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winterrrnight · 4 months

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secret admirer (rafe's pov)

PAIRING: high schooler!soft!rafe cameron x high schooler!fem!reader

SUMMARY: the reader has a secret admirer who drops letters, flowers and some other little souvenirs in their locker.

WARNINGS: so much lovesick rafe, fluff and fluff and fluff, extremely cute moments between the two

EDITH SPEAKS: and it's here!!! let's completely ignore the fact that it's been months since the original post :p please make sure you've read the original one first, because it's a bit more detailed and includes what rafe's letters say (you can find the original fic directly linked in my navigation or through the series masterlist!). I hope you all really enjoy this; this is a big piece of my heart in the form of writing 💓 please like and reblog and comment all your thoughts!!! 💘💘

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I walk in the school gates after my soccer practice, still in my sweaty clothes from the intense training. I look at the lockers on my left, carefully seeing the numbers on each of them so I don’t miss the one I’m looking for.

I finally find the one I’m looking for. Through one of the three little slits in the middle of the locker, I slide in my envelope. It has a letter and a little daisy in it. She’s like one; so delicate that I want to protect her from the whole world and only want her to be mine.

Because I do. She comes in my dreams every night, where she so delicately holds my hands and kisses my skin. I feel so lightweight that I will just melt right in her touch.

I look around the hallway, making sure no one sees me. When I notice no one, I take in a deep breath of relief and walk out of the school.

She needs to know how much she means to me. She needs to see how much I appreciate her.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

I now try to send in an envelope as often as I can. I send one in every few days, and try to mix it around with the little souvenir that accompanies the letter. So far, I’ve sent her flowers, chocolates, and a small bracelet which I made for her.

But today, I woke up so late, I had to miss my soccer practice. My clothes aren’t on properly, and I didn’t even have any time to do something to my hair. I look like I just rolled out of the bed.

I have to be so discreet each time I put in the letter in the locker. I don’t want anyone catching me. That’s all I am: her secret admirer. The one who admires her from afar. The one who sends her little letters to remind her how beautiful she is, and how she deserves the whole world.

I have put in the letter without anyone noticing. I’m now standing right behind the turn of the hallway, where I have a clear look of her. She’s opening her locker. I notice a bright smile on her face when she sees the letter.

Suddenly, the bell rings, cutting through my thoughts. I notice her cursing and rushing to the class, the unopened letter in her bag. I have the same class as her: it’s English and there’s no way our teacher will let us in the class.

I rush to the class too, and by the time I reach, she’s already at the door, the teacher giving her an earful. Just as I stand right behind her, our teacher notices me.

“Oh looks like we have another late comer,” He says, glaring at me. She realizes my presence, and turns around to look at me. We make brief eye contact, and I feel my cheeks heat up. We’re standing close to each other, so close that I can hear her breathing.

“I’m so sorry, I swear I set an alarm but it didn’t ring and-” I start to ramble, but the teacher cuts me off.

“DETENTION! Both of you!” He suddenly yells at the two of us. I watch her flinch, and just for a second, I have the urge of breaking the teacher’s face. He signs two detention slips and hands those to us, and then he dismisses us by closing the door on our faces.

She looks down at the slip at her hand. She hates getting detention. She’s the nice, intelligent student of our grade, and she tries to stay out of detention as much as she can.

She looks up to me and we make brief eye contact again. Oh her eyes. I find myself drowning in them each time I see her.

“Shall we go?” I ask her, wanting her to look at me with those beautiful eyes of hers. But she doesn't lift her head up, and only gives me a nod. We both start to make our way to the detention classroom.

When we reach inside, we only see our PE teacher sitting. He’s too busy reading his magazine and doesn’t realize we both have walked in until we sit down.

“Just two of you?” He looks at us, and she nods in response. “Well that's going to be a waste of my time.” He shuts his magazine close and leaves it on the desk, starting to make a beeline for the door.

“I’ll be here in an hour to let you both out. Don't do anything dumb, you're being watched.” He says and quickly leaves the room, me and her being all alone.

A silence wraps around the two of us, and it feels very serene. I pull out one of my books to read, but I falter at keeping my focus on the words because of her sitting next to me. I can’t help but steal a glance of her after every few seconds, and I swear with each passing second, she just gets more beautiful.

When she opens her bag, she pulls out the letter. I intake a sharp breath, and watch her open the envelope and read the words written on them. A smile graces her lips as her eyes wander over the words, and I feel my heart skip a beat.

“What’s that?” The words leave my mouth so quickly, I don’t realize I’ve spoken them. She snaps her head towards me.

“Nothing,” she says, focussing on folding the paper back again and putting it back in the envelope.

“Looks like a love letter, someone's been writing you love letters?” I pose the question, wanting not to show I’m the one who wrote it.

“Maybe?”

Why is she not as happy as I thought she would be?

“What do you mean, maybe?”

She sighs. “I’ve been receiving these letters which have poetry in French written in them. They usually come along with a little gift, like a small flower or some chocolate. But, there’s no name on the paper whatsoever, so I have no way of knowing who it is, if it’s legit or if someone is playing a prank on me.”

“I don’t think it’s a prank, you know.” She looks back at me, her eyes wide as they sink into mine.

“You don’t?”

“Someone maybe likes you a lot, and is, I don’t know, scared to admit it to you.” I say, shaking my head.

“But, why do you think it’s not a prank? And how are you so sure it is an actual love letter?”

I feel myself almost starting to get riled up; angry because why does she refuse to accept something like that?

“Why is it so hard for you to believe that it can be an actual love letter? That someone actually likes you a lot? You're an amazing person, don't decline the thought of someone being your admirer so easily.” I blurt out, and just the second I finish speaking, I realize I’ve said too much.

I look away from her the next instant, and try to direct all my focus on my work, ignoring the heat rising in my cheeks.

I hear her whisper a small thank you, and as much as I try not to, I steal a small glance at her, her head bent down as she's looking over her school work.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

With the incident at the detention, I decide I have to send her letters every single day, with more gifts in them, my love hidden in each one of them safely, but surely.

I see her opening her locker and finding the letter. I included a daisy chain which I learnt how to make from Sarah, more chocolates and two new bracelets.

I had to stay up overnight to finish making the chain and the bracelets, but it’s all worth it.

It’s for her.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

It was one of the first days of last summer, when I was biking around, waiting for some of my friends to meet up with me. They all had decided to meet up at a new place which I had never been to. Taking different roads and turns, I found myself in unfamiliar areas of the island.

As I continued to bike, I found a big field which I didn’t even know existed. Curious, I got off my bike and went inside the field, and found out it’s actually a huge strawberry field. Strawberries were growing on low lying plants, a bright red color making them pop out from the green of the leaves.

I was completely amazed by them. I followed their path to find a huge opening in the field with a huge tree in the middle. But before I could take any steps further, I saw her sitting under the shade of the tree, protecting herself from the bright summer sun as she was eating the strawberries. She looked so serene; sitting cross legged and biting into those strawberries, sighing as their sweet taste completely encompassed her.

Since then I always see her going on the little road which leads to the huge field, biking her way to it. Now that strawberries are back in season, I have decided to put some of those in her letter next time, and even spend some time there as I try to write some new letters to her.

I decide to go around at least 2 hours before her usual time, so she doesn't see me there at all. With my notepad, my fountain pen, ink bottle and my basket, I find myself in the strawberry field again, taking a deep breath to inhale the sweet smelling air surrounding me.

I sit under the tree, taking my notepad and my pen to begin writing, but, much to my dismay, I don't feel inspired and no words come to my help to write something. Even with a big inspiration right in front of me, I just can't think of something to write.

Frustrated, I leave my notepad under the tree and decide to gather some strawberries. I make my way in between the plants, trying to pluck only the ripest of the ripe strawberries.

Having to walk around in the dirt for so long results in dirt over my face and my clothes, but that doesn't matter to me.

“Just a few more,” I whisper, bending down at one of the bunches of strawberries to pluck them. I look at my basket, which is quite full, but I know I can get some more.

I find myself satisfied with my collection as I look at my full basket. The strawberries shine under the evening shade of the sun, the golden rays making them glow.

I start to walk back out to the tree, but just as I come back out, I spot her looking at me.

Oh shit.

I spent way too much time than I intended and now she's here.

“Oh, hey,” I say awkwardly, as she looks back at me with the same confusion as me.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, what are you doing here?” She questions me.

I can’t tell her why I’m here. I have to make something up.

"Nothing, just... just getting some of these strawberries. I've heard they're really good," I say, walking towards her. I try my best to exude confidence, to show her I’m firm in what I’m pretending to do here.

“How did you... how did you find out about this place? I come here almost every single day and I never see you here. Why suddenly today?”

I see it.

I see the hunger to know everything in her eyes.

I know she has seen my notepad and my pen, just lying there under the shade of the tree.

I know she suspected it when I said too much during the detention. She's set on knowing the truth about everything, about me being the one who drops little words of love in her locker each day, and proving her own assumptions right.

I'm standing silently in front of her, trying to find the right words to start with, and she's looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to start speaking.

“Why do you have that notepad with you, with that fountain pen?” She prompts.

We’ve come too far.

It’s time I tell it all to her.

“For you. It's all for you. It's all always been for you.” I whisper. “These,” I say, motioning to the basket in my hands, “these are for you too.”

"But... why me?” She mutters, her eyes directed towards everywhere but at me.

"Because," I walk closer to her, and with all the confidence in me, I place my finger under her chin and gently push it up so she can only look at me. I feel my hand almost shaking from getting to touch her. “I want you to know how special you are. You deserve nothing but love, and this is just me showing you that.” I move my hand towards her cheek, placing it comfortably. When I see she doesn't show any signs of discomfort, I feel myself starting to get relaxed, my heartbeat taking control over its speed. I feel her cheek radiate heat through my hand.

“But-” she starts, but I cut her off.

“No buts. I told you this before too, why are you not willing to believe that you are so worthy of being loved and appreciated? That there is someone who’s ready to do this all for you, but that wouldn’t be special now, would it? That’s what everyone does. And then my purpose of showing you that I’m not like everyone else and how I will shower you with love every single second of my life is defeated. I will bring you the moon, all you have to do is just ask.”

I say it.

I say it all in a single breath.

Every single emotion I experience when I see her is out in the open for her to see. I feel vulnerable, as if my protective top layer has been scratched away, but not roughly. It’s peeled off carefully, like we peel an orange for a loved one.

But for some reason, she doesn’t seem completely satisfied with all I have to say.

“Why me?”

I sigh, knowing we're both about to take a trip down memory lane.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

I was playing in the sand all by myself, trying my best to make a castle out of it, but my attempts failed me. I was bored; sitting all alone in the sand pit with no one with me. I watched everyone else in the playground, running and laughing with their friends, while I was left all alone.

My attention was directed towards the swings, and a huge smile graced my face when I saw it was empty. It was nearly never empty, always being hogged by the rest of the kindergarteners. I rushed to it and sat on one of them, starting to swing back and forth.

I had just started to enjoy the swing, when a huge group of bullies made its way towards me.

“Hey, give us the swing!” Greg, their leader, demanded. I felt myself getting scared, almost trembling, but I didn't want to give the bullies the satisfaction that they had made me scared.

“No!” I said, tightening my grip on the swings and trying to glare at them; to show they didn't scare me. But that only seemed to anger Greg more, because with just one motion of his head, all of his friends charged towards me. They pulled me away from my swing and threw me on the ground with a loud thud, and I screamed at the pain inflicted to me. I started crying as I helped myself up with all my strength to see Greg laughing at me as he sat on his swing.

I felt lost. No teacher came up to help me, despite there being many in the playground to oversee everything. I sat up properly, sniffling, and I noticed my bruises covering my knees.

But suddenly, I felt the sunlight being blocked in front of me, and I looked up to see you.

You were standing in front of me, a gentle smile on your face as you let out your hand for me. My eyes were wide seeing you being so gentle towards me. I took your hand and you pulled me up, and led me to your teacher in your classroom.

I remember her being shocked at my condition. She took me away from you and started to apply an antiseptic on my knees, which spread a burning sensation. I whined at the feeling, wanting it to end at that instant.

She very carefully applied band aids on my wounds, and gave me a little pat on my cheek, and called me a ‘strong boy’. She left me, and you came in just the next second, taking me to your table in the classroom.

I saw you curiously as you opened up your bag and rummaged through it. You pulled out a lollipop, and handed it to me.

“You are so brave,” you said, and I felt my heart racing at your comment.

“Thank you,” I said, taking the lollipop from your hand.

It was strawberry flavored.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

“From that day, I've never stopped looking at you. As we grew older, I knew you were the one I wanted to be with, and I wanted to reciprocate all that you've done for me. It's not just the lollipop, throughout all the years you've been there for me when no one else was, I just don't want you to think that your efforts go unappreciated.” I finish.

She's looking at me with wide eyes, her breathing getting heavier.

She knows why she means the whole universe to me.

She knows why I would travel to the other side of the world to get her her favorite kind of flowers.

“Rafe,” she starts, but tears start to blur her eyes. I move my thumbs to her cheeks to quickly wipe them off, before they fall off her face.

“This is nothing compared to what you've done for me, those chocolates, little verses of poetry, bracelets, they don't amount to the things you've done for me in any way. But I just want to show you how amazing you are, and how you deserve the nicest things in the world.” I whisper.

Before I can process what is happening, her lips are pressed against mine, my eyes shut close as I feel her so close to me. My lips move against hers gently, and I feel her pull me closer to her with her arms around my neck.

She pulls away and gently rests her forehead against mine. My eyes are still shut, and I'm afraid if I'll open them up, I'll wake up from the most serene dream I've ever had.

