolen the heart of Remy LeBeau long ago, tried to comfort her husband, pouring him a glass of bourbon. “Remy, have a drink, you'll loosen up a bit.” The Cajun did just that. He sat down next to his Chere, and sipped on the drink she poured him. “Anna, what if Logan walks on out? He don't know ah got Wade in here.” He knew the history between the two, and yet he wanted them both anyway. They were both good at what they did, even if it was bad. “Someone say Wade?” The Merc bust through the doors, a bowling shirt over his suit. “Hey, you, yeah, the person reading this. I sure hope Logan doesn't try to kill me again, he didn't even give me a happy ending last time! The nerve.” “Wade, what you babblin bout over dere?” The King of Thieves inquired, knowing well about his constant interactions with the voices in his head. “What? Oh, I was talking to them, Remy ol pal. I was just telling-” Logan charged in, cutting Wade off. “Wade, the hell you doin here? LeBeau, you best have a damn good explanation for this.” The man may be short, but damn was he terrifying. Just his appearance was enough, let alone those adamantium claws in his hands. “Yes, it is nice to see you again, Logan. Tell me, how's the weather down there?” Wade mouthed off, just at the wrong time. Logan shish kabobed him, cutting him off from saying anything else. “Shut yer mouth, Wade, I like you best when you shut the hell up.” The Wolverine sheathed his claws, releasing Wade. Fuck he hated that mouth, but he wasn't going to sew it shut like that one terrible movie nobody talks about. “Fellas, come on, drinks on da house.” The Cajun handed them both a whiskey, that warm, charming grin playing on his lips. “Let's jus say ya both are pretty, an leave it at dat?” “Aww, thanks Remington, I knew you liked for-wait, were you hitting on me? Oh, you bad boy.” “Wade, I swear, I will slice your damn jaw off if you don't shut up.” “What's the magic word?” “Fuck you.” “Close enough, Wolvie. I'll keep my two cents to myself.” Turning slightly, Wade hid his mouth with his hand. “No I won't, I'll just give it to you guys. Yeah, you beautiful nerdy people reading this.” “Looks like we jus waitin for Stephen an Lester. How you been Logan? It's been awhile.” “Lester? Do you mean Bullseye? Remy, buddy, please tell me you didn't. Are you planning on there being bodies?” Wade acted with mock surprise, even covering his masked cheeks with his hands. “Yes, ah do mean him. An if I wasn't expectin bodies, ah wouldn't have brought you on, ah would've brought Murdock.” Logan lit his cigar, puffing on it as he drank his whiskey, pouring himself more to tolerate the old, musty avocado. “You know I'm with ya, Remy. Just tell us what the plan is.” “We gotta wait a bit, Logan. Not everybody is here.” Remy leaned back, holding a hand out to his darling wife. She came over, sitting on his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Besides, we still gotta agree on what y'all are doin.” A portal opened up in the bar, and the Sorcerer Supreme entered, wearing his Defenders uniform. He had a smile on his face, looking at the four of them already gathered. “I do hope I'm not late, Remy. Something came up in the library.” “Ah, Stephen! Ya ain't late at all, mon brave, not one bit.” Giving a flourish of his hand, the mastermind signaled for the newcomer to sit down. A server brought out a tea kettle on a tray with a cup and sugar, specially made for the doctor. “Ah, thank you kindly. Are we waiting for anyone else?”

As if on cue, the final member of the team walked into the bar, dressed in a flattering black suit. Bullseye, the man who had gone toe to toe with Daredevil on so many occasions, had been given a new focus. “LeBeau, you didn't tell me Wade would be here. Not that I'm complainin, he's good.” “Lester, hey buddy. How's Fisk been treating you? Last I heard, you had died.” Wade reached for his boot pistol, trying to pass it off as if he had an itch. “Wade, it's been too long. We've been due for a drink or some coffee for a while, haven't we?” “I think we've been due for jack shit, you tried killing me! Without a happy ending!” “Oh Wade, that was business, nothing more.” Bullseye took a seat, graciously taking the pint of beer he was handed. He sipped it, savoring the flavor of it. “Mmmmmm, Guinness. LeBeau, you sure know how to treat an Irishman.” Clearing his throat, Remy got right down to business. While Rogue handed out folders holding the details, Gambit stood up, addressing his crew. “As ah am sure y'all know, dere is a collection of items in England, hosted by a nobleman. We gon take da whole thing. We get in, we get out, none of us get hurt. As far as da guards go, dey are expendable, so do as ya wish wit dem. Y'all's folders have da rest of what y'all need to know. Dere are also blueprints of the building we will be hitting. Study up, we gon meet back up tomorrow. Get on upstairs, grab a room, get some rest. Y'all gonna need it.” While the men all went upstairs, a bus boy came around, cleaning the glasses off the table. He came back, after taking the dishes to the kitchen, and wiped it down, a sad look on his face. Remy noticed it, and placed a comforting hand on the young man's shoulder. “Everythin alright, Bubba?” “Oh, uh, yessir!” Bubba replied rather quickly, before continuing. “Well, if ahm bein honest, ah sure am worried bout my mama, she ain't doin too well.” “Oh dear, we can't have that, not at all. Take dis, go take care your mother, take a few days off.” He handed the man a wad of cash, sending him on his way. Catching the look from his wife, Remy chuckled with a shrug. “What? His mama ain't been doin too good.” “Remy, what am ah gonna do wit you?” Anna placed her hands on her hips, a mock quizzical look plastered on her face. It was that wry smile that gave her away. “Well, ah think ya know what you gon do wit me, chere.” That playful grin was on Remy's face, she knew it all too well, yet not well enough.

#remy lebeau #anna marie #wade wilson #james howlett #dr strange #bullseye #marvel #fanfic #heist #crime

3 notes · View notes

thorntonkrell-blog-blog · 5 years

Text

Spellchecked

EARLY BOOMER, LATE BLOOMER

I chose my Christmas gift 25 years before I was born. I chose wisely. On that day, Mary Keenan, who had just arrived bag and baggage in Rochester, New York from County Cork Ireland, gave birth to her first child…and named her Mary.

I sent that child the twinkle in her Irish eyes. Young Mary went on to celebrate another 91 Christmas birthdays. I was around for 67 of them as she was glad to see my father and her husband who saw my twinkle when he returned from the Philipines at the end of WW2 which made me part of a significant demographic excess known as the Baby Boom. When my father was in the Phillipines and during his entire time in the service, my mother wrote him a letter every day.

 I am an early Boomer and a late bloomer. When she was child, she raised her brother and two sisters as her father died suddenly when she was in high school. She lived to be near the bedside of all of ‘em when they passed. Same with my father, she comforted him till he died in her arms.  I was the oldest of her three children. She loved me and supported us, every day of our lives.

 I never bothered to ask her to thank me for choosing her above millions of candidates to be my mother while I was in my first infinity before my vacation before my next and final infinity. And I know I’ll see her again. 

The stars twinkle.

 Mary’s granddaughter is our youngest child. Of course we named her Mary. Yes, Mary Dear. Your twinkle brought your Mom and I together thirty years ago. Thank you for that. 

There is a theory which states that if ever anybody discovers exactly what the universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable. 

Yes, there’s ANOTHER theory that this has already happened. I have a theory that it happens over 300 millions times every day in the United States alone.  The initial discovery is called death and the something even more bizarre and wonderful is called birth. The vacation in between is called life or some say “lipstick land.” All of us on earth at this moment share a common state of inexplicability which we project as the “universe” or “reality”. We create this reality as we go along living our lives in a state of mass hypnosis, love and wonder. Eventually we straighten things out, kick the bucket and re-awaken with only a vague memory of what we knew before. This vague memory is called our subconscious. With each awakening we discover a brand new universal puzzle to contemplate along with a brand new set of people also contemplating the same puzzle with slightly different kaleidoscopes. The most immediate, influential people we call our parents. 

And you, dear Mary, call me Dad. The tools that worked best the last time, even though we don’t remember them, are called aptitudes. When we discover them, we use them to explain the universe to ourselves and others particularly our children. I get the feeling I’ve written this before. I get the feeling this is what all writers are writing about all the time. All singers singing about all the time etc. I get the feeling you’ve read this before, Mary. Of course it’s all just a theory. I am still alive, honey.  Aren’t I ? 

MIDNIGHT MARY

Today is the first day in Rochester that we can all wear shorts. Thank God.

Today is also the 25th birthday of my youngest daughter Mary.

Mary was born at midnight so it's always hard for me to figure out which day that was as midnight I can go either way so I celebrate for two days and even that is nowhere near enough. The celebration should be continuous.

The hospital listed her birth at 11:58 but I noticed that the clock in the delivery room was a few seconds past midnight when the antenna emerged. I joked to the delivery doctor that we just made it for the extra day in the hospital. About an hour later, I discovered that they had declared her birth at 11:58. Around here, you get two days in the hospital for a birth. Because they listed the birth at 11:58, they counted that whole day as a birth day which meant in reality we got one day and two minutes of hospital service.

Bastards

Health Care

Two minutes which weren't legitimate in the first place.

I know she was born at midnight. I have video to prove it but didn't bother to fight the bureuacracy in the midst of such joy.

So Midnight Mary came into being wearing an antenna on her head. The doctors were monitoring her heartbeat in the womb and had attached a heart beat monitor to her head which looked like an antenna when she emerged at Midnight.

Yeah

25 years ago.

Now flash back four months ago right after the biopsy. I learned I had cancer and bone scans would determine how far it had spread. The interim of waiting for the bone scan results was the most "spirtitual" time of my life.

I was ready to go if go I must but I prayed to be around to celebrate the birthday of Midnight Mary and to be wearing shorts while celebrating.

I prayed for this day right here

My prayers were sincere

So pardon me while I celebrate

And forget all sorrow

Today is worth the wait

And so is tomorrow.

AVA”S SHOWER

When we moved to Tumbleweed, we had to enroll Mary in a brand new school. She was in third grade and had a broken leg. She arrived in time for school pictures. When the class pictures came out, I noticed this little girl with big glasses. Her name was Ava. I pointed her out to Mary and said “She looks like she’d be a good friend.” Sure enough, they became besties and remain so to this day almost 30 years later.

 This is the story of Ava’s shower.  I know this wasn’t a dream because when I dream I always try to snap in the dream the picture but the camera never works. It was my first bridal shower. My gender had always rendered me ineligible for such celebrations but this shower was co-ed. We were enjoying our drinks and conversation downstairs when I noticed that the main female stars were missing.  Ava was trying on her wedding gown upstairs.

I’m not sure who invited me but somehow through the grapevine I came too know that I would be welcome in this room and so would my camera. This happens often in my dreams but in my dreams, the camera she don’t work. I walked up the stairs and entered the room. I was the only male but everyone seemed to welcome me.  Everyone was admiring Ava in her dress. Ava was radiating joy and reflecting the admiring glances that were coming her way. The dress was perfect. Everybody knew it.

 I’ve been taking Ava’s picture ever since she was a little girl. I wanted to get a great picture of Ava at this moment. All of my years of photography had led to this moment. It wasn’t gonna come again. Ava noticed me. She looked into the camera. I snapped. The camera worked. This was no dream.  Mine wasn’t the only camera in the room. Ava seemingly picked up on all of the lenses by not concentrating on any of them but rather enjoying her moment of celebration. A model of decorum. I got my pictures. Everybody got their pictures. The cameras disappeared. I lingered with my lens. 

At that moment, at that second, in about the time it takes a car to swerve a deadly swerve, Ava’s expression changed. For an instant.. memory, vulnerability and sorrow flashed through her entire being in a collision of joy and pain. I imagine she was thinking of her older sister who was not in the room.

The older sister Abby who ended up on the deadly end of an unsignalled swerve on a dark Halloween night almost 10 years ago. A tragedy that changed everyone. Suddenly Abby was in the room.  I didn’t see Abby but I did see Ava seeing Abby as did my camera. For one split second grief and recognition flashed across Ava’s glowing face. In that split second I had to make the decision whether or not to snap the picture and “capture” this exceedingly private, candid, personal and vulnerable moment. I was almost certain that the camera was going to malfunction revealing the entire scene as one more dream forever undocumented. I snapped. 

The camera worked. Ava’s expression returned to joy. A few weeks later, I told Ava about the picture. I told her this story. I told her I wanted to write about it but couldn’t do that unless she approved. She said it would be an honor. The wedding is this weekend. This writing is in honor of Ava and of Abby.

   HEADING FOR FRONTIER AT LAST

  Today’s the day. Last night was the night. I only had to steal one mirror last night so I got my first half way decent shuteye in months. At this moment I am resisting the urge to hit the sack and indulge in fatigue.

 I’m thinking about the original Invasion of the Body Snatchers and Nightmare on Elm Street. In both of those flicks, sleep was to be avoided unless you wanted Freddy to slash through your walls or wake up as a pod, a poisoned pod. 

Those movies always bothered me.  I hate the feeling of falling asleep when I don’t want to fall asleep. This used to happen to me all the time, particularly on Wednesday nights when I was young.  Because I was big fan of horror films, my parents used to let me stay up “late” to watch Shock Theater which played all of the Lugosi, Karloff and Chaney films. Frankenstein, Dracula, the Wolfman, the Raven, the Mummy, the Black Cat, The Invisible Ray,The Ghoul,The Werewolf of London etc. The show came on came on past my bedtime so it was quite a privilege and quite a challenge.  Plus, I was actually scared by the movies or at least I expected to be. 

I would take my position on the carpet in front of our timy teevee set. The movie would start and before too long, I would realize that I was falling asleep. I learned to recognize the feeling and the “oh no” that accompanied it. I would invariably choose to “rest my eyes” for just a minute during a commercial. I learned after awhile that once I started to rest my eyes, the rest periods would increase in frequency and duration until at last I was asleep on the floor and had to be carted of to bed all the time insisting “I’m awake, I’m awake”

 The morning came and I awoke with a sense of failure and a determination to make it all the way through the next week. I realized that once I started to “rest my eyes”, it was all over. I would make a conscious effort to “resist the rest” but week after week I failed. I wasn’t used to failure back in those days and it frightened me more than the movies did.

I was learning about temptation and my inability to resist it. This was my first previews of fatigue but I really didn’t know what fatigue was until a few months ago. There’s a difference between fatigue and being tired, passing out, blacking out, dozing off or being exhausted. For the past few months, I’ve suffered fatigue and it’s a lot different from “resting my eyes” because in fatigue I’m not even interested in the “movie” that is my life. All I want to do is sleep, well not exactly sleep but more like escape but even in the escaping there is the over-riding sense of failure and guilt as days melt away and merge with nights. Fatigue sucks. 

So as I write these words, I am resisting the urge to “rest my eyes” and to go downstairs to my cave/pit. The urge is strong but not as strong as yesterday and yesterday wasn’t as strong as the day before. They told me after my last blast of radiation that sometimes the fatigue starts to go away after a week and a half but sometimes it can continue for three or four months or in some cases forever. 

Today is exactly a week and a half since my last blast. I’m gonna go the distance. I’m not goin’ downstairs. I’m not gonna turn into a pod person again today. No way. I’ve charged up my camera. I’m snapping flowers. I’ll be leaving for the ballpark in three hours. I’m gonna look good. This is the day I marked down on my calendar for the beginning of my comeback and I’m not gonna rest my eyes until I get back from Frontier Field. My brother is my best friend and I haven’t seen him during this whole situation. I want to see him now. I want him to see me snapping pictures, keeping score, drinking a beer and rooting for the old home team. Freddy Fatigue can’t get me at Frontier Field if I keep my eyes on the ball. 

THE OLD BALLGAME 

One of my colleagues, a guy named Fred, got into as much trouble as I did for having classrooms that were not quiet. Neither Fred nor I thought the criticism and penalization were justified but we did have “long hair” at the time and we were considered “popular” by the students. 

 Eventually, thank God, the concept of beautiful noise in the classroom began to take hold. Beautiful noise means the kids were buzzing and working with each other and with the teacher. Nothing on earth sounds like productive buzzing.  It was a far cry from the spray and pray method formerly preferred by the fearful badgers of the ruling realm and their supportive administrators. Quiet in the classroom was no longer a guaranteed good thing. 

Suddenly, Fred and I were seen as “innovators”. People started imitating us and when they got good at it, they began to instruct us on how to do what we had been doing all along, since we had already moved on to the next thing which they were currently against but soon would be imitating and then instructing. On and on and on and on etc.

 Meanwhile, my classes were getting busier and buzzier so I was headed for trouble. Quiet is so much quieter when it’s surrounded by buzz.  One day Fred and I and about fifty teachers were at a workshop run by a consultant who hadn’t taught a public school class in years but who was paid more than we were to look at our watches and tell us what time it was. The consultant was also on the lookout for new ideas which he could steal and profit from when he took his carnival on the road., always searching for a new parade to jump in front of and declare himself the leader etc.

 So the consultant called on teachers to “share” new ideas that they had. Most of the “sharing” consisted of ideas that people like Fred and I had been criticized for by the same people who were now “experts” at whatever “technique” they were sharing. The consultant gushed over every “insight” no matter how unremarkable.

 Meanwhile, Fred was in the back of the room trying to stay serious. Fred was a big, dark haired dark eyed handsome guy who wasn’t lacking in self confidence and didn’t need or want to be drawn into this festival of self congratulation. Even though Fred hadn’t raised his hand to volunteer a response, the consultant decided to call on him. “Do you have a technique, Fred, that you’d like to share?”, the consultant asked in an overly friendly way. 

Fred said “Well, I guess I could share what I call 'the old ball game’.

  The consultant perked up. "I’ve never heard of that technique, Fred. It sounds very interesting. How does it work?”

  Possibly a new parade was forming. 

