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frankiekatt · 3 years

Note

Hiiii can I request maybe how would Bo (House of wax) react on his s/o "cheating" on him? He maybe walks on his s/o while they were trapped by a guy and he was kissing them, but s/o didn't actually kiss back, even tho it looked like they were kissing him back? Hope that this isn't confusing, have fun writing <3

Okay so this is set in high school, I hope you don't mind!

TW: Blood, mentions of murder

Words: 1400

Bo Walking In On His S/O Kissing Someone Else:

You were the one thing in Bo’s life that made him feel human. His mother, who was dying slowly with each passing day, always made him feel as if he was some rabid dog who could never compare to her precious Vincent, who could do no wrong in her eyes. His father, in his own words, viewed and treated him as a monster. His two brothers, however, offered him relief in his life. Vincent was his biological other half. He felt powerful next to his twin brother, a nice change from feeling so small and incapable in front of his parents. Vincent was submissive and hated conflict, which made ordering him around quite easy.

But you - you were his spiritual other half. The only person on earth he would willingly bow down to.

The two of you had met in kindergarten. Bo was loud and outgoing, while you tended to stick to yourself, not making very many friends. The two of you couldn’t have been anymore different, but that didn’t stop the both of you from gravitating towards each other.

Bo thought you were pretty and nice, and you found Bo to be funny and alluring. The two of you became fast friends, playing together during recess, coloring together and sharing snacks during snack-time.

In middle school, the two of you began to develop both physically and mentally. Bo began to see you in a different light - more than just pretty - you were beautiful and kind and when Bo thought about you his chest pounded.

For you, Bo began to grow handsome and charming, making your cheeks glow red at just the thought of him.

Once high school hit and Bo and his two brothers spent time in foster care, the two of you were inseparable. You gave Bo’s life a sense of normalcy in contrast to the death of his parents, his disfigured and troubled twin brother, and life in an uncaring foster system. You were more than happy to stay by Bo’s side, comforting him whenever he needed it. Bo’s happiness was vastly important to you, and you would do anything, sacrifice anything, do help him achieve it.

The two of you began dating in freshman year, only deepening the bond the two of you shared. The two of you were attached at the hip, spending everyday together. Bo was affectionate with you, peppering you in kisses and holding you by the waist every chance he could. To everyone else, he was rough around the edges, snarky, and unfriendly. With you, however, he was unashamed to show his love and adoration for you. He wanted you to feel special, to feel cared for. He was infatuated with you

So when he walked across the parking lot towards your car after school only to find you pressed up against the side of your red Volkswagen bug, locking lips with some blonde footballer, he felt like his world was crashing down around him.

“The fuck?” he shouted.

The two of you sprang apart, both of your faces holding a look of shock. You looked more mortified and dismayed than the boy who had been kissing you. The jock looked more startled than anything.

“Bo,” you began, voice trembling. “This isn’t....I didn’t-”

Bo smashed his fist into the blonde boy before you could finish. The boy fell to the ground with a grunt before wiping the back of his hand across his lips, revealing a severely split lip. Bo then bent down to grip the front of his t-shirt, and punched him again. “Get the hell out of here. Now.”

The blonde boy scrambled his feet, face bloodied and bruised, and rushed off before Bo could land another punch on him.

Bo could hear you whimpering behind him, but he refused to turn around and look at you.

“Bo, it’s not what you think, I swear.”

Bo let out a humorless laugh. “Not what it looks like? So the two of you weren’t making out, you were just playing pattycake, is that it?”

Tears streamed down your face, dripping off your chin to wet the asphalt beneath your feet. “No, Bo please just listen-”

Bo finally whipped around to look at you. “I don’t listen to whores like you. After everything I’ve goddamn done for you, you throw it all away for some dumb jock who couldn’t less of a fuck about you?”

Bo was hurt. It was written all over his face, swimming in his eyes, etched into his facial features. Masking his vulnerability with anger was something Bo always did, but never with you. Seeing him look at you with such contemptment and sadness made you cry harder. It reminded you of all the late nights you and Bo had spent together throughout freshman, sophomore, and junior year, baring your souls to one another as you laid in each other's arms. Bo often worried if he was enough for you, if he deserved you, and had voiced these concerns to you on more than one occasion. Every time without fail, you reassured him that he was the only one for you - that you were soulmates, and you were incapable of loving anyone else but him.

Knowing how betrayed he must feel, you attempted to reach for his hand, hoping he would be quiet for just five seconds so you could explain, but Bo jerked away from you in an instant.

“Don’t fucking touch me. You’re a liar and a slut, and this? Us? It’s goddamn over.” With that, Bo stormed away from you before you had a chance to react.

Bo had just broken up with you over a misunderstanding and your heart felt like it was splitting in half.

Bo spent the rest of the day and most of the evening in the town’s auto shop, trying to cloud his brain by tinkering with cars.

It wasn’t working. Bo’s only thoughts were of you - of your smile, your laugh, the way you hid behind him when you got nervous, the sweet way you told him you loved him. Everything about you made his chest ache. He couldn’t fathom how your pure, unbreakable relationship had ended so suddenly on a random Friday afternoon, because you cheated on him.

You cheated on him.

Why? Why why why why? The two of you had always been immensely close and faithful to each other. You had both talked about marriage, about getting out of Ambrose and starting a family together. Was that all gone now?

“Bo?”

Bo stiffened at the sound of your voice. Why were you here? He had ended things. He had made it clear that he wanted to be left alone, that the very sight of you made his blood boil.

“Go away,” he snapped.

Stepping further into the garage, you grabbed both of his shoulders and forced him to look at you. “Baby, please, please just listen to me. I did not kiss David! I would never do that to you.”

Bo shook you off of him. “I know what I fuckin’ saw. Get the hell out of here, I don’t wanna talk to you.”

“I didn’t kiss him! I swear! He came up to my car and started asking for my number. I told him I was taken, and then he just pushed me against the car and shoved his lips on me!” Your voice was cracking with every other word. “I couldn’t push him off of me. He was holding my arms down so tight he left a bruise. Just look”

Bo looked down to see you lifting up your sleeve to reveal a large purple bruise on your upper arm.

“He did that to you?” Bo snarled.

“Yes! Yes, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Baby, I would never cheat on you, you know that. I’d rather die than betray you like that.”

Bo’s face contorted into fury. Some fucker had forced himself on you, made him think you had betrayed him, made him call you names, made him break up with you.

“I’ll fucking kill him. I’ll slit his fucking throat.” Bo grabbed you and crushed you to his chest, letting out a heavy breath. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for calling you names and for leaving you like that.”

You let out a sigh of relief. You were back in Bo’s arms again, the one place you felt safe and secure.

“It’s okay, it’s okay honey,” you cried. “I’m just happy to be with you. I’m sorry you had to see that. I felt so disgusted with his lips on mine.”

“I meant what I said, you know,” he whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to make him suffer for what he did. I’d burn in hell for you, and I’m going to make sure that cock sucker does too.”

#slashers #bo sinclair #house of wax #bo sinclair imagines #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x y/n #love #unhealth relationship #fanfic #slasher imagines #slashers x reader #slashers x you #slashers x y/n

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kisstheassassins · 4 years

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I was wondering how would Connor, Edward, and Shay react to a S/O that is a intense animal lover? (New to the blog and love your content)

Thank you <3

Connor

Lucky you, he’s also an animal lover.

The two of you take in strays and orphans pretty often when Connor isn’t real busy with his work.

He’ll help you nurse them, feed, bathe and play with them.

His most favorite memory is when you two helped and fostered a stray that had puppies. He had never been so smitten with any animals like that in his life.

Plus you’re sure you’ve never seen him smile that big while he was holding them and giving them attention.

However sometimes it can get a little overwhelming, and will have to confront and talk with you about bringing in only one animal at a time into the house.

You’re also really adorable when you gush over every animal you see, having to stop and pet every cat and dog you meet on the streets. He can’t help but chuckle and smile.

Edward

Not really a big animal person but he really loves seeing how you react to the animals you meet in the streets.

Especially when you’re on his ship at sea and see dolphins or whales up close as they break the water’s surface.

You turn into a child and Edward can’t help but laugh softly and stare lovingly at you.

The innocence is pure and precious.

It takes him a while to let you keep fosters or strays, as he doesn’t like to clean up after them. But who can say no to your puppy eyes?

Only one pet at a time please.

He’s a bit more resilient to those puppy eyes of yours, but if you wear him down enough the pirate will eventually give in and let the animal stay for a while.

Shay

Bring in all the pets. Especially dogs; he really likes those.

He turns into the biggest sap.

Cue the baby talk and baby voice, no matter how old the animal.

Every dog is a puppy; age is nothing to him.

He tried taking a dog onto his ship when he travels but the poor thing just kept getting sick and he was afraid it would fall overboard or another ship would attack. Left it with you.

Has fostered up to five dogs at once with you. Begged for another but it was already expensive enough.

Shay really likes animals so he’ll gush about them just as hard as you do.

He too pets random cats and dogs in the streets, tries to feed them too.

#ask #answer #hc #hcs #headcanon #headcanons #ac #assassins creed #assassins creed x read #ac x reader #connor kenway #connor kenway x reader #jacob frye #jacob frye x reader #shay cormac #shay cormac x reader #assassin x reader

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years

Text

“Never out of practice” - Chapter 3

Summary: When Darcie’s father loses an important case, a killer seeks revenge, by kidnapping the entire Angel family. Though John thought that he was officially retired, he has to save his Darcie and her family, because he can’t lose her.

John Wick x OFC Darcie

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Implied kidnapping

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

Sunday mornings are my favorite mornings. The cafe opens at twelve and it’s the only day in the week where I don’t have to leave at seven, to prep the cafe.

But, no matter if I have to go to work or not, I get up at six. I just can’t help it. I want to surprise John with a breakfast in bed. When I saw him in bed, so relaxed and precious, I couldn’t help but smile. He really is the love of my life.

Our rose tea is setting, while I prepare Tiki and Oreo’s food, with the two of them sitting near my feet, patiently waiting for their food to arrive.

Tiki whimpers as she stares at her bowl.

‘I know, sweetheart, but have a little patience,’ I say.

I feel two strong arms around my waist. ‘Good morning, beautiful,’ John whispers in my ear. ‘Have I told you that you look really good in my shirts?’

‘You have told me once or twice.’

While I store away the kibble, John places the bowls on the floor. The dogs eat their breakfast and John lifts me up and places me on the counter. ‘How are you feeling, baby?’ he asks, standing between my legs.

‘A little sore,’ I admit, adding a wink. ‘But overall, I feel good.’ I fold my hands in the back of his neck. ‘Why are you out of bed?’ I ask him.

‘I missed my lady.’

‘I was going to make you some breakfast in bed, but now you ruined my surprise.’

John places his large hands on my bare thighs. ‘We can make breakfast together and eat it in bed,’ he suggests.

‘Or you make me breakfast and bring it to me in bed,’ I say with a grin.

He laughs. ‘Or I make you breakfast, but you sit right here, so I can look at your beautiful face.’ John pecks my lips, squeezes my thighs.

‘Sounds like a plan,’ I chuckle and I watch him prepare the pancake batter.

I let out a sigh in content, leaning my head against the cupboard. Somehow my mind wanders off from last night, to what my mother said. I told her that I didn’t want to think that far ahead into the future, but somehow it’s the only thing I can think about, no matter what I do or where I am.

Yesterday, when I saw two little kids in the cafe, with their parents, my heart started beating a little faster. The dad with the four year old girl on his lap, the mom with a two year old boy against her chest, who was fast asleep.

I can see myself having kids with John one day. I thought about it since the first time he called me ‘mommy’ when he spoke to Tiki. Though the birth part still scares the living daylight out of me (thank you for ruining that for me, mother, by forcing me to watch that program), I can see a future with little kids running around our house. Maybe two, a boy and a girl, or three, I don’t know.

I wonder what John would be like as a father. I bet he—despite his upbringing—would be such a loving and doting dad, who would spoil the kids to death, but also discipline them, teaching them right and wrong. He would be so involved, I imagine, especially since he is already retired.

The idea of fostering older kids, I still want that, but maybe a little later, when our own kids are older.

Our own kids…

Well, it’s what I want really. Having kids with him one day.

‘Darcie,’ John says, causing me to snap out of my thoughts.

‘What?’ I ask.

‘You looked a little daze. I was wondering where you were with your mind.’

‘I’m sorry.’ I smile at him and say: ‘Just daydreaming.’

His smile grows wide. ‘Care to let me in?’

‘Nah, think it’s too soon to talk to you about this.’

‘I highly doubt that,’ John says. ‘If you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay, but you can talk to me about anything. I hope you know that.’

I take a deep breath and nod. John is still stirring the pancake batter. I always use the mixer, but I think this is John’s way of showing off. Watching him flex is muscles… I mean, you don’t hear me complaining.

‘Do you want kids?’ I blurt out, unable to keep it to myself. ‘With me, obviously.’

John doesn’t seem fazed at first, but when he looks up, his eyes has widened. ‘You’re thinking about kids?’

‘When we were at my parents and you and dad went out for a drive, my mom was wondering when I would be giving her grandchildren. I told her that that was too far ahead in the future, but since that moment I can’t stop thinking about it. And you are giving me no reaction at all. I bet you’re freaking out, so yeah, I’m going away, to call my mom and to tell her that it’s all her fault that you and I are breaking up, because of this kid thing and then I’ll go to Jennie, because I’m too embarrassed. I’m so sorry.’

I jump off the counter and want to walk away, but John grabs my hand. ‘Don’t go,’ he whispers. He slowly pulls me back, so I’m standing right in front of him. His pointer finger lifts up my chin, since I’m just staring at his chest. ‘I’m not breaking up with you, because you brought up our future. There is no need to be embarrassed for thinking about that.’

‘So you are not freaking out?’ I ask.

‘No, I was just a bit surprised, but I’m not freaking out.’ He smiles at me and presses a kiss on the tip of my nose. ‘But to answer your question: I have given it a thought,’ John admits. ‘And well, I would love it to have a mini you or me running around one day. Maybe more.’

My eyes practically roll out of their sockets. He really wants kids with me? Am I dreaming? ‘You want that?’ I ask, just to be sure. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, of course.’ He smiles, thin lines appearing near his eyes. ‘I mean, I can see you being such a lovely and caring mom. I just thought you said you wanted to foster.’

‘I still want that,’ I say, ‘but when I said that, I didn’t know you that well. I didn’t know you were the most caring and loving man I would ever meet. I talked to Eric about it when we were dating, but he didn’t want kids, probably because he was hiding one from me. The idea of having our little kids running around… I can see it happen.’

John smiles. ‘So you want to have kids with me.’ Why does he look oddly pleased with himself?

‘I mean, I could run around Times Square, yelling that I want kids and need some sperm, see who is going to respond.’

He bursts into a loud laughter, hiding his face in his hands. ‘You’re not doing that,’ he tells me, ‘because the only one who is getting you pregnant, is me.’

‘Oh my God, John,’ I say, a blush appearing on my cheeks. ‘You have to say it like that?’

He holds back a chuckle and kisses my forehead. ‘How about: You’re not doing that, because you and I will have kids one day.’

I bite my lip and fist his shirt between my fingers. ‘Yeah that’s better.’

‘I’m proud of you, Darcie.’

‘Why is that?’

‘You never talk about the future,’ he admits, ‘nor do you ever want to think that far ahead, but somehow you—voluntarily—mentioned something that involves our future.’ He shrugs. ‘I mean, you are definitely growing.’

Tiki barks and I look down to her and Oreo, whose tails are both wagging. ‘I think they need to go out for a walk,’ I say.

‘First you and I have some breakfast, than those two are getting their walks.’

⟢⟡⟣

The entire workday I couldn’t help but think about two things. One, how John wants kids with me and two, about how Pete Stanford is a free man. Those things are a horrible combo.