"Je t'aime. Aujourd'hui. Ce soir. Demain. Pour toujours. Su je vivais mille ans, he t'appartiendrais pour tous. Si je vivais mille vies, je te ferais mienne dans chaacune d'elles." I whisper, taking in a deep breath to let the moment settle in me.

“I love you. Today. Tonight. Tomorrow. Forever. If I were to live a thousand years, I would belong to you for all of them. If I were to live a thousand lives, I would want to make you mine in each one.”

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @tahliac11 @sadfury @newsies-pape-girl @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @callsignwidow

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seenoversundown · 3 months

Text

Succulent

Sam x Fem OC

Warnings: 18+ Smut (Minors DNI) Praise Kink, Edging, mentions of Choking (very mild) Dom Sam, Oral (F & M receiving) Fingering, Penetrative sex, Cockwarming, Degradation in the form of condescension, Spanking (if you squint) , and finally some fluff.

Word Count: 6.3k

Author's Note: Just a little treat for you hehe 🤭 Enjoy!

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Succulent (adjective) (of food) tender, juicy, and tasty

Birdie POV

“I’m so excited.” I’m giddy with anticipation in the front seat of Sam’s new truck, a Toyota Tundra he named ‘Mr. Big’ after the character in Zootopia. He tried to stick it out as long as he could with Edith, poor guy, but she gave up all on her own. Though I have to say, I much preferred Edith over Mr. Big. I think I just get nostalgic for all the adventures we took with her.

The three hour journey has been a lengthy one, but with the long winding road coming into view, I know we're close. I’ve never been to Stowe, Vermont before but I know it's a popular vacation spot. Vermont lends a same outdoorsy feel as home while not being too far away, the perfect getaway spot. Sam reaches a hand across the console and takes mine in his, my heart squeezing along with the pressure of his fingers. I can’t help but stare at him. We’ve made it so far over the last, almost two years. Learning so much from each other, testing each other, pushing each other. God, we’re so ingrained in the very make-up of each other at this point I forget we haven’t even celebrated our second anniversary yet.

“I think this is it.”

We pull into a long driveway and up to a gorgeous natural wood cabin with a two-car garage. There are windows on either side of the chimney who’s brick is exposed to the outside, oh there’s a fireplace, and a porch that runs the length of the house. Fresh snow adorns the large yard, and I just know that the view from the inside is going to be so beautiful in the morning.

“Oh, Sammy. This is incredible!” I exclaim. I scoot to the edge of my seat, trying to get a better view.

“Wait til you see the inside, there’s 3 bedrooms and a sauna,” shooting me a wink before putting the truck in park.

“A sauna, huh?” I lean an elbow on the center console and pull him in for a slow kiss by the front of his jacket. “I’m definitely getting some use out of that.” I press another quick kiss to his lips before I unbuckle my seatbelt. Sam slides out of the truck and grabs our bags from the back seat, tossing both backpacks, one on top of each other, over his shoulder. I exit the truck and meet him around the front; he pulls me close to his chest, both of us trying to preserve a bit of warmth now that the biting winter air has surrounded us.

“It’s ours for the whole week,” he whispers into my hair, pressing his lips to my temple. “Just the two of us.”

“Let’s go, let’s go!” I head toward the entryway pulling him by the arm.

Once the door is closed, we take a left through the tiny hallway, the same natural wood as the outside covering the walls. Sam sets down our bags, sticking his head in each door, trying to get a feel for the place.

“These are the spares and the main floor bathroom. The Master bed is upstairs and has a loft area I think.” He takes my hand again, his hand warm around my chilly one. I’m forever thankful that he’s a very hot-blooded individual. “Yeah, it’s through here.”

We walk past a set of stairs on the left and the kitchen on the right. I can feel the enthusiasm radiating off of him like a solar flare as he tries to scope out each corner before I get a chance to catch up to him.

“Look at the view, Birdie!” he beams, eyes bright and arms wide open. “There’s a breakfast bar for our mornings and the fireplace to keep us toasty, though I’m not sure we’ll need help in that department.” He points around the living room. I keep a comment about the terrifying bear skin located above said fireplace to myself.

“I definitely don’t, I have you to keep me warm.” I meet him in the middle of the floor and slide my arms around his middle, locking my hands behind his back. He rubs at my shoulders. “That’s right,” he says, placing an innocent kiss to my nose. “But we’re still going to use it.” We pull apart from each other so he can continue the tour despite both of us never having been here before.

“I would never rob you of such a joy then. Proceed, kind sir.” I tease in a slight British accent, making a small bow. When we reach the top of the stairs we come to the small loft area, complete with a lovely day bed by a window that the sun peaks through. We step forward through the set of doors, passing the bathroom, and into the Master bedroom.

“This.. is the master bedroom. But the best part,” he doubles back to the bathroom, opening the door wide and stepping inside to make room for me to follow.

“The sauna is in our bathroom.” My eyes light up. He hums out an encouragement, tugging me back into his body by my wrist. I hit him with a light thud.

“I can’t wait to fuck you in there.” He growls lowly into my ear. My breath hitches in my throat, and immediately, my cheeks start to flush. His words hit me entirely to my core, and I resist the urge to press my legs together for relief. I wouldn’t dare give him the satisfaction of knowing he's gotten to me this early in the trip, not when we have a whole week ahead of us.

“So what’s on the itinerary for tonight then?” I inquire, head tilted up so I can stare into his chestnut eyes.

“I’m so glad you asked my little bird.” He takes my hand in his, once again leading me toward the living room. “Once I grab the cooler from Mr. Big, I’ll pour you a glass of wine, and you can get relaxed, while I cook dinner. We can set up by the fire and eat on the floor like all romantic movies do in log cabins in the woods.” He brushes the hair out of his face and chuckles a bit. “I even packed that nice fuzzy blanket you love so much. It’ll be like our own romantic indoor picnic,” he continues.

“Wow, Sammy. You thought of everything, didn't you.” A swell of pride thrums through my chest.

Something I’ve learned over my time with Sam is that he always means well, even if his execution isn’t the best. And trust me, there have been some poor executions. Each mishap more endearing than the last, but this time, it really seems like he’s gotten the hang of the romance thing.

“Gunna be honest with you. I asked every single one of my brothers for advice and did a lot of studying.” he huffs out a slightly uncomfortable laugh and scratches at the back of his neck.

“Studying? What does studying mean?” I giggle.

“Well, your job has sent you on a couple trips this last month. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Daniel has his hands full with the girls, Josh and Jake are always busy. Bar stuff or whatever.” He shifts awkwardly between his feet. “I just.. watched a lot of romcoms and romance movies. Ya know, the kind you always like to watch.” he does a little double snap clap with his hands.

I bark out a loud laugh and clutch my tummy. Oh, I love him.

“Hey!” he says a bit defensively.

“I’m not laughing AT you, Babe. I promise. That’s just the cutest fucking thing you’ve ever said to me. C’mere,” I hold my arms out for him to fit between. “Thank you. This week is going to be perfect no matter what. But the effort you’re making means the most to me, you know that.” I hug him tightly, hoping to convey just how appreciative I am.

No one has ever loved me the way he has. His love is messy and goofy. His love is filled with laughter and childlike wonder. Adventure and weekend trips. Nights snuggled on the couch and days when we don’t leave bed. Kisses peppered on cheeks and hips gripped mean. Arguments that end wrapped around each other because despite falling madly in love, we still try to get under each other's skin for fun. He has my entire heart, and I can’t bear the thought of my life being any other way.

“Now go get that cooler,” I slap his butt lightly. “I’m ready for some wine.”

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As I sip my wine and warm my toes by the fire, I look over my shoulder at Sam who’s slaving away in the kitchen.

“Do I get a hint?” I call over to him. He looks so cute, a dish rag slung over his shoulder, face knit in concentration. The cream cable-knit sweater he dons was a personal request of mine. He agreed on the pretense that I would wear the red sweater he loves so much. At least we’re on theme for the holiday.

“No,” he says plainly, clearly focused.

“Oh, that’s no fun.” I turn and kneel backward on the couch, giving him my best pout, trying to distract him. His eyes dart to me before falling back to his work, he smiles wide.

“You’re cheating. You know I can’t resist that face.” He steals another glance at me.

“I’m doing no such thing.” I protest. “I am simply inquiring about what my boyfriend is making me to eat.” I hop off the couch, setting my glass on the coffee table. I meet him in the kitchen, sneaking my arms around his waist and firmly planting my cheek against his back. He moves a little slower with me clinging to him but he doesn’t shoo me away, just lightly pats my wrist with one of his hands and continues to work. I take in a deep breath, inhaling the aromas from the meal.

“It smells good, babe.” I hop onto the free bit of counter beside him. He puts the lid back on the pan and turns his attention to me.

“It needs to simmer for a few minutes.” He winks at me, delicately fitting between my legs, his hands sliding up the fabric of my leggings before settling on my hips. I giggle, and he scoots me to the edge, bringing me closer to his body. I place my hands on the nape of his neck, sliding my fingers through the hair he’s messily tucked into a bun. I tug gently, and his mouth opens, and eyes close. Why does he have to be so pretty? It's moments when he looks like this that I wish I could take photos with my mind. What I wouldn’t give to take that photo out on a rainy day…

I lean in and close the gap between us, our lips meeting in a sweet kiss. Not urgent or needy. The kind of kiss where you simply tell each other how full your heart is.

He hums against my mouth. “Mm, if you distract me, I’ll burn the food.”

I pepper kisses along his cheek and jaw, and he reaches over to tend to the pan. “Can you please gimme a hint?”

“And ruin the surprise?” His arm moves, stirring whatever he’s making with a wooden spoon. As easy as it would be for me to just look over, I'm too distracted by nibbling at his ear to bother trying to sneak a peek.

“Come on, baby,” I whisper seductively in his ear. I plant a kiss on any expanse of skin I reach, repeating the word please over and over again until… He gives in. I feel his throat swallow beneath my touch.

“Remember the first time we went out together?” He gently clears his throat.

“On our first date? Yeah, you took–”

“No, the first time we ate together at a restaurant. Where we went.” he cuts me off. I can see the amusement settle on his face as he sees me try to look through the filing cabinet in my brain.

Oh.

“You took me to the cheese place.” I tuck my hair behind my ear.

“Yeah, the cheese place.” He laughs. “You ordered the mushroom risotto, and you loved it. I figured since we haven’t actually been back..” he trails off.

I leave him to finish cooking, suddenly very excited for our meal now that I know what we’re having. Instead, I rearrange the living room to make a spot for us to eat. I move the coffee table off to the side, freeing up the space in front of the fireplace. Digging through the other bag Sam packed for us, and finding my favorite cream colored fuzzy throw blanket. Big enough for all nearly six feet of him and myself to fit under when we cuddle on the couch. I grab the coasters for our drinks, setting them on the hearth, and plop a couple pillows for us to sit on. Mostly for me because I apparently have a ‘bony ass,’ according to him. By the time that I’ve got everything settled Sam is walking through the living room with two bowls, one in each hand. He sets them on the hearth, grabbing my glass and running off to the kitchen for a refill.

“Here you go, Birdie,” he says, handing me my glass and sitting down in front of me.

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“God, that was so good.” I rub at my tummy. He smiles at me over the top of his glass as he sips his wine. “This has been a really good start to our mini vacation.” A much needed vacation if I’m being honest. I feel like I’ve hardly spent any time with him this month. He reaches out, placing his palm on my cheek. Stroking his thumb along my cheekbone.

“I’m glad you’re happy, baby.” He says sweetly. And I am. So fucking happy I didn’t think it was possible. I adjust on my pillow, kicking my legs out in front of me and rubbing my feet against his legs. His hand finds my ankle rubbing smooth circles on the tiny patch of skin he finds.

“I hope you saved room for dessert.” He says, his fingers delicately sliding up my leg.

“There’s dessert? Why didn’t you tell me that before.” I set my glass down on the hearth and scoot closer to him. His fingertips slide up the inside of my thigh.

“Of course, there’s dessert. You think I’d make you a lovely dinner and not have dessert too?” He teases, his fingers dangerously close to my core. I smile in satisfaction, his hands feeling too good as they dance over me. He pulls me in for a short kiss. “I really think you’re gonna love what I have planned.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm.” His fingers find the hem of my sweater, and he pulls it over my head. Revealing the dusty pink floral lace bra I’m wearing. He stares at me for a moment. Taking me in.

“Lie back, babygirl,” he instructs, using a nickname he’s reserved only for intimacy. I do as I’m told, as all good girls do, and connect with the plush blanket laid beneath us. I can still feel the warmth of the fire heating my left side, though after time spent for dinner, it has dimmed a bit. Like our own personal, romantic light setting. I stretch my arms out above my head and close my eyes, waiting. He grabs the waistband of my leggings, tugging them down my legs and tossing it to the side.

“God, you look good enough to eat.” He spreads my legs and sits on his knees between mine. “But you know that, don’t you?” I can feel his eyes of admiration on me. Like an invisible touch skimming down my body over every curve and divot. I anticipate his touch, resisting the urge to open my eyes. I try to guess where his hands will land when he does finally decide to reach out and touch me. Sam loves the game, though, the cat and mouse before the main act. And the cocky tone of his voice gets me going every time.

“Words, Baby.” He demands. The rush of pressure I feel between my legs at that moment is my favorite part of being with Sam. My heart pounds in my ribcage.