“Well” said Fred, “if I see a kid’s not paying attention, I throw a tennis ball at him/her. That usually gets their attention.” 

Fred was serious. I looked at Fred’s face. Fred was looking at the consultant’s face. The consultant had no idea what to say. Nobody ooohed or aaahed. I burst out laughing which broke the silence.(I had used the same “technique” myself" on quite a few occasions except I didn’t use a tennis ball. I used a bunch of tinfoil that I had rolled up in a ball for my version of “the old ball game”. I called my tin foil ball “the egg of unexpected courage”. The kids called it THE EGG.) 

Back to the seminar…… Fred started laughing. The consultant sorta smiled Once again, Fred and I were operating on the same page even though we weren’t aware that we were until Fred answered the consultant. I had no idea that Fred also used “the old ball game”. This is one of my fondest moments because “the old ball game be it tennis or tinfoil” actually worked and probably still does today. I am afraid, however, that a few months after this moment…..some consultant somewhere was instructing teachers on the effective use of what has become known as “the old ball game”. 

Beautiful.

   ADVERB ANGST 

Call me Very.  I’m an adverb. I’m angry about that. I’m common. I’m used and abused all the time. I don’t even get the complimentary “ly” that some of my mates get. My ancestors had it for awhile when people knew how to talk. Remember “verily” or “yea verily”.  Those days are gone.

 Now, I have to submit to those fancy pants “ly” adverbs e.g. “very quickly”. “Quickly” at least gets to modify a verb, an action word of some kind, maybe even a passionate action like “kissed”.

Then I arrive. I diminish the kiss by making it even less soul driven, less selfless, less sensual, more furtive, dismissive and distracted.  See, I hate situations like that. I’m jealous of “quickly” who’s nothing but a verblicking sycophant passing himself off as an expression of time.

 It’s a bit more tolerable when I submit to an adjective. At least an adjective bows to a person, place, idea or thing; tangible, usually visible, often alive, occasionally intelligent almost always miraculous.

 Action verbs are my cup of tea but let’s face it action verbs ain’t exactly nouns. Action verbs need nouns to give them meaning. Nouns don’t need action verbs they can exist quite well l thank you on verbs of being. After all, what is a human but “being”.  Even when modifying an action verb I usually need an “ly” to make any sense  I am uncomfortable modifying verbs of being. “very are” won’t cut it. Neither will “very is”, “very was” nor wishes neither not "very could" or “very would”. Speaking of the subjunctive, I wish i was more existential. Hell I’m barely essential. I’m actually an add on although ever since teevee came along and people forgot how to talk, a lot more “very” are in use today.  I’m designated Very Mask Neg Neutral which means I am the very that can be only used to describe Masculine Negative to Neutral Adjectives, verbs or other adverbs such as  cumbersome,lethargic, immature and

uncommunicative incompetent self-absorbed smarmy frantically and sloppy Making them each a little worse. My girlfriend is also an add on. She’s a Very designated Fem Neg Neutral. She gets to work with feminine negative to neutral adjectives, verbs such as  bitchy bloated perfunctory over-sensitive Superficial Moody Slutty Vengeful and air headed. The classes above us are Very Mask Positive And Fem Positive. They work with courageous dedicated authentic Athletic Intelligent Capable gorgeous resplendent intuitive sensual supportive nurturing and erotic 

Do you see why I’m upset?

Very upset. They’ll terminate us low class adverbs when and if we stop being over used. When and if people stop watching teevee and texting. When and if people start articulating and valuing vocabulary rather than gloss. In other words, we’ll be around a long time.  A very long time. Some of the higher class verbs were even used as adjectives for a bright, shining, glossy time as in “She is soooo very”

 I once had to modify a very Pompous adjective, negative implication of course as in “He’s very, VERY”  Thank God that particular trend, that monstrosity has retreated for awhile. My woman, Very Fem Neg Neutral has a real bad attitude. She gets it from her job. Look what she works with bitchy, bloated, hyper-critical etc. Still between my anger and her attitude we still managed to get busy and have babies. Our babies are the “kindas”. They’re even more inarticulate than my woman and me. I’m kinda afraid. Kindas are the adverbs of the future. I am very kinda afraid. 

CROSSWORDS

  Way back in another lifetime, when I was teaching kids how to write, my class used to do the New York Times crossword puzzle together every other Monday. The puzzle gets more cryptic, arcane and oblique as the week continues. Monday is fair game for high schoolers working in tandem. Tuesday’s puzzle maybe. Saturday’s forget about it. Maybe that’s why we don’t have school on Saturdays except for Breakfast Clubbers who are puzzled and puzzling enough with or without crosswords.

 I always told my writing students that writers need to know something about everything and then need the vocabulary to articulate what they know by choosing the exact right word for the right place. Close is good but no cigar.

Crossword puzzles serve as an exercise not only in vocabulary and exactitude but also in breadth of knowledge. Crossword puzzles are to writers what shadow boxing is to boxers or what ping pong is to tennis players or driving ranges to golfers, a truncated version of a more pervasive obsession.

Aside from their value as literary barbells, crosswords teach one of life’s most valuable lessons. If you have one wrong word or a right word in the wrong place, it screws up the rest of the puzzle. We can’t insist that a word is right if it is wrong. Will power only extends so far. It can’t be right simply because we want it to be right and we’re good people. That’s called willfullness. In the words of Johnny C, “if it don’t fit, you must acquit”.

Somewhere in all puzzles, before we abandon original thinking or stick with our misconceptions, we confront wavering allegiance to a shady word choice. Since most of our lives are spent re-inforcing our own biases, wavering allegiance is a frightening flourish of vulnerability. In America, especially in politics, it’s all about being “right” first and then sticking with that righteousness in the face of hell or high water, fire and fury. Wavering allegiance is a forerunner to change. All change includes loss and all loss requires mourning. Who wants to mourn? Who wants to admit a mistake?

In politics, to flip is to flop. So when we stick with wrong words in Crosswords, we never solve the puzzle or the problem contained within the puzzle, a problem that grows more pressing with every passing day. Usually national problems come in the form of dollars and cents, bread and butter, black and white , war and peace, red and blue. Hey if we come to a cross roads where we should turn right and instead turn left, don’t worry if we drive completely around the world we’ll end up going the right, right way. Once upon a time on my way to Iowa from South Dakota, I made a wrong turn and drove halfway through Minnesota. With a crossword puzzle, we can just take out an eraser. With a war, with poverty, with racism, with recession, with division we need something more than rubber at the forgiveness end of a pointed stick of lead. Every day seems like a Saturday crossword.   

ALI, FRAZIER, CHUVALO AND EVELYN 

Slides. Remember slides? You’d throw your slides into a Kodak Carousel and voila…a light show up against the wall. Needless to say I threw quite a few slides against quite a few walls over the years as I told my Ali stories. I liked one of the slides in particular.

 I made a nice 11 by 14 print from that slide . Ali and Joe exchanging punches during their second fight at Madison Square Garden. 

We all got older as the years passed. It seemed like Ali and Joe got older faster than everybody else. What else could we have expected?

 During this time of great decline, George Chuvalo added to the pugilistic tragedy.  George Chuvalo The Croatian Crusader. The Heavyweight Champion of Canada. The human punching bag and common opponent for the vastly more talented Ali and Frazier. The man who could not be knocked down. The man whose face had launched a thousand fists. George Chuvalo had a face that had been sculpted by other fists into the face of a fist

. And then after George retired, life stepped in and continued the battering. He lost his wife and sons to suicide. Heroin was very involved. Still George refused to hit the canvas. Word got through to his old opponents, Ali and Joe, that George was hurt and staggering but that he refused to go down. A boxing organization in Rochester decided to throw a benefit dinner for George. Yeah it was a band aid on a shotgun wound but every little bit helps. 

Joe Frazier decided to attend and waive any fee. So did another wounded warrior name of Muhammad Ali. Ali was shaking from Parkinsons and Joe could barely see. Joe and Ali didn’t usually appear together. Bad blood existed. People wondered why after all these years bad blood still existed between Ali and Frazier. The answer is simple. These guys tried to kill each other three times in front of the whole world and they damned near succeeded. He jest at scars who’s never felt a wound.

 There was a lot of laughter that night but nobody was laughing at the scars. I was there too. The Chuvalo benefit cost a hundred bucks to attend. My ringside seat at Ali-Frazier fight also cost $100. So much had changed. One thing hadn’t changed. The 11 by 14 photograph that I took at Ali Frazier 2 looked exactly the same. The two of them stalking each other in the middle of the ring, young and heallthy and with all the lights shining on them. I brought the picture to the benefit.

 I had met Muhammad, Joe and George individually but I never thought that I’d see all three of them in the same room at the same time. Yet, here we were for the common good of Chuvalo In the lobby, I got a chance to visit with boxing expert Burt Sugar and HBO analyst Larry Merchant. They both reacted to me as if I had pissed myself while wearing a white suit.. Arrogant and a million miles away from Ali in terms of engagement and humility, these two celebrities brushed off my questions about the sweet science with an insolence worth mentioning here. Vampires I left those “famous guys”. I was relieved to leave. I entered the main room.

I found my table. My name was still not Sinatra nor for that matter Sugar or Merchant so my $100 dollar table resembled my “ringside” seat in terms of physical distance from the action. And I wasn’t even at the same table as the Son of Sanford.  I shared a “way in the back” table with another human who also had connection/complexion problems; a stunning middle aged African American woman named Evelyn. We had the only two seat table in the place.

Evelyn and I chatted for awhile about the value of our $100 as compared to the $100 spent by the more connected, very Caucasian, very male attendees flaunting upfront and uptight. We figured we were outsiders. We bonded. I showed her my 11 by 14 photo. She liked it and said “be careful with that. It’s valuable”.

 Evelyn had a mission of her own. Evelyn told me that she knew Joe Frazier and the last time Joe was in town, she really got to know him and he got to know her. She planned on having a little chat with Joe later in the evening about his previous method of leaving town. She assured me that Joe would be paying attention.

 All the stars were already seated miles away at the main table. All the stars that is except for Ali.  It’s only fitting that the champ enters last. All of the other guys had entered from the front of the venue. When Ali and his entourage entered the room, they came in from the back. As soon as he entered the room, the whole environment changed for the better. He walked very, very slowly. Since he came in from the back, the first table he passed was the distant table for two.

He stopped at our table. He looked right at me and although it seemed impossible, I got the distinct feeling that he remembered me from our morning at Deer Lake decades before.  Evelyn noticed the look and asked me after Ali had passed us, “does he know you”.  I told Evelyn that I had spent some time with him a long time ago. Whether he recognized me or not, he once again gave me that wonderful feeling that I was cool with him and that our table was the best table in the house. and that, once again, made me feel cool with myself  although he couldn’t possibly have remembered. I guess that’s what charisma is all about.

 Like I said, I had met Sugar and Merchant, ten minutes before they took their upfront seats. I’m sure they had already forgotten about me and their vibe would have amplified that disregard. Not with Ali. I started feeling great.  Important The whole room turned back to see the old champ. I got the feeling that everybody in the room started feeling great for different reasons. Uplifiting Transcendent . Eliciting smiles and cheers with every step, the Champ caned his way to the front. Everybody in the place was experiencing rampant, contact joy. I don’t think that Frazier was feeling that joy although he probably remembered feeling a lot of contact. It was obvious that Joe was feeling pretty dang great before he even entered the place, if ya know what I mean.

 Obviously, a lot of feelings fly around a room when Ali enters that room and walks toward a partying Joe Frazier.  The dinner began. Neither Ali nor Frazier addressed the audience; for different reasons. Chuvalo expressed his gratitude towards both men for showing up and making his benefit such a success. Weirdly enough if a three man boxing match broke out, Chuvalo would probaly win even though both Joe and Ali had batterred him in the past. 

Merchant and Sugar blabbed some and sucked a bit of energy from the room although their wisdom has slipped beneath the radar screen of both my memory and contempt. When the program concluded, the master of ceremonies, a born bullshitter named Jerry Flynn announced that for a half an hour the head table participants would be willing to sign autographs. 

Immediately the rush to the front began led by the people sitting in the front. 

From the way back table, we watched the crowd in front gain full advantage. We only had a half hour and it looked as if there were two hours of people in front of us. We did a little spontaneous human calculus. Evelyn headed towards Joe. She had more than an autograph in mind. She had a piece of her mind in mind and she was about to give that to Joe.

 I headed for Ali, by far the longer of the two lines. Somehow, my 11 by 14 print caught the eye of somone in Ali’s entourage. He asked me to identify the picture. “Ringside, Madison Square Garden, Ali-Frazier II” “Diju take dat picture?” “Yes I did” “Champ prolly like to see it. C'mon” 

He escorted me towards the front of the line, not the very front but a definite improvement on my table rank. Ali and I were in the same force field. I knew he’d have time for me even as the minutes ticked away. With about 10 minutes left in the opportunity, our chance came. I put my picture in front of the Champ. He considered it carefully. He was in no rush whatsoever. Then the familiar whisper that he either said or sent. I’ll never know which but the message was clear…“choo take this?” “Yeah Champ I did’ Another whisper/send "it’s good” Then the eye contact. Ali and me eyeball to eyeball again. Same eyeballs that had been eyeball to eyeball with Martin King, John Lennon, Sonny Liston, Elvis Presley, Nelson Mandella, Joe Louis, James Brown, Stallone, Duvall, Carson, Borgnine, Malcolm X, Ross, Chamberlain and infinite others were inviting me to come on in and stay a minute. Make yourself comfortable Join the crowd. Maybe u been here before He gave me his beautiful Parkinson’s signature. Very slow, very painful, looking up every few seconds directly in my eyes as if this were the first signature of his career given to his best friend. Ali had signed another piece for me at Deer Lake decades before. Like the man himself, Ali’s signature had changed dramatically over the years. His Parkinson’s signature took a good twenty seconds to make with five separate lookups and included only the fragments of four letters….. M…a…l….i. Ironically he made his mark over Joe Frazier’s image in the ring in my picture. He hit me with the feint again although this feint was very faint yet still overwhelming. I thanked the champ. Again the eyes. Again the illusion of recognition. Again the electricity. So long champ. 

Still five minutes of the half hour remained. Wow Pause Shift Recalculate I got a shot at Joe. Where’s Evelyn. There she be. Evelyn chillin’ with Joe “Hey Evelyn” from fity feet away with four minutes left. “Hey Ice, c'mon up here and meet Joe.” Once again the Red Sea miraculoulsy parted. The Red Sea thought Evelyn was Joe’s wife and I was a friend of Joe’s family. I got to the table with time to spare. Evelyn said “Joe, this is my friend. Sign his picture” I put my picture in front of Joe. Joe looked at my picture. “dijoo take this picture”

“Yeah I did, Champ” “good picture” Ironically, Joe signed over the image of Ali in the ring in the light at Madison Square Garden, young and beautiful. Floating Getting ready to sting forever. Evelyn gave Joe a peck on the cheek. Joe took a sip from his beer. I gave Evelyn a peck on her cheek. It was the last time that I ever saw any of them. Time was up. Ring the bell. 

   FAMOUS MIKE CAN DRAW

 Some stories are so lovely that I hesitate to write them. Some legends are so fragile and delicate that I’m reluctant to reveal them. Here’s a lovely story and a delicate legend all in one.

 I’ll try to do them justice before the memories fade completely as the blur increases every day. I remember his first day in class. He was fresh off the boat. I mean that literally. He was a boat person from Viet Nam. He was in my English class. He didn’t speak a word of English. I didn’t know what to do with him that first day so I somehow signalled/sent him to the main office to pick up an attendance sheet. 

The secretary at the main office was expecting a student from another class named Mike. When my student arrived, whatever his name was, it wasn’t Mike. Helen asked my new student if his name was Mike. He didn’t know what Helen was saying but he knew a question when he heard one. He nodded his head up and down. Helen said “Here, Mike”, and gave him the papers. He returned to my classroom a few minutes later without the attendance sheet but with whatever administrivia Helen was supposed to give to “Mike”.

I took the paper from him. I said thanks and asked him what his name was.

He said “Mike”

 I said “Hi, Mike”

 That’s how Mike got his name. Aside from the single word “Mike”, Mike spoke no English. We were a pair, Mike and I.  Mike would come into class, take his seat and listen with great patience and attention to the academic tumult engulfing him. I knew something of the concept of linguistic immersion wherein a person learns a foreign language more quickly by surrounding himself with it. I believed this was happening with Mike although I didn’t know for certain. I did know that in this case English was the “foreign” language to Mike and he was surrounded. 

One day after a couple of weeks, I noticed that Mike was taking “notes” of what I was saying. I couldn’t imagine what Mike’s notes looked like so I casually made my way to his desk to sneak a peek. Mike’s “note” was a surreal and photographic drawing of a rose. As I looked at the rose, I was amazed as much by its sensitivity of rendering as I was by its virtousity. Near the drawing, I wrote the word “rose.” Then I said the word “rose” I spelled the word “R..O..S..E”

 Mike smiled and said “rose”

 I took a risk. I had a feeling the risk would be approved by Mike. I announced to the class. “Check this out, everybody. Mike can draw.” Everybody crowded around Mike’s desk. Everybody look at the rose. Everybody flipped out. 

Everybody started saying “Mike can draw” Eventually Mike got the message. He spoke his first English sentence in English class. This is what he said. “Mike can draw” He smiled. Time stood still. I’m here to tell you, Mike could draw. Many scholars praise the efficient linguistic style of Julius Caesar, how much he could say with how few words. All of France is divided into three parts. Has anyone ever said more with fewer words at the beginning of his story. This is the beginning of Mike’s story.