The cafe is about to close and the only two customers who are still here, are Roger and Ellie. It still melts my heart to see the Roger treats his new girlfriend. I love having her around here. When things are a little busy, she gets up from the table and helps us out for a quick second. She truly is one of a kind.

‘Okay you two,’ I say to them. ‘The cafe closes in three minutes.’

‘Almost done, miss Angel,’ Roger says, scribbling something down.

Ellie closes her books and says with a smile: ‘I had to help Roger with his algebra homework.’

‘You are a true angel.’ I place a hand on her shoulder. ‘He is a lucky guy.’

‘I certainly am.’ Roger closes his books and looks at his girlfriend with almost heart eyes. ‘Are you ready to go, love?’

Oh my God, he called her love. I’m going to cry. This is so soft.

‘Yes,’ she says, shoving her books in her backpack. She stands up and wraps her arms around me. Since she has to go to school again, she usually works here at Wednesdays and Saturdays and visits the cafe at Sundays. ‘Thank you for the cupcakes, Darcie.’

‘You’re welcome, sweetheart.’

Roger stands up and gives me a hug. I think Roger might be the sweetest seventeen year old in the world. ‘I’ll be here tomorrow, miss Angel,’ he tells me. ‘Promise.’

‘I’m looking forward to it.’

Roger gently pulls Ellie’s backpack from her hands and holds her hand. Raye opens the door for one of our favorite couples. ‘You bring her home safely,’ Raye says. ‘And you walk her all the way to her door.’

‘I will, miss Clarke.’

She pats his back and closes the door behind them. ‘They are the cutest,’ she says, turning the sign over from OPEN to CLOSE. ‘God, it’s so fucking unfair that even someone as annoying as Roger has a girlfriend. Really makes me wish I had someone.’

‘Your time will come,’ I say.

‘I’ve been meaning to ask this the entire day,’ Raye says, ‘but since you are so prude during work hours, I thought I’d wait until we were closed.’

‘This can’t be good,’ I mumble.

‘Did you have sex last night?’

‘Raye Clarke!’ I yell at her.

Jennie looks up from the sink. ‘Why are you asking her that?’ she asks curiously.

‘Because when John was sitting here, they kept exchanging glances and when he left and she gave him a kiss, it was a little more intense than usual.’

I feel a little bit exposed by this revelation of hers and because I’m not saying anything, Raye starts laughing. ‘I fucking knew it.’

‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ I say.

‘Of course you don’t want to,’ she laughs. ‘But I do have another question.’

‘I don’t want to hear it.’

‘I mean, besides the obvious sexual tension between you two, there was something else.’ Raye crosses her arms in front of her chest. ‘What was that about? Can you explain?’

JOHN WANTS KIDS WITH ME. I shake my head. ‘No, can’t explain that.’

Raye raises an eyebrow, but leaves it at that.

We continue to clean up the kitchen, the rest of the tables, but as usual, Raye sneakingly is checking her phone. ‘Oh my God,’ she all of the sudden says. She stares at her phone, her brows furrowed together. Before I can tell her that she needs to put that phone away, so she can clean up as well, she says: ‘Your father apparently did an interview five hours ago. Talking about how they would, though Pete is a free man now, will seek justice and put him away for life.’

‘How is your dad by the way?’ Jennie asks.

‘He was supposed to cocoon with my mother, but turns out he is really seeking for revenge,’ I mumble. ‘I haven’t spoken to him today.’

‘Still can’t believe he got away with it,’ Raye says. ‘He is such a psychopath.’

Jennie sighs deeply. ‘Poor girl didn’t deserve to die like that and she certainly doesn’t deserve her murderer getting away with it. Fucking lunatic.’

Raye puts her phone away and says: ‘I’ve got to go,’ she says. ‘I have a friends with benefits appointment.’

I raise an eyebrow. ‘You still do that?’

‘Like every month,’ she explains. ‘But only when he’s not seeing other girls.’

Jennie scrunches her nose, thinking about Raye’s friends with benefits. ‘What was his name again?’

‘Logan,’ she answers. ‘I haven’t had sex in four weeks and I really need to get laid.’

‘Your toys not good enough?’ Jennie asks.

She sighs. ‘No, my favorite one broke and my hand isn’t good enough.’

‘Use your shower head,’ I say, without even thinking. My cheeks fire up and I place my hand in front of my mouth. Can’t believe I just let that slip.

Raye lets out a high pitched squeak. ‘Oh my God, how do you even know about that? Did you watch porn? Did our sweet little Darcie watch porn? Never pecked you for that.’

‘No, it’s… God, I was sixteen, still living at home and too scared to buy myself a toy. I read something about that online, so I tried it.’

‘Oh my God,’ Jennie laughs. ‘This is hilarious.’

‘Don’t talk about it. Raye, fucking go and have sex with Logan and I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Raye kisses us both on our cheeks and while still cackling with laughter, she exits the cafe.

‘You can go home as well,’ I say to Jennie. ‘I just need to check the register and some paperwork and then I’m off anyway.’

‘Are you sure?’ she asks.

‘Yeah, I’m sure. You worked hard today, so you go home. I insist.’

‘Well, that means I can finally catch up with my series.’ She gives me a hug and says: ‘Say hi to John from me when he picks you up.’

‘Will do.’

After Jennie left the cafe, I’m checking the register and read some of the paperwork. It’s been about an hour since my friends left, when John calls me. ‘Sweetheart,’ he says when I pick up, ‘I’m stuck in traffic, on a Sunday of all days, but I’ll try to be there as soon as possible.’

‘Don’t rush, please. I would like to see you in preferably one piece.’

‘I’d like to be in one piece as well,’ he mentions. ‘I didn’t bring the dogs with me. I took them out for a long walk after we left the cafe and they are pretty out.’

‘You take good care of them, honey,’ I say with a smile. ‘You really don’t need to rush. Have a ton of paper work to do anyways.’

‘I’ll help you,’ he says, ‘so please don’t stress about it, okay?’

Since I really don’t want to read through the pile of paper, I’m quick to say: ‘Okay, I’ll wait for you.’

I walk to the kitchen and clean up some bits that we’ve missed, while chatting to John about how my day was. We briefly mention Pete Stanford, but I don’t want to talk about that for too long.

‘So,’ John says, ‘call me a bit premature, but I looked up some baby names today.’

‘Oh my God, you’re so adorable,’ I chuckle, feeling my heart flutter. ‘Did you see any names you liked?’

‘I did see one name that I really liked. Livia, for a girl.’

‘Livia Wick,’ I say, ‘I like the sound of that.’

‘You like that?’

‘Mister John Wick, I really like how you are thinking about baby names. But please know that we’re not having a kid tomorrow.’

‘No, sweetheart, I understand. I just couldn’t help myself.’ He laughs. ‘Let me ask a question that is a little bit more urgent: would you like pizza for dinner or the left over pancakes?’

‘Left over pancakes,’ I say, ‘but this time I want chocolate chips in mine.’ I hear the door open and say: ‘Oh, you’re here early. Thought you were stuck in traffic, sweetheart.’

‘Darcie, I’m still stuck in traffic.’

I roll my eyes. If it is that stuck up old man again, who demanded Raye would give him her number, I’m gonna strangle him. I walk to the front. ‘I’m sorry, we’re closed,’ I say.

‘There she is.’

My soul nearly leaves my body. What the hell is Pete Stanford doing in my cafe? ‘Maybe you didn’t read the sign, but we are closed.’

‘Just wanting to check in with you.’

That can’t be good. ‘We don’t know each other.’

‘You really think that, Darcie?’

I hear John’s voice through my phone, but I’m too scared to bring the phone to my ear. I’m too scared to move anyways. He knows my name. Pete fucking Stanford knows my name. Please, John, be here soon. ‘Well,’ I utter, ‘I know you from the television, but I wouldn’t know how you’d know me.’

‘Well, I knew that Christian Angel had a daughter,’ Pete Stanford says. ‘A few Google searches… It didn’t take me very long before to know that his daughter has such a lovely cafe.’

‘What do you want from me?’ I ask him. Please, Darcie, do not fucking faint. John will be here any second. ‘I mean, you won your case, you’re a free man now. Why bother coming to my cafe?’

‘Because your dad ruined my life.’ Pete Stanford looks at me with his piercing blue eyes. He still looks rough, probably didn’t waste a second to go on his little scavenger hunt.

The door opens and four other guys step in, one even bigger than the other.

‘Okay,’ I say, my voice shaking, ‘but what do I have to do with that?’

Pete Stanford laughs. ‘Well, I’m going to get my revenge and it doesn’t take a genius to know what Christian Angels biggest fear is. Something happening to his lovely wife and his beautiful daughter.’

‘No, no, no, no,’ I say, ‘please, you need to leave my parents alone.’

‘I won’t, because I already took your parents and I’m going to let them both watch how their precious daughter will be ripped up in pieces,’ Pete says. He starts to dig through his pocket and shows me a pendant. ‘Does this look familiar?’

Oh my God, that is my mothers. My father gave it to her three years ago and I remember nearly vomiting in my mouth because of how romantic it was and how jealous I was, because Eric never bought me anything remotely nice. ‘What is happening?’ I ask.

One guy takes a step closer and Pete says: ‘Don’t resist too much, Darcie. We don’t want to hurt you just yet.’

I run inside the kitchen, but the guy is too strong and his arms are wrapped up around my body, dragging me to the exit. ‘Let go of me,’ I scream and I try to kick the man. Somehow I manage to kick him on the knee and it must’ve been a weak spot of his, because he growls in pain.

But I also managed to anger him even more. He throws me against the wall and by the time I hit the floor, I’m out.

Taglist: @toomanystoriessolittletime @flhorah @allie1804-fan @cynic-spirit @raven-black102

#keanu reeves x oc #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x original character #keanu reeves x ofc #john wick x oc #john wick fanfic #john wick #john wick x original character #john wick x ofc #never out of practice

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phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess · 4 years

Link

Hey guys,

This is the local dog rescue charity that we were carers for, for several years. May do it again in future, but after Debbie (who was rescued by Precious Paws), it feels like we need a break.

We have had three foster fails, but two puppers came through our home, learned to feel safe and loved, and went on to a perfectly matched new family.

There is always a demand for carers, so if you think you can, have a look at their Carer Info. Or look into the FB page, to keep your eyes open.

The best way to find new carers for animals is having a network of people sharing the Urgent statuses, which flags the attention of new groups of people. No dog will ever be LEFT on death row. They look for carers until the last second, but will absofuckinglutely take the dog anyway and put them in a boarding kennel short-term whilst a carer is located.

No doggo left behind.

It can be a bit confronting, though, so I understand if you cannot. The majority of the dogs have been surrendered to the pound, for various reasons, and the rescues in the region put their hands up for the ones slated for being put down each week. This list constantly refills, so there is always a need.

Some other dogs, like Debbie, are rescued directly from the disgusting human slime of the world who have caused them pain, injury, or attempted to kill them.

Carers open their homes to as many as they can, but there will always be more needed. A dog can be with you for a few months, to a few years, depending on their needs.

Little Willow was so scared of everything when we got her, it took 5 months to get her to trust men near her due to where she came from. But after nearly a year, she was ready for adoption and went to a new mother; happy, healthy, and confident. She was fast, smart and a very delightful little doggo. I do miss her, sometimes, but her new mother sent us photos of Willow on her first and second adoption anniversaries.

And little Gemini’s face, when her new family sent a photo from her first meeting with her human brother, was SO BIG!

It is hard to say goodbye, because they are with you for a long time, and you have to work hard with them, so they are an integral part of your life. But it helps to know that their future family is out there, not yet aware that there’s a dog shaped hole waiting to be filled.

As my parental unit says, “In reality, if they were not with us, they’d be dead. Someone without any heart dropped these animals off to be killed, and because of all these rescues, all these dogs and cats get another chance at life.”

Harvey, who we have now, was 9mths (Willow too) when they came to us. BABIES who just were too energetic or too big, so they had to be sent away. It takes a while to rebuild that trust in them.

Not to mention the absolute FUCKS who take their little old dogs, who have known and loved them their WHOLE LIVES to the pound and walk out with a new puppy (or kitten). FUCKS. Those little doggos are never forgotten, PPARs and the other rescues make sure they have somewhere to go as well! I know of a 16yo bulldog called rosie, who was snappy when she first came and very depressed, who blossomed with her carers into a happy old girl. She was adopted recently!!!

It is important to be aware that these animals are often traumatised and have behaviours that some can consider ‘naughty’. You have to be understanding. Like traumatised kids, the worst thing you can do is yell or hit or whatever, even if they piss on your favourite rug or chew a beloved pair of shoes.

They may snap and snarl. Might shy away from men, or women, or teenagers. Might cower away, or show subservience constantly. Might hide for a few weeks. Might wet themselves or run to hide if something makes a loud noise or there is a specific trigger. They might rip up the couch twice, or hump your pillows. Try to escape the yard (need strong fences). A trigger? One of our kids was terrified of men, the noise of a powertool, and anyone having the hood of their car open. Would sit, shaking, panting in fear if these things were present. Still a bit much for her, but she knows to go to a human, who will keep her safe. Or sit with her sister doggo, who will protect her.

Willow was scared of men, shouting, and would be immediately wet-herself-afraid and show her belly in subservience. My giant bearded mountain of a sibling would lay on the floor with her, and talk gently, let her come over to sniff him. Eventually, she would lay next to him, and finally he could pat her, and it progressed from there. This took months of consistency and care.

I know of another carer couple who had this tiny little dog who was SO SCARED of everything she spent absolute months hiding under their bed or sofa. Too scared to be touched. They fed her and never made a fuss if she had a little accident indoors. And one day, she popped her head out while the male carer was pretending to be occupied... and licked his arm. That was it, went straight back under the bed. But it was a huge step. She can now be held and cuddled, and loves her little life. But it took the time, understanding and patience of these carers to get her there. It’s important to note that carers dont normally have the whole backstory for each dog, but after a while, you tend to get good at figuring it out based on behaviours. Harvey’s behaviours were extremely frantic for attention, he didn’t know how to sit or be still, he was desperate for attention; his behaviours increased when on a lead (which had to be used for the first few weeks and outside time, as this was a New Household Member time). It was clear that given his age, when we got him, and his behaviours that he’d been an xmas gift puppy that had gotten WAAAAAAY bigger than anticipated. When he was small he’d been the fuss of what we suspect was at least 2 children. After getting too big, he was put on a leash in the yard, and had no real interaction.

Harvey would go BALLISTIC if given even a glance from a human. He NEEDED attention, and it took months of careful work with him to teach sit, stay, look, settle, back back, etc. He’s still a bit ridiculous, sometimes, but he can sleep on a bed with a human and only half drown them in spit (ugh) lmao.

So consider if you could be a carer. Or, if that isn’t realistic for you right now... donate.

--------

Donate, if you can.

If you’re in Brisbane, you might see them doing sausage sizzles at Bunnings on the weekends to raise needed funds!

-------

COVID-19 hit all the rescue charities hard. Their normal fundraising was crippled by the lockdowns, but animals are always in need of new homes and protection.

If you can help out your local shelters, they’d appreciate it!

There’s food and supplies that need to be paid for; PPAWs specifically help out pensioners who take on an animal, by providing the food and toys, collar, bedding, etc. There’s desexing, microchipping and all vaccinations to be paid for. Some animals have extreme medical issues that need to be fixed (such as a dog surrendered with a broken hip, or dogs like Debbie, who were starved almost to death. Who need intensive and long-term things; with Debbie, my family put money forwards for her insulin and eye surgeries, etc. bc we could budget for it. Not everyone can, though.