“Yes.” I squeak out. “I wanted to look good for you.” Every second he delays touching me my breath quickens. The sound of his pants against the blanket causes my stomach to flip. The cool air coming with whatever movement he’s making sends a chill down my spine, and goosebumps to appear on my skin. I hear the soft thud of what I hope is his sweater. Please be shirtless, please be shirtless. Even after all this time, the sight of him still makes me salivate.

A delicate hand caresses my thigh, and I twitch slightly at the unexpected touch.

“You did such a good job for me.” His sweet praise is music to my ears as his fingers glide toward my hip. “Look at you, so beautiful and laid out for me. Ready for me to take when I want.” He squeezes gently when he reaches his destination, and the cocky laugh that follows sends a flood of arousal to my core.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and listen to me tonight?” I smile ear to ear and nod emphatically.

“Good.” He continues. He catches the hem of my panties with his pointer finger and follows along the edge of the blush-pink colored lace. When he reaches where I most desire him, he puts pressure along my pussy with the back of his finger and then snaps the fabric. The sharp sting is welcomed, but the absence of his touch makes me whine audibly.

He places each hand on the floor next to my shoulders, hovering over me. As he runs his nose up the length of my neck, he opens his mouth to breathe hot air in its wake. “So needy already?” He asks when he reaches my ear. “But I’ve barely touched you.”

“Please,” I beg. Knowing it’s what he wants to hear, but not holding out hope for my favor.

“Please, what, baby?” The husky tone of his voice sends a chill down my spine. He reaches his tongue out and flicks at my earlobe.

“Fuck me. Please.” My face scrunches in another desperate whine.

He tuts quietly, “I’m only getting started, baby.”

I know as soon as the words leave his lips that I’m in for a long night. A slow form of torture that I’ll be thankful for come the morning.

He pushes himself up and sits back on his heels. He taps my hip, signaling me to raise them, and he hooks his fingers under the lace of my underwear, sliding it down the length of my legs, discarding the material next to his shirt. Placing both hands on each respective knee, he spreads me wide, and his mouth drops open at the sight of me. My eyes fall to his plush, rosy lips.

“Mmm,” he hums, running his tongue along his top lip. “Good enough to eat, indeed.”

Sam settles on his stomach, his left arm hooking around my leg. I hum at the heated contact of his palm, splayed across my lower abdomen. I can feel the cool air hit my dripping pussy as he takes slow breaths, plotting my demise. He lets out another arrogant laugh, no doubt satisfied at how I glisten by the firelight.

He rests his head against my thigh, now purposeful with the air he blows on me. I shudder a little, letting out a tiny gasp of air. The throbbing between my legs is so intense I can practically feel it in my throat. I swallow thickly. His free hand dances up the inside of the thigh he’s not resting against, his mouth open with a slight smile. Oh the fun he’s having, like I’m his own personal plaything. I would do anything to make him happy if it meant I experience this continued arousal. He tickles back and forth over the crease of my groin. So close and yet just far enough away from where I want him. No, where I need him. I bite my lip to try and center myself.

He finally makes contact with me, dragging his middle finger tantalizingly slow down the center of my pussy. My teeth sink into my lip so hard I nearly draw blood when the pressure reaches my clit; he continues until he meets where my wetness is pooling for him. He takes a moment to thoroughly coat the tip of his finger before he pops it into his mouth, savoring the taste of me.

“You’re so wet for me, sweetheart. And you taste so fucking good. How did that happen?” He teases, but I don’t laugh. He reaches down, slowly inserting his first two fingers, but he doesn’t move them.

His teasing is so torturous I cry out. The thrum of my heart beats around his fingers, and I clench, trying to coax him into movement. I should know better.

“I know, baby girl, I know. You’re going to listen to me, though, and you’ll get what you want.” He places a gentle kiss on my thigh, “I’ll give you everything you want.”

I shake my head, feeling around for the blanket to bunch in my palms, giving my hands something to do.

“I’ve been thinking about dessert since we left, and I already know how sweet it is.” Sam continues his kisses, descending to my pussy. “I’m hungry, I think it’s time for a treat. I want you to relax for me, babygirl.” Everything his mouth is doing effectively distracts me from the fingers remaining stilled inside me.

He places a gentle kiss to the top of my slit and begins his assault. Finally, he licks up the center of me, flicking my clit with just the tip of his tongue. I moan at the contact, all that build-up finally paying off. I squeeze around his fingers, attempting to speed up the race to the finish line..

And he stops.

I whine at the loss of contact.

There’s always a game.

I look down at his wicked grin. “I told you to relax, babygirl.” His playful tone is as arrogant as ever. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?” His brow furrows with his question, and his lips shine with the evidence of me.

I nod slowly.

“Good girls listen.” One eyebrow cocks toward his hairline. “Let’s try again.”

Sam’s mouth is on me again, and I try to concentrate on breathing instead of the steady attack of his tongue against my clit. In fast, short licks, he slowly drives me to insanity. The heat of pleasure radiates over my body, a hot pulse running through me in waves. I will myself to calm down every time I start to tighten my walls, attempting to breathe and focus on something else, anything else. But the force of his tongue lapping at me is overriding my brain, and I can’t help myself. I clench hard in search of release, pulling the blanket clutched in my hands toward my chest for leverage in my chase.

He stops once more.

I groan out angrily and lay myself flat, resuming my original position.

“So needy and so pathetic. You can’t even handle it, can you?”

When I don’t respond, he strokes his fingers inside me a few times, suddenly remembering their place inside me. I jolt up to my elbows, tightening my fists around the blanket I still clutch. The shock of a moment of pleasure settling in my stomach before dissipating.

“You know I love to hear your pretty little voice, baby. Come on, use your words for me.”

I swallow before I beg for any amount of relief. “Please, Sammy. Please.”

He slides his left hand up my stomach, a gentle push signaling me to lie back.

“When you learn to relax, you’ll be rewarded. The only thing standing in the way of that right now is you.”

This time, the forefinger and thumb come down and spread my lips open, exposing me to him fully.

“Come on, baby, I know you can do it.” He coaxes gently. He’s careful not to make contact with any other part of me, so the only thing I can feel is the tip of his tongue on my increasingly sensitive nub. Little beads of sweat start to collect around the nape of my neck from the struggle of self-control. The pleasure is so intense I fear I won’t be able to think straight for a week when I finally reach my release. My pussy starts to flutter gently around his fingers again; every time I twitch, I relax the muscles as best I can.

“That’s it, baby.” He comes up for air long enough to utter his praise, and he’s descending again. Somehow the momentary break increases the tension slowly building in me.

I tighten once more at his words and relax just as fast. I bite out quickly, “Don’t stop Sammy, please. I can do it.. I can do it.” my voice trails off. I work evening breath enough to let my orgasm ascend on its own without the encouragement of actions.

He pulls back the hood of my clit with his thumb, and that’s the moment I begin to unravel completely. I yell out as I fight against my body's own natural instincts and the pleasure of it all; he continues the onslaught against my bundle of nerves, using the arm hooked around my leg to keep me in place. I writhe underneath his grasp as the tension finally snaps, my body going numb as my orgasm finally washes over every bit of me. My head clouds, and my body feels like it's floating. I immediately contract, my hands finding purchase in his hair, pulling tightly as the stimulation becomes too much. He moans against my pussy, causing me to jerk again. My voice echoes through the large living room. I reach my left hand out, meeting the brick of the hearth, trying to steady myself. He slows his movements, easing me out but still causing small ripples of pleasure with every affectionate lick and kiss of my pussy. I brush the tendrils sticking to my forehead out of my face and breathe a sigh of relief.

“Good girls who listen get rewarded.” He says smugly, licking at his lips covered in my orgasm. He looks so sexy, god. I lunge at him, tackling him to his back. Landing in a hard thud against the soft blanket, I kiss him, needy and desperate. A surge of energy running through me from the adrenaline, followed by a wave of arousal as I taste myself on his lips.

“You sound so sexy when you cum.” He says between my efforts to lap up every last remaining bit of myself still lingering on his mouth. “I’d put that on a loop for hours if I could.”

I cry out, “Oh god.” I start a path of kisses from his neck down his chest as he continues.

“Yeah? You like the idea of me listening to you cum over.. And over again? A little audio stored in my phone for me to listen to while I’m out?”

I nod furiously against his soft stomach, the tiniest bit salty from the sweat we’ve worked up. I run my hand down over the front of his black sweats, feeling his length beneath my fingers.

“While I’m buying groceries?” I nod again; his fingers tangle themselves in my hair.

“On my drive to work?” I nod once more, whining at his words. The sound of relief from his lips was enough to send my head spinning. He tugs at my roots just enough to hurt but still feel amazing. I work my way to the waistband of his joggers; I tug gently, exposing his hard length.

“No boxers?” I question teasingly. “Scandalous.” I laugh and press one last kiss to his stomach, taking a hold of him in my delicate hand.

“Mmm.” He tilts his head back as my fingers run over him. “Your turn for dessert, baby. Open.” He demands, and I obey. I open wide and stick my tongue out, waiting for him. He takes full advantage of that by pulling the hair clutched in his hand and guiding me to his cock. I wrap my lips around him; the sound of his pleasure is music to my ears. I move in quick, even motions up and down his shaft, my hand making up for the part of him I can’t swallow. Paying attention to every upstroke, I flick my tongue around the head. One of his hands makes its way to my cheek, gently stroking it with his thumb.

“Just like that, fuck.” He moans, gripping my hair tighter and tighter, spurring me on. I bob my head faster as encouragement falls freely from his lips. My arousal pooling and dripping down my leg with every sound spilling from his mouth. God, the mouth on him.

“You’re doing so good for me.” His hips start to jut, matching the movements of my mouth. Hands locked in my hair, he pulls my face to his base, pausing for a moment.

“Fuck.” he cries out and releases his grip. I come up for air, a trail of spit still linking us together as I catch my breath. My lungs working overdrive to make up for the loss of oxygen.

“I could fuck that mouth forever.” He says, and I let out a desperate whine.

“So do it.”

I clamor my way back to his cock, desperately needing to taste him on my tongue again. I flatten my tongue and lick from base to tip and then wrap my lips around him. I lock eyes with him as I focus on the head, knowing how sensitive he is there.

Sam’s nostrils flare, and he grunts out. The switch flipping in him that I needed. He’s always in control, but every once in a while, his feral side comes out. The uninhibited Sam that fucks me hard and rough, and god, if I don’t fucking need him right now.

He sits up on his knees, kneeling before me. Yanking his sweatpants further down to his thighs, and grabs me, one hand planted on either side of my face, and bites out, “Open.”

His cock slides into my mouth, his full length against my tongue, and he repeatedly meets the back of my throat. He shows me no mercy. His hands and hips taking control and working overdrive so I just sit there and take it. I gladly take everything that he gives me. Over and over again, my lips meet his pubic bone as he fucks my mouth. I reach for leverage, grabbing a hold of where his pants sit around his thighs. The repetition of ‘fuck’ that leaves his lips, calling my attention back to his face. His eyes bore into mine, and he pulls me off his dick. He lets out a yell of frustration; I know he’s holding back. Trying not to cum down my throat because the only place he cums is inside of me. ‘You’re mine, Birdie,’ he always tells me.

“Hands.” He points to the hearth, and I hustle on my knees to place my palms on the warm stone. He unhooks my bra, somehow the only piece of my clothing left remaining. I bend over, sticking my ass out, waiting for his return. I peek over my shoulder, sneaking a glance at him as he shimmies out of his sweats. He kneels behind me and gently runs his hand over my ass, up my back, and settling on my shoulder. He pulls me to his chest.

“Ready, babygirl,” he asks as he slides his hand around my throat, gripping gently, and I nod in response. His other hand curves around my body, grasping my breast in his palm. He gives it a rough squeeze before pinching my nipple. I suck in a breath through my teeth.

“Good.” he lets out a little chuckle and soothes my bud between his fingers, gently rolling out the pain. His fingers glide delicately down my torso, and he cups my heat.

“I’m gunna fuck this pretty cunt so good.” My mouth falls open, my head leaning back. Just as my head meets his shoulder, relaxing into his touch, he pushes me forward back to my hands.

He notches his cock at my opening, both hands bracing me by the hips, and slowly enters me. I moan out at the pleasure of him slowly stretching me, and I silently thank god for the fact that we are isolated out here. I couldn’t be quiet even if I tried.

The push and pull of his cock with each slow thrust softly warming me. I tilt my head back in pleasure as he starts to work up a rhythm. He delivers a hard smack against my ass, and I grip the stone hearth tighter, feeling the roughness under my palms. His hand rubbing at my cheek, soothing the sting.

“You feel so fucking good.” Sam’s breathy tone giving him away. “So tight. You love the way my cock fills you up, don’t you?” I push back to meet his thrusts, hoping to get him there quicker, the desire to give him all the pleasure he gave me earlier, overcoming my need for anything else.

“Yeah, you do. Look at you? So desperate. I bet if stopped moving, you’d fuck yourself right on my cock, huh?”

His hand grips my hip tightly, and he pulls me back by my hair. His hand resuming his place around my neck, tightening his grip ever so slightly. Just enough to notice but not enough to restrict my oxygen. His other arm wraps around my middle steadying me for continued thrusts of his hips.

“You have no idea how badly I want that, babygirl. But I’m having too much fun listening to the sounds you make as I fuck you.” He lets out a wicked laugh.

My jaw goes slack, and I bend my body more, allowing him deeper access with every thrust. The new angle driving him into my G-spot, sending me reeling. The intensity builds in my stomach and I know Sam can feel it too. I reach a hand back tangling my hand in the hair gathered at his neck. He slides down, parting my lips and toying with my clit. Small tight circles coax me toward my end. Little by little, unraveling under his fingertips. I clench around his cock, and he knows I’m done for.