 Mike not only continued to draw but he also continued to listen with purpose and intention. Mike observed not only with his eyes but also with his heart and mind. Mike’s vocabulary began to grow as he listened and observed. Nouns first then verbs then adjectives. Here’s the story of the first adjective I can remember. One day, I walked over to Mike’s desk and noticed that he had been sketching a portrait of himself. On his portrait, I wrote a bunch of nouns with arrows like “mike” and "nose" and “eyes” and “ears"and "head” and “neck” and “body”. I pointed to each word and said it. Mike repeated the word with me. Then I added the adjective. I wrote “famous”; drew an arrow to the picture of Mike and said the word. 

Mike hesitated a second and then asked “Mike famous?”

 I said “Yes, Mike is famous” Mike startled me with his reply.

 “No, Mike not famous. You, Mr. Rivers…you famous.”

  I realized that Mike’s language skills were blossoming with as much beauty as his drawing skills. From that day on, every time I saw Mike I would always say. “Here’s the famous Mike.” And Mike would always say, “Mike not famous. Mr. Rivers famous.” We would laugh. We were connected. Sure enough, Mike WAS becoming famous, at least in my class.

I was running the school newspaper at the time. I asked Mike, still using arrows, objects and printed words if he would draw a comic strip for the paper. He drew the strip. The school read Mike’s comic. His character was a lion, The school loved it. Mike’s fame grew. His audience expanded. By this time, everybody in my class knew something rare was happening with Mike and his art, kids were always crowding around his desk to see what new drawings were coming alive

. About this time, I suspected that had Mike developed a crush on Kathy.  I discovered this when Mike showed me a picture of Kathy that he had been drawing. Mike was stylizing Kathy rather than photographing her with his rendering. I immediately recognized Kathy even with her stylized, over sized Disney girl eyes. I wrote “Kathy” on Mike’s paper and drew an arrow. Mike blushed and smiled. I could tell Mike wanted another word from me, an adjective perhaps so under Kathy, I wrote “beautiful” and drew another arrow. Mike put the drawing away. His portrait of Kathy was not an image that he intended to show to the class. Not only were we connected; we had a secret.

 A couple of weeks passed and Mike’s language skills kept growing. One day, he took out the picture of Kathy and showed me something new that he had added. He showed me that he knew how to change and adjective into a noun. Under my printing of “beautiful”, Mike had printed a word of his own. This is the word that Mike had printed in painstaking calligraphy.

 Beauty 

Beauty is truth and truth is beautiful. I was facing a beautiful truth in my professional life as well as a crossroads. I was given the opportunity to write a grant under the auspices of the Federal Career Education Incentive Act Grant Program, the purpose of which, as the name suggests, was to help secondary education become a better link to careers.  I proposed my very first grant. The proposal was funded for $500,000. In my proposal I visualized the creation of an intern program. The idea was radical at the time. I was chosen to be the administrator for the project. I would have to leave the classroom. Leaving the classroom was the crossroads and a difficult factor in the decision. When the kids heard what I had done. They were proud of me.

Mike came to me and said “Mike not famous, Mr. Rivers famous.”

 I left the classroom.  I left Mike in the capable hands of the Art. Dept particularly Larry Pace. Larry had served his country as a Marine in Viet Nam.

The day that I left, Mike showed me his private sketchbook. In his sketchbook were dozens of drawing of Kathy.  Underneath each sketch; a single printed word: Beauty.  

By the time I got the Intern Program running smoothly, moving it from dream to imagination to realization, Mike was back in my life. Mike had made breathtaking progress in language and art and had begun to crystallize his dreams. Mike had grown to love classic Walt Disney cartoons and wanted to become an animator.  I had heard that fantasy from other students before and I would hear it again but with Mike…well he had a dream, spectacular discipline and dedication. I had an intern program. Uh, let’s put two and two together and see if it comes out four, twenty two or five.

 I contacted the only artist in town who specialized in 16 millimeter matte animation, a guy by the name of Brian. I told Brian about Mike. I told Mike about Brian. I brought the two of them together at Brian’s downtown studio. With Brian’s encouragement and equipment along with the ongoing help of the high school Art Dept, Mike created his first animated cartoon. He had even learned to play the guitar well enough to supply his own music to the animation. In Mike’s cartoon one of the characters was a lion. Mike asked me, because I was “famous” to provide the voice for the lion. Mike’s cartoon was eventually selected in an extremely competitive national cartoon contest to be shown on Nickelodeon. Mike’s cartoon was one of the best student cartoons in the country. Little ol’ famous lion voice me was roaring on television sets across America. 

Mike was only a sophomore in high school but he was already thinking about college and colleges were thinking about him.  Anything was possible including truth , beauty and fame. Mike was most interested in beauty. He had discovered that the Disney studios regularly hired interns from the California Institute of the Arts. Mike knew about internships. He had completed four of them in high school.  In the meantime Mike had taken all the art courses at the school plus four more at Rochester Institute of Technology and had aced them all. Mike spoke a lovely version of the English language, the direct, clear, soft and kind version rarely used by native speakers. Mike could draw.  Mike could talk. Mike could write, words and music. Mike could play the guitar. Mike had a resume full of A’s, internships, art work, awards and a cartoon that had played nationally on Nickelodeon. Mike applied to the California Institute of the Arts. We were all happy but not surprised when Mike was accepted and scholarshipped.

 Mike was ready for another journey. I was on a bit of a journey myself. My first marriage was breaking up although I didn’t realize it or perhaps was denying the realization. Mike had never been to a rock concert in his life so at the end of the school year, the night after his graduation I invited Mike as our family guest to see the Moody Blues at the Canandaigua Performing Arts Center. Mike accepted the invitation. You’ll hear more about THAT later. After the concert, Mike left for California.

I haven’t seen him since. Here’s the last few things I heard about Mike. In college, his skill and interest continued to blossom. As an undergraduate, he applied for and completed an internship at Disney Studios. Upon graduation from college, Mike was hired as an animator by Disney. His first screen credit appeared at the end of the Little Mermaid, listing Mike as an animator of Ariel.

Apparently Disney liked Mike because his next assignment was a substantial promotion. Mike would be one of the main designers for Beauty and the Beast Mike was helping to create Belle.  By now, everybody knows WHAT Belle looks like. Only a few of us know WHO Belle looks like.

Beauty, if you will, looks exactly like the sketches of Kathy that Mike labored over so mightily, so beautifully, so passionately, so innocently and so truthfully during his junior high days. Kathy is Belle. Kathy is  Beauty. 

Some stories are so lovely that I hesitate to write them. Some legends are so fragile and delicate that I am afraid to relate or reveal them.  Remember? Well, I tried. As I tried, I kept flashing back to the writers who brought us the legends of the Old west, those scribes who turned big nosed, shiftless, violent, alcoholic William Hickock into the great Wild Bill, the handsome hero who died, shot in the back while playing poker and holding the deadman’s hand…a pair of aces and a pair of eight . A cardinal rule for those writers was, according to John Ford in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, “if you come to a crossroads between truth and legend, write the legend.”

 The legend of Mike and Kathy is the loveliest local legend, I’ve ever personally encountered. I’m part of it; a small part but yes I was there in the very beginning. I can vouch for everything until Mike left for California. I can vouch for the similarities between Mike’s sketches of Kathy and the rendering of Beauty.  Every once in awhile, when I reminisce about my teaching days, I like to think that I was the guy who had something to do with the inspiration for the creation of Beauty. And ya know what?  It’s a beautiful feeling.  Maybe even true. Next time somebody you know mentions truth, beauty or Beauty and the Beast tell 'em this story. That’s how legends grow. 

AFTERNOON ANGEL

I know for sure it was a Tuesday afternoon. I don’t know if it was the first time I smoked weed, such moments are hard to pinpoint.

Today is also a Tuesday afternoon. Today I found out that Ray Thomas, the flautist for the Moody Blues had passed away from prostate cancer. I know something about cancer. The beauty of metaphysiction is its ability to go flash forward and backward at the same time while flirting with the eternal and the imaginary. 

The Tuesday afternoon that begins this story happened fifty years ago. I was shooting footage for a film that I was making in graduate school. My idea was to simply walk around and shoot whatever came into my lens on this Tuesday afternoon and call whatever came out “Tuesday Afternoon” It was during this activity that I might or might not have smoked a joint because I know the guy with me was a “weirdo” at the time who definitely smoked the rope. I had shot enough weird footage so I was confident that within the images, I could find 10 solid minutes that would represent what a Tuesday afternoon looked and sounded like and that it would probably be interesting to watch in say 50 years so that I could clearly remember what fifty years ago looked and sounded like. 

Yeah, maybe I was loaded as I recall that thought process. 

We were driving back to campus. We turned on an FM station. By this time I was an album guy and FM was the album station. I was trying to figure out what music I would use in the background of the film when on the radio came “Tuesday Afternoon”. I had never heard anything like it before. When the song was over, the announcer said “that was Tuesday Afternoon by the Moody Blues from their new album Days of Future Passed” 

Days of Future Passed might as well have been the name of my mind set on that Tuesday afternoon with Tuesday afternoon playing. I hoped that I would see the Moody Blues in the Future and at that time, remember the past which would naturally include the moment I was living.  I knew the Moody Blues. I knew of their hit “Go Now” which I wasn’t crazy about. I didn’t know that the personnel of the band had changed and they had gone from THAT to THIS. Ray Thomas was in both versions, I learned later.  Shocked, stoned and stunned by synchronicity, I became a Moody Blues fan. In other words, I too was a weirdo. At the time you had to be a little weird to like the Blues. They were hanging with LSD guru Timothy Leary and proud of it. I couldn’t believe that “drug music” could be so beautiful or that a simple Tuesday afternoon could be so profound . 

I had the music for my film. I found my film in the music. 

Now let’s fast forward 15 years. My first marriage was breaking up although I didn’t realize it or perhaps was denying the realization. I know I felt like I had a ton of bricks on my back. The “famous” Mike had never been to a concert before and he loved the Moody Blues. I invited Mike and a couple of friends to join my family at the Moody Blues concert at the Canandaigua Performing Arts Center. Mike accepted my invitation.

 The night of the Moody Blues arrived. I had purchased a dozen tickets for the show.  The day of the night of the Blues was very hot. I ran ten miles that afternoon trying to lighten my load. My brother, my sister, my wife, a few of our friends, my son Beau, Mike and I made the short trip. We walked to the gates. I took out the tickets. I only had eleven tickets. Everybody was looking at me. I counted the tickets only eleven again. I was going to have to exclude someone from the concert. I looked around at the faces. I knew I would exclude myself.

I looked at the tickets again. I counted the tickets. I looked at Mike. My marriage was falling apart. Mike was on his way to California. I had screwed up the tickets. I had ruined Mike’s first concert. I could feel the earth spinning. I said something incoherent to my brother. He looked at me with concern and said “whaaa?” I spoke again and once again sounded like Gregor Samsa after his metamorphosis. I started to stumble. The tickets fell out of my grasp. I looked directly into my son’s eyes as the weight on my shoulders flew off and I fell in slow motion towards the ground. As I looked into his eyes, I realized that I was watching a son watch the death of his father. I wondered how this would affect him him. I heard my wife scream “he didn’t go to his physical”

 I hit the ground I knew I was dead. When I opened my eyes some time later to see what heaven was like I saw two faces. One face was of a beautiful, elderly woman. The other was Mike. This was Mike’s first minute at his first concert. In the background Moody Blues music was playing. The elderly woman whispered her phone number in my ear. It went right into my permanent memory She told me to call anytime and that the more I called, the more I would want to call. Eventually I wouldn’t even need a phone. I still remember the number. I call it everyday. The number is/was a prayer. I called it before I started writing this, seeking help to get this right. Phone? I don’t need no stinken phone. 

They wanted to call an ambulance. I didn’t want that I wanted to go where the music was, where the angel was. Somebody picked up the tickets and found all twelve. We went inside the Shell and heard the Blues. The woman had disappeared once it became clear that I was going to live. The last time I saw her, she was listening to the show. The Blues may or may not have been playing Tuesday afternoon when our eyes met. 

Flash forward Today, Tuesday, I learned that Ray Thomas had died. Ray was 76 years old. I’m 71. How could all of those future days have passed. 

I’m calling the number.  The number is a prayer.

 IN THE PACKAGE 

Mr. Baseball remained in his coma for months. It was the bottom of the ninth and his team was behind by 100 runs and there were two out and two strikes on Mr. Baseball. One more strike and he was out. Game over. That was the situation the last time that I visited him at the Community hospital. 

Time passed. Mr. Baseball kept fouling off pitches, his faithful loving wife Rosie by his side. Rosie figured that maybe things would improve if they moved Baseball to his home ball park. Still in his coma, Mr. Baseball was transported to his home. 

Home plate. 

His home plate was far away from my homeplate. We didn’t visit in person, overwhelmed as were with our own ballgame. 

When he got home, minus a few tubes and some drugs that hadn’t worked, Mr Baseball out of nowhere, hit a homerun. He came out of the coma but remained bedridden. We didn’t know about the rally, we had left the game a little early. We knew that he was home and we had his phone number.

One day, Lynn called the number and Rosie answered. The rally was still going on. Therapists were pitching now and Mr. Baseball continued to swing away always bolstered by Rosie who was as encouraged as she was encouraging. She told Lynn that a speech therapist was pitching at the moment. She whispered to Mr. Baseball that Lynn was on the phone. He understood; another base hit.

Rosie put the phone up to Mr. Baseball’s face.

Lynn said “Hello, Mr. Baseball.”

  Lynn’s 'hello’ was like a hanging curve ball. Mr. Baseball took a mighty swing and said in a slow, soft, labored voice “Hi Lynn.” Home run. Grand slam.  

Rosie took the phone back and explained the progress Baseball had been making. He was scoring on the coma. His therapists were amazed.  He scored 200 runs and beat the stroke.

 Meanwhile he had developed cancer. It was the cancer, not the coma that finally ended the incredible rally. 

We went to the funeral. Mr. Baseball looked good almost as good as he looked the time he caught a foul ball barehanded at Frontier Field. In my dreams, he shows up at his funeral and he, Rosie, Lynn and I go off to dinner as if nuthin’ had happened. He even makes fun of me for imagining that everything wasn’t perfect. We paid our condolences to Rosie.  

A week later, we got a package in the mail with Mr. Baseball’s address as the return.

 In the package was the fiber optic bear.   

 NON-FICTION IS THE NEW FACTION

In my dreams, my camera is always broken at times like this.  My camera was shattered. That suggested, I might wake up so I decided to go with the dream a little further to see what would happen. I went to my video camera. It seemed to be working. Uh Oh. This might not be a dream. 

Whatever it was, if I could tape it…it might help. I turned on the camera. It worked. The semi had come to a stop about 150 yards in front of us. The driver was still in the cab.  I pointed the camera in the other direction and noticed a person coming towards us. I kept the camera aimed at his face so I got a closer up look than I would have without the camera. I focused on his eyes. His eyes told me that he thought he was looking at a couple of ghosts. When he got within speaking distance, I put down the camera. “I saw the whole thing. I thought you guys were goners? Are you okay?”

 I wasn’t sure. We walked around to the side of the van. Lynn was leaning up against it. I kept the video running.  The tape would later be seen at least three times on national teevee.  Moments later, the police arrived. Lynn explained the collision with astounding calm and clarity. I was no longer taping. They arranged for our totaled van to be removed from the median. They gave us a ride to a nearby hotel. They explained our situation to the folks at the front desk who set us up with a room although all of our belongings were still in the van.They lent us a room pro-bono. Everybody told us not to worry.

 We found out that we were in La Grange, Indiana.  All we had was the clothes on our backs. And the aid of better angels.

 I was teaching summer school. I was a teacher all the way. I taught twelve months a year. No house painting for me. I had been going twelve months a year for ten years with only one break in between. I didn’t teach in the summer of 87, the year that I met Lynn. Lynn was a single Mom when we met. She was raising three daughters. I was a single Dad raising a son and a daughter. Her kids liked me and my kids liked her. We spent a lot of time together especially on the weekends when I had custody of my two. Lynnn was working part time at First Federal Bank. She was good with change. She balanced every day. She could find the errors when someone else failed to balance. She didn’t stand for a lot of bullshit that’s why she was checking the boat when I suggested a road trip test. 

My prior experience as a road warrior had convinced me that you don’t really know a person until you’ve been on the road with them. I had made the trip from ocean to ocean three times before I got married the first time. I regretted the fact that I hadn’t road tripped with my first wife before we got married. Although two children had to be born, we might have saved ourselves some nightmares. I had rushed into that first one and wasn’t gonna rush into this one. Two years had already passed with Lynn and me….our bodies were at rest and would tend to stay at rest unless acted upon. Times of indecision. We had both already been married. We both carried the scars. 

We had met one enchanted evening when she walked up to me and asked me if I wanted to dance. The first song we danced to was “Hurt so Good”….John Mellencamp. The second was “Loving You” by Elvis. The third was “It’s All in the Game” by Tommy Edwards. When Tommy was about to sing the words “then he’ll kiss your lips” I decided to take the chance. I kissed her lips. She kissed me back.  We had been together every day since and it was going on two years. Two wonderful years.

Time to clarify.  Lynn made a decision. She said we should get married at the local justice of the peace. She called it to question one afternoon when we were having lunch at Mario’s on East Avenue our favorite Italian restaurant.

 Justice of the peace was no place for me or for us as far as I was concerned. She took it as a rejection of her love which was the opposite of my intention.  For the first time, we began to wonder about the future of the relationship. Yet, we had booked a trailer for a weekend at Darien Lake. We decided to make the trip.  We had a couple of our kids with us. They were having a lot more fun than we were. They were outside the trailer when Lynn handed me a tiny article from the Democrat and Chronicle. The article said “The Field of Dreams is a real place.” 