There’s also little emergencies here and there that they jump in for, to assist. [E.g early on when the caninculin levels were being sorted, Debbie had a random fit, so I rushed her in and they discovered her BSL had hit 1 - very dangerous. PPAWs got on the phone and said, “Any tests, any medication, any fluids, anything that needs to happen for that little girl, you DO IT” and they stabilised her. PPAWs also helped fund the full-day glucose testing and blood panel the next day and an overnight with the vet, that was pretty expensive. To be clear, it is expected that her starvation and new diabetes was likely to experience highs and lows, so we had bought a glucometer, and had squeezy-top bottles of honey all over the house as an emergency-response kit. When Debbie went funny, we filled her mouth full of honey and transported; which was the protocol, as was taking her medication chart (she’d been waaaay high for BSL that morning so this dip was SCARY). It took another incident before the vet decided to use an interstitial fluid monitor, and the results backed up our concerns that Debbie was having completely random highs/lows and spikes with no real pattern. She had the vet recommended food and no treats outside of the ones she was allowed, and at times suggested by the vet. Except on her last day when the vet said she could absolutely have a wholw happy meal, and little Debbie was DELIGHTED. I have the funniest photo of her with it all in her mouth looking excited but not sure where to go from there, but it still makes me cry to look at it because we lost her just three weeks ago. (We did rip it into little mouthfuls for her, though. Just to clarify.) She was placed on a higher dose, after that, and was completely stable from there. It was the testing that initially identified a flaw, though, and we are forever grateful that PPAWs stepped in on that day.

And the point of my rambling speech... is that shit happens. Especially with these dogs, cats, horses, and all the other animals they rescue. Emergencies are often the most expensive to cover for charities.

On the upside! Donations also help with a) transporting animals to carers around the region, and b) on the occasion that an animal’s new furever family is interstate, they can be flown to them!

Lots of stuff.

Think about the mess of words, and consider donating - to PPAWs, or find out the name of your local charity and see if they need help!

#sorry for interjecting all the personal things #ppaws

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marinaaniseed · 5 years

Text

Dark ‘n’ Stormy, Pt: 10

Summary: Asgardian v. Pizza buffet A.K.A. The Stuffing Chapter.

There’s a teeny, tiny bit of important plot before we get to that point. I’ve tried to very clearly flag the point of no return, so nobody get their undies in a twist if you continue and don’t like what you read.

Length: 6.7k-ish. Much like our hero, I may have overdone it this chapter...

Notes: The slices of pizza are of a size that works for you. If you’ve seen Bad Times at the El Royale, one of the scenes may seem somewhat familiar to you. My unending thanks go to @nobzob for encouraging me and for beta-reading this. Also, I made a deal with @thors-soft-cheeks that I would write this chapter, so hopefully it meets your expectations :)

Warnings: Eh the usual. Kinky food stuff, smut, drinking, swearing, brief mention of periods and babies, mental health wonkiness, Asgardian politics.

That summer was scorching.

“It’s as hot as hell out there,” you proclaimed one afternoon, collapsing onto the settee, sweat running down your face.

“But Hel isn’t hot,” Thor observed, his head tilted to the side in confusion like an overgrown Labrador puppy. Geri and Freki mirrored his pose from where they lay on the floor.

“What do you mean it’s not hot? Isn’t it supposed to be full of fire? To burn the sinners? That’s what they taught us at school.”

“Ah, is this from one of your Midgard stories?”

“No,” you said indignantly, before softening. “Well, I suppose so. But a lot of people take them very seriously.”

“Hel is on Niflheim. It is full of cold, mist, and ice. It is where my father imprisoned my sister. You mean it’s as hot as Muspelheim outside, yes?”

“Which one is Muspelheim again?” You’d tried to follow Thor’s explanations of the universe, had even tried to learn the Asgardian language with him. You weren’t stupid, but you were no Jane Foster, either. It was hard to unlearn many of the things that you thought were facts.

“The one where I was captured by Surtur,” Thor explained, wincing a little at the memory of how Asgard had been destroyed.

“The fire demon guy?”

“That’s the one,” Thor said, wandering off to the kitchen to grab you a drink of water. Handing you the glass, he sat down next to you, removing some of the strands of hair that had stuck to your face with sweat.

“How’re you feeling about tomorrow?” you asked, once you’d finished gulping down the water, giving yourself brainfreeze in the process.

“Quite nervous,” he admitted. “And you?”

“Nervous for you, I suppose.”

Tomorrow was the anniversary of New Asgard’s founding, and a day of celebrations were planned. Traditional tournaments and games, feasting, drinking, dancing. But it was also to be the day when the results of the vote would be announced.

After the census, there had been a consultation. Every adult Asgardian had been asked their thoughts on how they wished to be governed. These answers were collated, and a vote held. Every option was there and the Asgardians had to rank them in preference. If none of the options received over 50% of the vote, then the least popular one would be eliminated, and those who had voted for that option would have their second preference counted. On it would continue until an option received the requisite amount of interest. It wasn’t a perfect system, but you all hoped it would lead to an outcome that most people were vaguely in favour of.

Thor and Brunnhilde had agreed, both publically, and privately to honour the result, whatever it was. You worried for them both. There were plenty of outcomes that neither of them particularly desired. Some of Thor’s friends, visiting New Asgard for the celebrations, had kindly agreed to count the votes, as neutral outsider.

Thor was doing a lot better, although he still had days where he wobbled. Taking responsibility for some of the smaller things, especially the animals, had given him more purpose. You didn’t want it all to be undone by the result.

“Perhaps we should go out for dinner tonight,” you mused after a while, your hand resting on Thor’s. “We could walk into Tønsberg, get away from everything.”

“Yes, that could be good.”

STOP HERE IF YOU ONLY WANTED THE PLOT NECESSARY BITS. IF YOU CONTINUE AND THEN BITCH ABOUT THE KINKY SHIT, THAT’S ON YOU. I WARNED YOU.

Thor had been working on his anxiety, venturing a little further each day with the dogs, or riding on one of the horses. He regularly made it into Tønsberg now. There was one restaurant in particular that had caught his eye. A place where you can eat as much pizza, sour cream and salad as you want. He wondered just much pizza he could eat.

That was the thing that he’d noticed, now that food was becoming a pleasure again, not a means to distract from his feelings. He enjoyed eating. Not just in the way that most people enjoyed tasting something delicious. There was something erotic about it, the cocktail of pleasure and pain as he pushed his stomach to its limits. Yes, he definitely wanted to find out how much pizza he could eat. He’d even heard they did dessert pizzas now, although he wasn’t sure if the restaurant did those, or even if he’d like them.

It’d probably be like how you’d described deep-fried Mars bar and ice cream to him: They took a bunch of things I love and turned it into something I hate.

Thor wondered if you enjoyed watching him eat, helping him to eat. He hoped you did, suspected you did. You always made a little too much, brought back an extra little treat, ordered too much then shared, or more accurately, gave it to him. He’d seen the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. Sometimes he’d push out his stomach a little more or pretend to scratch an itch, moving the hem of his top up to rub the flesh he knew you wanted to touch. It was worth it for your reaction, every time. Widening eyes, rosier cheeks, a smile that told him how much you loved him. Then, of course, there had been the feast. You kneading and feeding him at the table.

Yes, you definitely enjoyed it.

For a long time, he’d felt like his fat gut was something to be ashamed of, that made him unworthy of the affections of another. And maybe you were the only one, maybe you were a cosmic anomaly. That didn’t seem right, but even if you were, of all the trillions that existed, now, in the past, or in the future, you were here in the right place, at the right time, to love him.

That felt good. It felt different. And he realised that what he had known in the past was lust, awe, fear. It was far better to be loved than to be feared, though anyone sensible would still exercise caution.

It hadn’t been easy, to accept this version of himself - when you spend over a millenia with roughly the same body, it takes a while to adjust. It’d be a fine day indeed when a person was judged on what they did, not what they looked like. But for now he would settle for having someone not be repulsed by his body, but actually attracted to it.

Your insistence on touching him was uncomfortable at first. It chafed at the edges of his esteem and confidence. But now it was familiar, something he welcomed, something he sought. His hand would move yours to his stomach when you were sat together, holding it there. He always asked if you wanted to join him in the bathroom, to lather him up, and gently apply lotions. The majority of the time, he fell asleep as the little spoon, you holding onto him as though he was the most precious thing in your life. Even though they woke him up, he found your sleep twitches endearing, the way your fingers tried to press and grab his hairy tummy as it rounded out in front of him.

In fact, the only time he really got to be the big spoon was during your period. He had, in his defence, offered to use his powers to rid you of the inconvenience, but you liked the reassurance of knowing that you weren’t pregnant. You had, however, allowed him to ease some of the side-effects. During that time, you practically begged him to hold you, to be the big spoon. I like it when you press your stomach into the small of my back, you told him, it’s like a warm, squishy cushion to ease my pain. He didn’t like that you were in pain but was glad to be of help. He hoped his fingers resting on your abdomen soothed the cramps he knew you felt, but kept to yourself. Perhaps one day his fingers would rest there and bring comfort to his unborn child?

***

You’d taught him how to use Google, and he’d looked up when the restaurant was least likely to be busy. Being in crowded places was getting easier, but Thor still preferred to avoid them. Most Norwegians tended to eat earlier, so the restaurant was fairly quiet when you arrived just after 9pm.

Sliding across the dark brown leather seating of the booth, you began looking at the drinks menu.

“Why does friend Hulk get his own drink and I do not?” Thor queried, pointing at a brandy cocktail. Looking at the little picture printed in the menu, you can see why they’d named the green drink after Banner’s alter ego.

“Well, it’s not named after you but I think this is pretty close,” you countered, indicating the Dark ‘n’ Stormy.

“I am not dark.”

“No, no you are not. But you do like your storms,” you said, with a smile. “Or there’s this one,” you added, showing him the Angel Face.

“You flatter me far too much, my love,” Thor said, taking your hand in his. “This one is you,” he decided, pointing at the Flirtini.

“Very good,” you laughed. “Any other cocktail matches you can see?”

“This one, the Red Russian. That is Agent Romanoff. The Brooklyn, that is Captain Rogers. Long Island Iced Tea is Stark.”

“I understand the first one, but not the other two?”

“Those are the names of the places where they are from.”

“Ah, I see. I thought this was more appropriate for Steve Rogers,” you said, showing him the Old Fashioned. Thor laughed, long and hard at that one. It startled the few other people in the restaurant with you, but you didn’t mind. Thor had been so stressed lately, you’re just pleased to hear him laugh again, to see him relax a little. You decided to up the ante a little bit and earn your match with the Flirtini.

“So, bear,” you said softly, so he had to cock his head towards you to hear you. “I was thinking after the dinner, we could try these three,” you smirked, spreading the fingers of your free hand to point at the Sex on the Beach, Slow Comfortable Screw Against the Wall, and the Screaming Orgasm.

“Only three?” he grinned. “I think this one is relevant to your interests,” he said, moving the hand he held underneath his shirt while gesturing to the Hairy Navel. That earned a laugh from you, not as loud as Thor’s but just as mirthful.

A quiet, but pointed cough from the end of the table drew your attention to your server. His name badge said ‘Tor’ and you wondered if he realised who your dinner companion was.

“Can I get you any drinks?” he asked.

“A Flirtini for me, please,” you answered.

“And a Dark ‘n’ Stormy for me,” Thor added. “Tell me, how does this pizza buffet work?”

“Well, there is a pizza bar over there, behind me,” Tor said, gesturing. “You just take a plate and serve yourself, you can have as much pizza, salad and sour cream as you like for 134 kroner. It’s only our most popular pizzas but there’s something for everyone.”

“And there is no limit to the amount you can have?” Thor clarified, and that was when you realised why you were here.

“No, we just ask that people don’t take more than they can eat. Oh, and the kitchen closes at 10:30 so that we can close at 11. So yeah, go right ahead and I’ll bring your drinks over to you in a few minutes.”

With that, Tor turned on his heel and went to the bar.

“I see why we’re here,” you smirked at your lover as you made your way over to the pizza. “You’ve got your work cut out though,” you added, showing him your watch.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Thor said, beginning to think this was a bad idea.

“You want to see how much pizza you can eat. A lot more than I can, that’s for sure.”

You moved along the pizza bar, assessing your options, looking at the little signs in front of each of the cheesy wheels. Cheese and tomato, ham and pepperoni, ham and mushroom, spicy chicken, Thai chicken, beef and béarnaise, meat feast, chorizo and Ventricina, cauli truffle, vegetarian, beef and onion, BBQ chicken, Parma and truffle. If this was just the most popular ones, you were intrigued to see just how extensive the full menu was. You shoveled a couple of the more interesting slices onto your plate, added some sour cream to dip the crusts in, and grabbed a token amount of salad.

Both you and the drinks were at the table long before Thor. He had a plate in each hand, with a mountain of pizza on each. It was a wonder he hadn’t lost any slices.

“I wanted to try them all, so I got two slices of each,” he said, by way of explanation, your shocked expression not as subtle as you’d hoped.

“Did you get any sour cream?”

“Oh yes. I put some on every slice before I stacked them up.”

You wondered how he was going to taste the different flavours if they were all slathered in sour cream. It didn’t matter, as long as Thor was happy, that was the important thing. Your plate was empty but you were content to drink and watch the man next to you munching away on his stack of slices. You’d seen competitive eaters, inhaling their food, they could barely be tasting it. Thor wasn’t slow but you could tell he was savouring each slice. A purr when his tongue met a salty slice of pepperoni, a moan as hot mozzarella melted in his mouth, a satisfied smile as he bit into a portion heavy with sour cream. The textures, aromas, the heat of the jalapeños combined with the cooling richness of the dairy. He was focused on what he was eating, enjoying it as more than just sustenance. He was making love to his senses.

Your cheeks were warm, and it wasn’t just a flush from the alcohol. No, you were enjoying watching Thor enjoying his meal. It felt wrong, it felt dirty, voyeuristic, even, to feel aroused by this. You had to wonder, did pizza really taste that good to him, or was it something more?

Chancing a glance at Thor’s lap, you could see his erection pushing up against his underbelly, and being pushed away by the soft swell of his belly. Thor was so engrossed in his food that he didn’t notice your wandering hand until your fingers danced over the prominent bulge.

“Enjoying yourself?” you asked, an eyebrow arched teasingly.

“Ye-yeah,” he responded, stopping with a slice partway to his mouth. You took his other hand and moved it to your mouth, sucking his index finger while maintaining eye contact.

“What about now?” you asked once you’d released him.

“You’re making this a lot harder.”

“What, this?” you replied, applying more pressure to his crotch.

“Yes, no.” It was fun to watch Thor when he got flustered like this, torn between his desire to maintain decorum and his more carnal desires. “You’re making it a lot harder to focus on enjoying my pizza,” he finally managed.

“Ah, I see. Well, it must be quite cold now,” you said, eyeing the last few slices. “I’ll get us some more.”

Thor was glad for the respite. Between you and the food, he was extremely turned on. If it weren’t so public, he’d ask you to do something about the erection he was sporting. For now, though, he settled for undoing his trousers, giving both his tummy and his cock a bit more room.

“They just brought out a new, cheese and tomato, I thought you’d like to enjoy it while it’s hot,” you said, sliding a plate with five slices in front of him, the cheese bubbling slightly.

“That’s half the pizza,” Thor noted with a frown.

“You snooze, you lose. I wanted the best for my big man. I think you’ll enjoy it a lot more when it’s fresh and hot,” you said, touching his tummy under his shirt. “You wanted to see how much pizza you can eat, and I want to help. I’ll get you a few slices at a time so that it doesn’t go cold. You can tell me when to stop. Oh, I brought you some sour cream to dip the crusts in and I ordered some more drinks. It must be thirsty work eating all that pizza.”

The feel of your fingers pressing into his still pliable flesh, as you ate your slices, spurred him on even more.

“Y/N, there’s something I need to explain…” he started.