“Come on, baby. Give it to me.” The sickly sweet tone of his voice in my ear sends a chill down my spine. I fight against the building pleasure, trying to hold out. My voice carries through the room, mixing with his heavy breath and the sound of our hips snapping together. Everything starts to become too much, and my muscles weaken; my hand falls to join his arm wrapped around me. Sam holds me tighter, keeping me steady against his chest.

“That’s it, baby. Cum on my cock. Do it.” I let go completely, falling over the edge and succumbing to the pleasure of Sam’s cock. I moan out a broken repetition of his name, and he fucks me through my orgasm. I feel so full when he’s inside me like I never want to be anywhere else. He slows his hips, allowing me a moment of reprieve. Our heavy breaths move in unison as we try to calm ourselves. He lays me gently back on my stomach, careful to stay tucked inside. My head resting against the pillow I was sitting on earlier, my skin soothed by the plush blanket. He joins me where I lay, resting half of his weight on me.

“Oh god. Sammy.” I cry out at the feeling of his cock inside my overstimulated cunt as he pulls out to the tip and slides back in again. My hand finds his thigh, nails digging into his skin, and he grunts out. He takes that as a sign to resume full force. His thrusts are hard and fast. Working himself up to meet his own end. His heady breaths against my ear could drive me to another orgasm if my body was capable.

“Oh fuck,” he growls. “I’m gonna cum.” his hips speed up, his pace unforgiving as his own release is in his sights. He holds his breath, and I brace myself, his hips snapping once more and pausing. Buried in me to the hilt, I feel his dick twitch with each spurt of release inside me. We let out a mutual ‘fuck’ as he releases. He teases himself slightly with gentle motions, slowly in and out of my pussy. His cum starts to leak out of me, landing on the blanket below.

When I feel him start to pull out of me fully I beg, “No, no, no. Please.”

“What baby?” He asks, confused.

“Stay. You feel too good.” I whine pathetically. He slides fully off my body to his side, sneaking his arm under my head and pulling me close, spooning me. His cock still tucked pleasantly inside of me.

“Is my little bird gonna warm my cock for me? Huh?”

I hum out an affirmation. “I really fucking needed that.”

“Yeah? You ready for that sauna yet?” He jests. “Little round two in there?” His hand makes its way to my breast, gently rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

I laugh and snuggle in closer to him. “Thinkin’ about it.”

Need more Sam in your life? 🩷

Sparrow Of The Dawn Masterpost 🤭

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hornytome · 3 months

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Hello everyone!! Finally time for an update. I’ve put it off because of nerves too long.

So, basically: I’m not a butch lesbian (anymore)! I’m actually bi and transmasc.

Shockingly, my girlfriend is no longer a femme lesbian either! She’s also bisexual. Still a girly girl though.

We both went through a parallel simultaneous journey of discovering we’re bi.

It’s as upsetting as it sounds!! Will not lie!

She calls me her boyfriend now and our sex revolves around penetrative sex. We have a realistic cock and I’m trying constantly to find a new more realistic one.

We haven’t actually slept with a man quite yet, though. We may never, to be honest.

There was… A guy… We both struggled immensely with our attraction to him, and our OCD played a large part in that. We both got over it and realized we definitely have a crush on him. That’s… simmering away right now. No idea where it’s going to go. He’s a good guy.

This has fundamentally changed our view of monogamy. We’re still prescribing to the concept of monogamy, and I suppose our rule is that if we’re both interested in the same person, then we don’t mind too much.

So, I guess I should explain why I was dragging my feet. Hornytome took off way more than I ever expected it to. I gained a massive wlw and lesbian following, and I’m so proud of who’ve I’ve brought together and modeled healthy love for.

For a long time, I identified as a lesbian, and that felt like my authentic self. I wasn’t lying to anyone, or misconstruing truths. In making this blog, I wished to explore my lesbianism. In living and growing beside this blog, I discovered a lot more.

So, to be very clear, I’m bisexual, transmasc, and a lot happier than when I started this blog. My attraction to women is gay, and my attraction to men is ALSO gay. Beat that!

That leaves me with a conundrum then. What to do with my blog? I’d love to keep posting, but a vast number of you are wlw. Perhaps I could stick to talking about Edith and I on this blog?

No matter what happens, this is no longer specifically a lesbian blog. And I’m sorry if that disappoints some of you. I really, really am. But being dishonest to myself helps no one. You haven’t lost a comrade, you gained one!

So. That’s why I’ve been gone! 6+ months of processing a major life change. I want to get back into stories. Maybe shoot me some ideas 🌝

Anyways! I’m going to be tagging this with old and new tags, just to reach as far as possible.

Edit: Also: stories will not revolve exclusively around men!! I like fucking my girlfriend a whole lot!

#wlw nsft #wlw love #lesbian nsft #lesbian #butch lesbian #butch dyke #sapphic #bi nsft #bisexual nsft #bisexual #transmasc #transmasc nsft #transmasculine

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fuckyeahizzyhands · 3 months

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youtube

Con: I think the show deserves a season three whether I'm involved in it or not. It was always David's dream to make three seasons. I would be gutted for him if season three didn't happen. As far as Izzy being involved, that's entirely up to David Jenkins.

Screen Rant: I did some Googling, and I found articles. One of them was titled “Our Flag Means Death Season Two's Best Character Isn’t Who You Think”, and it was talking about Izzy. The other one was “Izzy Hands is the Real Star of Our Flag Means Death Season Two”. Those were both headlines I found. What was it like to find out what Izzy’s journey this season was going to be? It’s had such an impact on so many people.

Con O’Neill: David and I spoke about it quite a lot before we shot, about the redemptive qualities, and I was delighted that we didn't suddenly turn him into a saint overnight. I was delighted that the redemption was complicated and layered, and I don't feel that Izzy disappears in any of it. I think he's very much who he always was, but with slightly more of an open soul. I was so grateful to David and the writers for creating an arc that was playable rather than Hollywood-ized and too easy. It was challenging; it was a very, very lonely shoot for me. I found myself gravitating towards my own company most of the time, mainly because of the hours. And, because if I wasn’t shooting, I was learning to walk on that f***ing leg. If I wasn’t doing that, I was sword training, and if I wasn’t doing that, I was body training, and if I wasn’t doing that, I was recording a song in French. So, I was busy. Our group is a group of beautiful people, and we would meet every Sunday for lunch. Christine used to arrange that. I found myself initially quite hesitant to join that, because it felt like I had this weight on my shoulders, certainly for the first four episodes. I loved it as an actor. I found it really challenging as a man on his own in New Zealand, where it rains [a lot].

Screen Rant: I'm a music nerd, and kind of a musical theater nerd; my favorite episode of this is the one where you're singing in it. I love those sequences so much, your voice is insane, and it's such a good character moment. How did the decision to make that happen—singing, and specifically that song--come about? Did they write that for you because they knew you were a singer?

Con O’Neill: We’re all walking around backstage, telling jokes, playing music, and singing; that’s just what happens when you shoot a show. David called me up while I was in Wellington. I was in Wellington for a week shooting something else. He called me up and he asked me if I knew “La vie en rose”; I knew it, vaguely, but I don't speak French at all. Then, he mentioned that they wanted to do it in an episode. So, I learned the English version, Dean Martin’s version, and then they asked me if I could learn the French version. I don't speak a word of French, not a word, but my partner does, and I had a friend who just played Edith Piaf piano—Jenna (Russell)--and between the two of them, they taught me the French version of the song. If somebody had asked me prior to this, “What song would Izzy sing?” “La vie en rose” would never have entered my head. And now, there's no other song that fits. That's the genius of David. David's very clever with music. We know that--we’ve all experienced how clever he is—but to pick that song for him, at that point in his life? Yeah. F***ing hell. That was genius.

Screen Rant: Your character died this season. How far in advance did you know that, and did that affect how you approached or thought about the season?

Con O’Neill: No. I mean, to be honest, I felt it was going that way. I've been around a long time, and when a character starts this kind of arc, especially in something as interesting as our show is… When David took me out for dinner, I kind of thought this was where it was going, and, partly, I was relieved. I'm not an actor who likes to just repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat. And, I knew that Ed and Stede were going to end up together at the end of this season, so Izzy, as he stands, wouldn't make any sense to still be there. So, it was a relief that the decision was being made. I was a bit upset because I love playing him, but leave them wanting more, you know? I will be eternally grateful for what they gave me; how they played him out in the show. The beautiful speech they gave me, the opportunity to do “La vie en rose”, and the opportunity to die in Taika’s arms and to be able to honor that relationship… I couldn't have asked for a better play-off, really.

Screen Rant: This season did introduce, with the Gravy Basket, the potential for someone who has passed on to return. If there was a season three, do you think your character would have anything else to impart on Stede or Blackbeard in a similar scenario?

Con O’Neill: You’d have to ask David Jenkins. I don't know where David wants to take it, and I wouldn't preempt that with me making up stories for Izzy in a flashback or ghostie Izzy, or whatever. I have no idea where David wants season three to go. I think the show deserves a season three whether I'm involved in it or not. It was always David's dream to make three seasons. I would be gutted for him if season three didn't happen. As far as Izzy being involved, that's entirely up to David Jenkins.

Screen Rant: So much of this season and Izzy’s journey is his relationship with Edward and his love for Edward, and so much of the conflict is about how much Edward is changing. Did you have an understanding of what version of Blackbeard, or Edward, that Izzy was looking for, and wanting to be around?

Con O’Neill: That’s a great f***ing question. Between season one and season two, in the interim, Izzy experiences a broken Blackbeard, and a Blackbeard that's never going to go back to what he was, because he's heartbroken. Everyone who's been heartbroken knows that you never go back to who [you] were. He just wants to fix Blackbeard. That's why he takes his life in his hands by confronting Blackbeard; he just wants Blackbeard to be fixed, to find his soul again, [and] to find his heart again. Whether he's involved in that is not relevant. What's relevant is, he loves Blackbeard so much that he wants him to find himself again. So, it's never Izzy’s version of Blackbeard that Izzy’s looking for. He's looking for Blackbeard to find himself again, and that's only through Stede.

Screen Rant: I was looking up the real-life Izzy Hands, who testified against allies to get a pardon and supposedly died a beggar in the streets of London years later. Would you have been interested in that, dramatically, if that was how his story ended on the show?

Con O’Neill: No, that's not our show. We're not historically [accurate to] those times. If we were, they wouldn’t have cast a guy who is 50 to play a 16-year-old pirate. I don't know. I'd love to be able to tell you what area that season three, if it ever happens, would go, but I literally have no idea. I don't think we're going to go down the historical route. I’d be very surprised if we do that.

Screen Rant: I don’t know if you’ll have an answer for me, but I saw that you initially auditioned for a different role. I love Taika so much; I feel like you would have also made a great Blackbeard. Is that who you were going for, initially?

Con O’Neill: Absolutely not, but thank you for saying that. I don’t see anyone else as Blackbeard but Taika. When Taika was announced, I knew what our show was. But no, it wasn’t Blackbeard. And no, I’m not going to tell you.

Screen Rant: Okay. Perfect. Well, clearly it all worked out for the best. I mean, you're incredible, and the whole cast is so perfect in their roles. It's been a pleasure to watch you and… yeah, congrats on the show.

Con O’Neill: Thank you so much.

#our flag means death spoilers #our flag means death #ofmd #con o'neill #izzy #izzy hands #con interview #interview #season 3 #video transcript #david jenkins #screenrant #Youtube

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creative-heart · 3 days

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"My thoughts will echo your name"| Esteban Kukuriczka

Chapter six: “There was something bout that kiss”

Lucia’s Notes: I can’t believe we’re already almost at the end of this series! this has been so fun to write so far!. On another note, this chapter’s gonna be juicy! So buckle up! SORRY ABT THE TIME THIS IS DROPPING FOR SOME OF YOU, BUT I JUST FINISHED AND I COULDN'T GATEKEEP IT 🤭😉

+18 ONLY: MINORS DNI: If you DO NOT want to read the smut part, please stop reading at the first cut, there will be a brief summary at the foot notes of the chapter. You can go back to reading after the second cut.

Playlist:

Those eyes- New West

In case you didn’t know- Brett Young.

Lose control- Teddy Swims.

Green tea & honey- Dane Amar, Jereena Montemayor.

Home- Edith Whiskers.

You’re enough- Sleeping at last

I hear a simphony- Cody Fry.

Content warning: Smut, light praising, some jealousy from the ex and light violence.

Word Count: 2.8k

As the days went by, Y/N and kuku hung out more and more, things were so easy between them, there was a familiarity that couldn’t be explained as if they had known eachother since forever. That night was one of those nights, they had decided when she moved into his place that they would make it a habit to have dinner together at least once a week. She had now moved into a studio apartment, it wasn’t much, but it was enough, this was the first time she would have him over for their dinners and was feeling strangely nervous, they had done this countless times now, why was she feeling this way?

She was wearing an apron over her outfit as to not stain it while she made her stelar carbonara pasta recipe, she was famous for it within her group. When the street doorbell rang she bit her lip as she answered “Yeah?, come on up” she said after hearing Kuku’s voice on the other end. When she hung up she hastily took the apron off fixing her off the shoulder camel kneaded sweater looking at herself in the mirror, her light washed jeans hugging her figure in all the right places well paired with the ankle height camel boots; her hair up in a perfectly messy high ponytail, all which left her collarbones and neck perfectly exposed. When she heard the knock on the door she walked over opening it and smiled seeing the chocolate eyed man standing on the other side holding a wine bottle in one hand and a bag of strawberries and chocolate in the other. Y/N stepped aside and motioned for him to come in “come on in, welcome to my humble abode”.