All of a sudden it was clear to me. I am a person of intuition which means I have a tendency to say out loud exactly what is flashing through my mind at the exact time that it flashes. The flash came on. “ Hey Lynn, If we were ever to get married, it would have to be at the most beautiful place in America. Our love deserves it. If you’re willing to travel to Iowa and if we can find this place and if it’s real we could get married on the spot….right at home plate.” 

She made a face that I couldn’t decipher so I didn’t take it as a rejection. Then she said “Great idea. I’ll call up Iowa and tell them we need a marriage license to get married at an imaginary place at an undetermined time.”

 I found out later that she thought I was nuts and bullshitting her at the same time. We had seen the movie together earlier in the year. we both thought it was great. In one scene, Kevin Costner (Ray Kinsella) asked his wife Amy Madigan “is this heaven or is this Iowa” as they relaxed one starry evening on the diamond that he had carved into his cornfield. The location was so exquisite that I thought perhaps it was the most beautiful place I had ever seen. This was the place for us. Plus we would give the relationship the test….a test that I firmly believed had to be taken by any couple in the tentative situation that we occupied.

I enjoyed teaching summer school because I got a chance to pay attention to the kids who had been lost along the way during the regular school year. I was always amazed with the progress they made when given that second chance. So the question lingered, if we were going to take a road trip when would it be. Lynn had her schedule at the bank and I had mine at the high school.

During the regular school year, I taught twelfth grade English as well as Creative Writing. I also taught an elective called Cinematic Literacy. I created that one myself and it was a great success. I was approaching the peak of my teaching career. I had ten days at the end of August, beginning of September. 

Lynn had a week of undefined vacation saved up. We had originally met on July eleventh 1987 or as we called it 7/11.

On our two year anniversary, we went out to dinner at the very restaurant where Lynn had made her first proposal a month before. Midway through the meal she said “I sent away for a marriage license in Iowa. The field is located in Dyersville which is near Dubuque. We have a license waiting for us in Dubuque.” Of course I was surprised but since I hadn’t been bullshitting her about the road trip idea, I said “that’s great. Good job.”

 I didn’t know if she had actually procured a license or if she was reality testing . I was mystified when she said “so if we break up this summer at least we can always say that at one time we had a marriage license in Iowa when we tell our story”. 

All through the month of August, we came up with reasons to take the trip and those reasons were roadblocked by objections, obstacles and realities. If Lynn wasn’t exactly rocking the boat during those weeks, she was damned sure checking for leaks.

 One night, we watched Close Encounters of the Third Kind. We loved the flick and mixed it into our plan. If we headed west we would go as far as Devil’s Tower in Wyoming and if we hadn’t made up our mind to get married by that time, we would head back and know that we had tried goddamn it, we had tried and we had a Iowa Marriage license to prove it. 

It was also becoming clear that if we hadn’t made up our mind to try the road trip before school started, it meant that we probably should wrap up the relationship as painlessly as possible. On August 25th, I called Lynn from my apartment and said “I was ready to go if she was”. 

She wasn’t ready and she hung up sorta pissed off. This was the last possible day to make the trip and be back in time for school. A couple hours later, I heard a knock on the door. It was Lynn. She told me the van was in the parking lot, packed and ready to go if I was serious. I ran into my house, packed a few things. I climbed into the van. “Let’s go”.

I said. “I’ll drive” I drove the first leg. We found rest area deep in Ohio. We napped for a few hours. Then we went into the rest area and washed up. Lynn came out first and went behind the wheel. I started to climb into the van when an impulse struck me. As I was leaving the rest area, I saw a machine selling bio-rhythm cards. I decided what the hell…I went back and bought a card for that day. It only took maybe an extra thirty seconds. I didn’t like what the card said so I threw it out. That thirty seconds would be crucial as we were headed for a blind spot that we might have missed if not for the card.  We managed to arrive at the blind spot exactly on time. Yeah, the whole crazy pilgrimage was my idea. I talked her into it, yet it was her van that was smashed to bits.  

One way or another, the journey was over. We were alone together in a motel in LaGrange, Indiana not far from Touchdown Jesus and the Golden Dome of Notre Dame. I was beginning to get a grip on death. As we traveled from the wreckage to the hotel, I asked what time it was. When we got to the hotel, it was a half hour before the time it was when we were on our way to the hotel. Someone explained that we had crossed the line separating one time zone from another. We had left Eastern Daylight Savings Time. That’s when I began to realize what death is/was. This was eternity. When you’re dead, you’re in Indiana and you keep crossing between time zones and Touchdown Jesus forever. 

Time stabilized for awhile in the hotel. I was expecting hysterics, blame or disassociation from Lynn. Instead, I got calm, composed, courageous capability.She started working the phones. She had a handle on what happened. She called her auto insurance company back in New York. She explained the situation…..car totaled, hotel in Indiana, etc. They wanted to know what her plan was. To my astonishment, Lynn told them that she wanted to continue on with her journey. She outlined what she needed and what she expected to make that continuation possible. Following that she called the American Automobile Association and got from them what we needed to continue the journey. A few minutes later, a rental car appeared at the motel. We drove around a bit, looking for a place to eat. We lost and gained two or three hours in that fifteen minute search.  

After “lunch” we made our way to the junkyard to take a look at the van. “Yep, it’s totaled”, the junkman asserted. We gathered our belongings from the van and loaded them in the rental. I could not have been more impressed by any companion. Even though I wasn’t sure whether we were alive or not, it was clear that we were inhabiting the same realm. It was a realm, I wanted to remain in for the rest of my life/death.

I got down on one knee in that junkyard and asked Lynn to marry me. She accepted. August 26, 1989. What a day. What an eternity. And the pilgrimage was still on. We didn’t know if we were dead or alive but we knew we were getting married. We didn’t know where. We had a marriage license in Iowa. We had been looking for the Field of Dreams which we heard was in Dyersville.

We drove through that town. There’s a lot of farms in Dyersville and a lot of corn. We couldn’t find the farm that we were looking for. We were hungry, tired, not sure if we were alive and headed for a place that might not exist. We were in a rented van.

 We saw the driveway to yet another farm and turned into it, past yet another corn field. When we got to the farm itself, it was most definitely not the Field of Dreams farm, it looked more like the Cujo farm. We got the hell out of there but not before some giant thing flew out of the corn, through my open window and onto my chest. I don’t know what the hell it was a bird, a locust, a demon grasshopper? I don’t know, I just grabbed whatever it was and threw it out the window toward the cornfield or the hell from whence it came.

  When we reached the end of the driveway safe from Cujo and the flying thing, I pulled the van off the road. I realized that I had gone crazy. Here we were in the middle of Iowa for God sake. We were lost. We might be as totaled as was our original van. All my fault, all part of yet another crazy dream that I had dragged Lynn into.

 We turned right at the end of the driveway. We drove about a hundred yards.

And then…we saw a paper plate…..nailed to a tree….on the plate two words and an arrow…..Movie site….arrow pointed right. 

We took that right turn and a half mile down the road, there it was….The Field of Dreams. No doubt. Right exactly out of the film and out of my dreams. Perfect. We drove down that long driveway and met a man who was working in the yard. I asked him if he was the owner of the place. He said that he wasn’t but that the owner was out in the cornfield on his tractor. I saw the man on the tractor in the corn and walked towards him. He turned his tractor to meet me.  When we were about ten feet apart, he shut off the tractor and focused his blue eyes on me. “Can I help you?” asked the man on the tractor.

 I said, “I believe you can. We’ve traveled from Rochester, New York. We had a terrible automobile accident yesterday. I’m not sure if we’re alive or dead so tell me, is this heaven or is this Iowa?”

 He looked at me and realized that there was something going on here and he wasn’t sure what it was. Then he answered in the most perplexing way possible. “It’s whatever you want it to be.’

  I said, “whatever it is, it’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. I want it to be the place where we get married.”

 He said “You can do that.”

 I asked “Would Friday be all right.”

 He said “that would be fine.” 

We shook hands. On that Friday, he would be our best man. His name was Don Lansing. I told Lynn the great news. We got in our car and drove to Devil’s Tower. We had originally said that we would go as far West as Devil’s Tower and if we hadn’t made up our minds by then, well we’d head back home and take a break. Of course, we had already made up our minds thanks to the junkyard proposal. 

That night, we stopped in Sioux Falls. A year earlier Sioux Falls had been the site of a horrifying tragedy. A plane crashed and there were no survivors. The plane crashed in a cornfield. We trucked through the Black Hills and the Badlands of South Dakota.We stopped at Mt. Rushmore where, I almost lost my wallet. We made a late night stop in Deadwood. We wanted to check and see if we were really still alive. They dropped fluorescent eye drops into Lynn’s eyes and checked to see if hemorrhaging had occurred. I’ll never forget looking at Lynn in that darkened emergency room with her glowing, green fluorescent eyes. The eyes were by far the brightest objects in the room. They okayed us for further travel as if anything could have stopped us now.

We stayed the night in Spearfish after spending some afternoon time wading through a few crystal clear South Dakota cascades, getting our feet wet, so to speak.

We returned to Iowa on Thursday night. Don greeted us warmly and invited us into the house. Yeah, the house in the movie. Don wanted to know what we were going to wear. All we had left were our jeans. Don went to the phone and called the local tux shop. They had one tux left. Don asked if we wanted a cake. We said yeah. He got on the phone and called the local bakery. He asked Lynn how big the cake should be. She said big enough for fifty. I laughed out loud. We didn’t know a single person in Iowa aside from Don and the guy who originally greeted us, a guy named Butch who was a caretaker for the field and his wife Annie. 

Then he asked Lynn if she needed a wedding gown. He knew a dressmaker in town. He called Anne Steffen, the local dressmaker. He described our dream and asked Ann if she could help out. She said that she could.

 That evening, we drove into town. The only tux in town fit me perfectly. Next we met Anne. She and Lynn got together and designed a wedding dress. That night we slept at Butch and Annie’s house and the rain poured down ending a drought. The next day, we went back into town. The dress was made. Beautiful like in a dream. We drove to the town office to pick up our wedding license that Lynn had sent away before we left on our pilgrimage. By the time we got to the office the word had already spread. We got our license. They told us that they had heard all about the plan and so had the local television station. The station wanted to interview us.  We met the reporter and she seemed very interested in our story. She had a full camera crew with her.

We told them that we had arranged for a magistrate to do the honors. We told them about the car crash. The town barber had heard about all of this and volunteered to give me a haircut while Lynn tried on her dress.  By that time it was getting late. We stopped at a restaurant to have our last meal as single people. We looked up at the teevee and there we were on the local news. We watched ourselves telling our story. 

We made it back to the house. By this time, a bunch of neighbors had gathered. I went into the room where in the movie Ray’s daughter looks out the window and says “something’s gonna happen out there.”just before the ghost shows up. I had the same view of the field and I knew that indeed something was gonna happen out there. We were gonna get married. The ghosts were gonna show up.

 I made sure I had the wedding ring which we had bought at Wall Drugs in South Dakota. The rings were made from genuine Black Hills gold. By this time about fifty people had gathered. I left the house and walked into the corn in left field. I figured that since I still wasn’t sure that I was alive that I should come out of the corn like the ghosts did.  I made my way to the pitchers mound where I met Don. I was on the mound for a few moments when the fifty people started to ooh and ahh as Lynn emerged from the house. Suddenly everything was in transcendent five dimension. I couldn’t have dreamed of a more beautiful bride. 

She made the long walk past the bleachers and crossed the magical first base line. She didn’t disappear. She met me on the mound and we walked together to home plate where the magistrate awaited. We took our vows with Don standing right behind us. The witnesses cheered. After the ceremony, we went back to the porch. The towns folk had brought fixings. We ate the cake together. They all wanted pictures so we posed for awhile. We drank some champagne that somebody had provided. We bid them farewell. The next day we were home. On the flight back, we told the stewardess our story and she put us in first class. Sitting right next to us was Maury Wills, the ex-Dodger shortstop who had once stole a hundred bases in a season. She told Maury the story and he congratulated us. We made it home in time for the Ring of Fire around Canadaigua Lake. We’re going to be celebrating our thirtieth anniversary next week. We’re still going the distance and easing each other’s pain.    

0 notes

tmntl0verthings · 7 years

Text

Green with Jealousy RaphXreader

Dedicated to pizzapocket21

"You don't need water to feel like your drowning, do you?" -Anonymous

🐢🐢🐢🐢🐀I'll label Part one and Part Two so you can choose to read only lemon or Storyline and Lemon :D

part one

As the song "My no. 5 " by lou bega was playing in the kitchen as you were baking cookies for the boys..And of course yourself too. You bopped your hips side to side, moved your head as your (hair flew side to side/ Rustled).

"A little bit of Monica in my life

A little bit of Erica by my side A little bit of Rita is all I need A little bit of Tina is what I see A little bit of Sandra in the sun A little bit of Mary all night long A little bit of Jessica here I am

A little bit of you makes me your man!"

you sang off key with a cookie dough covered spoon. You Lifted your one leg behind; you twirled to stand in a different place and moved your shoulders up and down with a smolder. You Slid to one side then to the other side to then shimmy your shoulders. You heard someone huff. You stopped to look over your shoulder to see raph. "O dear.." You saw him smiling at you as he stood there looking at you wearing Grey Sweats and no weaponry on. You stood like a frozen statue as you watched his tongue rearrange his toothpick. His smile grew brighter making your heart melted; you exhaled as you relaxed your body. "how long were you there?" "long enough." he smirked. "well I hope you enjoyed the show." you told him walking over to the oven. "Oh I did. 'specially that shimmy" He sat down at the table "O shush" you told him without looking at him. "Whatcha making?" his new york accent bled through his words which made you smile but quickly wiped it as you bent down to get the try of cookies. you turned around to show him the tray "cookies." "Chocolate chip. how'd you know they where my favorite?" he teased. "Its america's Favorite." And just when you felt like you were having a moment with raph the new girl showed up. She wore a tight White tank top fitting her Barbie waste with a pair of jeans; bedazzled pockets. Brown belt, Sketchers and her Brown hair was a river of curls that flowed to her hips. Her eyes were always done up in makeup and her lips Shined. Her fingers were longer than yours and she always smelled of Vanilla. She's been coming down here for 4 months now, but you secretly still call her the new girl. "Hey raphie bear!" she squealed. he turned around to focus on her now. "Hey, sup MJ (maryjane)." (Option: I hate even more how we share the same name) "Hey y/n!" her perfect teeth smiled "hey!" you faked a smile as you placed the tray on the kitchen counter with your back facing everyone. "She's even younger than raph and me." (She's 17-Your 21- He's 22). You placed the rest of cookies on a plate, turned the oven off and looked over to tell raph you were gonna go watch Tv but he was too busy interacting with miss perfect. You just left the area.

6:45 pm: You and the turtle family, including MJ were sitting in the living room watching Batman Returns from 1992. You would glance at Raph whom was sharing popcorn with..Her. You breathed out as you licked your lips trying to ignore them but it was hard. how could he NOT like her? 'so stupid..(you looked over at raphael laughing with MJ) ugh..So many times (you looked back at the TV) I've wanted to tell you but i just don't think your ready..even though your older than me. you haven't changed since your old 16 year old self. Your still immature, and your just to involved with your family and Practices-not thats its a bad thing. your just too busy also to have someone like me in your life. But this girl--I don't want her being yours either...' You continued thinking to yourself as Donnie from afar for awhile has been watching your reactions with MJ and raph. You act nice enough around her but there's something off and you seem to look at raphael allot when she's around. Next scene

After the movie You were drinking Cocoa with Leo. But he was drinking Matcha tea. Donnie was having his Late night snack, ramen. Raph was benching as MJ had already left for her parents home. "Soo y/n, what do you think of MJ?" Don asked trying to pick your brain. "She's alright. Why?" He shrugged as he puckered his bottom Lip for a moment "Just wondering. It just seems like you don't entirely like her." Leo looked over at you intrigued by Don's Accusations. "No i like her." You told him as you sipped your cocoa. "okay good, Cause I saw Raph and her go into the dojo alone earlier. Raph came out all..funky. not sure what entirely happened." Donnie lied. Your cocoa on the table; He watched as your one hand was in a light fist as you looked around thinking. 'the hell did they do? what if He kissed her? or worse, She kissed him. Or what if they did more?!' your eyes had narrowed unintentionally as you considered all possibilities. Leo swallowed more tea as he looked at don then down at his tea to set it down. " I'll be back." leo informed as he stood up to leave. You looked at your chocolaty Drink to then look at don 'Maybe he already knows. He is smart, and he can figure anything out. He learned Mandarin within a month..It would be nice to tell someone I can trust. Just to have some relief.' "Don, Can I tell you something. Its important that you don't tell anyone else." he focused all his attention onto you. "I kinda may have a thing.." you stopped talking as you looked at him. "A thing? Like what? A mole?" "what ew no. I have (exhale) I have a thing for..-" "Forrrr?" "For No-no I can't do this." you put your hands up as you then picked up your drink to sip some more. "Y/n..(He put his hand on yours which held a mug) You can tell me anything. you can trust me." His glasses enlarged his emerald eyes. It made it impossible for you To not want to tell him anything. "It doesn't matter. I think he likes someone else anyways." "raph?" he guessed "Yea.." you gave in. He didn't seem to thrilled but you assumed it was because Raph is a hard person to get to know cause he never lets anyone in and a bit of a mild Brute. "Why haven't you told him yourself?" "eehh He doesn't show interest." Don mentally smirked as he knew what raph thought about you. During Practice he would do spot on but when you would come in his focus would shift and he would consistently mess up unless you left the room. And he would always look immediately around when someone said your name hoping you were around. Next scene

You were walking into the dojo area to see Raphael. He just finished up his workout as he was wiping his sweat off with his towel. "Hey" you greeted, He looked up as he was wiping his face to accidently shove his towel in his eye. "Ow!" he took the towel, dropping it to the ground as he covered his eye. "Aw damnit!" "are you okay?" you rushed over to him "let me see." He lowered himself as his one eye looked at you to then remove his hand to see his other eye. You used his shoulder to balance yourself. "mm..It doesn't look like anythinngg is realllyy wrong with it." You looked from his left eye to look at both of them. 'I've never been this close to his face..And his eyes. They're so deep, That churning, passionate green that the ocean turns during a storm.' "So nothings wrong?" he asked knocking you out of your dream-like state. "yep, nothings wrong." you smiled as you took your hand off his shoulder letting his stand back up. "So Don told me something interesting." "That's surprising. You never find anything he says interesting." He walked up to you making your heart beat harder. He kept walking until you started backing away until you were up against the wall. "where you going?" he asked playfully "Just..over here." "Hey-Hey careful!" You tripped backwards on a weight for him to catch you in his arms. You made a little squeak as you faced him. "you okay?" he rose a brow "Ye-ye i'm good." "So you think i'm just a boy?" he asked making your eyes widened "aw naw..he told youuuuu for reallllll. ugh Donnie, i swear." you looked away "well?" he asked as his eyes sassed you. You gave up and confessed "I thought you just may not have been ready for a real relationship is all. Your just a boy and plus there her." "her?" "MJ." He huffed at your explanation as he let you stand up "you know i'm not just a boy. I'm a man. And i'm ready for whatever comes my way.." he smirked as you felt the cold brick wall at your fingertips and shoulders. "And I'm ready..for you." he nodded his head down once in a head slant. You were a little surprised taken off guard making you nervous but you played his game "Oh is that so?" you half smiled as him as he towered above you. "Oh--(He walked closer to you as he had now Bent down a little as his hands were on his Knees looking at you) You better believe it." An uncontrolable smile covered your face as you tried to hide it by trying to close your mouth but all you did was bite your lip. "Your smile is the literally the cutest thing I've ever seen." "Oh shut up." you smile wider as you covered your face. "alright, But I'll need your help." You uncovered your face to feel his lips against yours in surprise. your eyes widened, Your heart Stopped. 'oh my god' was your only thought. You felt his hands cup your face as you moved your hands up to his shoulders.