“Shh. You eat your pizza. I think I know what it is.” Thor looked at you confused but shoveled another slice into his mouth. “You’re enjoying your food, I know you are. It’s just like at the feast. It’s arousing you, I like it.”

“You do? Even though it’s weird, even if I get fatter?”

“Shh, shh. Let me bring you another plate, do you have a preference? I’ll tell you exactly what I think when I get back.”

“Um, may I have some more of the Thai Chicken please?”

“Certainly.”

Thor fiddled with the hem of his top and gulped hard on his drink, terrified about what you might say. It was one thing you enjoying his larger body, but you might have a very different opinion about him enjoying eating and actually enjoying his size. He enjoyed the size difference between you, he felt powerful, owning his space, and if he was honest, he was beginning to really enjoy his softness, how sensitive he now was in places.

One of his original two plates was slid back in front of him, with two slices of Thai chicken and three of ham and mushroom on it.

“There were only two slices left, so I thought I’d bring you something else as well,” you said by way of explanation. Tucking his hair behind his ear, you brought your lips close and began to tell him your answer.

“What you do is up to you, it’s your body. I’m just happy to see you happy, to see you enjoying yourself. However, if you’re happy like this, if you enjoy your food and maybe get a bit bigger, I’m certainly not going to complain. Not just because that would be rude, but because I’d enjoy it. I mean, you know how much I enjoy this tummy of yours.” Your hand returned to its previous position, to emphasise your point. “I definitely wouldn’t be upset if there was more of it for me to admire and play with.”

You moved back a smidge, to see how Thor was taking it. He was trying to remain calm, to eat his pizza, but his heated cheeks and heavier breathing let you know he was enjoying your words.

“Well, you know how much I enjoy it when you press your weight down on me, I think that’d be more fun with a bit more weight behind it. Or how about when you take me from behind, think about all that extra power to pound into me with. Think about how small I’ll look in the mirror when I take you into my mouth. I like the thought of your bigger belly bouncing on top of me, jiggling beneath me, or just being extra cushioning for me to cuddle into. My big, strong, soft, sex god.”

Thor trembled next to you, trying to resist the urge to throw you on the table and fuck you right there. He was on his penultimate slice, so you took one of the empty plates back to the pizza station. You could sense the stares from the people who’d noticed your frequent trips but, fuck ‘em. It was an all-you-can-eat buffet, and that’s exactly what you, or more accurately, Thor, were doing.

“Beef and béarnaise, for my beefy bear,” you said, sliding the plate in front of the blushing god. Nobody had touched that pizza since you’d got him the cheese and tomato, so didn’t feel bad bringing him the remaining eight slices. You left him in comparative peace for this plate, gently rubbing his belly and checking out the restaurant’s menu on your phone.

“How’re you feeling?” you asked as he neared the end of this particular round.

“I’m feeling pretty tired, it’s a bit of a struggle, but it feels so good. How much longer do we have?”

“35 minutes. You’re doing really well,” you encouraged. He was starting to feel full, less doughy under your fingertips. The buttons on his shirt were certainly running into difficulties and you feared their relationship with the soft, denim garment would be short-lived. You were curious as to why Thor had chosen a slim fit shirt in the first place but chose not to comment. It was a pleasure to see all of his soft curves on display outside of the bedroom.

“I think I can manage some more. What were you looking at on your phone?”

“Oh,” it was your turn to blush. “The restaurant has its nutritional info online, I was seeing which pizzas were the most calorific, just in case you wanted a little push.”

In truth, Thor didn’t know exactly what calorific meant, but he could tell this was something that interested you. You’d eagerly accepted his little (ok, big) kink, he could indulge yours.

“Well, why don’t you bring me some. I always like to push myself,” he said, adjusting his position so that his stomach no longer pressed into the edge of the table but rested upon it instead, a generous slither of flesh revealed where his shirt failed to cover him. “Maybe another of those stormy drinks as well, please.”

You almost tripped over yourself in your hurry to bring more food and drink to your full-bodied lover, rich and satisfying, to be enjoyed slowly like a fine Shiraz. Thor laughed a little at your eagerness, it was endearing how you wanted to please him, to take care of him. He hoped you took care of yourself with the same enthusiasm.

Three slices of ham and pepperoni, and five slices of Parma and truffle made their way back with you. Shortly thereafter, Tor dropped off another Flirtini for you and a pitcher of Dark ‘n’ Stormy.

“I wanted to make sure you were well hydrated,” was your answer to Thor’s look of surprise. Admittedly, the cocktail probably wasn’t that hydrating, but Thor had asked for it, so you just made sure that he had enough. You sipped on your drink, watching him battle on, determined to beat the pizza. It was a very different opponent to one he’d find on the battlefield, but Thor had set himself this challenge and he wasn’t going to back down. The staff were watching you nervously, concerned you’d make them wait all night, but you would be gone at eleven, no problem. As Thor began to slow down, you noticed him glancing between your phone and the remainder of the pizza.

“What is it? Are you ok? You can stop if you want, it’s ok,” you worried at him.

“No, no. I can do this. Can you get me what is left? You might need to help me eat them, but I can do it,” he insisted, chest heaving as he panted through the last slice.

Dutifully, you went to gather up what was left, balancing them carefully on two plates. You weren’t entirely sure how you would help him eat them, but he was single-minded in his task, and there was nothing you’d be able to do to stop him. Once Thor had set his mind to something, he was hard to reason with. You either had to get out of the way or hold on tight until he was done.

The pitcher was balanced on top of his taut tummy, shirt stretched dangerously tight around it, as Thor sipped his cocktail through a straw.

“Is that all that is left?”

“Is that all?” you asked incredulously. “I’ve got you three each of the chorizo, BBQ chicken, and cauliflower, two slices of vegetarian and meat feast, and four of the beef onion. That’d be more than enough for most people, are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely. I’m not most people. Asgardians are known for their feasting.” The pitcher was set back down with a thud.

You couldn’t really argue with that.

The first few slices went down well, but then he really began to struggle, gulping down his drink to try to rid his mouth of the cloying cheesiness. Your fingers traced over the swell of his tummy, trying to soothe him.

“That’s good, that helps. Feed me?” he pleaded.

“Ok, you make yourself comfortable and I’ll help.”

You stacked up two slices of the same flavour, bringing them his mouth, and chewed through them, less thoughtfully than before, as he massaged his aching tummy. He was a sweaty, gassy mess, with cheese and sauce stuck in his beard, but he was very pleased with himself when he finally finished the last slice.

“Are you impressed?”

“Very. You managed 69 slices,” you giggled.

“What is funny about that?”

You leaned in and whispered it into his ear. That wasn’t something you’d tried yet, and tonight certainly wasn’t the night for it, but it was definitely something to try another time.

“Finish your drink, I’ll go pay,” you told the full and flustered thunder god.

He was more than happy to finish the pitcher, he needed something to help him cool down. He hadn’t known there was a name for what you’d described, but he definitely liked the sound of it.

***

In the end, it wasn’t the buttons, but the fabric itself that capitulated. After you’d settled up, you’d found Thor sitting awkwardly with this arms across his waist, cheeks flushed fuchsia.

“Are you alright?” you asked, concerned that the pizza had, in fact, beaten Thor.

“My shirt…” he mumbled, moving a hand to show the gaping hole to the side of the placket, allowing a sizable chunk of flesh to be on show.

“Ah...hug me from behind as we leave, I can cover you,” you suggested. It was a slightly awkward exit, Thor pressing into your back. You thanked the staff and eventually made it into the street. “Perhaps we should take a taxi, get you back home quicker?”

Thor mumbled his agreement. It was a fairly quiet evening, so ordering one was pretty straight forward. Ever the gentleman, Thor went to open the door for you.

“Oh, love, could you hold my bag for me, please?” you said with a pointed look at his torso.

Never had he been gladder to hold something in his life. A shield would’ve been preferable, would’ve covered more, but he had to work with what he had.

***

Safely home, Thor was glad to unbutton his shirt, breathing a sigh of relief. He was lucky his jeans were almost painted on otherwise, he might’ve lost them on the journey, stomach spilling out of them.

“Hey, Y/N. Do we have anything sweet?” he called from the kitchen, where he was feeding and fussing the dogs. It was pretty tricky to bend down to their bowls, but he just about managed it.

“Erm yeah. I baked a couple of cakes for tomorrow, why?”

When you got no response, you decided to put some music on, content to let Thor do his own thing. Some Deep Purple while you slumped on the settee, letting Loki slither over you.

It was the second song, Hush, when Thor reappeared, dancing into view with a plate in hand, generous slice of cake on top, and a fork in the other, swaying along to the music. You couldn’t take your eyes off him. The dogs were dancing around his feet, trying to join in, and even the snake seemed to be eyeing him up as he moved remarkably gracefully towards you, swinging his wide hips in time to the music, stomach bouncing along in front of your face. Your mouth didn’t know whether to go dry or to salivate everywhere at the sight before you.

He eased himself down next to you, abused cushion sinking beneath his weight.

“I fancied something sweet after all that pizza,” he said. “This is an excellent cake, my love, you’re very talented.”

“It wasn’t exactly meant for you, but I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” you answered, a little sad that the honey cake you’d worked so hard on was now missing a decent wedge.

“There’s still another cake, it’s fine,” he replied with a smile. “Asgard will still get to sample your handiwork.”

“Can I get you anything to drink with that?”

“Maybe some milk?”

Milk? What about a milkshake, you wondered to yourself. Thor clearly was intent on pushing himself to his absolute limit, so why not help him further?

He gave you a slightly reproachful look when you approached with the biggest glass you could find, filled with your concoction. Thor had wondered why you hadn’t taken so long, having finished his cake, and what you were using the blender for. Now he knew.

You’d blended together whole milk, peanut butter cup ice cream, a generous dash of bourbon, chocolate chips, and chocolate syrup. It was topped with whipped cream peak coated in chocolate sprinkles. A metal straw poked out the top.

“Thank you,” he said, accepting the monstrosity. You hadn’t made him a full-on freakshake, but there was certainly a lot to take in. Thor sipped it cautiously, he didn’t want to get brainfreeze, balancing the glass on top of his over-full belly. You curled up next to him, careful not to jostle or apply too much pressure, kissing the flesh that jutted past the open fabric of his shirt, rubbing gentle circles into his swollen gut.

“You did this on purpose,” he observed around the half-way mark.

“You wanted milk, you wanted something sweet, you wanted to push yourself. I’m just helping you get what you want,” you replied with a grin. “You don’t have to finish it, but it’d be a shame to waste it.”

That was what spurred him on to finish, even though his body was pleading for him to stop. He really enjoyed how full he felt but this was definitely the last thing he was going to have.

“I love how big and round you are,” you commented, fingers delicately tracing over the mound of his stomach. “I can’t wait to get you to bed.”

Thor’s cock, which had never become less than half-hard, immediately sprang back to life. He gulped down the remains of the shake, a horny, panting mess.

“I absolutely cannot eat another thing,” he gasped.

“Oh, very good. I am impressed. Rest here a moment.” You took the glass, the cake plate, and fork to the kitchen, before grabbing a flannel from the bathroom.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, mucky pup,” you said, tenderly wiping away the worst of what was caked around Thor’s mouth and in his facial hair. “How’re you doing?” you asked, cupping a soft cheek in your hand.

“I think I would like to lie down for a bit, I’m quite tired,” he admitted. You couldn’t blame him, just watching was tiring enough. You stood up and offered him a hand. Thor didn’t really need you to pull him up, he was more than strong enough to do it himself, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

“Go get comfy, I’ll do the washing up, let the dogs out, and join you in a bit,” you told him, groping his bum as he shuffled past. “Hey Thor,” you added.

“Yes, my love?”

“If Captain America has America’s ass, do you have Asgard’s ass?”

“I think we could find a smaller one to represent us as a people,” he noted, blushing a little.

“Aww, but I like this one. It’s so shapely and round.”

Thor rolled his eyes with a grin and lumbered off to the bedroom, keen to free himself from his clothes.

***

When you eventually joined Thor in the bedroom, you were surprised to find him still awake, albeit barely. His clothes were in a messy pile to one side, but that barely registered, because sprawled on top of the duvet was a very aroused, naked thunder god. He’d unbraided his hair so that it fanned out behind him on the pillow like a halo. One arm was behind his head, the other rested on his rounded tummy.

“I thought you were tired?” you queried, looking down at the dozy Asgardian. “I was expecting you to be asleep, not putting on a show.”

“Well, I was hoping you would take care of me, give my belly a little rub,” he replied with a grin.

“Only your belly needs taking care of?”

“Ok, maybe some other bits of me might like some attention.”

You rummaged around in the bedside table until you found your dry oil spray. Pumping it liberally, you made sure Thor’s belly was well coated before you settled down with your head on his chest, kissing and licking a nipple, while your hand smoothed over his stomach. Gently rubbing and kneading, you took your time, worshipping your way down to the soft underbelly where he was most sensitive. You avoided touching his cock for as long as possible, but it was hard to ignore, the head nodding against the underside of his rounded abdomen.

“Ah,” he hissed as you brushed against his erection. “I would much prefer it if you used your mouth for this part.”

Giving his tummy one last circular rub, you rolled away from Thor and moved to the very end of the bed, positioning yourself by his feet. You took one foot into your hand and began to knead it, pleased to see that the pumice was working. Thor writhed in your grasp, desperate for you to give his cock attention, but you wanted to string things out. You kissed your way from his ankle to his thigh, ignoring his erection, before massaging his other foot and repeating your journey up that sizable leg.

“My love, please,” he begged.

“Please, what?” you asked, knowing he couldn’t see you smirking.

“Please give me some release.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Please...pleasure me, with your mouth.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that?” It was mean to torment Thor, yes, but also worth it to hear the increasing desperation in his voice.

“Please, I’m begging you, please. Please could you just suck my cock,” he whined.

“Oh! You mean like this?”

There was a strangled cry, then, oh fuck, yes, repeated above you as you took him into your mouth. You started slowly, licking and flicking your tongue around his head before gradually moving further down. Propped up on your elbows, you massaged the tops and sides of his packed gut, head gently butting into his underbelly, nose nudging into his soft hair as you moved up and down his length. You knew he wouldn’t last long, had seen how excited he already was, but it was still a surprise how quickly you felt his thighs trembling beneath you. His cum was thick, almost as thick as the milkshake you’d made him, and you swallowed it down. Making sure to clean him with your tongue, Thor gave an involuntary shudder, his cock now far too sensitive.

You pulled away, content to fall asleep next to the exhausted Asgardian, chest panting and stomach heaving from the exertion.

“My love?” Thor managed to huff out.

“Mmm?”

“I have one more request.”

“And want is that?”

“I want to taste you.”

You shuffled up the bed to kiss him, pressing into his sticky, soft, pink, marshmallow lips. His facial hair tickled as you deepened the kiss, but you didn’t mind. Drawing back, you took the time to admire Thor’s face. He looked happy, content. His smile was warm, his eyes sparkled, his brow was less creased, more carefree.

“That wasn’t quite what I meant,” he admitted, hurrying to add, “not that it was bad! It’s just I wanted to, uh, eat you. Eat you out.”

“I thought you couldn’t eat another thing?” you teased.

“For you, I will always make an exception. None of the wonderous tastes to cross my lips this night shall compare to yours.”

You suspected that might not strictly be true, but you didn’t have the heart to tell Thor that.

“I fear I may not be able to move from this position. You shall have to sit on me,” Thor sighed with mock melodrama.

“I think I can agree to that,” you grinned. After all, it wasn’t every day a god invited you to sit on their face. You straddled Thor and held onto the headboard, lowering yourself slowly, making sure to support the majority of your weight with your knees. Thor began to lick you, slow and languid strokes of his tongue like you were the sweetest dessert, made only for him. You slowly began grinding your hips back and forth, trying to get him where you wanted him. After the way you’d teased him, it was only payback that he make you wait, but you were eager for more.