As the older guy walked past her he kissed her cheek in what tried to be an innocent gesture but landing way too close to the corner of her mouth and Y/N couldn’t help but go back to that night at the club; sure enough, there was that sparkle she had started getting used to when being around Esteban, that fiery spark in the lowest part of her gut that never failed to make her blush. “Brought wine and desert, hope you like strawberries and chocolate” she nodded snapping out of her train of thought as she took in his ever messy locks of light brown-blondish hair that she loved so much. “Oh I looovee that” she smiled sweetly walking back towards the kitchen “I hope you’re hungry Kukuriczka, I made my worldly famous tagliatelle carbonara, and you better eat” she stepped on her tiptoes to get the wine glasses from the cupboard.

Kuku let his sight roam the girl’s body while she had her back turned to him biting his lip softly as he admired the way those jeans hugged her legs and her ass, as he let his eyes roam freely, he landed on the exposed skin on her shoulders and neck, what would I give to kiss those gorgeous shoulders, run my hands down her waist again. He was snapped out of that fantasy by Y/N turning around with the glasses in hand and a bottle opener “will you do the honors?” she smiled sweetly handing them over to the guy before going back to the cooking at hand. She knew, she knew in her heart that Kuku had been staring at her, and she wasn’t gonna lie, she quite enjoyed it to be honest, knowing the effect she had on him was rather alluring.

After dinner was done, and almost the whole wine bottle gone Y/N looked at Kuku as they waited for the chocolate to melt for the strawberries “so…did you like the food?” she smirked softly as the wine had already started going to her head. The elder one nodded softly making his way over to the girl, alcohol giving him a bravery he hadn’t been able to muster just yet on his own, as he rested a hand on her side, half trapping the girl against the counter ”I enjoyed it quite a bit, yeah” his voice coming out surprisingly lower than they both expected it to be. Y/N looked up at him through her lashes biting her lower lip softly “That’s good, I hope you enjoy dessert too….and that the strawberries taste nice as well” she whispered and that was all the invitation Esteban needed, he bent over joining his lips to hers; his hands immediately falling to her hips as she held onto the freckle faced guy’s t-shirt holding him close to her granting his tongue entrance to her mouth, the dance of them perfectly synchronized together as if they had done this a million times.

Esteban deepend the kiss holding the back of her neck as his other hand traveled to Y/N’s ass giving it a gentle squeeze; he was so hungry for her, he had been ever since that night at the club and it felt so good to finally have her in his arms again. He didn’t even notice when the younger turned the stove off so that the chocolate wouldn’t burn, before her hand flew to his hair running through it tugging gently at the roots; when Y/N heard the soft groan emerge from the taller’s throat she smirked against his lips before pulling away just enough to whisper “Chocolate’s ready mr.” and without missing a beat she turned around to get the things ready giggling when she heard Kuku groaning before going to get the fruit and some bowls “Can we watch a movie while we eat?” and after hearing the affirming hum from the guy’s lips she walked over.

“You’re just evil…you know that?” he chuckled his voice still deep with lust, as he could feel his erection half growing in his pants. “Me!? oh I could never…I just didn’t want to waste this perfectly fine chocolate you brought over” Y/N smiled, mastering her best all innocent smile as she walked past him to sit down brushing her ass accidentally against his crotch before sitting on the couch “so, what we watching kukuriczka?” the blonde grabbed a strawberry dipping it in the chocolate and biting into it looking straight at him, knowing exactly what she was doing and enjoying it way too much. Esteban didn’t even pretend not to be staring at her anymore, he was way past that stage, he wanted her too badly, needed her too much and what she was doing, he knew that was absolutely in purpose to make him go crazy, and it was working. His brown eyes fixed on her lips. When Kuku saw some chocolate staining the corner of her mouth he leaned in grabbing her chin strong enough to keep her in place but still with a softness to it and without breaking eye contact with the girl as he moved in, he licked the chocolate off. She didn’t expect that, her eyes following him as he moved, a soft moan escaping her throat when Y/N felt his tongue on her skin.

Screw desert, she thought as she straddled the older guy’s lap, their lips meeting in a fervent kiss much needier and hungrier than the last, his fingertips traced the curve of her jaw, his touch igniting a fire within her pulling her closer, the warmth of his body enveloping her as their tongues intertwined in a passionate dance. Y/N felt herself melting against him on the spot, her hands frantically roaming over his shoulders and chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat underneath her touch.

With gentle urgency he picked her up with their lips never parting making his way to the bed, hands on her ass while she wrapped her legs around his waist, and all he could think when she did that, was how he wanted them to be wrapped around his head. As soon as he placed her down her hands were swift to take his t-shirt off taking a second to admire his body, it was even better than she had ever dreamt about, and dreaming she had done on this topic. While Y/N was still taking in his chest, Esteban took the opportunity to take her sweater top off as well and while it was still going over her head he let his brown eyes graze over her wonderful chest “fuck” he muttered under his breath leaning in as soon as he took the top off connecting his lips to the girl’s neck taking his time to savor every inch of her skin looking for those especially sensitive spots that made her breath hitch on the back of her throat.

Without any more time to loose, Y/N worked at kuku’s jeans to get them off, her hands trembling slightly as she moaned softly eyes fluttering closed as he grazed his lips over the spot right below her ear that always made her knees go weak. Once he had stepped out of his pants she took hers off and before she could react, her feet were off the ground, she giggled with a small squeak as the older man literally swept her off her feet and tossed her playfully yet commanding onto the bed. She looked at his eyes, the darkest shade of brown she had ever seen them. “God, you’re so fucking gorgeous babygirl” he praised her quitely taking in the image before him. Y/N looked up at him biting her lip suddenly feeling a bit selfconcious under his eyes.

Esteban smirked getting on the bed and crawling over to her kissing down her jaw and to her neck, leaving soft nibbles here and there while he made his way down, hooking his index fingers into her underwear all but ripping it off her, he had waited way too long to have her this way and he wanted her now, kuku wanted to taste her, he needed to taste her. As he spread her legs and looked up at her he smirked biting his lip “but baby, so ready for me, haven’t even touched you properly yet” as he placed a kiss on the inside of Y/N’s knee he looked up at her through hooded eyes hearing her breath getting heavier and a bit more erratic already. Y/N looked at him moaning softly “I just haven’t stopped thinking about the club” she whispered cheekly, the need in her making all the filters fade in her mind. Esteban raised an eyebrow quizzically as he softly ran a finger along her slick folds, a hum of approval leaving his mouth as he brought his digit up to his lips tasting her off it before leaning down placing a chaste kiss on the tiny throbbing bundle of nerves.

“Fuck” Y/N’s high pitched moan plus her hands flying to his hair tangling into his unruly strands cheered him on as he kept lapping and sucking at her folds and clit, a single finger slowly sliding in her a low groan leaving his lips without parting with her body sending an electric jolt erupting from the deepest center of her body up her spine and Y/N was gone, she coudln’t even think straight anymore, the lust clouded her brain and her senses and all she could think about was how good it felt to have kuku’s face buried deep against her center, she could die right there and then and wouldn’t even mind. She tugged at his hair pushing him closer “God sake baby, you feel so good” she muttered through moans as she could feel the tension building inside her body. Just as the string was about to snap, Esteban pulled away depriving her of all the much needed touch and friction and she whined. “Oh, easy babygirl” he smirked “I love how eager you are, but not yet” he winked before reaching over to his jeans grabbing a condom from his pocket rolling it on “I bet you’re gonna take my cock so well” he mumbled as he rolled the rubber out on his shaft before he held himself up over her their lips joining again, the kiss now sloppy and frantic. Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in each other, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. With trembling hands, Esteban guided himself inside her, their gasps mingling in the air, she felt so tight around his cock, so kuku gave her a little to adjust to it before starting to build the perfect pace. Their bodies seemed to know exactly how to move with one another, Y/N’s hands roamed freely down his back and up his sides wanting to explore every inch of his body. When his thrusts changed angles hitting that perfect spot on her insides, Y/N threw her head back letting a loud moan escape as she dug her nails on kuku’s shoulders.

Not long after, the brunette could feel the girls walls tightening around his cock and her heavy erratic breath and he knew, sure enough, Y/N looked at him and whispered “I’m….babe…. I’m gonna” she muttered through moans; he kissed her and whispered against her lips “cum sweetie, cum” and his low raspy voice was all it took to take the blonde girl over the edge, she let herself go, feeling wave after wave of pleasure run through her, shortly after joined by his own orgasm erupting and washing over him, with a long trembling groan kuku let himself fall on the bed next to her. Lazy fingers tracing senseless patterns over his chest as they both laid in bed. He placed a soft kiss on top of her head eyes closed as he tried to bring his breathing back down.

And that’s exactly how the next few months went by, sneaky rende-vouz at either apartments, silly little movie date nights and sweet escapades for the weekend just the two of them. Without even trying, they had kind of kept their relationship underwraps, not that they needed to hide, it had mostly began after Y/N and Lucas had broken up, but there was something inside them that unconsciously made them keep it a secret.

That little unplanned plan would have worked if hadn’t been for social media posts of them at the same places at the same times, slowly the rumour of them being together ran like wildfire until it got back to Amelia’s ears, who one night, without thinking much of it brought it up in front of Lucas, the girl had never seen her brother so enraged, she could even say she was a little scared when he grabbed his keys making his way to Kuku’s place. Just as Esteban and Y/N were settling in for the night there was a knock on the door “that’s weird, it’s really late” the tall guy said heading over to the door and as soon as he opened, without even a word, Lucas swung at him hitting him square in the nose “Why the fuck would you go for my girlfriend Esteban!? weren’t there enough single women out there that you had to go for mine!?” he yelled at him.

Esteban held his hand up to his face groaning from the pain “first of, fuck off man!, second, Y/N’s not an object for you to talk about her like that, and maybe if you hadn’t treated her like absolut shit when she’s a remarakable young woman, she wouldn’t have dumped you. You’re one to talk tho, when you and me both know what you did with Alma all through out your relationship with Y/N/N. Not that this fucking matters anyway, but I didn’t even try anything with her until she dumped your ass, not my fault I’m a bigger man than you, in all senses it seems”. The brunette smirked smugly and just as Lucas was about to swing at him again Y/N stepped in between them.

“That’s enough….you never were or will be half the man kuku is, you should be embarrassed to even show up here Lucas, you treated me like shit for years, and this man treated me the way I deserved well before we even looked at eachother in a romantic way, I’m gonna count to three and you’re gonna leave this place and never come near me or him in this way again or I’m gonna file a restraining order against you. You think I don’t know you went about fucking that whore while we were together? or that you were with me for my trustfund? well…. guess what, I love myself too much now to ever look at you like that again” She slammed the door shut in his face shaking and took a deep breath trying to steady herself before turning on her heels to look at Esteban “I’m so sorry love, let’s take a look at what that animal did” she walked in to the bathroom to get the freckled guy cleaned up.

Lucia’s notes: Summary for the smut, basically lots of steamy making out, and sex. Thinking back almost half the chapter is smut 🤭🤭 Also, if you wanna be tagged in upcoming works, please leave a comment down below. 💗

Tag List: @madame-fear @cyliarys-starlight @castawaycherry @luceracastro @espinasrubi @lastflowrr @koiibiito @candycanes19 @nperoconelcositoarriba @lxdyred @deepinsideyourbeing

#esteban kukuriczka fic #esteban kukuriczka x reader #esteban kukuriczka fanfic #esteban kukuriczka smut #esteban x reader #kuku #kuku x reader #esteban kukuriczka #lsdln cast x reader #lsdln cast fanfic #lsdln cast smut #lsdln cast #smut #+18 #MDNI #fanfiction #fanfic

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missewoodhouse · 2 years

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“New Women” and Stoker’s Theatre Job

Given Bram’s “New Woman” rant at the end of Mina’s 10 August diary entry, now seems like a good time to discuss two of the great actresses of the Fin de Siècle stage! First of all, we have Ellen Terry -- onstage partner to (you guessed it) our pal Henry Irving, and probably most widely recognizable in this John Singer Sargent painting of her as Lady Macbeth.

While the beetle-wing green dress deserved to be immortalized in all its stately glory, the tone of the portrait is actually very different from that of Terry’s Lady M -- she never crowned herself onstage, and the character was played with a much more “fragile” brand of late-Victorian femininity. Despite a scandalous private life (including two children born out of wedlock, gasp!) Terry’s public persona was aligned with a series of “virtuous” Shakespeare heroines (Ophelia, Cordelia, Desdemona, Portia, Beatrice, Imogen).

In 1878, when Henry Irving became manager of the Lyceum theatre (where Bram Stoker soon became business manager), he convinced Ellen Terry to join the company as his leading lady. Both actors were separated from their spouses (Terry from her second husband) at this point, so their partnership publicly mirrored that of earlier husband-wife leading pairs. At least officially, Irving dictated the company’s artistic choices, the casting, and Terry’s (record breaking) salary, and onstage, Lady M may have been evil, but she was also Macbeth’s perfectly loyal wife.

Ellen Terry’s Imogen (see the colorized edit of a publicity photograph above), opposite Henry Irving’s villainous Iachimo in 1896 is regarded by some as a key inspiration for Lucy Westenra (interesting article/abstract here and book chapter/summary here, apologies for the paywalls). Given that Iachimo creeps on Imogen while she’s asleep and then uses this encounter to threaten her life / accuse her of promiscuity, there are certainly some parallels to be had if you go looking for them.