After Dessert (30 minutes ago) you and Raph were sitting on the couch watching a movie as the other turtles were doing there own thing. He rearranged himself as he slipped his hand to lay under your bum to rub his one finger from your Flower to your clit, over and over slowly. You felt your self become warm as he then felt something different. He felt a feint wetness bleed through your jeans.

Part Two:

Dark room, only light was the burning singe on his intense plate. Door locked. He had you stripped down already with you on your hands and knees. His mask still on as his hard Shelled chest was laying on your shoulder blades while his hands squished, n' squeezed your boobs. His knees supported most of his body. Your eyes were relaxed as your mouth was opened showing your teeth letting out gasps of pleasure as he then used his fingers to tug and twist your nipples. breahtly moans escaped your lips as your hand twitched. You felt something throb against your sternum while You felt him play rougher with you as he then took his right hand away to pet your slippery wet pinkness. His other hand took over both of your breasts, squeezing them hard together like a stress Reliever ball. Squeaky moans were made as he smirked from the pleasure he was giving you. He's only watched porn so he assumed this is how humans procreated. His finger slid with ease inside. You felt something beefy insert inside 'is this his? feels like a human man's..' you thought as you were slightly swaying back and forth from his finger motions. His palm laid on your one but cheek making your eyes widen 'This is only his hand?!' Removing his hand He backed up his pelvis as his hands moved down to your hips to keep em' steady. He removed one hand from your skin to hold his cucumber so he could insert it. He pressed his tip against your opening to feel it swallow him tightly. To him, You felt so succulent and real. Your eyes were widening with fear but you couldn't turn back now. He only got half way inside of you for that's all he could fit. Saliva built up on your tongue as you swallowed while he then began his first thrust. His huge palm landed on the crest of your neck n' shoulder. You felt his thickness grow one size. Your throat hummed moans of pleasurable pain. He took ahold of your shoulders like reins to a horse and used your body to bounce back onto his thrusting hips. Your moans became more powerful as he felt your jiggling ass beat against him. He grew intense as he then moved your body to Lay on its side, Your thigh was in his grasp as he got a full view of your wet, pouty core while his manhood forced your walls to move along with his sinful acts. He watched as your breasts bounced with every thrust. He slammed his cock against your womb with one teeth grinding thrust. You screamed a moan as he spun you to lay you on your back for him to bring his lips to your breasts. His iced your nipples in saliva as his hand entertained the other with his fingers. You leaned your head back into his comforters as you could smell the deodorant he uses on a daily basis embedded in each thread. You closed your eyes as you let the smell that enchanting aroma. It was nothing like your fathers, his scent was so much more exotic; you could recognize the brand of cologne he used – one of your favorites – intermingling with the outlandish aroma of charcoal flames and cinnamon. You opened your eyes to see his green eyes pierced through the Darkness; almost like your vision was able to see in the dark now. His eyes were beautiful as you could see a Golden rim with deep darkness No matter the mood, his eyes were always, always passionate when they turned upon me. I guess I could consider myself lucky if he weren't so dangerous. You watched as his hands picked up your body to have your butt hang off the edge of the bed making his Biceps bulge and burst with strength as they were the size of my head. You felt the urge to pee as you knew what was happening. Your moans were the complete opposite of descrete. Loud, intense, and above all He still found it sexy. You felt this release of complete...i don't know. Peace? Relief? or a craving for more of him? The feeling of a woman's oragasm was never the easiest thing to describe. Even if right now, You decided to describe it. Could you? His shoulders moved in swift motions while you could see his neck muscles tighten a bit for a moment. everything he did made me want him more even though i had him all to myself at this very moment. No one was here but him..and me. Not even that chick, MJ. She could never be close to him like i am. And she never will be. Is this an awkward moment to say i love you? the first i love you should always be special right, and this is pretty special. God damn he's so sexy. I'd love it if he was just Mine! And only mine; no sharing. He became faster and faster with his might. With the door closed every pretense falls. The facade we show the world melts away and all we want is to fuck each other's brains out. Every kiss has a raw intensity - breathing fast, heart rates faster. Then before I know how it happened we are naked and our skin is moving softly together, like the finest of silk. I feel his hand enter from below moving fast, our tongues entwined in a kiss, and then he's inside, changing my breathing with every thrust, hearing my moans timed to his body. Then all at once he stops and kisses from my breasts to my stomach, his hands light; then he's licking and using his fingers all at once, watching my reaction, feeling how my legs move, watching my body. I just let out a moan, unable to articulate a response. In seconds he's on me again, fucking me harder, just long enough to intoxicate my mind before stopping again. He pulls himself out to face another direction onto an old pair of shorts he doesn't really ever wear. You lay there done and used. Naked on his bed you curled up your legs to yourself; pushing your heels into his bedding making yourself scoot more onto his bed. He got paper towels to wipe his Tip off. You and him laid there under the covers in relief as some sweat still stuck to you. He just pulled off his mask with his hand and laid it on his wooden bedside while the Burning singe was almost complete. He rolled back over to face you. Your cheek bone laid on the pillow, sinking your head into it. It felt amazing. So comfortable and cool at the same time. He smirked as he joined you "comfy?" "absolutely." you tiredly smiled at him with heavy eyes. He yawned making his tongue curl like a dogs. You smiled amused as he finished to crack open an eye to see your toothly smile "Whats up?" he asked with a yawn finishing up. "You yawn so cutely, i never noticed you curled you tongue." "Oh shush." He rearranged his shoulder and leg. "Raph? can i ask you something." "anything." he answered. "Remember back at the dojo when you confronted me about this--thing i have for you. Do you have a thing for me too?" his eyes never left your face as you could the white of his eyes in the dense darkness. "What if i did?" "I'd sayy..You wanna be a thing together?" "Well..i don't know..we don't wanna make things too awkward since we just had sex, ya know." he teased as you saw one of his fangs showing from behind his lips. "I'll take that as a yes." you smiled lightly. "damn right." he put his arm around you as he pulled your closer so your forehead was under his chin. You closed your eyes as you inhaled his manly perfumes.

the end

#Raphael RaphXreader TMNT Sex sexy Love

20 notes · View notes

lala-kate · 7 years

Text

Pulse Points Ch 11: The Final Chapter

Many, many thanks to all of you who have supported this story and taken this journey with me. I cannot thank you enough, and know I read and cherish every review and appreciate every reblog and retweet so very much!

This chapter is specifically dedicated to my precious friend and soul-sister @lillie-grey as a belated birthday gift. Please forgive me for being a week late! And I’m leaving this verse open-ended so prompts and requests will be welcome. :)

With that, dear readers, I hope you enjoy! You can read it here or on ff.net.

Christ, her feet hurt.

Regina had followed Mary Margaret from Babies R Us to Buy Buy Baby, from Victoria’s Secret for some post-pregnancy lingerie, now that the new mom had been given the green light for having sex again, to Barnes and Noble for what supposedly was supposed to be an “in and out” errand. Said errand had morphed into a prolonged search for a children’s book that was ironically out of print, followed by coffee in the bookstore’s cafe and an impromptu nap for Baby Neal. Her friend had more energy than most new mothers, Regina mused, especially those who’d undergone an emergency C-Section only weeks prior, and she was glad to see Mary Margaret acting more like herself again. She just wished her feet weren’t paying the price for her friend’s unexpected burst of energy. She took another sip of her Flat White as she snuggled her godson to her chest and rubbed his back, relishing his soft weight and his sweet baby scent as his head rested on her shoulder.

“Alright,” Mary Margaret stated, checking her watch as she returned from the restroom and took a final sip of her Frappuccino. “I think we should probably head home now.”

“Thank God,” Regina muttered, kissing Neal’s downy head as she stood. Her knees popped as her lower back protested, making her curse the questionable logic of wearing heels this afternoon. Snazzing up a little on a Saturday after wearing sensible shoes to work all week had been an appealing option this morning.

She should have known better. She’d agreed to go shopping with Mary Margaret, after all.

“Haven’t you had fun?” the younger woman questioned, tugging the diaper bag over her shoulder as they made their way towards the exit.

“A laugh a minute,” Regina returned, squinting as they stepped outside and sunlight struck her squarely in the face. Her sunglasses were buried in her purse and nigh on impossible to reach with a three-month-old snuggled into her chest. She shielded Neal’s eyes with her hand until Mary Margaret opened the car door, allowing her to lay the infant in his car seat and fasten him in securely. “I thought you said we’d be gone an hour or two when you called this morning, not half the damn day.”

“Language,” Mary Margaret chided.

“He’s eleven weeks old,” Regina said, clicking her own seat belt into place. “Besides, I’ve heard you say worse.”

“His brain is developing at a rapid rate,” Mary Margaret returned. “And I don’t want it filled with profanity at such a crucial stage.”

“Then keep him away from his godfather,” Regina shot back. “Killian would be a gold medalist if profanity were an Olympic sport.”

“He’s doing better,” Mary Margaret argued. “Dating that social worker Emma has mellowed him out somewhat.”

“He’s about as mellow as a crocodile,” Regina said, earning herself an eye roll from her companion. “Are you late for something?”

Mary Margaret’s eyebrows shot up.

“No,” she answered. “Not at all. Why would you think that?”

“Because you keep checking your watch,” Regina stated as they pulled out of the parking lot. “You’ve been doing that all day, actually. Are you trying to put Neal on a new schedule?”

“Something like that,” Mary Margaret said with a smile. “He’s sleeping better at night since we started supplementing my breast milk with formula, so we’re adjusting his naptimes to help him sleep through the night.”

“Something I suggested you do weeks ago,” Regina reminded her. “May I remind you that I’m actually a pediatrician and know a bit more about a child’s health and development than those lactation blogs you follow.”

“I know, I know,” Mary Margaret confessed. “And I should have listened to you instead of being so stubborn. He actually slept through the night last night for the first time.”

“Who? David or Neal?”

Mary Margaret snort laughed, making Regina chuckle, and they were lulled into a comfortable silence by the sweet melody of Mozart’s Cello Sonata in D Major wafting out of the car stereo speakers. The new mother’s insistence on playing classical music to support Neal’s cognitive development was something Regina actually enjoyed and vastly preferred to her friend’s standby collection of Barry Manilow and Air Supply CDs. She paused and looked over her shoulder to check on Baby Neal, his now chubby cheeks still slack in slumber.

“Anyway, the extra sleep seems to be doing wonders for you. Your energy level has skyrocketed.”

“It’s helped a lot,” Mary Margaret agreed, casting her eyes to the clock on her dashboard. “Regina, do you mind if we run through a drive-thru? I’m really thirsty.”

“Are you kidding?” Regina asked. “We just had Starbucks.”

“I need water,” Mary Margaret stated. “I’m starting to get a headache.”

“We’re only ten minutes from my place,” Regina stated. “Can’t you wait that long? You can’t be dehydrated already, nursing mom or not.” She sighed as her friend turned into the McDonald’s parking lot and got into the longer of the two car lines. “Did you and David have a fight?”

“Of course not,” Mary Margaret replied, eyeballing Regina suspiciously. “Why would you ask that?”

“You just don’t seem to be in any hurry to get home,” Regina answered. “Especially after we spent twenty minutes in the Victoria’s Secret fitting room so you could find something red and skimpy to knock his socks off.”

“I’m just enjoying time out of the house,” Mary Margaret said. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been able to do this. Besides, you and I haven’t had much girl time over the past few months, you know.”

This was true enough. Between Mary Margaret being placed on bed rest the last six weeks of her pregnancy, Henry breaking his arm while trying to steal third base, Roland having to get glasses, Neal being a colicky baby, Regina being appointed as head of pediatrics and her increasingly serious relationship with Robin, life had kept them from seeing much of each other over an unseasonably hot summer. She hoped fall would grant them all some much needed down time to catch their breath and reconnect.

“I know,” Regina admitted. “And I’m sorry I haven’t been able help out more with Neal. Some godmother I’ve been.”

“You’re an amazing godmother,” Mary Margaret assured her as she pulled up to place her order. “Don’t ever doubt that, okay? Do you want anything?”

“From McDonald’s?” Regina questioned, scrunching her nose. “No thank you.”

“Your loss,” Mary Margaret quipped as she proceeded to order a bottle of water and a side of fries.

They travelled home via a roundabout way, Mary Margaret muttering something about avoiding construction traffic Regina knew nothing about as she cranked up the air conditioning yet another notch.

“Still hot natured, I take it?” Regina observed as they finally pulled to the curb in front of her townhouse and parked. Mary Margaret glanced around the neighborhood, absently uttering Yeah before exhaling audibly.

“Don’t forget your shopping bags,” the younger woman reminded Regina.

“Bag,” Regina corrected, holding up her solitary purchase from Victoria’s Secret, a sheer royal blue negligee she’d purchased with a certain blue-eyed restaurateur in mind. “I have one. You’re the one with a commercial armada packed into your trunk.”

“Babies require supplies,” Mary Margaret stated. “And diapers take up a lot of room.”

“I know,” Regina returned as she stepped out of Mary Margaret’s Accord. “I have a son, remember? Just don’t let that red teddy get lost among all the Huggies.” She tossed her friend a wink before shutting the car door and waving, wishing she were brave enough to tug off her shoes here and now rather than waiting until she walked through her front door.

God--putting her feet up sounded like heaven.

The smell of something wonderful struck her as she walked up her front steps, a smell that made her mouth water and her stomach nearly cave in on itself. She hadn’t put anything into the crock pot this morning, and she turned, looking to see if Robin’s Outback was parked anywhere nearby. It wasn’t. He was supposed to have taken Henry and Roland to the Boston College football game this afternoon, and she couldn’t imagine that it would be over already, which left her with a problem.

If Robin wasn’t here, who the hell was cooking in her house?

She opened the door and stepped inside with caution, stunned into momentary silence by the sights and smells that greeted her. Her house looked like a scene straight out of a Hallmark movie, accentuated by the swoon-worthy aromas of Alonzo’s eggplant parmesan, Marco’s garlic bread and something decadent, chocolate and most-decidedly to-die-for. August and Alonzo stood side-by-side by the stove wearing professional-grade aprons, nodding their greeting as she strolled through her kitchen into the family and dining room area.

Her curtains had been drawn, the main lights dimmed, jar candles and strands of white lights strung haphazardly about now her sole sources of light. Her dining room table was decked out to the nines, covered by a black tablecloth, accented by white napkins and a bouquet of multi-colored zinnias mixed with sprigs of lavender tastefully arranged in a mason jar. She recognized her good china laid out perfectly, a set she’d purchased for herself after her engagement ended years ago, and she strolled towards her pint-sized maître d’, a slicked-back, suit-clad, grinning-his-face-off Henry, who stood perfectly erect with a white cloth slung over his left arm.

Her son had never looked more handsome.

“Welcome to the Locksley-Mills Trattoria,” Henry stated with a bow. “Your reservation is ready, madame.”

Her heart pounded in her temples, her throat now bone dry as Roland strolled to the table and pulled out a seat for her. The curly-headed wonder decked out in a tux was probably the cutest sight she’d ever seen, and she scoped the room, looking for his father, suddenly very aware of what she believed was happening here.

Robin was going to propose. She knew it as clearly as if he’d just popped the question.