Now that he’d had his release, Thor was far more interested in taking his time. A powerful hand moved up to grab your left hip, keeping you in place, while the other hand reached up to massage your breast, pinching your hardened nipple. Thor could feel himself getting hard again. How could he not, when everything was you? All he could taste, all he could smell, the feel of your thighs against his soft cheeks. The overwhelmed, urgent little noises you made, and when he looked up, your breasts bouncing above him, that blissed-out, happy look on your face. All of it was for him, only for him. He was the only one who got to see you like this, to make you feel like this.

And he fucking loved it.

When you came it was hard, insistent and drenching. It was like turning his face to the heavens during a thunderstorm of his own creation. Thor definitely preferred this position. His height, in fact, his size in general, meant lying down between your thighs wasn’t the easiest position. But this. This was good. His lips on yours, lovingly kissing. And if he was honest, he liked how it made you the one in charge. Every roll and slide of your hips let him know how much you enjoyed what he was doing, there was no second-guessing here. He was your plaything, your means to carnal bliss, and he couldn’t give you enough.

You’d tried to be restrained during your first orgasm, biting into your arm, but the second one had you positively screaming. The dogs were alarmed, barking and scratching at the bedroom door, but it didn’t matter. Thor released his hold on you and you slid off to the side, face-planting into the pillow.

“I did a good job, yes?” he inquired.

“Mmm, yes. Thank you. Sleep now,” you said, as much to him as the pillow.

“I’ll be right back, my love,” he said heaving himself up. “I must reassure the dogs...and perhaps wash my face.”

***

Geri and Freki soon calmed once they realised all was well. Thor washed his face thoroughly and returned to the bedroom, setting a pitcher of water and glass on the bedside table. He’d opened all the windows, yet it was still absurdly hot. Not that you seemed to notice. You’d rolled and wrapped the duvet around you like a burrito, one leg hanging out. Thor climbed in beside you, careful not to disturb you. No need to spoon you, you’d find your way to him soon enough. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever had such a thoroughly satisfying night. Not that he’d be able to enjoy nights like this too often, he didn’t want them to lose their wonder, but it seemed a fitting way to spend it, to indulge himself, on what might be his last night of reprieve before the burdens of a king were his to bear once more.

@morganhoran1671 @innerpaperexpertcloud

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pascalls · 5 years

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DO YOU LIKE SAVING DOGS AND CATS FROM EUTHANASIA YEAH I BET YOU DO

the organization I work for is currently having it’s BIGGEST fundraiser of the year. san antonio pets alive! saves a bunch of the dogs, cats, kittens, and puppies that are slated for euthanasia at our city shelter in San Antonio, Texas. with support from hundreds of people, we can make a huge dent in the costs it takes to perform a bunch of the lifesaving stuff that we do for these animals.

above is my baby boy Otto who was saved at just two days old!! they were going to euthanize him because there was no one to care for him, but with my great team we found him a foster home until he was old enough for ME to take him home!!! now he’s the most precious baby boy there ever was!! you can even see some of our 2018 statistics above.

THIS FUNDRAISER IS ONLY RUNNING UNTIL 11:59PM ON MARCH 28TH, 2019, SO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE HELP US GET TO OUR GOAL! PLEASE DONATE HERE. EVEN A COUPLE OF DOLLARS HELPS. IF YOU CAN’T DONATE, PLEASE BOOST THIS POST!!

the puppies and kitties of san antonio, texas THANK YOU!!

#tj talk #boost #signal boost #fundraise #animals

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caelin-ismycity · 5 years

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My family fosters rescue dogs (mostly pit bulls) but about a year ago we foster failed with a pitty who was bonded with the most grumpy Yorkie. Rescue animals are so sweet.... they're always so skittish at first bc is they've only been used to cold bleak shelters or not even.,,, is phenomenal to see them a year- hell maybe even a month or two- being in a good home. They're so good. Animals are so sweet. God. Sorry I just. *clenches fish* love my dogs past and present

dude your love for dogs is so fuckin valid ok another story time because FUCK im emotional tonight lads

but aside from my story in the ‘keep reading’, every and all animals deserve love (and humans are animals too even tho we assholes sometimes we deserve love), lil puppies and kittens are the most loving little blessings you’ll ever meet and it baffles me every day that people would even consider abusing them in any way like i put a curse onto your house for that

one of my babies- his name is drew but we call him ‘drewcula’ sometimes because he looks like a bat and he has sharp fangs right. he used to be my sister’s office dog because he had two broken front legs and no one really wanted him so while he was recoverin he was just hobble around the office (he’s also gotten a lot of back-leg strength because of this and he likes to sit like a prairie dog and its so cute)

i remember when i first met him because i thought he was my cat; i was in the middle of drawing and i felt something touch my butt and since lisa lisa would do that i assumed it was her but when i turned around???? “whomst the fuck is this lil cutie” and next thing you know my sister walks in like “yeah the office said i can watch him for the weekend” and it was go like this for a few weeks until my sister just said “fuck it” and bought him

my sister told me there was word going around that they were actually going to put lil drewcula down because no one wanted him and they didnt know what else to do with him since they couldnt just keep him at the office and im like- how the fuck could any of yall even humor that because if i showed yall a pic of lil drew right now you would smack that whole office upside the head he is absolutely precious

#snap chats

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bloojayoolie · 5 years

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Anaconda, Cats, and Children: PERFECT & perfectly loveable baby boy. Lived wit children of every age & 2 small dogs. Friendly affectionate, happy & SWEET! Pande ID 51102 12 Mos Ama ng & waiting at Brooklyn ACC TO BE KILLED 1/5/2019 “I was given up for no time and because of my size.” Poor Panda, his parent gave him up for two very lame reasons and now he is in danger of losing his life. This gloriously happy, super friendly and affectionate boy is just a puppy, and full of puppy playfulness. He adores greeting new friends with jump up hugs and then kisses to their hands. We adore his smushy face that speaks to us of some possible bulldog heritage, and how can you resist a boy whose tail just never stops wagging and whose face lights up at the sight of you? He’s completely socialized, having lived and played happily with many children of every possible age, as well as 2 small dogs! He is very strong little man at 88 lbs, so any family who takes him on would need to be prepared for being pulled like a sled in the Iditarod when on walks. But he is so eager to please, so happy to be in company, that further training should be a breeze. Given how precious he is, it was no surprise he scored ALL COVETED 1’S ACROSS THE BOARD ON HIS SHELTER ASSESSMENT! So don’t wait another minute, hurry and MESSAGE our page or email us at [email protected] for assistance fostering or adopting this proven, perfect, family pet. A Staff Member writes: “Panda’s former owners describe him as friendly, affectionate and very playful. Panda loves being around people and likes belly rubs. Per our behavior staff’s assessments, Panda is a very large, strong dog with the capability to pull over an average adopter. His adopter must be prepared and able to handle a dog of this size and strength. It is recommended that he be walked on a front clip harness or head halter, which help diminish his strength through leverage, and that he be trained using positive reinforcement, reward based training to not pull on leash.” MY VIDEOS: https://youtu.be/q032OXKG-dw The Panda Shuffle https://youtu.be/k_ajVaduYNc PANDA, ID# 51102, @ 1 Yr. Old, 88 lbs. Brooklyn ACC, Large Mixed Breed, Black / White, Neutered Male Return (was adopted 12/29/18) Original Owner Surrender Reason: Panda's size Recent 2 day owner reason: Panda nipped a person, didn’t break skin Shelter Assessment Rating: Experienced Home (due to strength/size) New Shelter Assessment: New Hope Only Medical Behavior Rating: Green AT RISK NOTE: PANDA was diagnosed with Canine Infection Respiratory Disease Complex and will likely require home rest and a series of antibiotics for up to 14 days. This is a contagious illness to other dogs. Also, Panda has a bite history on his previous home, displaying concerning behavior towards the small dogs in the household. Due to all noted concerns displayed in a home environment, WE are recommending Panda be placed with a New Hope placement partner who is able to provide an experienced adult-only foster home. INTAKE – 12/30/2018: Panda was adopted over the holidays and in less than 2 days he was returned on 12/30/2018. The new “owner” did not allow Panda time to decompress, and threw him into the family mix, confusing and scary for Panda. Panda nipped one of the family members during his short stay, and he was brought in from dispatch and brought straight to ISO on 12/30/2018.. No handling was done by counselor. LATEST OWNER SURRENDER NOTES (LESS THAN 2 DAYS! – 12/31/2018): Surrender called BACC stating they adopted Panda yesterday and today Panda was doing something with his head and growled and then snapped at her twice, biting her the second time but not breaking skin. She had a bruise on her left hand. MLD NOTES: Notice the glowing notes of the former parents below. Note that the most current parent had Panda less than 2 days and most likely did not properly decompress Panda, or allow him to acclimate slowly to his new surroundings. Please consider that shelter pups need to have a calm, quiet place to decompress, warm at their own pace, and be slowly (slowwwwwwly) introduced to their new homes and new family! OWNER SURRENDER NOTES – BASIC INFORMATION (PREVIOUS OWNER): Panda is a large dog, 1 years old male neutered. The owner bought Panda from a breeder when he was just 4-5 months old. The owners are surrendering Panda due to his large size and having no time. Panda previous lived with 2 adults and 4 children. When strangers come over Panda rushes to the door and greets people by jumping up and giving hugs. He is excitable to meet new people. He wags his tails and lips your hand. Panda has lived with a house full of children ages 3, 5 11 and 16 years old. Panda is very playful and follows the children around. He sometimes throws his weight around and plays rough. He likes to jump up and also play tug. He is playful and excitable around children. Panda has lived with two small dog. He is very playful around the dogs but sometimes plays rough and throws his weight around. Unknown behavior around large dog. Panda has never lived with cats. Unknown behavior around cats. Panda has no resource guarding. The owners can touch his food bowl while eating and the children remove things from his mouth and toys. Panda is partially housetrained. He has a high energy level. Other Notes:: Panda is partially house trained. He gets a walk 3 times a day. He defecates outside on walks but will have pee accidents in the house. Panda is crate trained and spends 7-8hr in the crate but sometimes he consistently barks and whines in the crate. He has never had any medical issues. For a New Family to Know: The family describes Panda as friendly, affectionate and very playful. Panda loves being around people and likes belly rubs. He likes squeaky tops but chews them up in a day. He sometimes chews on shoes. He eats a diet of eukanuba dry food twice a day. OTHER NOTES: Panda is partially house trained. He gets a walk 3 times a day. He defecates outside on walks but will have pee accidents in the house. Panda is crate trained and spends 7-8hr in the crate but sometimes he consistently barks and whines in the crate. FOR A NEW FAMILY TO KNOW: The family describes Panda as friendly, affectionate and very playful. Panda loves being around people and likes belly rubs. He likes squeaky tops but chews them up in a day. He sometimes chews on shoes. He eats a diet of eukanuba dry food twice a day. SHELTER ASSESSMENT - Date of assessment:: 12/26/2018 Look:: 1. Dog's eyes are averted, with tail wagging and ears back. Allows head to be held loosely in Assessor's cupped hands. Sensitivity:: 1. Dog leans into the Assessor, eyes soft or squinty, soft and loose body, open mouth. Tag:: 1. Dog follows at the end of the leash, body soft. Paw squeeze 1:: 1. Dog does not respond at all for three seconds. Eyes are averted and ears are relaxed or back. Paw squeeze 2:: 1. Dog does not respond at all for three seconds. Eyes are averted and ears are relaxed or back. Toy:: 1. Dog settles close, keeps a firm grip and is loose and wiggly. Dog does not place his/her body between you and the toy. Summary:: Panda allowed all handling throughout assessment showing no concerning behaviors. *Due to Panda's recent bite and change in behavior, behavior department recommends Panda is Placed with a New Hope Partner. PLAYGROUP NOTES – DOG TO DOG SUMMARIES: Panda's previous owner reported that he lived with two smaller dogs and played roughly with them. He has not been around larger dogs. 12/23: When off leash at the Care Center, Panda greets the novel female dog with a heightened stance, chattering his teeth and chin overs. He becomes increasingly sexually motivated, attempting to mount and paying little attention to our interruptions. The two were separated due to the increasing intensity Panda displayed in his attempts to mount her. INTAKE BEHAVIOR - Date of intake:: 12/22/2018. Summary:: jumps, excited, friendly. MEDICAL BEHAVIOR - Date of initial:: 12/23/2018. Summary:: excitable, sensitive w/ ears, allowed handling. BEHAVIOR DETERMINATION:: NEW HOPE ONLY Behavior Asilomar: TM - Treatable-Manageable Recommendations:: No children (under 13),Place with a New Hope partner Recommendations comments:: Due to all noted concerns displayed in a home environment, the behavior department recommends Panda be placed with a New Hope placement partner who is able to provide an experienced adult-only foster home. A period of decompression is recommended to allow Panda to acclimate comfortably to his new environment; force-free, reward based training only is advised when introducing Panda to new and unfamiliar situations. Consultation with a professional trainer/behaviorist is highly recommended for guidance to safely manage/modify any behavior Panda presents with outside of the care centers. Potential challenges: : Basic manners/poor impulse control,Handling/touch sensitivity,Multiple-bite history/risk of future aggression,Strength/leash pulling Potential challenges comments:: STRENGTH/LEASH PULLING: Panda is a very large, strong dog with the capability to pull over an average adopter. His adopter must be prepared and able to handle a dog of this size and strength. It is recommended that he be walked on a front clip harness or head halter, which help diminish his strength through leverage, and that he be trained using positive reinforcement, reward based training to not pull on leash. BASIC MANNERS/POOR IMPULSE CONTROL: It is recommended that default behaviors such as "Leave it", "Sit/Stay", "Down" are reinforced to substitute any frustration and teach him to control his impulses instead of simply reacting; proper management is also advised. Force-free, reward based training only is recommended. Handling sensitivity: Panda has been noted to become uncomfortable with handling at times, especially when a person is reaching over him or touching his head. It is important to always go slow and give Panda the option to walk away from any social interaction. Panda should never be forced to approach anything that he is uncomfortable with or to submit to petting or handling. It should always be Panda’s choice to approach a new person or thing. Pnada may do best in an initially calm and quiet home environment and should be given time to acclimate to his new surroundings. Bite history: Due to Panda's bite history, we recommend a home without young children. He has shown restraint in the care center and has not demonstrated any warnings of aggression. MEDICAL EXAM NOTES: 23/12/2018 DVM Intake Exam. Estimated age: ~1.5-2yrs based on PE and secondary sex characteristics. Owner reports P is 1yr. Microchip noted on Intake? scanned negative. placed by LVT. History : Owner surrender due to P large size and excitable behavior. subjective / Observed Behavior - BAR, allowed most handling; sensitive to ear manipulation. Excitable and pulls on leash. Evidence of Cruelty seen - none. Evidence of Trauma seen - none . Objective: BCS 5/9 EENT: Eyes clear, ears have heavy black exudate,AU; no nasal or ocular discharge noted. Oral Exam: could not evaluate due to cooperation. PLN: No enlargements noted. H/L: No murmur ausculted; CRT < 2, Lungs clear, eupnic. ABD: Non painful, no masses palpated. U/G: intact male. testicles are smooth and symmetrical. MSI: Ambulatory x 4, skin free of parasites, no masses noted, healthy hair coat; tail appears dislocated at the distal end CNS: Mentation appropriate - no signs of neurologic abnormalities. Rectal: externally normal. Assessment: otitis externa, intact male. possible dislocated tail. Prognosis: excellent. Plan: recommend behavioral training. Att time of surgery, ear cleaning and claro otic application + oral exam. (did not allow during intake). SURGERY: Okay for surgery. 24/12/2018 ACR: Intake 12/23. Noted to be ataxic on pm walk and has odd head circling behavior when excited. S/O: Dog is BARH, slight head tilt to left. BCS 5/9. EENT: Mild+ amount brown waxy debris AU (AS>AD) Oral Exam: Grade. H/L: Auscult wnl. Abd: Soft, non-painful. MSI: No ataxia noted during exam today. Mentation: appropriate. A: Otitis externa, AU. P: Cleaned AU and applied Mometamax - continue SID x 6d, then recheck. Is the Initial Medical Status being Changed? no. New Medical Status: Is the Initial Behavior Status being Changed? no. New Behavior Color: 27/12/2018 Progress exam-New CIRDC noted on rounds. History: Intake 12/23-otitis externa, possible dislocated tail. Cleaned ears and applied claro. 12/24-ataxia noted on rounds board and had odd head circling behavior when excited. Started on mometamax for otitis-no ataxia noted. Subjective: BAR. Head circling (body remains still) when excited. Good appetite. Coughing with nasal dc.. Objective: EENT: serous nasal d/c bilaterally, no ocular d/c ou. L: Eupneic, normal RR/RE but coughing MSI: Ambulatory x 4, good haircoat. CNS: mentation appropriate, head circles when excited. Assessment: CIRDC. Otitis externa. Head circling r/o behavioral vs neurologic. Plan: Start baytril 10mg/kg PO SID x14d until 1/10/19. Start doxycycline 10mg/kg PO SID x14d until 1/10/19. Continue mometamax until 12/30. Rec neurology consult for head circling behavior if does not resolve with mometamax. Recheck at day 7 Move to iso. Prognosis: Good. 30/12/2018 DVM Intake Exam. Estimated age: ~1.5yrs based on PE. Microchip noted on Intake? scanned positive. History : Return. reported to have hematuria before being adopted. Subjective / Observed Behavior - BAR, allowed all handling. Evidence of Cruelty seen - none. Evidence of Trauma seen - none. Objective: BCS 5/9, EENT: Eyes clear, ears have moderate brown exudate, AU; slight nasal discharge. coughing when pulling on lead. Oral Exam: dc 1/5; pd 1/5. PLN: No enlargements noted. H/L: No murmur ausculted; CRT < 2, Lungs clear, eupnic. ABD: Non painful, no masses palpated. U/G: intact male. testicles smooth and symmetrical. MSI: Ambulatory x 4, skin free of parasites, no masses noted, healthy hair coat. CNS: Mentation appropriate,slight left head tilt. Rectal: externally normal. Assessment: hematuria r/o cystitis, UTI, urinary calculi. left head tilt r/o otitis interna, otitis dental disease CIRDC Prognosis: excellent Plan: continue on CIRDC tx in ISO. ear cleaning, claro otic,urinalysis, collect by catheter. sedated 3 view abdominal radiographs 1.5ml butorphanol IM, 1ml dexdomitor IM . Full reversal with antisedan 1ml IM. SURGERY: Temporary waiver due to CIRDC 30/12/2018 Radiographic Interpretation. No evidence of radioopaque stones. No evidence of masses present 30/12/2018 Blood 250. UB neg. Bili +4. Protein 100. Nitrite neg . Ketone neg. AA 2++ . Gluc neg. pH 6 Leuk neg. Microscopic Exam. Numerous sperm and neutrophils present. Cocci bacteria present . Sending Urine for culture to IDEXX. *** TO FOSTER OR ADOPT *** PANDA IS RESCUE ONLY DUE TO LATEST PARENT’S STUPIDITY. You must fill out applications with New Hope Rescues to foster or adopt her. He cannot be reserved online at the ACC ARL, nor can he be direct adopted at the shelter. PLEASE HURRY AND MESSAGE OUR PAGE FOR ASSISTANCE! HOW TO RESERVE A “TO BE KILLED” DOG ONLINE (only for those who can get to the shelter IN PERSON to complete the adoption process, and only for the dogs on the list NOT marked New Hope Rescue Only). Follow our Step by Step directions below! *PLEASE NOTE – YOU MUST USE A PC OR TABLET – PHONE RESERVES WILL NOT WORK! ** STEP 1: CLICK ON THIS RESERVE LINK: https://newhope.shelterbuddy.com/Animal/List Step 2: Go to the red menu button on the top right corner, click register and fill in your info. Step 3: Go to your email and verify account \ Step 4: Go back to the website, click the menu button and view available dogs Step 5: Scroll to the animal you are interested and click reserve STEP 6 ( MOST IMPORTANT STEP ): GO TO THE MENU AGAIN AND VIEW YOUR CART. THE ANIMAL SHOULD NOW BE IN YOUR CART! Step 7: Fill in your credit card info and complete transaction HOW TO FOSTER OR ADOPT IF YOU *CANNOT* GET TO THE SHELTER IN PERSON, OR IF THE DOG IS NEW HOPE RESCUE ONLY! You must live within 3 – 4 hours of NY, NJ, PA, CT, RI, DE, MD, MA, NH, VT, ME or Norther VA. Please PM our page for assistance. You will need to fill out applications with a New Hope Rescue Partner to foster or adopt a dog on the To Be Killed list, including those labelled Rescue Only. Hurry please, time is short, and the Rescues need time to process the applications.