Interestingly enough, however, when Stoker produced a staged reading of Dracula at the Lyceum in 1897 (in order to claim copyright over any future stage adaptation), Ellen Terry’s daughter, Edith Craig, played Mina. And Edith was very definitely a card-carrying, suffrage-supporting, queer and polyamorous New Woman. Fun fact: in the post-Lyceum phase of her career, Ellen Terry was actually a pretty active suffrage campaigner / fundraiser too. (And I suspect, if we were to carry Mina and Lucy forward to their hypothetical Dracula-free, untouched by Bram Stoker’s authorial misogyny futures, both of our heroines eventually would be too).

While we’re on the subject of the scandalous New Woman, however, the other late Victorian actress I cannot go without mentioning is the French sensation Sarah Bernhardt (who by the time Dracula was published had a substantial performance history in England and the US as well). A rough contemporary of Ellen Terry, Bernhardt, by contrast, cultivated her own reputation for the scandalous. Bernhardt quite intentionally broke gendered boundaries left right and center.

Visually, Bernhardt is perhaps most strongly associated with the art nouveau posters she commissioned (from artist Alphonse Mucha) for her theatre company in Paris - examples of 1899′s Hamlet and La Tosca are above. While there are also plenty of photographs of her as Hamlet (although far from the first woman to play the role, Bernhardt’s performance is one of the most famous) and in other promotional images, the photo I’d rather draw your attention to is this one:

Yes, that is a young Sarah Bernhardt lying asleep in a coffin -- a coffin which she is said to have traveled with and claimed to sleep in regularly. Quite the publicity stunt (and pre-Dracula too)! Other features of her eccentric public persona included traveling with a menagerie of wild animals -- including an alligator, at least one variety of big cat, and a number of lizards and/or chameleons.

Bernhardt was also a sculptor, and her Self-Portrait as a Chimera (circa 1880, below) notably features bat-like wings, instead of more traditionally feathered, bird-like ones.

Which is to say, I think we’ve found another vampire!

#ellen terry #sarah bernhardt #Bram Stoker #our good friend henry irving #fin de siècle #the new woman (gasp!)#dracula daily #theatre history #shakespearean / stage manager reading dracula #cymbeline #hamlet #lady macbeth

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denimbex1986 · 9 months

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'Scientific grunt work doesn’t render very well on the silver screen. But neither do most jobs, or for that matter, most people. When it comes to theoretical physicists and aesthetic appeal, it’s best to channel quantum mechanics and suspend your disbelief.

Enter Oppenheimer, where Brigadier General Matt Damon says things like, “This is the most important thing to ever happen in the history of the world!” And, “We’ve given them an ace. It’s up to them to play the hand.” No doubt these sentiments were actually delivered as 700-page memorandums, Pendaflex-foldered and date-stamped. But this is Hollywood we’re talking about. You’ll find little in the way of stationery here, at least not on screen. And when the occasional differential equation rolls into frame, writer/director Christopher Nolan cuts smartly away before the audience might nod off.

To Nolan’s credit, Oppenheimer is a terrifically researched film. But it’s a film nonetheless, and translating sprawling, decades-long military sagas via camera necessitates shortcuts. I’m not a vetted expert on nuclear history but I’ve dabbled, having acted as research assistant for a 2020 treatise on plutonium production. This is to say that I’m familiar with the players.

I know, for example, that Matt Damon is far too cuddly, good-looking, and agreeable to portray the irascible Leslie Groves, nicknamed “Greasy” by his fellow West Point cadets. I know that Niels Bohr, the Danish physicist with a famously soft, nigh-unintelligible voice, is misrepresented by Shakespearean enunciator Kenneth Branagh. Nolan’s rolodex runs deeper than Wes Anderson’s these days, and if there’s a gripe to be had with Oppenheimer, it’s that everyone involved is just too damned sexy.

But, again, this is Hollywood, and where Nolan leaves the beaten path of record he generally does so to sate our dopamine addiction. Come to think of it, I haven’t been inside an actual physics department in a while. Maybe the professors really are incredibly gorgeous.

Luckily for Nolan, the subject of his cinematic obsession was a high-cheeked academic anomaly. The poet Edith Jenkins, who overlapped with J. Robert Oppenheimer in leftwing circles, describes his “precocity and brilliance… his jerky walk, feet turned out, a Jewish Pan with his blue eyes and his wild Einstein hair.” Manhattan Project scientist Robert Wilson agrees, admitting that he was “caught up by the Oppenheimer charisma,” “his style, the poetic vision of what we were doing.”

No, Oppy’s jawline never approached the artful chisel of Cillian Murphy’s, but there are unmistakable parallels—a bit elfin, a bit skeletal—to be drawn. Certainly Oppenheimer availed himself of more mistresses than your average mid-century physicist. Nolan spends perhaps too much time focusing on one of them (Jean Tatlock, played by Florence Pugh) and mentions a second in passing (Ruth Tolman, a bit part Louise Lombard), while avoiding speculation of yet others, such as when Berkeley cops found grad student Melba Phillips sleeping in Oppy’s car somewhere in the Coastal Range, the professor himself suspiciously absent.

Oppenheimer’s messy personal life makes him an ideal candidate for exposé—look no further than Kai Bird and Martin J. Sherwin’s bestselling American Prometheus, Nolan’s source material. But here I’ll return to Hollywoodization, for it’s one thing to get wind of Oppenheimer’s foibles and quite another to see Florence Pugh writhing hallucinatorily on his lap during the 1954 AEC security hearings.

If Nolan goes too far in this film, if he stretches the Oppenheimer envelope past its roomy Pendaflex accommodations, it’s in the context of Oppy outside the Manhattan Project. Despite magnificent wartime subject matter—not all of which is touched upon—Nolan can’t quit his blockbuster tropes. Monochrome senate hearings, petty political twists (how is RDJ’s aide still employed?), Oppy’s fingers gracing Emily Blunt’s as she asks for a cocktail science primer.

Maybe audiences require such touchstones to contextualize the rest of the film. Nolan seems to think so. But as the string section swelled during a trite turn in the relatively forgettable career of Lewis Strauss, I found myself wishing we could’ve stayed put in New Mexico, on the high mesa that forms this film’s heart.

Nolan’s feat comes in recreating Los Alamos, a critical American moment with more than enough narrative to forgo some of the politico-romantic schlock that drags this thing to a three-hour runtime. Fascinated by character, by gray morality, Nolan found Oppy such an attractive case study that it nearly steered his magnum opus (I do think this film qualifies) off track. Each of the factual and immensely complicated bomb-related obstacles—for example, thunderstorms the morning of the Trinity Test—holds a world-changing thrall entirely separate from the whims of one man, no matter how chiseled his jaw.

Speaking of moralistic study, there’s one character who escapes Oppenheimer scot-free: Matt Damon’s overly fit and preposterously understated Leslie Groves. “I’ve known General Groves since I was 2nd lieutenant,” said the real-world David Nichols (cast as Dane DeHaan) in a 1965 interview. “To start off with, I would say he is the biggest son-of-a-bitch I’ve ever met, bar none.”

“Impatient, brusque, intolerant,” writes Robert S. Norris in his comprehensive Groves biography Racing for the Bomb. “He had few close friends, and others generally kept their distance.”

“When you looked at Captain Groves, a little alarm bell rang ‘Caution’ in your brain,” said a colleague.

Damon bulked up, lumped up—whatever—for his role as Nike executive Sonny Vaccaro in this year’s Air. But it’s a serious leap from office park Vaccaro to Army taskmaster Groves, who even in his 1970 New York Times obituary suffered the redundant label of, “a chunky, heavyset man, with a tendency toward paunchiness.” More unfounded than Damon’s weight, however, is a good guy nature cultivated over decades of Good Will Hunting television marathons, Invictus advertisements, and so on.

Cillian Murphy’s shell-shocked victory speech presents a nice commentary on the ethical morass of atomic weaponry. But Damon/Groves makes for an even juicier moralistic target, and he’s let off the hook with that aforementioned one-liner: “We’ve given them an ace, it’s up to them to play the hand.” If anyone bore responsibility for detonating two atomic bombs over civilian populations, it was General Leslie R. Groves, the only person playing said poker game in the first place.

Racing for the Bomb explains, “Groves, sitting atop his security pyramid, was the only person who knew everything about the bomb project—more than the chief of staff, more than the secretary of war, more than the president.” He was therefore “singularly concerned with the bomb, with getting it finished, tested, and used, and his superiors deferred to him time and again to make the choices that would make this happen.”

Nolan illustrates how the bomb haunted Oppenheimer. Groves, cinematically absent after Trinity, showed no such regret. Critiquing the general’s 1962 autobiography Now It Can Be Told, the Saturday Review wrote, “Groves is motivated by a simple and all-sufficing patriotism that is untroubled by what others see in the atom. He does not probe for any new vision of national interest in the age he helped create.”

Simple and all-sufficing patriotism—sounds familiar. Make of it what you will.

The only Oppenheimer character who comes across as legitimately malevolent is Benny Safdie’s terrific Ed Teller. Maybe I fell for Teller because Safdie, a director by trade, looks more like a physicist than a cologne model. Still, I get the sense that Safdie studied his source material. When he pipes up about the “Super”—the hydrogen bomb—his eyes hold nary a flicker of regret. And he keeps doing so despite repeated disdain from his colleagues.

Look, I get it, I really do, on the attractiveness quotient. This is a movie, and if scientists and bureaucrats don’t suffice for a visual study then we’ll goddamn pretend. It’s only sensible that Ernest Lawrence— who, per physicist Jeremy Bernstein, “looked a bit like a country bumpkin”—becomes Josh Hartnett. That Lewis Strauss, a crooked-toothed self-made paper pusher, turns into silver fox Robert Downey Jr. I guess I even understand why Olivia Thirlby got thrown in out of absolutely nowhere, probably as Lilli Hornig, though I can’t recall her name being said aloud.

Nolan had to beautify this stuff because the big screen is a beautiful place. He gets most of the issues absolutely right, and I’ll be pulling for him come Oscar season. I doubt I’ll wind up remembering Emily Blunt’s Kitty Oppenheimer, Matthew Modine’s Vannevar Bush, or whoever the hell Rami Malek was supposed to be. But I’ll surely remember the Trinity Test, fingers trembling over that big red button, “10-9-8” and the towering explosion and the pressure wave—even if, no shade at Nolan, David Lynch already did it better on television.'

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ctrsara · 1 year

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Stuff I'm Reading That I Love

(and you should read them too)

December 2022

Here’s stuff I’ve recently read, or am reading, that stands out to me, and I wanted to recommend. This is by no means a comprehensive list of the good stories I’ve read lately, but a few that are worth sharing!

Plus, the more of you that read and love and leave the authors some love, the more likely it is that these lovely stories will make it to completion! No ulterior motives at all here…

(Also, if you know these authors are on Tumblr, but they're not tagged, please let me know, or let them know or something, so I can be friends with them and tag them!)

The Meaning of Inevitable Series by (Mendeia) If you haven’t been reading this series, you’re missing out, I promise. Mendeia is a master storyteller!

The first four books are complete, and the fifth is in progress.

Words: 470,673 Works: 4 Complete:No

Eleven-year-old Peter Parker's world is shattered when both his idol and his uncle are killed in the same week. Even while grieving, Peter strikes up a friendship with the local maintenance man, Tony, who shares Peter's love of science and technology - and who may be more than he lets on.

the ghost at the back of your closet by niniblack (48238 words) This one is so hard sometimes, but also amazing, and I'm always at the edge of my seat!

Published:2022-06-10 Updated:2022-11-05 Words:48238 Chapters:9/?:

Some set-up: Tony survived Endgame, obv, but with a long recovery time. He’s fine now! But skrull!Fury still got ahold of EDITH and gave it to Peter on his Euro Trip, so we’re picking up after Peter was arrested in NWH.

I'm waiting and fading and floating away by lemonlillybee (21701 words): This one is an expanded Whumptober story, and is very whumpy! (But with lots of comfort, too) Lemonlillybee's whole Whumptober set is so impressive!

Published: 2022-10-17 Completed: 2022-11-03 Words: 21701 Chapters: 5/5

“Sleep deprivation,” Bruce whispers to Tony the next morning. “And maybe something else. I don’t know how long it’s going to last.”

Peter hears the words, but he’s too busy pacing to really process them.

@lemonlillybee

Fostering Hope Series by happyaspie The first and second stories are complete, and are amazing, but I hear there’s more to come!

Words: 96,213 Works:2 Complete:No

“Not much of a talker is he,” Tony casually stated, making Peter stomach churn with unease. He had no idea where the man was going with his assessment and wasn’t really sure how to properly defend himself. Thankfully, he didn’t have to.

“Peter has what they call selective mutism,” the social worker replied. “So, no. I suppose he’s not much of a talker.”

@yes-i-am-happyaspie

For We are Bound by Symmetry by kingdomfaraway (21834 words) I love a good biodad AU, and this one has been fantastic so far!

Published: 2022-11-18 Updated: 2022-12-12 Words: 31840 Chapters: 6/?

“I know we just met, Peter, but Tony is just down the hall and so very excited to finally meet you."

She was wrong, of course, Tony Stark was not excited to meet him. If he was excited to meet him, he would have met him at some point in his 13 years of life. Not now, not only after he had nowhere else in the world to go. Now he’s just stuck with him, unable to pretend Peter didn't exist, as he'd done since the day he was born.

@asyouleft

Chase You Down Until You Love Me by OK_ButWhy1 (17448 words): Love love love love.

Published: 2022-06-25 Updated: 2022-11-29 Words: 29281 Chapters: 8/?