But he was nowhere to be seen, not yet anyway, which was probably a good thing seeing that she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to form a coherent sentence in her present state. This had to be why Mary Margaret had kept her occupied all afternoon, so Robin and his band of merry men could turn her home into an Italian restaurant that somehow reminded her of the spaghetti scene in Lady and the Tramp.

Dean Martin quietly crooned That’s Amore as she let Henry guide her to the table, smiling at Roland’s toothy grin as she nodded her thanks and sat down. Roland’s over-sized script labeled her place card in bold red marker, and she felt the beginnings of tears form as the boy unfolded her napkin with a flourish and placed it in her lap.

“Would you like some water?” Henry asked as he set down a glass he’d filled to the brim. She took a sip immediately, afraid that if any of them even slightly jarred the table there would be a mess to clean up before the evening had even begun.

“Thank you,” she managed, clearing her throat. “This is just what I needed.”

“We have wine, too,” Roland added. “But Uncle August wouldn’t let us pour it for you. He said if we spilled it on your outfit that you’d be really piss…”

“That’s enough, Roland.”

His voice ran over her senses like warm molasses, making her insides feel sweet and sappy all over. He was behind her, the scent of his Bvlgari Pour Homme Soir making her shiver, his proximity making every nerve ending stand at high alert.

“Good evening, love.”

He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss to her neck, one she moaned into, one that made her legs feel like jelly and her toes curl in her shoes. She turned to look up at him, blown away by how delectable he looked in the dark blue suit he’d donned for the evening. He was gorgeous, this man of hers, all dimples and silver streaks, scruff and toned arms.

“Robin,” she murmured, smiling as he sat in the seat across from hers. He took her hand in his own, kissing her knuckles, discreetly nipping one finger the way he knew that she liked. “So where have you been hiding?”

“In the bathroom,” he returned with a grin. “I had actually just gotten changed when I heard you come in.”

“Good timing,” she mused, casting another appreciative look at his attire. “I should probably go change myself. I feel underdressed compared to you.”

“No need. You look perfect,” he hummed, her skin vibrating under his words. “You always look perfect, especially when you’re undressed.”

She rolled her eyes at his play on words.

“I don’t think that would be appropriate for the occasion, seeing that we have an audience.”

Roland giggled from the kitchen, earning himself an exaggerated shhhhh from Henry.

“Shame,” he returned, planting a soft kiss on the top of her hand. “I should have requested a private table.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She just sat there, looking into blue eyes that were staring at her as if she were the Crown Jewels and they a pair of renegade thieves preparing to seize her on the spot.

“Shall I pour you some wine?”

Marco had stealthily made his way to their table and stood there watching them with a ridiculous grin on his face. He held a bottle of her favorite Malbec towards them for their perusal, popping it open with a corkscrew he’d hidden in his inner suit pocket with a flourish. Her heart sped around the room in twenty directions at once, and she sucked in air, feeling warm in some places and chilled in others. She watched Robin as the older man poured the wine, pressing this moment into memory, her gaze honing in on the bare ring finger on her lover’s left hand.

Oh, God. This was it. He was really going to propose tonight. She swallowed, picking up her wine glass as she attempted to steady her breathing.

“To us,” he said, raising his glass in her direction. His voice wrapped around her intimately, like broken-in leather caressing bare skin.

“To us,” she echoed, taking a sip, closing her eyes as warmth slid down her throat and blossomed in her belly. Her chest ached, her head felt heavy, and she took another sip of wine, hoping it would help settle her racing heart, feeling her cheeks overheat instead. Roland chose that moment to lay a basket of breadsticks on the table, giggling again as he walked away and Henry set down a plate of caprese.

“This is nice,” she managed, shivering in spite of the warmth when he licked his lips.

“It is,” Robin replied, setting down his wine glass. “Pretty perfect, if you ask me.”

She smiled at this, picking up a breadstick, hearing her stomach beg loudly enough for all of Boston to hear as the aroma tickled her nose.

“Our best dates always seem to start with your stomach making noises,” he teased, reaching out to take a breadstick for himself. She paused mid-bite before chewing, swallowing and taking a drink of water.

“Then it’s a good thing you own a restaurant,” she shot back. His chuckle made her feel giddy, girlish and lightheaded, and she reminded herself to breathe, to focus, to pay attention to details she’d want to recall later.

“I agree,” he hummed. “Seeing as I might never have met you if I didn’t. And that would be a tragedy, indeed.”

He looked into her, past every defense and barrier, stroking the silken threads of who she was, declaring volumes of adoration without uttering a word. His hand found hers again, and he stroked her fingers with his thumb, paying particular attention to her left ring finger as her breath hitched in her throat. She nearly jumped out of her seat.

Yes. There was definitely going to be a proposal tonight.

She was ready for this, she was certain of it. She loved Robin Locksley with the intensity of a category five tornado, a love so strong she’d once held it in reserve for Henry alone. But Robin and Roland had changed that, had shown her that love shared is love expanded, had helped her feel at home in her own body again, whether that body was out bowling with her favorite boys, washing dishes at the restaurant or wrapping itself around a spent, sweaty naked man who’d just pleasured her beyond reason. Her boys had helped her feel at peace with the heart that beat steadily in her chest, had assisted her in letting go of the last strands of guilt that had kept her from living the life Marian’s heart had granted her to its fullest.

She would hold back no longer. No--she would seize this proposal with both hands, would set a date for a small, family wedding as soon as reasonably possible, and would ride her fiancé into the mattress tonight once their boys had gone to sleep.

“God, you’re gorgeous.”

The words crept up her arms and over her nipples before heading south to tickle her nether regions.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she breathed, closing her eyes as he continued to stroke her fingers with his thumb. “And I have to admit, I’m pretty impressed by this set-up.”

He gave the room a once-over, nodding his approval.

“As am I,” he agreed. “Our boys clean up pretty well, don’t they?”

She chuckled under her breath and nodded before taking another bite of bread, its hot, buttery deliciousness only adding to the night’s perfection. Did he have the ring in his pocket, she wondered, or was he perhaps planning to have it served up on a plate in front of her at some point during the meal? What sort of ring had he chosen, anyway? Round? Oval? Marquis? Traditional or modern design? Gold, silver or platinum?

Henry and Roland chose that moment to deliver salads, small plates of arugula, spinach, walnuts and pears accented by a vinaigrette of some sort that was profound in its simplicity. Christ, she loved how well Robin’s family could cook. She’d have to step up her time on the treadmill once they actually tied the knot.

“This is delicious,” she remarked, gesturing towards the salad. Robin nodded as he took a sip of water.

“One of August’s specialities,” Robin stated. “His own recipe, in fact, one he developed after completing that cooking class in Tuscany a couple of months ago. He’s actually as good a cook as Marco and Angelo and could open his own restaurant if he ever chose to do so. Just don’t tell the two of them that I said so.”

She grinned before taking another bite of her salad.

“It’s lovely being around men who can cook so well,” she said, taking a sip of wine to steady her nerves. “I could get used to this.”

He bit his lower lip, shooting sparks of desire everywhere at once.

“I hope you do,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers. “Because I could get used to a lifetime with you.”

Oh, shit. This was it, she thought, nearly tipping over her wine glass as she sat up straighter.

“Could you?” she managed, wondering if her pulse was actually audible.

“Oh, yes,” he returned, leaning forward and reaching for her hand across the table. “I most certainly could. Could you?”

She swallowed, nearly choking on her own saliva, and grabbed her water glass to try to stop coughing. Robin quickly stood and walked behind her, rubbing her back until she could breathe freely again.

“I’m okay,” she managed, taking another gulp of water. “You didn’t have to get up.”

“Self-preservation,” he retorted. “I was afraid you’d spit water on me.”

Water then flew out of her nose as she tried to stifle a laugh, spewing over her beautiful salad, much to her chagrin.

“Don’t worry, bella,” Marco called from the kitchen. “I’ll get you another.”

The clank and clatter of dishes danced with the slowing rhythm of her coughs and their ebbing laughter as Robin continued to stroke her back until her breathing steadied.

“There you go,” Marco announced as he set down a fresh plate of salad. “Good as new. Now, why don’t the two of you continue where you left off, eh?”

She felt Robin’s fingers still against her spine just before he leaned down and dropped a kiss onto her temple.

“I believe that requires privacy, Marco,” Robin replied.

The older man tossed them an exaggerated wink before tiptoeing back to the kitchen and crying out, “You don’t see me. I’m not even here.”

Robin moved back to his chair as she adjusted her napkin and checked her dress for water damage, dabbing at the few spots she found.

“Damn it,” she whispered as she finally gave up and took another sip of wine. “I certainly know how to kill the mood, don’t I?”

He was grinning at her like the proverbial Cheshire Cat, gazing at her with a mix of humor and tenderness that wrapped her securely in its coils upon contact.

“You’re nothing if not moody,” he returned. “But I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

Her heart sped up again as her internal temperature ramped up another ten degrees. Shit, she was sweating, a decidedly unromantic aesthetic just before the love of her life was about to pop the question.

Or was he? Was she absolutely certain that was going to happen tonight?

Perhaps she was reading this all wrong--the in-house restaurant, the tux-clad boys, the melodious crooning of Diana Krall in the background as he continued to stare at her as if she could do no wrong. Perhaps this was just a date, and she was setting herself up for one hell of a letdown. Christ, she needed to know, needed to ground her expectations in what was definite rather than what was desired, so she worked up her courage, trying to find the words she needed that would either hurry this proposal along or let her know that an engagement wasn’t in the cards tonight.

She heard him swallow and inhaled, breathing out through her mouth as she dove in head first.

“Robin--”

“Regina--”

They spoke simultaneously, chuckling in time with each other.

“I just wanted--”

“I was wondering--”

They paused again, mouths open, eyes curious and confused.

“Please,” Robin said. “Go ahead.”

“No,” Regina returned, shaking her head. “You first. I insist.”

He cleared his throat and took a sip of water, his actions prompting her to sit taller as anticipation tickled her skin. His exhale tugged her forward, towards him, towards a future, towards the family she’d always wanted and finally had.

“I was just going to tell you that I’m very impressed with what you’ve put together tonight,” he began, gesturing around the room to emphasize his point. “This took some serious time and effort, and I’m beyond honored that you went to all this trouble for me.”

Wait. What?

“Excuse me?” she whispered, certain she hadn’t heard him correctly.

“Thank you,” he grinned, reaching out to stroke her arm. “For this. For being willing to take a chance on this oaf of a restaurateur and for bringing light back into my soul and life.” She breathed in and out, thinking yes--she had misheard what he’d said earlier, or perhaps he’d just misspoken. After all, if he was about to propose, he was bound to be nervous. But then he took a sip of water and said the last thing she expected to hear.

“Whatever else you have planned for the evening, I want you to know that I’m absolutely game.”

Her insides froze as her mind ran three steps ahead of her, realizing that she hadn’t misunderstood what he’d said moments before.

“What I put together?” she repeated, staring at him in utter confusion. “Robin, I didn’t do this. I thought you did.” His mouth fell open, and he blinked repeatedly. “Didn’t you have Mary Margaret occupy me all afternoon so you could set this up?”

“No,” he answered, looking just as baffled by her revelation as she was by his. “Frank kept me busy all day working on a never-ending list of minor repairs to the restaurant. Then he told me you’d called and that it was time for me to pick up Roland at your place, so I showered and came right over, although he insisted that I park around back for some reason.”

“Pick up Roland?” Regina repeated. “I thought you took the boys to the football game this afternoon.”

“What football game?” Robin asked, looking genuinely perplexed. “I was under the impression that you’d taken them out to the movies. At least, that’s what your text said.” He proceeded to take out his cell phone and pull up the text message in question to show her.

“I didn’t send that,” she said, wondering what in God’s name was going on here as she stared at a text she didn’t write. “But I did get one from you asking if Henry could join you and Roland for today’s game.” She paused, taking another drink of wine, wondering just how she’d emptied her glass so quickly as her evening spun out of control around her. “I thought you were…”

She stopped, biting her lower lip before her heart toppled out of her mouth and onto the table between them, mortification tasting bitter on her tongue.

“What?” he questioned, leaning forward to take her hand. “What did you think, Regina?”

She inhaled sharply, fighting duelling urges to cry and crawl under the table.

“Nothing,” she lied, trying her best to swallow. “I was being stupid, and…”

“You’re not stupid, sweetheart.”

“You don’t know that, Robin!”

“I do know that, Regina, you’re one of the smartest people…”

“I’m being ridiculous tonight--Shit! I’m sorry. I need to shut up before I ruin--”

“Did you think I was going to propose?”

Her breath caught in her throat, the room spiraling around her like an off-balance crazy house. Dizziness seized her as he spoke what she’d tried so desperately to hide, and her lungs constricted, making breathing next to impossible.

“Because it’s alright if you did,” he continued, his voice taking on the texture of honey as he began to stroke her fingers as he’d been doing earlier. “I actually thought you were about to ask me.”

Her eyes rounded, her mouth gaping open as words played hard to get.

“You did?” she asked, feeling decidedly hot all over. “You thought I was going to propose?”

“I did,” he replied, stroking her ring finger purposefully. “I mean, it’s the logical conclusion when you take in all of the factors, don’t you think?” He paused, watching her closely until she nodded slowly. “The in-house restaurant, being kept out all day...I can see why you would have thought the same thing.”

“You can?”

The words fluttered off of her tongue, weightless yet full of feeling.

“I can,” he assured her. He stared into her again, licking his lips as his voice dropped half an octave. “And if you had proposed, I would have said yes, you know.”

Her heart stopped as everything around her blurred into oblivion except for the man across from her.

“You would have?” she questioned, her heart pounding relentlessly in her temples.

“Yes,” he returned, his voice as intimate as a caress. “I would.”

Her ribs expanded, her heart nearly exploding out of her chest as the reality of what he’d just said began to sink in.

“So would I,” she whispered as a tear broke free and trickled down her cheek. He reached out to wipe it away with his thumb, his smile so broad she felt embraced by it. “I would have said yes, too.”

He swallowed down emotion she could sense from across the table as he blinked back tears of his own.

“So if you would and I would,” he began. “Then why don’t we?”

She gaped at him, trying to speak, wanting to nod, attempting to do anything besides sit in dumb confusion as she was currently doing. She cleared her throat, moving her lips in silence before her tongue finally caught up.

“Why don’t we?” she echoed, melting from head to toe at the broad smile that covered his face.

“Robin--is this…?”

“It is if you want it to be,” he interrupted, caressing her knuckles with his thumb. “If you’re ready to make this forever. Are you, Regina?”

Oh, God. Forever. Yes--yes, she was definitely ready for a forever with this man and their boys. She was nodding as an array of tears fell down her cheeks, smiling as the word Yes danced up from her heart and tickled her tongue, ready to leap towards the man she loved just before a whisper out of nowhere cut her off.

“Do it, Dad! Do it!”

Decidedly boyish giggles then erupted from the direction of the couch.

“Shhhhh!” an older voice cut in, one she recognized instantly as Henry’s. “Don’t ruin it!”

“I’m not ruining anything,” Roland whispered back, pausing as he seemed to realize that he’d been overheard by the adults. “Uh oh.”

She held back a laugh, nearly choking on it as Robin stifled a chuckle. He cleared his throat yet again, entwining her fingers with his own.

“Do you think that perhaps we’ve been set up?” he mused, his eyes wandering from her to the sofa behind which their sons were obviously attempting to hide.

“I think the possibility is very strong,” she answered, doing her best to stifle another laugh as Roland whispered We’re busted. “You might as well come out,” Regina added, leaning back in her seat. “We know you’re there, boys.”

“I told you to be quiet,” Henry hissed just before two heads peered out from behind the top of the couch.

“I was being quiet!” Roland insisted as they puttered out from behind their fortress, their heads hanging low, their faces as obvious as a neon sign. “I only whispered, Henry.”

Henry rolled his eyes at the younger boy’s logic, daring to look at his mom for a second before dropping his eyes to his shoes.

“So boys,” Robin began, leaning back in his seat and studying them. “Are you two responsible for putting this dinner together tonight?”

Henry and Roland looked at each other before each of them nodded slowly, refusing to make eye contact with either of their parents.

“And were you also responsible for sending misleading texts both to me and to Regina to keep us busy and away from her house today?”

Roland sighed heavily as they nodded again, only to be interrupted by August who’d strolled into the room from the kitchen.

“Henry texted you,” the other man said. “But I sent the one to Regina about the football game. I didn’t quite trust Roland’s spelling skills.”

“Football is hard to spell,” Roland admitted with a shrug. “So is stadium.”

Regina’s lips trembled as she fought down a smile, reaching for her wine glass before she remembered that it was empty.

“I see,” Robin murmured, raising a brow towards his cousin. “And was this your idea, August, or did you send that text at Roland’s request?”

“He didn’t have to twist my arm or anything,” August admitted with a shrug. “But it wasn’t my idea.”

Robin’s eyes locked with Regina’s, the spark of amusement that was obvious to her somehow lost on their boys who looked as if they were about to attend their own funeral.

“And why did you think it necessary to mislead us as you did?” Robin continued. “Couldn’t you have just asked us if you wanted us to attend such an elegant evening? ”

The boys couldn’t look guiltier if they tried, and they stared at each other before turning their gazes back to their parents. Henry looked like a convicted felon, Roland like a whipped puppy.

“We didn’t mean to lie,” Henry said, swallowing hard. “We actually wanted to do something nice for you two, something special.”

“This is very nice,” Robin agreed. “But why all the secrecy?”

Roland huffed as loudly as the big, bad wolf, squaring his shoulders as he decided to bite the bullet.

“Because we wanted you to propose.”

Regina’s eyebrows shot up as the smile lines creased further around Robin’s eyes.