#funny #lol #humor #memes #meme #memehumor #dank memes #funny pics #rolf #lmao #Anaconda #Cats #and C

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dark-canary · 6 years

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Three Days to Death's Door.

I have seen the White Stag. He grazes in the glade between shadow and mist. He lifts his regal head, horns adorned and bejeweled with moss and dew, with night and her wisps of stars. Hallowed eyes stare, the browns and greens of the riverbed staring back at me. And I bow my head. “Please,” my whisper hangs thick in the air, “have care as you lead her to the home of the dead.” Three days. Three days was all the warning I had to reconcile my feelings for my grandmother before she passed. Late last night, quiet in her sleep, she slipped away without pain and – I can only hope – without regret. Three days was not long. Much shorter than I had anticipated when I received the news, but I had a feeling, a quiet knowing, that it would be soon. Three days was what I was given to come to terms with the woman who helped raise me, helped shape me into who I have become. Not long at all. But long enough, I think. So let me share with you now what I know of the woman named Audrey and her impact upon me. Let me honor her, by giving her eternity in my memories and perhaps briefly, in yours. Audrey was a woman of determined mind. Strong willed and stubborn, like most of the women in my family. Though we were not related by blood, she treated me as her own, and helped to bring me into adulthood as best she could. With the aid of others, she did her best to make up for what I had lost from my blood family. She was the mother of the step-father who abused me. She was the woman who tried to protect me, who told my mother to keep me far from him. She gave my mother and I and my younger half-brother shelter when we had nowhere else to go. She loved birds, had a passion for them. Raised more than her fair share of hatchlings. I remember being in the kitchen of the home that is still so familiar to me that if I close my eyes I can see the way it looked, smell the way it smelled, hear the sounds that made house a home. I remember feeding baby birds with little droppers, being chased around the house by her more rambunctious feathered family. Haha. Those birds in some ways traumatized me as a child. But it was a fear that when I was older, she helped heal in me. Audrey had a greener thumb than anyone I have ever known. She lived on a hill above a massive river. In her younger years, she grew roses and green beans and strawberries and tomatoes. Cucumbers, squash, zucchini. Any plant you could think of, my grandmother could have grown. And probably had at some point. I spent many hours with the roses and the gardens. I found comfort in them, a quiet peace that was instilled there by her. She called me a “little stinker” because I was a mischievous and bright child. She could sense the strangeness in me. The adult looking out through eyes too young. There were two ways that she treated me most often. Some days, growing up, I was as adult to her as she herself was. She confided in me, used me to play mediator, treated me with a wary respect for someone you don't quite know what to do it. Other days, she could make me feel so small and young and vulnerable. Some days, her words were harsh and painful. Some days, they were soft and kind. Thoughtful. She taught me how to cook and crochet and to transform seeds into seedlings ready for planting. How to pick peas and how to tell when a strawberry was just right and ready to be plucked and eaten. She made clothes for my dolls, and patchwork quilts. She used to crochet little squares that we'd then stitch together into heavy and soft and warm blankets for winter. And the food she made was second to none when I was a child. Simple dishes, now that I am older and have learned more. But always delicious. Every year during the holidays, she would make tray upon tray and fudge. All manner of flavors to be cut and packaged and sent to extended family and neighbors and teachers and friends and parents. Christmas was an entire affair for us growing up. She had so many ornaments that we could never use them all. And she was always collecting more. She loved country music and anything sweet. And she never hesitated to help someone in need if she could. She held herself with the quiet dignity of a Lady. But she was never above being silly. In fact, one could say that was her best trait. Life was a serious things, but for me, the woman I knew would never let that keep her from smiling and laughing and making jokes. This only became more true as she got older. When she was young, long before I was born, she owned (or at the very least managed) a lovely little clothing store. She always dressed to the nines, dresses and heels and makeup. Not a hair out of place. Confident as much as she was kind. These are the things that other people saw. But as my grandmother, I got to see other sides of her. Some of them none too pleasant. But that was life. Everyone has different facets to themselves. And she saw me, perhaps more than anyone at that time, for what I was. A child filled with heartache, an adult who had seen too much. She did the best she could with me. I know this. Now more than I did then. Because then, I was so sensitive. She could joke and poke and pick on me. Mostly teasing, sometimes more seriously. And I, an oversensitive child that was so hard to understand and deal with, I would get my feelings hurt rather easily. Likely because I had already been hurt so much by so many others. And she would forget sometimes that I carried more than a normal child ought to. I know that the instances where it felt like she was being cruel had more to do with my reaction than anything she said. That wasn't true in all cases. But it was in some. She told me awful things about my mother. Honest about things that even at thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, a child shouldn't have to know about her own mother. I know, in a way, she was trying to protect me. She kept my mother from me, a joint effort with my adopted mother, to do that very same thing. To keep me safe from being broken more than I already was. She made me emotionally dependent on food. She wasn't the only one. That's something that runs in my family. An addiction to food. Are you sad? Have something to eat, it'll cheer you up. Are you happy? Have something to eat, we'll celebrate. She did this and then would turn around and tell me how unhealthy I was. How I needed to take better care of myself. She wasn't exactly kind about it either. And that hurt. But now I realize she was only trying to break a habit she herself helped to instill in me. She was always ready to celebrate. We'd go to fairs and haunted houses, festivals in the small towns we lived in. She was proud of my music and my writing and my ability to act. She came to school festivals and performances and praised me. I lived for that praise, that warmth she showed when she truly and deeply believed that I had done something well. She fostered in me a sense of hope, that I could do anything I put my mind to. And it took me a very, very long time to believe that myself. Audrey was a woman with her own kind of magic. A quiet kind, one filled with laughter and joy and care for other people and animals. She cared for creatures who could not otherwise care for themselves. Cats and dogs and birds and fish. And sometimes, occasionally, even the stray little girl who felt she had no one. And I will miss her. There is pain there. Deep and rooted inside of me, buried beneath a blanket of numb. But as I write this, I feel that ice begin to thaw, the tears begin to fall. And I know. I know I loved her. And that she loved me. Grammy, if you're listening, I'm doing better now. I'm taking better care of myself. Being healthier. Working on the issues that have plagued me for twenty-six years. I have become a fighter. Though, I'm still very sensitive I'm afraid. But I am stronger. And growing stronger every day. You have given me so many memories. You have shaped so much of who I was. And I have taken who I was and begun shaping who I wish to be. You have taught me and treasured me as best you could. You are as important to me as my own blood, your lessons just as precious as the ones I received from Dana, who passed nearly ten years ago. Though we became strangers during the eight years I have been away from you, I hope, to all the gods, that you lived a happy life. And that you know, somehow, how much you mean to me. And how much I will miss you. I pray that you will join the others, In Valhalla, or whatever paradise has called you to its arms. I hope that you will join them as I continue my journey. That you will watch over and protect me. And forgive me for any hurts I may have caused you as a selfish and foolish child. Take care and Hallowed Hunting, Yours with love, Ydra

#witch #witchblr #honor thy ancestors #death #passing on #my grandmother #a dedication to her #sorrow #love #life #life and death #Ydra speaks

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distinctivelibrarians · 6 years

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Each character's pet, pet name, and personality from the Librarians and Leverage. ^__^

Oh goodness here we go (As a disclaimer, my favorite pet as a kid was a twenty-something-pound half feral cat named Precious. I was six. He hated my mother. So if any of this is weird, please remember that that is the bar.)

This is less headcanon, and more “two steps from being a drabble whoops”

The Librarians

All of these pets are in the Library at the same time for reasons.

Eve - big ol’ german shepherd named Lady. Lady was originally gotten, and trained, as a guard dog, before her stint at NATO. An impeccably behaved guard dog. Having to travel more for work though meant that she eventually gave Lady to her parents to look after, where she was spoiled rotten, and smart enough to take advantage of that fact. She’s still whip smart, still could follow an order to the letter if necessary, but honestly? She just really likes being a lazy, spoiled mutt who sits at Eve’s feet by the desk, while Eve pretends not to notice all the treats everyone else gives her.

Flynn - not sure I’d trust him with a pet, but if he had one, little yellow lab that never quite grew into his paws, ears and tail, named Manny. As explosive in personality as Flynn is, but, jokingly, more likable to the others given that he just straight up looks like an uncoordinated puppy at all times. No one’s entirely sure how Flynn actually got Manny, and no one can pin him down long enough for the story.

Jenkins - Goblin Sphynx cat. Always impeccably dressed in little sweaters and the like. It’s not actually a cat, but lord only knows what it actually is. Ezekiel’s convinced it is actually a sphynx and nothing Jenkins says has convinced him otherwise. He’s deadset on getting this thing to talk. Jenkins, Flynn and Jacob are probably the only ones who would understand its actual name, but it answers (as well as any cat answers) to Clair. Much to Jenkins’ annoyance, Clair actually adopted all of them before Jenkins deigned to acknowledge they weren’t all bad. Except Flynn. Clair and Flynn have staring matches that Flynn never wins - particularly when Clair steals Flynn’s seat and refuses to move.

Cassandra - Once everyone stopped her from adopting everything moving at the pet store (she got jealous of Lady, Manny and Clair okay), she ended up going home with a ragdoll kitten named Xena. (Clair is not impressed. Manny is ecstatic. Lady just wants to sleep) Xena doubles as a scarf for anyone who sits still long enough for her to pounce - her favorites are of course Cassie, and Ezekiel. Ezekiel is not impressed (or so he says). If one can’t find Xena, its best to stop what you’re doing and go find the little fluff monster as quickly as possible - as much as she loves cuddling, she loves knocking over precious artifacts more.

Ezekiel - Okay, so, first of all, Ezekiel is the one in the Library that brings home strays like. Weekly. Never with the intention to keep (which is what everyone else thinks at first), but definitely with the intention of making sure the shelter they’re dropped off at can take care of them. This is definitely a habit left over from before the Library. He’d probably take the longest to get a pet that’s just his, what with still mourning Stumpy and babysitting for Nessie. And then somehow he ends up adopting...well. No one’s actually entirely sure, but they had a job in Mexico, and when they came tumbling back through the backdoor, it came with them. It likes looking like a mutt, but never looks quite the same, day to day (the fur color changes, eye color, ears a little different, snout a little shorter or longer, etc.). Sweet thing though. Adores Ezekiel, loves anyone who pays attention to it for more than two seconds. Absolutely terrible at stealth - and yet, somehow manages to pop up in the most random of places when no one’s expecting it. Either way, they haven’t really settled on a name yet; Ezekiel calls it buddy, dude, baby, sweetheart, his precious little thief (from when it stole Jacob’s lunch from right under his nose), and increasingly ridiculous nicknames. Cassie and Jacob have come across Ezekiel lobbing actual names at it, but none seem to stick. (He still picks up strays on a weekly basis though.)