Just who is this teenage boy that Tony Stark takes to get ice-cream?

Peter-gets-outed-as-Tony's-kid trope. Featuring: paparazzi and public backlash, Pepper Potts being her gloriously competent self and teeth-rotting IronDad/SpiderSon fluff.

Irreplaceable by for_the_night (40044 words): This one is so sad, but so good!

Published: 2022-04-07 Updated: 2022-11-29 Words: 46193 Chapters: 11/?

It starts with a cancelled lab session. Then two. Then three.

When Peter finally plucks up the courage to ask what he’s done wrong, he finds another kid in the lab with Tony. The teen feels a pang of hurt seeing the pair laughing and joking together, but the fatal blow is seeing Tony ruffle the boy's hair.

Tony doesn’t hate Peter. He’s replaced him.

Men of Iron by spdrmain (41899 words) This one is super interesting! The author is doing a great job with this AU!

Published: 2022-10-24 Updated: 2022-12-04 Words:66672 Chapters: 8/?

At four years old, Nathan Stark, Tony's only son, was found dead months after being kidnapped. What happened to him during that time, and how he died remains a mystery. Ten years later, Ben Parker is shot dead under suspicious circumstances. His nephew, Peter, is adamant to catch his killer. Two deaths, a decade apart, and a war on the horizon - there lies only one truth.

little pieces of home by mysterycyclone and seekrest (14202 words): More Spideychelle than Irondad, but a really interesting take, pretty AU-ish, and very interesting so far!

Published: 2022-02-02 Completed: 2022-11-17 Words: 14202 Chapters: 5/5

“You still really suck at lying,” Michelle says. She checks her phone. “You’ve still got time for lunch before work, right?”

Peter checks his phone. Eleven in the morning. “Yeah, I totally have time.”

He doesn’t really have time, but he makes it. He has to make it.

He’s missed them. He’s going to make time for them.

@mysterycyclone @seek--rest

the long game by niniblack (19377 words) This one is rough (for me), but so, so good so far.

Published: 2022-11-08 Updated: 2022-11-29 Words: 28447 Chapters:10/?

The biodad au where Peter gets arrested for selling drugs, and that actually improves his life.

@niniblack

The Grey Area by Lansfics7 (121895 words) Lansfics7 is hilarious, and this story is super interesting, and I’m definitely enjoying it!

Published: 2022-07-06 Updated: 2022-11-23 Words:121895 Chapters:10/?

Peter’s in college, rooming with his best friend Harry Osborn, crushing on his partner in crime, MJ, and making fast friends with Ned Leeds and Gwen Stacy. He's living the dream, interning at Stark Industries under a watchful eye of (mentor???) Tony Stark. But he has his hands full as Spider-Man with a gang spreading fear in the streets of New York, putting civilians at risk and bankrupting the city. Peter is determined to do whatever it takes to stop them, even if that means going in over his head when the web of lies and greed turns out to be way more than he signed up for.

Understanding the Spiderling series by AthingcalledR has been really great so far!

Words: 79,606 Works:2 Complete: No

Peter Parker is a homeless orphan who dedicates as much time as he can to helping the people of New York.

Then he gets hit by a car :D

As Tony Stark and Pepper Potts try to learn more about the troubled young man, Peter tries to reconcile himself with the painful act of letting people into his life.

@athingcalledr

but only hope and sorrows end by iron_spider Recently complete, and is insane, but amazing. Fantastic. Highly recommend!

This is going to be a rough one. It has a child in danger, kidnappings, experiments which feel like torture to those who are enduring them, and long periods of being trapped and presumed dead. It spans over a decade. It is a Hydra fic, an AU about the origins of Spider-Man and Iron Man. Please plan accordingly, but always know there is light at the end of the tunnel.

Published: 2022-03-16 Completed: 2022-08-17 Words: 126339 Chapters: 13/13

@iron--spider

Long Story Short (It Was A Bad Time) Or AIs Don't Forget by peacockgirl (70140 words): My one true love, haha. She’s been adding to this fantastic story, and every chapter is a treasure!

Published: 2021-12-21 Completed: 2022-12-07 Words: 77440 Chapters:14/14

Turns out magic doesn't affect AIs. Karen is Peter's only link to his old life, and helps him hold on when he gets low.

Meanwhile, in Upstate New York, Tony struggles with the inexplicable certainty that he's lost a kid.

Until Peter gets hurt, and Karen tells FRIDAY ...

Set in that wonderful AU world where Tony survives Endgame, and our boy (eventually) gets all the hugs he needs and deserves.

And, finally, a less recent author, not writing for Irondad anymore, but I just binged pretty much anything by Sahiya recently, and it's all amazing. (thanks @junker5 for that recommendation!)

#irondad fic recs #fanfiction recs #fic rec list #irondad & spiderson #all these authors are amazing #and i could put another 20 stories without blinking #but my hands are starting to cramp up #so next time

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just-dreaming-marvel · 2 years

Text

It’s Always Been You ~ 169

OUT OF TIME MASTERLIST

IT’S ALWAYS BEEN YOU MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 4,345ish

Summary: Y/N and Tony rush to help Peter, all while still trying to be “hands-off”.

Notes: There’s only one more chapter of this ending! Yikes! I’m not ready! (You must read Out Of Time in order to understand this. The chapter numbers continue from Out Of Time.)

Tony was gripping the steering for the jet so tightly, that Y/N swore it was going to crack underneath the pressure. Y/N stayed silent for a while until it became too much.

“Don’t go too hard on him,” Y/N said quietly.

“He deserves it,” Tony muttered.

Y/N sighed. “We need to hear him out first.”

“I’ll give him ten seconds to explain himself.”

“Tony.”

“Fine, twenty seconds.”

“You need—“

“Excuse me,” FRIDAY interrupted, “but Mrs. Stark, there’s an unknown number trying to reach you.” Y/N furrowed her brows. “It’s from the Netherlands.”

“The Netherlands?” Y/N repeated.

“Could it possibly be one of your old team members?” Tony asked. “From SHIELD?”

“I don’t think so,” Y/N responded. “FRIDAY, answer it but immediately began tracking it.

“Already on it.”

“Hello? Y/N?” Peter’s voice filled the cockpit. It was clear he was tired and scared.

“Peter?” Y/N questioned. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I need your help.”

“Tell us where you are, kid,” Tony said. “We’re already on our way to Europe.”

“Yo—you are?”

“Yes, honey,” Y/N tried to soothe his worries. She looked at the control panel where FRIDAY had already located Peter. “There’s a tulip field a little ways out of the town you’re in. Meet us there.”

“Okay.” Peter ended the call.

“Tony, he didn’t sound okay,” Y/N worried.

“No… no he did not,” Tony responded. He reached over and rested one of his hands on her knee. He gave her knee a reassuring squeeze. “We’re going to help him, okay? I promise to keep my temper.”

Y/N’s free knee began bouncing nervously. “I want to portal there.”

“FRIDAY’s sped us up now that we have an exact location. We’ll be there in less than an hour.”

~~~

Y/N could sense Peter as the jet hovered over the tulip field to land. The couple got out of their seats and headed to the back door as the jet landed itself. Tony reached out and took a hold of Y/N’s hand. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. They opened the door and could see Peter limping over to the jet, still pretty far away. From what they could tell, he was pretty beaten up and bleeding in a few scattered locations across his body.

“Peter?” Y/N called. “Are you okay?”

“Y/N, is that you?” Peter responded.

“Is it me?” Y/N headed down the jet stairs with Tony in tow, trying to get closer to Peter. “Yeah, of course, it’s me.”

“Stop!” Tony and Y/N froze at Peter’s loud request. “Tell me something only you would know.”

“Peter, it’s us kid,” Tony tried.

“Tell me something only you two would know!”

“Y/N…” Tony whispered. “What do we do?”

“I’ve got this,” she responded, letting Tony’s hand go and taking a careful step toward Peter. “Peter, only myself and, of course, Tony, would know how we met. I had just said goodbye to my SHIELD team for the final time. Tony was leading me out of the bedroom as you were setting the table for dinner. You were so nervous about seeing me. You called be Lady America and told me about fighting Steve in Germany. You promised not to tell anyone about seeing me.”

Peter launched himself at Y/N, clinging to her tightly. Y/N responded with her arms coming around to hold him to her. Tony watched with worry, something bad definitely had to have happened for Peter to act this way.

“You have to tell us what the hell is going on, Peter,” Y/N whispered to the boy.

“Tony was right,” Peter rasped. “Beck isn’t a good guy.”

Tony put a comforting hand on Peter’s back before gently speaking up, “Let’s get you inside and you can tell us what happened.”

~~~

Peter told Y/N and Tony everything. About the illusions and how Quentin Beck gained Peter’s trust only to get the EDITH glasses. Tony sat back and listened, silently, to Peter’s story, never letting Peter know the emotions going through him. Y/N listened to Peter while having a comforting hand on his knee.

Once Peter was done, Y/N made Peter take off his shirt so that she could pull out the bits of debris in him and heal him. Tony was still silently staring at Peter.

“Ouch,” Peter groaned as Y/N used her powers to pull out the debris.

“Sorry,” she responded, trying to ease his pain but not fully take it away so that she would be able to tell if something was very wrong.

Peter flinched again. “Ow.”

“You’re almost done. Relax.”

As Y/N pulled another, Peter punched the table he was leaning on. “Y/N!”

“Relax,” Y/N kindly said, noticing the clench in Tony’s jaw at Peter’s tone towards her.

“Don’t tell me to relax!” Peter jumped up. It was then that the couple could see the redness of Peter’s eyes like he was trying so hard not to cry. “How can I relax when I messed up so bad?! I trusted Beck. Right? I thought he was my friend. I gave him Mr. Stark’s glasses and now he’s gonna kill my friends and half of Europe, so please do not tell me to relax.” He sat down harshly in the chair across from Tony. He sighed, running a hand down his face as he tried to compose himself. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t shout… I’m sorry... I just really messed up.”

Tony leaned forward, closer to Peter. His hands were collapsed together in front of him, elbows resting on his knees. “Look at me kid,” he gently, yet firmly, commanded. Peter nervously looked up at Tony with tears in his eyes. “You messed up, big time.” Y/N fought the urge to stop her husband, wanting to see where he was going with this. “You gave a terrible man a high-tech piece of equipment and now he plans to kill your friends and destroy all of Europe. Yeah, that’s on you.” Tony sighed as he sat back. “But, you’re not the only hero to have made a mistake like this… I have, many of times… Ultron, to name one… I created Ultron using the Mind Stone. Bruce and I didn’t bother to tell the others. Ultron came alive and tried to destroy the whole world… then came the Sokovia Accords which tore the Avengers apart, which is the reason we all weren’t with each other when Thanos hit that first time… if we would have been, I believe we could have defeated him that first time… all of that—the cascade of events—that’s on me. Just like this is on you.”

“The difference though between me and you, is that you have people that have made mistakes like this before that you can learn from and use their experiences,” Tony continued. “I—we didn’t have that as we became superheroes. You do. Kid,” Tony leaned forward again, “you are the best of us. You need to know that. And even the best make mistakes. So, you’ve made a mistake, your friends are now in trouble because of it, you feel all alone, and your tech is missing. What are you gonna do about it?”

“I’m gonna kick his ass,” Peter responded, his confidence slowly coming back to him.

“Right, of course that. But I mean right now. Like, specifically, what are we gonna do? Because we’ve been hovering over a tulip friend for the last twenty minutes.”

“Right, um. I can’t call my friends because he’s tracking their phones. Uh,” he faced Y/N, “can I have your phone?”

“Sure,” she replied, pulling the phone out of her pocket and handing it over.

“Uh, and, what’s your password?”

“It’s the number three spelled out.”

“Three?” Tony questioned. He had never needed his wife’s password before so he didn’t bother knowing it.

“For three thousand or my three kids. You pick.”

Peter quickly got onto Instagram and pulled up one of his classmates pages. “They’re in London,” he stated. “I’m gonna need a suit.”

“Suit?” Tony repeated with a sly smirk on his face.

Tony hit his hands against he legs as he stood up and walked over to the cockpit, pressing a button on the ceiling. The back jet wall disappeared to reveal a workshop. Peter walked in, taking everything in.

“This is awesome!” Peter exclaimed.

“I know,” Tony shrugged.

Peter got to work with designing and playing with the tech as Y/N came up to stand next to Tony. Tony put an arm around her and held her to his side.

“That was a nice speech you gave there,” she whispered. “How long have you been working on that one?”

“I’ve been prepared for him to make a mistake like this,” Tony replied. “He’s a good kid.”

“The best.” She kissed Tony’s cheek. “He’s almost up there with his mentor.”

Tony and Y/N watched on proudly as Peter got to work. It didn’t take long for Peter to realize they were watching him.

“What?” Peter questioned.

“Nothing,” Y/N responded with a light smile.

“You just take care of the suit, kid,” Tony added. “I’ll take care of the music.” He reached over and hit a button causing ‘Back In Black’ by AC/DC to start.

“Oh, I love Led Zeppelin!” Peter exclaimed.

Tony groaned as he clenched his eyes shut. “He did not just say that.”

“Oh, he did,” Y/N laughed. Y/N gave Tony’s chest a few pats. “How about you go help your son? I’m going to give Fury a call.”

Tony nodded before leaving to go join Peter. Y/N watched with a fond smile as Peter and Tony began bantering and working together. It was great to see the two work so closely, like father and son. After a few moments, Y/N sighed and headed to sit in the cockpit. Using FRIDAY, since Peter never gave her back her phone, she called Fury. She knew that she couldn’t straight out say anything about Beck just in case, so she needed to find out a way to get a message to him.