“You wanted me to propose to Regina?” he asked, leaning forward towards his son.

“Yeah,” Roland admitted. “Or for her to propose to you. It didn’t matter--just as long as you two got engaged.”

She inhaled sharply, wishing for another glass of wine with all she had.

“You want us to get married?” she questioned, her eyes moving from Roland to Henry. Her son finally lifted his gaze to her own, and he grinned, making her heart leap into her throat as he nodded.

“We do,” Henry replied, looking from his mom to Robin then back again. “We want to be a real family, official and all.”

Her cheeks were wet, and she dabbed at them with her napkin.

“You, too, Roland?” Robin asked, smiling as the younger boy nodded back.

“I don’t remember my mom,” Roland admitted as he took a step towards the table, those baby browns of his melting her heart like warm wax. “And Henry’s never had a dad.”

“So it works out well for all of us if you two get married,” Henry cut in, moving in closer. “Roland gets a mom…”

“Henry gets a dad, I get a brother,” Roland jumped in, walking right up to the table, feeling bolder by the second. “And you two can stop worrying about who's staying over where at night and stuff.”

Her heart was thudding again, two words amidst many drumming out a steady tattoo in her chest.

“You want me to be your mom?” she asked, staring at Roland as he beamed back at her, dimples and all.

“Yeah!” Roland answered, practically hopping into her lap. “You’re great at being a mom, and we even kind of look alike. I think we’d make a great team--don’t you?”

“Yes,” she answered, the word tumbling out of her like a petal caught up in a waterfall. “I think we make a great team.”

She laughed as tears fell freely, and she kissed curls that had been gelled and combed as small arms wrapped themselves around her neck. But Robin sat dumbstruck, finally standing up and moving towards Henry.

“You’d really like me to be your dad?”

The words were whispered and rough around the edges, tinged with emotion so deep she felt it from where she sat. Henry looked up at him before staring at her, silently seeking her permission, receiving it with a smile.

“I would,” Henry said, turning his focus back to Robin. “If you wouldn’t mind having me as a son.”

Robin turned towards her, his eyes wet, his expression one of awe.

“Mind?” he repeated, shaking his head. “Of course I wouldn’t mind. I’d be honored to be your dad, Henry. If it’s okay with your mother, that is.”

All three males looked directly at her at once, and she felt the stares of Alonzo, Marco and August watching them in expectation.

“It is,” she said, smiling so broadly her cheeks began to ache. “You’re right, Henry. Robin is a great dad.”

“So does that mean you’ll marry us?” Roland asked, hopping off her lap in excitement. “Please, Regina. Marry me and my dad!” Henry was nodding in her direction, trying his best to coax her along.

“I will,” she answered, cutting her gaze to the man still standing beside her son. “If your dad asks me, that is.”

Henry inclined his head towards Regina, gesturing Robin in her direction as Roland jumped up and down before grabbing Robin’s hand and practically pulling him down to the floor.

“You’re supposed to kneel down, Dad,” the boy insisted. “Jeesh! Don’t you know anything about proposing?”

Robin bit his lower lip to contain his amusement as Henry pushed the man closer to her from behind. He scooted toward her on the carpet and took her hand within his own, looking up at her with those blue eyes of his that never ceased to make her knees go weak.

“Regina Mills,” Robin began, stroking her ring finger as he held her gaze. “I don’t lead the most orderly of lives, as you well know. My house tends to be messy, and my family is always in our business.” He paused, tossing a glance towards the kitchen where Alonzo and Marco waved him on as Roland whispered, “Get on with it, Dad!”

“But it’s my life, and it’s one I want to share with the most amazing, intelligent, compassionate and gorgeous woman I know,” he continued, aiming his eyes in her direction and hitting the bullseye. “I love you, Regina. Would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

Her insides burst into an array of fireworks, making everything tingle at the same time.

“I will,” she answered, cut off from any further words by a pair of insistent lips upon her own. She tugged him closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her fingers into his hair, chuckling into his mouth as applause broke out around them and Roland uttered Ewwwww. They drew back from each other, all touching noses and damp cheeks, reluctant to let go until Henry interrupted.

“Now’s when you give her the ring.”

She sat back at that, shaking her head.

“Robin doesn’t have a ring yet,” she explained, watching Henry’s brow crease in confusion. “Because he wasn’t planning on proposing tonight. This was your doing--remember?”

“Regina,” Robin said, “I--”

“It’s alright,” she cut in. “I don’t expect one right now, and there’s no rush. Having a ring doesn’t make us any more or less engaged.”

Her finger felt barer than it ever had, oddly enough, but Robin would remedy that soon enough.

“Can we go ring shopping with you?” Roland asked. “I want to make sure you get Gina a good ring, Dad, one that shines and sparkles and costs a lot of money. That’s what Uncle Frank says women want.”

“You discussed engagement rings with Uncle Frank?” Robin asked. “Dare I ask what else he had to say on the subject?”

“Only that it's’ all about the rock,” Roland said. “That you’d better give her at least a carat or you won’t be getting any for a while, whatever that means.”

“You asked,” Regina stated as Robin grimaced and rubbed a hand over his beard, chuckling as Frank’s voice cried out Thanks a lot, Roland! from the back of the house. They stared in that direction, shaking their heads in amusement as Frank, Mary Margaret, David holding Baby Neal and Belle toting Gideon slowly came into view.

“Why am I not surprised?” Robin questioned, looking back at her with blatant adoration. “We can’t do anything without an audience, it would seem.”

“I hope to God there are some things you do without an audience,” Frank tossed back, getting a sound whack from Mary Margaret on the arm.

“You know, maybe I should have consulted with you, Frank, before I purchased this,” Robin continued, turning his full attention back on Regina. “Seeing as you’re the expert, according to Roland, but I’m hoping Regina likes it, whether you had a hand in picking it out or not.”

One hand reached into his pocket as the other held her left hand before releasing it to open a small box, one that held a simple yet elegant ring that took her breath away. It was an oval set in a platinum band, with two small rubies on either side of it, neither pretentious nor too understated, just absolutely perfect.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, watching in fascination as he slid it onto her finger. “Robin! When did you... how did…”

“I bought it a month ago,” he admitted. “Had it stashed in my bedroom, waiting for just the right time to ask you. Somehow…” he paused, tossing a pointed glance towards the kitchen. “The box ended up in my suit pocket tonight, the suit I’m assuming August picked out and had delivered here for me to change into this evening.”

August shrugged good-naturedly, grinning from ear to ear as Belle moved to his side and Gideon flew into his arms from his mother’s.

“I actually wondered if Roland had found it and tipped you off when I first got here and saw the setup,” Robin continued. “If perhaps you’d arranged for it to be in my pocket so the stage would be set.”

“You mean when you thought I was planning to propose?” she questioned. “Oh my God, do you really think I’m that devious?”

“I’m counting on it,” he hummed, kissing the top of her hand. “I had this ring designed for you, Regina,” he continued, his tone now soft and private. “The rubies--they represent our hearts, you know. Two hearts brought together by the most unusual of circumstances, still managing to create something beautiful out of years of pain.”

Words deserted her again as she stared at the ring, holding her hand up so it caught the light and sparkled, feeling her heart reach out to the man to which it had always belonged.

“It’s perfect,” she breathed, cupping the sides of his face as she swallowed. “And I love you. So very much.”

He leaned in and gently kissed her pulse point, her eyes closing upon contact as one of his hands dropped to her rib cage just over where the heart that had once been Marian’s pulsed steady and strong.

“I love you, too,” he muttered. “With all of my heart.”

She laughed just before he kissed her again, startled when he practically fell into her as Roland and Henry tackle-hugged him from behind. She leaned back abruptly, touching her lip, fairly certain it had been cut as she picked up her napkin at dabbed at it.

“Are you bleeding?” he asked, reaching out to her as he tried to unsuccessfully shake off the boys.

“Barely,” she answered. “You?”

He grinned, shaking his head.

“No. And my nose made it out unscathed, as well.”

She cackled, remembering how she’d practically broken his nose the night they’d met, feeling that somehow a split lip was actually a good sign on this crazy road they’d been travelling. Everyone gathered around them then, wine glasses in hand as Marco topped off hers and Robin’s, and they rose to their feet, moving into a circle of family she’d craved all her life. She had a son, a son-in-waiting, a fiancé, a father-in-law to be, friends, cousins...God, life had been good to her, and she was more thankful than ever for the scar on her chest, feeling it tingle as Robin’s arm slid around her waist and drew her close.

“To us,” Robin said, raising his class in her direction before extending it towards everyone else. “And to family.”

“To Regina and Robin,” Alonzo echoed as everyone raised their glass. “And family.”

They drank, and she took it all in, laughing as Marco confessed they actually had trays of lasagna for everyone just in case the night turned into an engagement party, feeling loved and fully accepted as each member of Robin’s family and her own hugged her in turn and offered their congratulations.

“God, I’m surrounded by men,” she mused later as Robin fed her a bite of chocolate cake topped with dark chocolate ganache, so delightfully decadent it made her moan. He chuckled, gazing around the room at Alonzo and Marco, at August and Frank, at Henry, Roland, David, Neal and Gideon and nodded his agreement.

“Face it,” he whispered, stroking the side of her face. “You’re outnumbered, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

She chuckled as she chased down chocolate with wine, leaning into him fully as they sat on the sofa while others danced and chatted.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she grinned, taking a deep breath. “After all, we could always adopt a little girl.”

He paused then, eyeballing her before smiling from ear to ear and placing a soft kiss to her temple.

“That we could,” he returned. “And I’m certainly game.” He then claimed her mouth fully, sealing the deal and their lives together before she could get another word in edgewise.

#Outlaw Queen #Regina Mills #Robin Hood #oq ff #Laura writes #Pulse Points #Hood-Mills family

63 notes · View notes

katrinaxparkinson-blog · 7 years

Photo

OUT OF CHARACTER

♔ INTRODUCTION Yo yo, it’s Taylor! 18; female; cst

♔ HOW ARE YOU? I’m watching Shameless and eating Chinese food, I’m great!

♔ TELL US SOMETHING ABOUT YOURSELF: My favorite movie is Ten Things I Hate About You - I know all the words by memory.

♔ ANYTHING ELSE? I’m so very nervous about this. I hope you like her!

IN CHARACTER

♔ DESIRED CHARACTER

Katrina Elizabet Parkinson - the (disowned) sister to the someday father of Pansy Parkinson. Aged 24, Pureblood (obviously), and alum of the infamous Slytherin House.

♔ FACE CLAIM Crystal Reed. Emmy Rossum, or Marie Avgeropolous, in that order.

♔ WHAT SIDE OF THE WAR ARE THEY ON? Order of the Phoenix, and Aversio. The Order was a generous offering by Dumbledore, the night she appeared on his doorstep frightful of what would happen next. And while she remains very grateful for his good faith and kindness towards her, if anything, she tends to agree more with Aversio and the ways in which they act rather than say.

♔ AESTHETIC ♠ Wind rushing in your ears ♠ dark lipstick ♠ moonlight ♠ palettes of paint ♠ broken glass ♠ sharp knives ♠ fresh flowers ♠ steady rain ♠ crisp sheets ♠ clear lakes ♠

♔ POSITIVE TRAITS Give four- ✓ Headstrong ✓ Benevolent ✓ Outspoken ✓ Driven by morals

♔ NEGATIVE TRAITS Give four- ✕ Idealistic ✕ Unsure of self ✕ Abrasive ✕ Tends to be hard on herself

♔ CHARACTER DESCRIPTION In a society bred by ideologies and perfection, Katrina was always the odd one out. A woman raised as if a queen, prepared for a lifetime of tradition, she always felt something was missing. While peers were bred to believe purity meant better, Katrina Parkinson found herself asking a dangerous question: who cares? A true snake, hiding in plain sight was a second nature…until it wasn’t. With a war raging and familial tensions rising Katrina was made to choose. Now all that stands in her way is her own mind.

♔ REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER I wanted to explore a character of true moral conflict - not somebody swayed by love, as Andromeda was, nor by duty like Bellatrix. A Pureblood of such respectable stature and with such high expectations that it would be nearly suffocating to do anything but agree with the ideals thrown into the faces of the Sacred from the moment they are born.

Katrina was born one year, month, week, and day (to the exact second), after her elder brother. From the moment she was born, there was a silver spoon in her mouth, praise given at every success and brutal punishment at every failure. From the mere moment she was capable of understanding speech and the implications that came with such, Madam Parkinson - because certainly, her father would have no say in such things when there were more important causes to attend to - began teaching her the ways of being a proper Pureblooded lady.

It all began on one of their first lessons involving blood purity. Her mother, Aurelia, was in the middle of her lecture on how lucky and better they were for simply being in a bloodline that expanded in magic for generation upon generation, all the way to the beginning. In that moment, a very dangerous question was posed, something which changed the course of Katrina’s life: “What does it matter? It’s only blood.”

As you can imagine, such a question resulted in a slammed door, and…well. Not a very fond disciplinary action. Katrina learned fairly quickly after that, that speaking her mind was a dangerous thing to do and as a child, she couldn’t risk the consequences. So, as a result she fell into the role of the perfectly groomed and behaved pureblood daughter everyone expected her to. And this was easy enough to do, at least, for awhile. While listening to the ridicule and bias that existed within not only the walls of Parkinson manor but Hogwarts castle was enough to cause her severe emotional turmoil, she persevered. Just because she listened, did not mean that she had to agree - and not once did she ever participate in such conversations. Not that she was expected to – a woman in such narrow minded society, silence was the way of things.

It was upon leaving Hogwarts that the reality of it all truly hit. With so many joining the ever growing forces of the Death Eaters, and comments regarding her marriage becoming a large topic of conversation even at home, it became devastatingly clear that something had to be done. In the dead of night, with nothing but her wand in hand and an unpleasantly painful feeling settling deep within her stomach, Katrina ran away.

She appeared at Hogwarts, disheveled night robes wrapped around her, desperately seeking Dumbledore. It was not until he asked what he could assist her with that Katrina realized, she had no idea what she was doing. In an emotionally driven panic, the truth of it all came pouring out of her, after so many years being forced down in the name of remaining a dutiful daughter. Albus waited patiently until her panicked state had lessened, helping her find her footing and a safe place to remain.

In the seven years that have now come to pass since Katrina ran away, she has done everything in her power to avoid run ins with the Parkinson family, or truly - anyone she used to know for that matter. She is her own person, fighting the fight she believes in, but still…often times, she finds herself questioning what may have happened if only she’d been stronger, not realizing how strong she was.

♔ PREFERRED SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS Anything in which there is chemistry will have me on board pretty quick.

♔ CREATE ONE OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER: Pinterest Board Aesthetic 1 Aesthetic 2

House of Memories - Panic at the Disco We built this house on memories Take my picture now, shake it til you see it And when your fantasies, become your legacy Promise me a place in your house of memories.

Fences - Paramore You’re always on display For everyone to watch You can’t turn back Because this road is all you’ll Ever have

Paralyzed - NF ( primarily about the days leading to/after she ran away ) Where’s the person that I know? They must have left, they must have left With all my faith If life is pain then I buried mine, A long time ago but it’s still alive I don’t feel nothing, I wonder why

… I’m in a box, but I’m the one that locked me in Suffocating and running out of oxygen

I’ll be Good - Jaymes Young I never meant to start a fire I never meant to make you bleed I’ll be a better man today

So Cold - Ben Cocks It’s so quiet here, And I feel so cold This house no longer Feels like home

Franklin - Paramore So we stand here now, And no one knows us at all I won’t get used to this I won’t get used to being gone

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it: “Something that could truly control emotions. Merlin only knows how often such would come in handy for me.”

♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you: “Why in the name of Salazar Slytherin himself would I ever wish to venture into the Forbidden Forest at all, let alone at night? Though I suppose if I had to, I would take Andromeda Tonks with me. She’s much braver a woman than I, by any case. As for an object, a broom, maybe? Anything to get off the ground and away from those bloody spiders.”

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make?“ The sort in which there is something to lose. Then again, I’ve already had to make that decision.”

♔ What is one thing you would never want said about you? “That I stand with the Death Eaters and that bloody forsaken cause for purity, or whatever nonsense it is they’re going with these days. I wasn’t capable of it as a child, I won’t stand to be thought capable now.”

WRITING SAMPLE

Dim candlelight illuminated the vast bedroom, casting shadow upon the deep emerald drapery. What time was it? It was almost impossible to tell, the large grandfather clock ticking ominously in the background, hidden in the shadows of the vast darkness surrounding, encroaching across the walls.

Anxious footfalls landed quietly against the refurbished floors, chilly skin against frigid wood. Even without knowing the time, she knew that hours had to have come to pass since her mother and father had retired for the night, to their respective bedrooms and studies where they would not be expected to interact with one another - not that they interacted much in the safety of the Parkinson home as it was.Katrina’s mind was racing. It seemed that no matter how desperately she attempted to silence the thoughts rushing so rapidly through her mind. They seemed to circle each other in such a way that they were nearly racing, conflicting thoughts battling in an all-consuming war that left a dreadful throbbing behind her eye.It had been plaguing her mind for weeks - nay, years - now.