Jacob - First of all, he was adamant that he did not need a pet, even as the Library filled up. He was fine. And then one day he got a call from home, disappeared for three days, and then tumbled back into the Library, arms wrapped around a very confused beagle he said was named Sugar. He explains it away vaguely - his family always had beagles and his cousins had called him about Sugar, with even vaguer mumblings about his Pop’s involvement. Sugar doesn’t like anyone except Lady and Jacob, and can either be found being guarded by the larger dog, or curled up behind Jacob’s feet.

Leverage

Nate - man doesn’t like pets. They were going to get Sam a pet when he got out of the hospital. And he’s self-aware enough that he probably shouldn’t be responsible for any animal’s well being. Much to Sophie’s amusement, he ends up being the favorite of a bunch of a stray cats, wherever they end up though. (Wherever they end up. Only time he escapes them is when they’re in the house boat.)

Sophie - she doesn’t end up getting a pet that’s not an add-on to an identity until her and Nate “retire”, and just to drive Nate up a wall, she gets a Maine Coon she names Tuscany. This cat is the most spoiled thing on the planet and she knows it, and plays it up. Sophie thinks its cute that Nate and Tuscany only get along when Sophie’s not in the room, which Nate staunchly denies of course. Oddly enough, spoiled as this cat is, she seems just as content to flop across Sophie’s lap when they’re having a down day with a movie and sweatpants, as when they’re both getting dolled up.

Hardison - Pomeranian named Megabyte He hasn’t had a pet since the rabbits the kids managed to convince Nana were a good idea. He remembers a couple foster families that had dogs while he was with them, but no pet that was really his. So when it looks like they’re gonna stick around somewhere for a long stretch of time, he goes all out in finding the perfect pet. And yet, despite all that preparation, he ends up coming home one day with a waterlogged box he found in an alley with two puppies that are immediately taken to the vet. They’re straight up short-haired mutts, who Eliot jokingly names Buddy and Tiki just to screw with Hardison but hey, jokes on him, it sticks. They’re the biggest lap dogs ever - emphasis on biggest. They don’t fit, but that doesn’t stop them from trying. Not the brightest dogs either, but after throwing himself into research, Hardison’s managed to train them with a lot of basic commands. Still working on more advanced stuff. (They also regularly kick him out of bed, which he doesn’t think is fair. But, hey, they join him on the floor if he just stays there because all they wanna do is cuddle, so he can’t be too mad.)

Parker - She never really saw the point of pets honestly? She loves Buddy and Tiki, but a pet for herself is stretching it. Up until she becomes aware of the fact that you can get rats as pets. So, she gets Houdini (Sophie suggested the name, Parker about had a fit laughing, so hey). Houdini’s given free reign of the apartment, and though Hardison and Eliot can’t prove it, they’re pretty sure he gets joy out of scaring the ever loving hell out of them. Parker just laughs at their shrieks.

Eliot - He’s pretty sure taking care of Buddy, Tiki and Houdini (on top of the brewpub and their actual job) is a full time job as it is, so he definitely does not go out looking for a pet, alright? That’s his story and he’s sticking to it. Doesn’t explain the sweet-faced, bow-legged pitbull he ends up bringing home one day with no explanation. Jolene (Jo) fits right in with Buddy and Tiki (and also helps them by sending Eliot to the floor at night as well. Hardison and Eliot can’t figure out why Parker’s the only one the dogs don’t manage to kick out of bed), and is properly wary of Houdini. She fits right in.

#leverage #the librarians #ezekiel jones #cassandra cillian #jacob stone #jenkins #flynn carsen #eve baird #alec hardison #parker #eliot spencer #nate ford #sophie devereaux #rambling orion #I mighta gotten carried away? But this was really fun #and hell I might turn parts of this into a drabble who knows #long post #Anonymous

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angelique-of-the-volturi-guard · 3 years

Text

@sadieandmo The latest WIP :P

Just get home. That’s all you have to do is get home.  The words are a stuck record in my head, demanding I listen as I move through the angry streets of Manhattan. The noise of Honking cars and angry shouts jangle in my ears like an off-key song that I used to know once, but now can’t remember anymore. I bump into someone. They shout something but their angry nails-on-a-chalkboard screeching isn’t enough to cut through the record. I keep my head down, counting sidewalk squares, trying not to let myself feel anything, or else the floodgates will open and I’ll be left drowning.  Just get home. Just get home. Just get home.  There is no safe place to land in the busy streets of New York. There is only the rush of people trying to get from here to there, uncaring of who lies ahead or behind them, only focused on what is waiting at their destination. There is a palpable greed in the air, driving us all to madness for the sake of having more. More money, more fame, more time, more everything. It happens all the time, as we grasp for that next step up the ladder, telling ourselves that more will make us better. And yet, it only drives our greed to new heights. We’re trained not to see it- The anger, the greed, the flaws, the sadness.  Someone just ripped off my blinders.

I try and let the stuck record drown out the words in my head. The irritating refrain is beginning to become background noise, and the words, with all of their monstrous claws, begin to sink in, despite my efforts to push them away.  …Too late to save him…  No. Not here. Not now. Not in this strange street. There is no sheltered place to trip and fall here. The ground is cold and hard and angry. I don’t want that. I need warm, soft, and comforting. This is not what I need. This is not what I want. Redirect. Refocus.  Fifty two concrete squares later, I turn. Finally, the buildings begin to get more welcoming, instead of being behemoths towering above me. They try and welcome me into their concrete comfort but I must decline them. There is only one building that matters. The one that takes me home.  …Foster home will be called…  NO, go back. Don’t think that way. You just did. You can’t think about that now. Oh but you can, and you want to. Nope. Nothing wrong here. Put on your plastic mask and try and ignore the emotions trying to get up to the surface. This is no place for a breakdown, even if there is a good reason.  The guy selling dirty water hot dogs across the street calls out for hot dogs, words stained red and yellow with ketchup and mustard to make them enticing. But his condiment soaked words can’t stain me today. I am no one. I don’t even exist. I am a ghost among the masses, looking more haunted than I want to, just trying to disappear. And when I get home, I will. To the soft cozy nook of the rocking chair, with my son in my lap. The place where I will be unbothered, and where my tear stained admissions of failure can be washed off in the ocean of love from my family.

I go a bit faster, thinking perhaps that I can outrun my thoughts. This is an exercise in futility and I know it, but I have to try. Because not trying is the same as doing nothing, and if I do nothing, what kind of hero am I?  …Did everything I could but it wasn’t enough…  You were too late to save him. I was not. You should have done more to help him. I could not. How could you ever do that to those kids. I did not. This is your fault. It is not.  I walk thirty more squares and continue my lie. I am not allowed to shed my heroes’ cape. Not now, not ever. I am hero doctor, hero scientist, hero Hulk, hero husband, hero Dad. I am not allowed to cower under my cape and play victim. I am too needed by everybody to afford to take the cape off. If only they all realized I am human too, and come with scars and flaws and imperfections. Most days I can take the pressure. You don’t go into emergency medicine if you aren’t comfortable with a high stress, high pressure environment. But on the bad days, you have those patients you lose that break you in a way you can’t explain, then settle into the cracks to stay with you, forever. You cannot banish them, or your regrets, or your guilt. You add them to the weight upon your back. And even when your back breaks, you carry on. Because that is what heroes do.

But I am no hero. I’m just a man. And I want to go home and see my family, so that I don’t have to be all of that for a while.

I pass a newsstand. Will this death be in the papers? Probably not. It was unremarkable by journalist standards. A guy drops dead of a heart attack. Where’s the glamor in that? No high profile death, no way to make a heart attack seem interesting. No one would look at that and see a story. After all, stories have to be entertaining. Why would anyone want to read about people just like them dying? Is it cruel to do? Maybe. But even I admit that hearing about death all the time gets depressing. It’s why I can’t watch the news anymore. But maybe it’s more than that. Maybe it’s because every time I hear about another death I am reminded of the old adage that as a doctor I can’t save them all. Even though I really want to.

Finally, I see it. The glorious finish line at the end of a long race. The Large A at the top of the building calls me like a siren. I want to run to it, but I’m too tired. Too tired to move faster and too tired to stop at the same time.

Just get home.

It takes 15 squares before I finally reach those blessed doors and go inside. The Air conditioning blasts me with the unmistakable scent of the lobby, and I feel my shoulders loosen. I’m so close to getting to stop this charade and dropping the cape. Just two stops to go. I press the button for the elevator, ignoring the perky receptionist greeting me. I want to smile and make nice but I can’t today.

The elevator yawns open and beckons me in with its gleaming silver sides and the tantalizing promise of a moment alone. I push the button for the main floor to the Avengers tower. Steve will either be there waiting for me or already be on our floor. I’d rather not have to leave our floor afterward to find out. I feel bad in a way, for not having a normal day, and being able to be everybody’s everything. But today, I just want to grab my son, go up to our floor, and hold him and sit with my wife. I want to bask in the glow of my family.

The elevator dings, and my exhaustion seems to hit it’s peak as the doors open. I’m a precious few floors from my safe haven and I don’t even know if I can make it that far, so I keep moving. My legs are on autopilot as I pick up the sound of my son squealing when he sees me, notice the turning of heads from the couch. I must look worse than I feel because nobody says anything. My eyes stay locked on my son. I watch his expression go from elated to concerned. As concerned as a baby can look, at least. I don’t even break my stride when I pick him up into my arms at last. I can’t. I have to get up to our floor. Nat must be there or in the kitchen because she wasn’t out there. But I’m not worrying too much about her. She knows what I need when I’m like this. And right now I need to get up to our floor.

My son, of course, has other plans, as babies often do. I’m four steps away from entering the elevator and ascending to heaven when I feel something. A hand on my face. I look down. My son is looking at me in what I can only think of as a reassuring manner, patting (slapping?) my face as if he’s trying to tell me everything will be okay. I stop in my tracks, and for a moment, time stands still, before it restarts itself all over again.

A door opens but I can’t see it. The dam on my emotions has been torn down by the concern of my little boy and there’s no rebuilding it. I can feel my mouth trembling as the tears pour out of me without my consent, a messy breach of my mask that can never really be repaired. Before I know it I’m pulling my son into a hug, sobbing silently and trying to remain standing so I can keep what remains of my dignity but it’s no good. My legs buckle under me, and I collapse like a badly-made block tower.

I can’t tell how long I sit there, letting my sins roll down my face and soak into my son’s hair. No one seems to move or breathe in that time, as though it would somehow break me into smaller pieces. My son doesn’t cry, he only clumsily pats my back in a way that I’ve done for him when he’s been upset. The sweet gesture isn’t lost on me. I just can’t thank him right now.

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bbtwords · 3 years

Quote

My seven-year-old grandson sleeps just down the hall from me, and he wakes up a lot of mornings and he says, "You know, this could be the best day ever." And other times, in the middle of the night, he calls out in a tremulous voice, "Nana, will you ever get sick and die?" I think this pretty much says it for me and most of the people I know, that we're a mixed grill of happy anticipation and dread. So I sat down a few days before my 61st birthday, and I decided to compile a list of everything I know for sure. There's so little truth in the popular culture, and it's good to be sure of a few things. For instance, I am no longer 47, although this is the age I feel, and the age I like to think of myself as being. My friend Paul used to say in his late 70s that he felt like a young man with something really wrong with him. Our true person is outside of time and space, but looking at the paperwork, I can, in fact, see that I was born in 1954. My inside self is outside of time and space. It doesn't have an age. I'm every age I've ever been, and so are you, although I can't help mentioning as an aside that it might have been helpful if I hadn't followed the skin care rules of the '60s, which involved getting as much sun as possible while slathered in baby oil and basking in the glow of a tinfoil reflector shield. It was so liberating, though, to face the truth that I was no longer in the last throes of middle age, that I decided to write down every single true thing I know. People feel really doomed and overwhelmed these days, and they keep asking me what's true. So I hope that my list of things I'm almost positive about might offer some basic operating instructions to anyone who is feeling really overwhelmed or beleaguered. Number one: the first and truest thing is that all truth is a paradox. Life is both a precious, unfathomably beautiful gift, and it's impossible here, on the incarnational side of things. It's been a very bad match for those of us who were born extremely sensitive. It's so hard and weird that we sometimes wonder if we're being punked. It's filled simultaneously with heartbreaking sweetness and beauty, desperate poverty, floods and babies and acne and Mozart, all swirled together. I don't think it's an ideal system. Number two: almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes – including you. Three: there is almost nothing outside of you that will help in any kind of lasting way, unless you're waiting for an organ. You can't buy, achieve or date serenity and peace of mind. This is the most horrible truth, and I so resent it. But it's an inside job, and we can't arrange peace or lasting improvement for the people we love most in the world. They have to find their own ways, their own answers. You can't run alongside your grown children with sunscreen and ChapStick on their hero's journey. You have to release them. It's disrespectful not to. And if it's someone else's problem, you probably don't have the answer, anyway. Our help is usually not very helpful. Our help is often toxic. And help is the sunny side of control. Stop helping so much. Don't get your help and goodness all over everybody. This brings us to number four: everyone is screwed up, broken, clingy and scared, even the people who seem to have it most together. They are much more like you than you would believe, so try not to compare your insides to other people's outsides. It will only make you worse than you already are. Also, you can't save, fix or rescue any of them or get anyone sober. What helped me get clean and sober 30 years ago was the catastrophe of my behavior and thinking. So I asked some sober friends for help, and I turned to a higher power. One acronym for God is the "gift of desperation," G-O-D, or as a sober friend put it, by the end I was deteriorating faster than I could lower my standards. So God might mean, in this case, "me running out of any more good ideas." While fixing and saving and trying to rescue is futile, radical self-care is quantum, and it radiates out from you into the atmosphere like a little fresh air. It's a huge gift to the world. When people respond by saying, "Well, isn't she full of herself," just smile obliquely like Mona Lisa and make both of you a nice cup of tea. Being full of affection for one's goofy, self-centered, cranky, annoying self is home. It's where world peace begins. Number five: chocolate with 75 percent cacao is not actually a food. Its best use is as a bait in snake traps or to balance the legs of wobbly chairs. It was never meant to be considered an edible. Number six – writing. Every writer you know writes really terrible first drafts, but they keep their butt in the chair. That's the secret of life. That's probably the main difference between you and them. They just do it. They do it by prearrangement with themselves. They do it as a debt of honor. They tell stories that come through them one day at a time, little by little. When my older brother was in fourth grade, he had a term paper on birds due the next day, and he hadn't started. So my dad sat down with him with an Audubon book, paper, pencils and brads – for those of you who have gotten a little less young and remember brads – and he said to my brother, "Just take it bird by bird, buddy. Just read about pelicans and then write about pelicans in your own voice. And then find out about chickadees, and tell us about them in your own voice. And then geese." So the two most important things about writing are: bird by bird and really god-awful first drafts. If you don't know where to start, remember that every single thing that happened to you is yours, and you get to tell it. If people wanted you to write more warmly about them, they should've behaved better. You're going to feel like hell if you wake up someday and you never wrote the stuff that is tugging on the sleeves of your heart: your stories, memories, visions and songs – your truth, your version of things – in your own voice. That's really all you have to offer us, and that's also why you were born. Seven: publication and temporary creative successes are something you have to recover from. They kill as many people as not. They will hurt, damage and change you in ways you cannot imagine. The most degraded and evil people I've ever known are male writers who've had huge best sellers. And yet, returning to number one, that all truth is paradox, it's also a miracle to get your work published, to get your stories read and heard. Just try to bust yourself gently of the fantasy that publication will heal you, that it will fill the Swiss-cheesy holes inside of you. It can't. It won't. But writing can. So can singing in a choir or a bluegrass band. So can painting community murals or birding or fostering old dogs that no one else will. Number eight: families. Families are hard, hard, hard, no matter how cherished and astonishing they may also be. Again, see number one. At family gatherings where you suddenly feel homicidal or suicidal – remember that in all cases, it's a miracle that any of us, specifically, were conceived and born. Earth is forgiveness school. It begins with forgiving yourself, and then you might as well start at the dinner table. That way, you can do this work in comfortable pants. When William Blake said that we are here to learn to endure the beams of love, he knew that your family would be an intimate part of this, even as you want to run screaming for your cute little life. But I promise you are up to it. You can do it, Cinderella, you can do it, and you will be amazed. Nine: food. Try to do a little better. I think you know what I mean. Number 10 – grace. Grace is spiritual WD-40, or water wings. The mystery of grace is that God loves Henry Kissinger and Vladimir Putin and me exactly as much as He or She loves your new grandchild. Go figure. The movement of grace is what changes us, heals us and heals our world. To summon grace, say, "Help," and then buckle up. Grace finds you exactly where you are, but it doesn't leave you where it found you. And grace won't look like Casper the Friendly Ghost, regrettably. But the phone will ring or the mail will come and then against all odds, you'll get your sense of humor about yourself back. Laughter really is carbonated holiness. It helps us breathe again and again and gives us back to ourselves, and this gives us faith in life and each other. And remember – grace always bats last. Eleven: God just means goodness. It's really not all that scary. It means the divine or a loving, animating intelligence, or, as we learned from the great "Deteriorata," "the cosmic muffin." A good name for God is: "Not me." Emerson said that the happiest person on Earth is the one who learns from nature the lessons of worship. So go outside a lot and look up. My pastor said you can trap bees on the bottom of mason jars without lids because they don't look up, so they just walk around bitterly bumping into the glass walls. Go outside. Look up. Secret of life. And finally: death. Number 12. Wow and yikes. It's so hard to bear when the few people you cannot live without die. You'll never get over these losses, and no matter what the culture says, you're not supposed to. We Christians like to think of death as a major change of address, but in any case, the person will live again fully in your heart if you don't seal it off. Like Leonard Cohen said, "There are cracks in everything, and that's how the light gets in." And that's how we feel our people again fully alive. Also, the people will make you laugh out loud at the most inconvenient times, and that's the great good news. But their absence will also be a lifelong nightmare of homesickness for you. Grief and friends, time and tears will heal you to some extent. Tears will bathe and baptize and hydrate and moisturize you and the ground on which you walk. Do you know the first thing that God says to Moses? He says, "Take off your shoes." Because this is holy ground, all evidence to the contrary. It's hard to believe, but it's the truest thing I know. When you're a little bit older, like my tiny personal self, you realize that death is as sacred as birth. And don't worry – get on with your life. Almost every single death is easy and gentle with the very best people surrounding you for as long as you need. You won't be alone. They'll help you cross over to whatever awaits us. As Ram Dass said, "When all is said and done, we're really just all walking each other home." I think that's it, but if I think of anything else, I'll let you know. Thank you.