The indescribably painful and conflicting thought of what would come once taking leave of Hogwarts. Family, duty, honor…it was a thing to be coveted and protected, no matter the cost. Such a belief was one which had been forced down her throat as if a horrid vegetable in childhood. A horrid thing, one with no purpose, not true meaning other than to declare superiority.She had tried. Oh Merlin had she tried to grasp hold of the belief, to tether it to her heart and believe in it, without a flicker doubt dampening her mind. Certainly living as she had been would have been a thing of simplicity if it could only happen so painless a way. Childhood would not have been wasted, family life not a thing to crave separation from.Yet her soul refused such. Ten years had been spent playing a part, desperately hoping to miraculously change her views. If only she could truly believe it, then maybe she would no longer flinch like a misbehaving dog every time chocolate hues landed upon either Madam or Master Parkinson. Hells even her brother seemed to see through the facade, moreso than the others, in a more dangerous of ways.Ruby lips encircled her thumb, teeth soon finding a way to wrap around the nail, chewing anxiously. It was a disgusting habit, one which had plagued Katrina Elizabet Parkinson from the moment she could think for herself. She had become better at controlling it, certainly; with more in depth magical training, there were ways to conceal the damage, to hide the bloody, bright nail beds and uprooted skin which should have so elegantly surrounded cuticles.

Emotional turmoil raged like a storm, dark vicious clouds which rose and fell at such a rapid pace inside her brain that it felt as if at any moment, her frame could keel over and nauseate horribly. Dinner was an extravagant celebration of finishing Hogwarts, and yet barely touched. Though in that moment, the idea of pretending forever, it very much seemed as if the entirety of what the elves had prepared would erupt from her stomach if given the chance.`And that was when she decided, on a whim (or perhaps, not a whim at all, but the true reality of self finally decided it would no longer be silenced.) that she was finished. Heart pounding, the rhythmic and terrified beating echoing through her ears, feet bare, wrapped in nothing but thin ivory night robes, Katrina reached for the elegant dresser. Wand perched atop a dark cedar dresser, her fingers wrapped securely around it. Shutting her eyes, she concentrated perfectly well on a destination that she never, not even once, imagined returning to.And then, when her eyes opened, there stood the ebony gates, bright invitingly lit windows of Hogwarts castle glistening.

#{ bio }#OKAY OKAY LAST ONE #{ app }

5 notes · View notes

sethmacsexy20 · 7 years

Text

Different Worlds Benefits

*Seth's POV*

I decided I should leave, I knew by looking at her, she thought it was a mistake. I really didn't say anything then. I pulled out of her and got dressed when I saw it in her face. She was also dressing now. We barely looked at each other as we got situated. This is not what I wanted. I wanted us to be together. I wanted to be with her. I thought that was what she wanted but that was clearly not the case. I looked at her once I was situated. "I should leave." I finally broke the silence that filled the room.

She just nodded. I walked out of the room without another word. I got to the front door and grabbed the handle. I stopped as I was a little pissed. I turned and stormed back in her office, where she still was. But now sitting at the desk as if she was lost in thought. "You know, this isn't fair! You know how I feel about you! You were the one who didn't want me to leave even though I thought it was best cause I thought something like this would happen! Then you act like it was a mistake! Why are you doing this to me?!"

I was hurt and confused by everything. She seemed shocked by my outburst. "I'm sorry." She said, softly.

I looked at her and I could tell she was just as confused as I was. I sighed and walked over to the desk. I leaned against it next to her and asked, "Where do we go from here?"

"I don't know." She breathed. "I'm just not ready for all this." Then she looked up at me and said, "I know I started this. But it has been such a long time since I have been with anyone like that. And you were here. Doesn't make it right. The only reason I think it was a mistake cause I knew you would make it into something that it wasn't. For me it was just what it was. Nothing more."

"So, you used me." I slightly smiled. Wasn't the first time a woman used me, but it was a first time a woman used me for sex. It was different.

She looked at me and saw my smile and smiled back. "Yeah, I guess I did. But you got something out of it too."

I laughed. "That I did."

She took my hand and sat back in her seat. She held it as she looked at them. Then she looked at me. "You okay?"

I was looking at our hands. "Yeah." I said, softly as I looked at her. "Like you said I got something out of it too."

She smiled at me then looked at our hands as her fingers played on mine. She looked at me and asked, "So, you understood what this was?"

"Yeah." I said.

"Are you okay with that?" She asked me.

I cracked, "I got laid, didn't I?"

She laughed as I smiled at her. Then her face became focused as she looked back at our hands. She asked, cautiously, "How would you feel about it becoming a regular thing?"

I was shocked by this. "Are you asking what I think you are asking?"

"Uh, yeah. Look we are two adults. I know our case is a little complicated. But if we keep our feelings in check, I don't see the harm. We are both two busy people who could use a release now and then." She said to me.

I looked away and thought about it for a moment. I let out a long breath. Then I looked at her and asked, "Would we be friends with benefits or fuck buddies?"

She chuckled. "Is there a difference?"

"Well, yeah." I said. "Friends with benefits are just that. Friends who hang out still and able to maintain a friendship. Only intimate during the moments when they need a release. And a fuck buddy just come around when they need to get laid. Nothing more."

She thought about it and asked, "What would you want to be?"

"Of course, friends with benefits. I would want to maintain some sort of relationship with you." I told her.

She smiled and nodded. "I think that would be okay."

I smiled at her then let go of her hand as I stood up. "I should really get going. See you soon?"

She smiled at me. "Yeah."

I gave her another small smile. I left without another word. I got in my car and drove away. I thought about everything that had happened. I knew agreeing to our new arrangement probably wasn't the best idea cause how I felt about her. But having something of her was better then having nothing. I just wished it could have been more.

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

I was working from my office at home and getting a little frustrated. I kept in contact with Seth as we texted every so often, shooting the shit. Seemed like everything was okay. But now it had been a couple weeks since that day and I was feeling the itch. And the amount of paperwork I had was just adding to the stress. I knew I need a stress reliever. I texted Seth. 'What are you doing?'

'Just got off work. You?' He wrote back.

'Doing a crazy amount of paperwork. Stressing me the hell out. I was thinking I could use a stress reliever.' I sent back to him.

A few moments later, my phone buzzed. I looked at my phone and smiled at the text. 'Let me take a shower and I will be over.'

'Okay.' I quickly replied.

I decided to also get to take a quick shower. After I shower, I blew dried my hair and walked out to the living room. Just then, my doorbell rang. I quickly answered and smiled at Seth. "Hey."

"Hey." He was seemingly nervous.

I opened the door wider and said, "Come in."

He walked in and I closed the door. Then I walked in the living room as he followed. I turned to him and he had his hands in his pocket. He was really nervous. I then asked, "Have you never done this?"

He shook his head. "I've only been with people I had a relationships with."

"Oh." That shocked me a bit. Sometimes I forget what kind of guy Seth was.

"So, I have no clue how to start this." He admitted. "Because it is so different."

I smiled at him as it was so cute that he was so nervous. I moved over and moved my hands up his chest and said, seductively, "I'll start it and you take over when you are comfortable."

He just nodded. I moved in and kissed him. It quickly build up. I broke the kiss as I pushed Seth on the couch. It caught him off guard. "Um. You are wasting no time, huh?"

I straddled him as he was sitting on the couch. "I told you, I need a stress reliever."

I took his lips again. We kept kissing as we took each other shirts off. He quickly took off my bra. He moved his hands to my waist and around my back. Then he quickly picked me up and turned me over so I was on my back on the couch. He was on top of me. He finished undressing me then himself. I was was breathing heavily in anticipation. God, I needed this. I could tell he did too. He then moved over me again. He kissed me. We didn't need much foreplay. Seth then pushed inside and quickly moved inside me. I was moaning at this point. I definitely needed this. He kept moving inside me as he kissed me. We kept at this. In no time, we reached our release. We breathed heavily and he moved away from me. He sat on the couch as I laid there and my legs laid over his lap. He was trying to catch his breath. I looked at him and smiled. He looked over and asked, "You feel better?"

I chuckled slightly. "Definitely."

"Good." He smiled. "So, what do you want to do now?"

I thought about it and asked, "How about a movie? Been awhile since we did that."

"Yeah." He smiled. "I would like that."

"Okay, then get dressed." I told him as I sat up.

"What? We can't watch it naked?" He cracked as he smirked at me. "I mean, maybe I can muster up another round during or afterwards."

I laughed. "Well, if you are able to manage another round later, we can get undressed then."

"Oh, if I can manage." He nodded his head and pressed his lips. "You seem to forget about the many rounds we would go in the past."

I was getting dressed as was Seth. I leaned in and said, "But that was also seven years ago, Seth. Your stamina might have gone down since then."

"Oh, you are in for a surprise." He said to me with a smirk.

I laughed as we finished getting dressed. I then asked, "So, what are you up to watching?"

"Surprise me." He said with a smile.

I looked at my movies and smirked as there was one that I felt was perfect for the situation. Make things more fun. I didn't let Seth see the case. I put it in and sat down next to him. He asked, "What did you pick?"

"You'll see." I only smirked.

Then he looked worried. He watched the opening credits and saw the title. "Oh, god. Tell me we are not watching Fifty Shades."

I laughed as I expected that reaction. I then looked at him and asked, "Too afraid it might be a little much that you won't be able to keep your hands to yourself."

He smirked. "I don't think I will be the problem."

"Oh, is that so." I laughed. "Care to make a wager?"

"What are the terms?" He now turned to me.

I said, "Okay, whoever gives in first has to do whatever the other wants sexually."

His eyebrows hitched then he grinned. "You're on."

We watched the movie. We didn't even make it half way through the movie and we were already at it again. I don't even know who made the first movie, it all happened too fast. I don't even think the movie did it for us. I think it was the fun of it. We just wanted that release again. Again, we finished and this time we laid on the couch, trying to catch our breath. He asked, "Who broke?"

"I have no clue, honestly." I told him.

"Neither do I." He admitted.

I looked at him as he did and we both broke out in laughter. We slowly calmed and just laid there. We both looked at each other again and he moved an arm around me. He moved closer to me and nuzzled his nose against mine. It was a small gesture but it was too much intimacy for me. A part of me began to freak, I quickly sat up to move away from him. I started to get dress again. I felt his eyes burn into me. He slowly sat up and said, cautiously, "I'm sorry, Mary."

"It's okay." I said without looking at him.

"Look, I am new to all this. I don't know how to do this without cuddling or intimacy in between. It's so different for me." He said to me.

I looked over at him and breathed, "Maybe this isn't a good idea."

"No! No. I can deal. I just don't understand what is acceptable and not. It is new territory for me. I just need a guidebook or something." He said.

I chuckled a little as I could totally see Seth reading a book on how to be friends with benefits. Then I said, "Okay, well first of all, intimacy outside of when we are having sex is out. No cuddling, kissing or anything else unless we are in that moment. Also, I think we should both be should understand when we are hanging when it is acceptable to have sex and not. Also, and a big one. No feelings, like at all. You get that. We still are friends outside of it. We can still goof off and hang out, but that is it. You understand?"

He quickly nodded. “I understand.” Then he looked away and said, "It is getting late, maybe I should head home."

"Okay." I said, softly.

I finished getting dressed and Seth dressed as well. We got up and I walked him to the door. He opened it and turned to me. "So, I guess I will talk to you later."

I smiled. "Yeah."

He started to move close to me, then stopped. Then he asked, "Is hugging acceptable?"

I smiled at him as it was clear he was new at this. "Friends hug, Seth."

He just smiled at me and we hugged. I pulled away and he walked out the door. I watched him walk to his car and I closed the door. I sighed as I did feel completely relaxed. I really did need that release. I was tired though. Sleep was definitely something I needed right then.

Previous Chapter / Masterlist / Next Chapter

#seth macfarlane fanfiction #seth macfarlane #seth fanfic #macfarlane #fanfic

3 notes · View notes

meg91596 · 4 years

Text

Expect the Unexpected Chapter 8

Amelia’s POV:

Having 5 kids was never in the cars for me, honestly after Christopher was born I never thought that I could possibly be someone’s mother without feeling guilty for what happened to Chris. It’s never easy to lose a child or go through saying hello and only having a matter of minutes before you had to say goodbye. When I found that I was pregnant with Scout it paralyzed me and I didn’t think I could ever have a healthy little boy that I love to no end. Link and I love that little boy to no end. It really is hard to believe that he is already 4 years old. When I got pregnant with the girls I never thought that I could provide a home for identical triplets or even lucky enough to have the girls. Annabel, Addison, and Adelynn are perfect little 3 year old and in Preschool. After the triplets were born Link and I were trying to be very careful because we already had 4 kids we didn’t want a 5th but we ended up with a 5th. Our son Patrick is a happy go lucky 2 1/2 year old little boy. We were very carful after Patrick but that didn’t stop us from adding a number 6 and 7.

Link and I are excited to welcome our 6th and 7th which are our final children because we are stoping after this one is born because we have enough fun with our 5 kids. We aren’t going to find out the gender for the twins because we already have 2 boys and 3 girls so we decided to be surprised upon this child’s arrival. Meredith is excited for the baby as she has been for all of them and knows that Derek would have loved to see me as a mother with my husband. I miss my brother very much, father, and Christopher. I wonder what he would have thought about having 7 young brothers and sisters if he were still alive. A few weeks ago we took a trip down to LA where he is buried and it brought back so many memories of heartbreak that I had. Then I look at Scout and realize that he is my rainbow after my heartbreak. Scout and Link both took me out of a really dark place.

Being 39 1/2 weeks pregnant is a challenge with 5 children under the age of 5 most people look at me as to thinking am I crazy for having this many children? Do Link and I know what birth control is? Honestly Link and I have gone through so many questions regarding that but this is our family nobody else’s. Maureen, and Eric love their grandchildren and honestly it get’s Link irritated when they spoil the kids because Link wanted to feel that love when he was a child. I guess that maybe the reason why he doesn’t mind having as many kids as we do because he was an only child and didn’t have really any friends when he was going through all of his cancer treatments when I know for a fact our children would be there for each other. When I put all the kids down to bed I started getting a few contractions here and there but nothing I couldn’t handle after all I’ve been through labor 4 times now counting Christopher. Well Patrick I wasn’t in labor long because we had him as emergency C-Section because of my health. With this one who knows how that is going to play out.

Link and I decided that after 2 hours of the kids being in bed and me having a few contractions that we would go and sleep. That however didn’t last long as my contractions started to get worse. I walked around the house to help with the pain as my water hadn’t broken yet. This is similar to what I went through with Scout. I decided that I would go back to bed because the pain had stopped. I was able to sleep for 6 hours before I had more contractions. I got in the shower of course it was also time to get up for breakfast and get the kids up for preschool, and daycare. Link had gotten the kids ready for preschool, and daycare. I was in the living room feeling pretty good and playing with Scout when I had another pain come by here it was 25 minutes from the last one. We got the kids to preschool, and Daycare when we went to work. I went to change into my scrubs, and Jo was there with Alex. They were talking about Alexis and Eli’s play that was coming up. Everyone is excited about going to the play including Scout, who enjoys playing with Alexis, Eli, Zola, Bailey, and Ellis.

I was walking down the hall and had another wave of contractions and yet still nothing happening. I had now been having this pain for over 12 hours. I still wasn’t ready for the next part. But when I went to sit down with Link at lunch time he realized that something wasn’t right. He brought me to OB where Carina said that I was only 2 centimeters and that the babies could be hours from now. I told her that I was fine just having abnormal Braxton hicks contractions. Link and I went home with the kids and he got us a pizza. We enjoyed the pizza. After dinner we watched a movie before putting all the kids into bed. Link asked me how I was feeling. I told him that I was feeling okay and that the baby still could be awhile before it comes. Link and I went to bed, and talked about things especially our vacation plan that we have coming up after the baby is born. Around 4 o’clock AM I got up because I needed to take a walk. I walked around the kitchen and started some coffee when I walked back into the bedroom I could feel water running down my leg. I woke up Link to tell him it was time to go as my water had broken.

I sat on the bed knowing that this would be the last time I sat on the bed with only 5 kids then all of a sudden I had the urge to push. I told Link that the babies were coming. He ran over and saw that one of the baby’s head was crowning. He called Alex, and Meredith to come over while he called Ben at Station 19. Meredith and Alex got there 5 minutes before the baby was born. Link told me to push I had the baby’s head out when Meredith came in the room. We then delivered the infant. A little girl then all of a sudden I had another contraction and I knew it was the other baby that I was in denial about the whole time of this pregnancy. I didn’t want to admit that number 6 is actually number 7. Around the time the ambulance came I delivered a little boy. I held the twins while Ben got me on a stretcher. Link decided to leave the kids with Meredith and Alex along with Zola, Bailey, Ellis, Alexis, Eli, and Benny to go to the hospital. When we got there Carina saw me on a stretcher and saw that the babies had been born already. She saw me and the babies and went to check on me. It turns out that I was actually in labor for 28 hours and not knowing it was actually labor because I thought it was Braxton hicks like it was with Scout. Link and I decided to call our daughter Felicity Marie, and Luke Adam Shepherd Lincoln. Another set of multiples. I told Link that I was going to plan on getting a birth control that will help with not having anymore children considering I’m now approaching 43.

The kids loved their siblings. Patrick was the surprise because he took to the babies right away unlike Scout or the triplets. The kids were good with both Felicity, and Luke. We couldn’t believe that we were lucky enough to have Felicity and Luke we said we were done after Patrick but now that Felicity, and Luke are here we couldn’t imagine life without them as they are our babies and belong in our family.

So the orignal plan that I had for this chapter was to introduce what Amelia was feeling and how it felt like to remember Chris, and the pain she was in with the loss of her first son. Anyways there are more point of views to come in this story. I also plan to have a point of view from Scout, and the triplets. It will be in the sense of a toddler, and school aged chid’s view. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter although it’s probably not the best chapter. But I hope you guy enjoyed.

#grey’s anatomy #amelia shepherd #atticus lincoln #amelink #fanfic #baby link

0 notes

Last Seen Blogs

lovemaill

love

rmalenko

Rostyslav Malenko

ricoyphoto

The Drunken Eggplant

negfit

SMART FIT BY NEGFIT

lotorres

Sin título