12 Truths I Learned from Life and Writing TED2017 Anne Lamott https://www.ted.com/talks/anne_lamott_12_truths_i_learned_from_life_and_writing

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snowbellewells · 6 years

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“Oh Night Divine”

(A CS Secret Santa 2017 gift)

This is my slightly belated CS Secret Santa gift for the lovely and kindly patient @princesswan. Thank you, my new friend, for understanding out-of-town family and sickness constraints, and I hope you will still thoroughly enjoy this holiday fluff. It’s a future one-shot, canon divergent, but one could easily imagine it having happened sometime between where season six left off and where season seven began with Henry heading out on his own. The only thing truly AU about it is that Emma and Killian have had a little girl seemingly much sooner than they did in the show’s timeline. Enjoy the Christmas fluff! Hope your holiday was a wonderful, peaceful one and that your New Year is blessed and full of joy.

“Oh Night Divine”

By: snowbellewells

The deep night’s watch was still and silent in the chill, frosty air of Maine as Killian Jones – mostly retired pirate captain, part-time deputy and harbormaster of Storybrooke – padded in sock feet and flannel pajama pants (an article of clothing he had gained quite an affinity for in the past handful of years) down the stairs of his family’s home. Certainly the sleeping house, his Savior wife wheezing the teeniest of adorable snores upstairs in the bed they shared, and the now-soothed infant daughter once more dozing in his careful arms, were all peaceful, and the darkness broken just slightly by blue lights that wash over the living room from their Christmas tree placed proudly in the front window, guiding his steps enough to safely make his shuffling way toward the screened-in back porch, his favorite part of the house.

Just as his long sailor’s instinct had surmised, Killian found the indigo sky above them dazzling with a vast array of bright stars. Humming an oft-remembered shanty he had heard on his beloved older brother’s tongue of many a similar dark night in the hold of a ship long ago when the dark wrapped around his child self in a much more sinister way, and Liam’s wiry arm had tucked against his side and his calloused fingers siftied through Killian’s dark, wispy hair as he lightly breathed the words he barely remembered their mama, Alice, singing to put them to sleep at night. The whole refrain was lost to his memory ages ago, but strains of it sometimes came to him as he sought out his deepest memories – in echoes of the voices he loved most, all he’d had to love in the world until a green-eyed Savior, her son and family, crashed into his life like a tidal wave, taking him over with a power that couldn’t be held back. It had been a wild, challenging, unbelievable journey from that first glimpse of his lost princess wife’s mistrustful face glaring at him over the smoking wreckage of an Enchanted Forest refugee camp, to where he now stood barefoot on the wooden porch floor, holding their infant daughter, the product of their own True Love, in his arms. Yet, as Killian mused over it, slight up curved tilt to his strong, full lips as he husked the last few notes of the lullaby against soft, downy wisps of dark hair at the crown of his daughter’s head and bounced slightly at the snuffled grunts she made against his shoulder, not sure if she wanted to fuss more or not, every inch he had fought for as he climbed over the walls around his Emma’s heart, had been worth it to bring him here.

Deftly catching up an afghan made specifically for them as a first anniversary gift from Granny Lucas herself, Killian looped it over his stump and lifted it from the back of an old rocking chair to drape it over his other shoulder, arm, and the infant cradled within its grasp. Unfazed, his sleepy daughter huffed slight gusts of warm baby breath against his bare chest, where she was snuggled, calming from the tears she had woken in when he’d gotten her from the nursery some minutes before. Though she clearly enjoyed the warmth and security offered by the skin-to-skin contact with her sturdy, doting papa, Killian could not fathom that she gained more from these pure and priceless moments in the peaceful stillness on quiet nights than he did.

Stroking a gentle brush of his blunted wrist over her shoulder as she nuzzled in a bit more comfortably, he watched her eyelids flutter sleepily and a soft yawn stretch her little mouth momentarily wide. Killian stepped quietly over to where they could both look out on the pristine white lawn running all the way to the iced-over, rocky shoreline where the back of their property met the bay, glowing under the moon in a perfect Maine winter’s night. His Morgan Ruth blinked once again, her green eyes - every bit as beguiling as her mother’s – opened to stare amazedly at the scene stretched out before them. Chuckling lightly in the back of his throat, Killian readjusted his grip as she sat forward curiously, gazing over all the blanketed white where usually there was grey and green, so that her back was now facing him, and she could really take in the nighttime landscape. “That’s right, my bonny wee lass. A Christmas Eve snow…many believe it lucky,” he murmured to her low and easy, a warm undercurrent to their quiet vigil, mere soothing sound to young Morgan Ruth Jones, but he was unable to stop the flow of words he had for her, and the overwhelming flood of pride and love he could never have imagined experiencing for himself – that of a father for a child of his own.

As they stood before the large bank of windows, and he whispered lilting nonsense to her of the brightest stars on the midnight canvas of the sky and pointed out for her enjoyment the lighted angel on the top of Marco’s woodshop and the lights on the dock festooned to warn unfamiliar ships of the harbor’s edge, he couldn’t help marveling at the fact that he stood peacefully, the seething anger and revenge that had dogged him for centuries finally still, in the home he shared with his True Love and stepson, and the precious child in his arms. Bending his head once more to press a gentle kiss to Morgan’s head, it was easy to marvel at how far he had voyaged from the black-hearted villain he had let himself become to the man of honor he was once again, and the gift that the journey had given him.

With Morgan in his arms, the blue glow of Christmas tree lights still shining from behind him as he looked out over the snow and the waves lapping gently against the rocky beach, even the thought of their entire extended clan of family and friends joining them tomorrow for Christmas dinner and the sharing of gifts, songs, stories, and laughter, could top the stolen hour he had with his little girl, the one who had recaptured his heart already stolen by her mother. There was no other holiday event to equal the poignant thrill of the one he was already in, and it was that moment when he heard Emma’s soft tread coming up behind him, followed by her cool, soft hand trailing over his side as she stopped right next to him.

His breath trapped itself in his chest as he blinked rapidly, wondering if he had somehow drifted off into a dream standing still. He had been wrong seconds ago, because only with his wife’s presence as well was the night’s magic fully complete.

^^^^^^^^^^***^^^^^^^^^^***^^^^^^^^^^^***

Emma Swan-Jones had woken up alone, and after groggily feeling around in the cooling sheets and covers rumpled on her husband’s side of their bed, she had awakened more fully, and then admitted defeat, pulled on her robe, and gone in search of him. It hadn’t really taken her long; there was a definite circuit her startlingly predictable and domestic rapscallion made when he was up late at night. Starting at the room just down the hall from theirs, tucked into the northern corner of the house, Emma peeked in to see her now nearly adult son sleeping soundly, his feet kicked out from under the blankets and arm flung up over his face. Though he was not Killian’s by birth, it had never stopped making Emma’s heart beat faster at how much Killian treasured her son, and always thought of him first. Henry’s room was still her captain’s first stop on his nightly check-in, whether Henry was almost eighteen or not.

Moving back the way she had come on silent, slippered tiptoes Emma paused to smile in warm affection at the pictures scattered along the walls of their upstairs hallway. They had – almost a year ago now, she mused – commissioned a large, spreading tree painted on the wall, its large branches filled with craggy twigs and green leaves reaching to cover the full length of the upstairs hall. Hung at staggered intervals on the overspread branches were family photos they had taken and framed, gradually filling the wall with treasured memories. Emma traced a finger over the picture just before her – one of herself in the delivery room with a mere minutes-old Morgan in her arms while her father stood at her bedside, hand cradling the back of her head as he often did, unabashed tears streaming down his strong face as he traced a finger over his granddaughter’s soft baby cheek and bent to place a kiss to Emma’s hair.

The whole thing, a “literal family tree” Killian had marveled enthusiastically when she had shared the idea with him, and again in awe when they stood back to look at it finished with pictures on its boughs, no longer brought the ache of pain in her chest that it once had. She had often seen the family tree for pictures years ago, when she was about seven, at one of the first foster homes she’d been placed in long term. She had loved the thing, spent hours staring at all the pictures until she knew every single one and its spot of honor by heart. As she stayed there one month, then two, and then three and her birthday neared, she had begun to hope that she might be adopted and added to the tree – a picture of her own saying that she finally belonged. When she had instead been gifted a new lunch box and a fitting for the glasses she’d needed instead, and had then haltingly braved asking, only to be told offhandedly than that she was “a good kid” but she wasn’t family, wasn’t going to be staying forever, Emma had shattered somewhere inside, beyond repair, and the first level of that wall around her heart had been completed.

Looking at the next picture, one of Henry, Anna, and Kristoff sprawled in a tangle of arms and legs on the ice rink Elsa had whipped up for them when their friends visited from Arendelle two Christmases ago, with Emma and Elsa laughingly trying to help them up instead of joining the giggling heap, Emma smiled gently despite the bittersweet scene that had bubbled back up momentarily. Seeing their happy memories preserved right in front of her, she was prouder and more contented than ever that she and her True Love had created this tree of their own, both of them now celebrating the holidays – and every day – with family neither of them had believed they would ever have…the family she had always wished for.

Her smile small and knowing as it curved the soft contours of her face, the dimple pressing clearly into her cheek, Emma quickly checked Morgan’s nursery just across from she and Killian’s bedroom, but was not a bit surprised when she found both the cradle and the rocker, where she often discovered her husband sitting with their daughter, crooning to her until she went back to sleep, both empty. She knew exactly where she would find them both, and suddenly she needed to see them, to wrap her arms around her husband and her daughter, to touch them both and remind herself that her once wistful dream had come true at last.

When she stepped off the linoleum of their large kitchen – who would have ever imagined a pirate captain and a teenage boy would become adventurous cooking enthusiasts together? – and onto the hardwood of the enclosed porch, she knew Killian almost instantly sensed her presence. Not much got by him after all. Still, the sight of him in the glow of the moon through glass, cradling their child in his arms, near took her breath away, the dim light stealing none of his beauty, nor succeeding in hiding the handsome contours of his scruffy jawline or the twinkling blue of his mischievous gaze as she drew up alongside him, simply having to reach out and touch his warm skin as he turned to smile down at her.

“What’re you two doing out here in the middle of the night again, hmm?” she murmured lowly, pressing a kiss to his bare bicep while happily burrowing into his side and then trailing lazy fingers over Morgan’s back before resting her hand at Killian’s waist, soothingly rubbing there as he hummed low in his throat, contented as a cat now that both his loves were with him.

“Merely enjoying the few festive lights around the water,” he spoke lowly in response, his doting glance slipping down to Morgan, who had since turned back into his chest and resumed her sleep, belying his words about them both watching the lights and clearly gaining much more enjoyment from some cozy rest in her father’s arms.

“Is that so?” Emma nodded playfully, as if humoring his ridiculous fancy. Beyond Marco’s décor and the dock lights, there wasn’t much Christmas lighting out so near the harbor. She knew her husband still loved being close to the water, watching its perpetual ebb and flow ease his soul, and that he was probably hoping the same affinity would transfer to their daughter. Smirking, at the impish idea that entered her mind, Emma rubbed her hand up and down over his lower back, once more drawing his full attention. Quirking an eyebrow as well, she added playfully, “Well, what if I really gave you something to look at, Sailor?”

“Why,” he quirked his own rascally eyebrow with a curious tip of his head, “whatever might you mean, Love?” he returned, tip of his tongue sneaking out to run over his lower lip in a way Emma’s eyes couldn’t help but follow with her own hungry gaze. Years may have passed since their trip up the beanstalk, but he had never ceased being sizzlingly attractive to her – at a moment’s notice, with a single gesture.

“Hmm…” she pursed her lips, looking at him deviously while merely pretending to think, “maybe something like this?” She didn’t even look away from him when she twisted her hand, and with a flick of her fingers, seemingly illuminated the night in front of them.

Turning to look back out the windows, Killian couldn’t miss his own ship at the dock, as his dazzling wife had just lit it up like their living room tree. White twinkle lights outlined the sails and the bow against the night sky, complete with a bright red star atop the main mast and running multicolored bulbs trailing down the mast from the star and over to circle the ship’s wheel. “Bloody brilliant,” he mouthed in almost silent admiration, and Emma snorted lightly, shaking her head at this man who had seen and done so much, and yet still could be made so genuinely happy with the smallest sincere gesture.

“So, that’ll do, will it, Captain?” she asked teasingly.

“Aye,” he nodded, eyes coming back to hers and looking down on her and Morgan with such love that Emma again struggled to catch her breath. “It will indeed.”

She clasped his elbow, squeezing tightly and content to stay there with him the rest of the night, hating to move and have the moment of rare perfect contentment end. “Merry Christmas, Killian,” she whispered lightly.

“Merry Christmas to you too,” he replied, moving to the settee where they both could huddle with Morgan and enjoy their newly festive lighted view to their hearts’ content. “I love you, my Swan.”

#cs secret santa gift #cs christmas one shot #future cs family fluff #canon divergent oneshot #for princessswan

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