“What?” He answered. Y/N could immediately sense something was off with him. But Didn’t push it.

“It’s Y/N,” she stated.

“I know. I can see that.”

“I’ve been going through some of my old SHIELD things and found a picture of you and me smiling at a camera.”

“What?”

“Morgan said that we looked really happy. I told her that appearances can be deceiving.”

“It’s not me in the picture and don’t ever call me about any nonsense again.” And he hung up.

“Ever the grumpy old man,” Y/N muttered. “Fury’s got the coded message! I’ll let you know when we’re nearing London.”

No answer was given to Y/N as they kept talking and working on Peter’s new suit. Y/N smirked as she took the jet off autopilot and began flying the jet herself.

~~~

FRIDAY tracked Peter’s friends on Instagram so that Y/N could fly the jet to the correct location. As the jet was almost to London, Y/N put it on autopilot so that she could go back and check on Tony and Peter. Walking back, they were watching the suit being made.

“I got a message to Fury and we’re almost to the Tower Bridge where Peter’s friends are,” Y/N told them.

“Okay,” Peter responded.

“How’s the suit coming?”

“Almost done,” Tony replied.

“Good.”

Peter let out a nervous exhale as he faced the couple. “Before we get there, I… I need to say something.” He finished a broken glass necklace out of his pocket. “If something happens to me, could you please give this to MJ?”

“You’re gonna to make it back,” Tony said, not willing to deal with the other option. “Y/N and I will be here to help you.”

“You’re going to give it to MJ yourself,” Y/N said, “alright? You got this.”

“I got this,” Peter repeated.

“Now, I know you two formed a plan while you were working back here. Walk me through it.”

“I know it’s illusion tech, right?” Y/N nodded. “All I have to do is get on the inside of the illusion, then I can take it down, find him, and he’s just a guy, so I can take EDITH right back.”

“Yes but last time you got hit by a train.”

“True, but this time—how do I explain this? Uh, I have a sixth sense.”

“The Peter-tingle. That’s what you’re talking about, right? I thought it wasn’t working. My senses and May—“

“It is working. Well, I don—I don’t know if it’s working.”

“Great.” She turned to Tony. “You’re okay with sending him out there alone without his sixth sense?”

“I know it sounds weird, especially coming from me, but I trust him on this,” Tony said. “He’s got this.”

Y/N took a deep breath. “Okay, I guess I’ll deal with it. What are Tony and I going to do?”

“You two are going to get my friends out of there and be my back up if needed.”

“You know, I could just—“

“You’re not using your powers, Y/N. It’s too dangerous.”

“I’m with the kid on that one,” Tony said. “We’re going to get his friends out and provide him back up, if needed.”

“Fine.”

Y/N turned around to head back to the cockpit but Peter quickly caught her wrist. Her brows furrowed as she turned to look back at him. He pulled her into a tight hug.

“Thank you for always being here for me… mom,” he whispered. Y/N gasped, tears slipping from her eyes as she held on to Peter tighter. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispered back. She pulled back and cradled his head in her hands. “I’m so proud of you, and I know your real parents are too.”

“You and Tony and Aunt May are as much of my real parents as the ones that passed away… you are my mom, Y/N. Aunt May is my mom. And Tony is…” he looked at Tony who was trying to seem like he wasn’t about to cry. “You’re my dad, Mr. Stark. If—If that’s okay, of course.”

“Kid,” Tony stepped up and put a hand on one of Peter’s shoulders, “you’ve been my son since that first meeting.”

Tony pulled Peter into his arms, clapping his back. Y/N glanced back at the cockpit to see that they were running out of time before Peter needed to be ready.

“I honestly hate breaking up this moment,” Y/N started, “but we’ve got to get Peter in the suit and ready.”

“Right,” Tony said, pulling away and revealing his watery, red eyes. He tried to hide the sniffle as he turned away. “Peter, get ready, Y/N and I will get the jet to the location.”

“You made him cry,” Y/N mouthed to Peter, excitedly.

“I know,” Peter mouthed back, also a little excited.

Y/N gave Peter a thumbs up before heading back to the cockpit.

~~~

Y/N was controlling the jet as Peter changed and crawled out onto the top of the jet.

“Alright, comms check,” Tony said. “Can you hear me, kid?”

“Yeah, I can,” Peter responded. “It’s just a little loud out here.”

“I like the new suit,” Y/N commented.

“Thanks.”

The jet turned the corner and they were able to see Beck’s illusion.

“That’s huge,” Y/N breathed out.

“Yeah, that’s definitely a hundred times bigger than I expected,” Peter said.

“Still the same plan?”

“Uh-huh. We need to get high enough so Beck doesn’t see me coming.”

“Got it.” Y/N guided the jet upwards.

“Hey, mom, dad.”

“It’s going to take a minute for me to get used to that,” Tony mumbled.

“Yes, Pete?” Y/N questioned.

“Is Happy dating my Aunt?”

“Uh, I… I can’t answer that. Tony?”

“You’re going to have to talk to her and Hap after this, kid,” Tony responded. “We really don’t know the answer.”

“That’s just gggreeeatttt!” Peter slipped off the jet.

Tony sighed, a smile growing on his face. “He called me dad.”

Y/N smiled too. “Yes he did.”

“I think I like that way too much.”

“I think you do too.”

~~~

The couple landed the jet and hurried out to find Peter’s friends. Chaos had ensued quickly as Peter had successfully revealed that the attack was all an illusion created by drones. People were running around and screaming, trying to get away from the center of it all. Tony gripped Y/N’s hand as the pushed through the crowds of people.

“Mr. Stark?!” Peter’s best friend Ned called out as him and a group of Peter’s friends ran up to the couple. “Mrs. Stark?!”

“Ned, right?” Tony clarified.

“Y-y-yes.”

“We’re here to get you guys out of here!” Y/N said. “Get on the jet!” They turned only to see the jet exploded. “You wanna let me use my powers?” Y/N whispered through gritted teeth.

“And see you sent to Raft?” Tony retorted shaking his head. “Not a chance in hell, honey. We’ve already risked it too much.” Tony looked around. “New plan, into the Tower!”

The teenagers followed Y/N and Tony into the Tower.

“Mom! Dad!” Peter yelled through the comms. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N responded. “We’re okay. Just go get Beck.”

Y/N and Tony noticed a drone following them as they ran through the rooms and hallways of the Tower.

“Into the Crown Jewels vault!” Tony ordered, leading the group to where he was talking about. “The walls are 8 feet thick! Into the vault!”

“What?” One of Peter’s friends questioned.

“Into the vault! Go!”

A drone rounded the corner and began shooting. The teenagers and couple clamored as they tried to safely make their way to the vault.

“Take cover!” Y/N ordered, everyone, finding a spot behind the displays. Y/N’s hands formed into fists and slowly began glowing purple. Tony caught on and grabbed one of her fists.

“I told you we aren’t risking it anymore,” Tony harshly whispered, making sure that Y/N was meeting his eyes. “We don’t know what Beck could do with the information of you having all your powers. I am not risking you being locked away in Raft.”

“It’s worth the risk so that these kids don’t die, Tony. It’s an easy decision… my life or theirs.”

“No. It’s our life or their life. There’s no “your life”.”

“Do you have a plan then?”

Tony glanced behind Y/N to see one of Peter’s friends grabbing one of the displayed weapons. “Well, I think that kid has the right ahead.”

Y/N turned to see Ned and a girl push down a displayed knight, causing the drone to begin firing at it. The girl that had grabbed one of the weapons hit the drone down.

“Into the vault!” Y/N commanded.

Tony was the last one to the vault, having grabbed a round shield from one of the displayed knights. He threw it at the confused drone and missed.

“How does Cap do that?!” Tony exclaimed as they closed the vault doors.

“Maybe you should have joined us in training more,” Y/N commented.

“Mom! Dad! Say something, please!” Peter called through the comms. “Please let me know you’re alive!”

“We’re here, kid,” Y/N comforted. “We’re here.”

“Thank goodness.”

“We bought time, but not much,” Tony added.

“I’m trying to get to Beck, but I can’t shake these drones!”

“Keep fighting, Pe—Spider-Man,” Y/N said. “You can do this.”

“Mr. Stark,” Ned called, “can’t you just destroy the drone with your suit?”

“Uh, well, I…” Tony started.

“Tell me you did not leave your suit on that jet, Tony,” Y/N demanded.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Are we gonna die?” Ned asked.

“No one is dying on our watch,” Tony stated. “‘Kay, we need names.”

“I’m Betty,” the blonde girl next to Ned nervously responded.

“Flash Thompson,” the next kid introduced himself.

“MJ,” the girl stated.

“MJ?” Y/N smiled. “Nice to meet you. I hate that it was in this situation. But I—“

“Honey,” Tony reprimanded. “Not really the time.”

“Right.”

“I wasted my life playing video games, and we’re gonna die,” Ned blurted out.

“I have a fake ID, and I’ve never even used it,” Betty admitted.

“I post stupid videos daily for people to like me!” Flash added.

“If it wasn’t for those stupid videos, we and Spider-Man would’ve never found you,” Tony said.

“Spider-Man? Spider-Man follows me? I saved us, guys!”

“If you saved us, why are we about to die?!” MJ retorted.

“MJ!” Both Ned and Betty shouted. “Stop it!”

“I’m sorry, okay?! I’m obsessed with telling the truth even if it hurts people’s feelings!”

“Alright! Stop it!” Y/N yelled. “None of you are dying here, alright?” She turned to Tony. “I’m doing what I have to and then I’m changing their memories. We can’t stay here like sitting ducks.”

Tony studied Y/N’s face, seeing how serious she was. “Fine. Do it.”

Y/N sighed and opened a portal behind them all. “Everyone through the portal!”

The teenagers turned around in shock.

“What—how?” Ned questioned.

“This is so awesome!” Flash exclaimed, getting out his phone to film.

Y/N threw out her hand and blasted the phone against the way, shattering it. “Can’t have any more proof of my abilities out there,” she explained. “I’m sure your parents can buy you another one. Now, through the portal!”

The teenagers didn’t argue with Y/N after that. They walked through only to be brought into one of the Tower hallways. The portal closed right before the drone broke into the vault. Y/N held her hands up and closed her eyes to concentrate. Green tendrils floated from her fingers to each of the teenager's heads, erasing the memory of the portal and filling the gap with another way that they could have escaped. Y/N’s hands came down and she stumbled back.

“Woah,” Tony said as he steadied his wife. “I’ve got you.”

“That—that took a lot out of me,” Y/N rasped, feeling really weak.

Tony picked her up and held her close to his chest. “I told you, I’ve got you.”

Tony and Y/N’s focus snapped from each other to their surroundings as the drones began falling from the sky.

“He did it,” Y/N breathed out. “That’s our boy.”

Tony pressed a kiss to Y/N’s head. “That’s our boy,” he repeated.

~~~

“Well look who’s still alive,” Tony taunted as Fury and Hill walked up to him and Y/N. Y/N was till weak so Tony was holding her close to his side, taking a majority of her weight.

“‘Appearances can be deceiving’,” Fury repeated. “You could have just winked in the camera.”

“Either way, it worked,” Y/N said.

“Only because I had serious doubts about Beck front he beginning.”

“Not true,” Maria said. “He had zero doubts.”

“Where’s Parker?”

“With a girl,” Tony answered.

“I need to speak with him.”

“He’ll call you. Or, we will because you shouldn’t be allowed to talk to a minor.”

“He’ll cal—“ Fury abruptly laughed. “Okay. Well, he better.” Fury turned to leave with Hill.

“Talos,” Y/N called, causing Fury and Hill to freeze. “Don’t be spruced that I could figure out who you were. I don’t know where Fury or Hill are, or why they’re using you two to do their dirty work. But let them know that we weren’t amused by them ignoring us to get to Peter. Next time it happens, I’ll have his head. Make sure to send him the message.”

Tony chuckled. “Remind me not to piss you off,” he mumbled, kissing her temple.

“I will,” Y/N giggled. “Ready to go home?”

“Yes, but I’m still not sure about you forming a portal right now.”

“I’ll be fine as long as you’re there to catch me.”

“Always.”

~~~

FORTY-EIGHT HOURS LATER…

“This is breaking news! We come to you now with revelations about last week’s attack in London. An anonymous source provided this video,” the anchorman stated. “The video shows Quentin Beck, aka Mysterious, moments before his death. A warning: you may find this video disturbing.”

“Is Morgan upstairs still?” Y/N asked, unable to take her eyes off of the TV.

“She’s outside playing,” Steve responded, watching the screen as well.

The screen cut to footage of the Tower Bridge battle. Quentin Beck was holding the camera, frantically speaking and looking around.

“I managed to send the Elemental back through the dimensional rift, but I don’t think I’m gonna make it off this bridge alive,” Beck fretted. “Spider-Man attacked me for some reason! He has an army of weaponized drones, Stark technology!”

The video cut to a different scene. Beck’s body was on the ground and Spider-Man was standing over him.

“Are you sure you want to commence the drone attack?” EDITH asked. “there will be significant casualties.”

“Do it,” Peter’s voice said. “Execute them all.”

The screen changed from the footage to a bald man at an anchor desk.

“There you have it, folks!” The man exclaimed. “Conclusive proof that Spider-Man was responsible for the brutal murder of Mysterious, an inter-dimensional warrior who gave his life to protect our planet, and who will, no doubt, go down in history as the greatest superhero of all time.” Both Tony and Steve scoffed. “But that’s not all, folks. Here’s the real blockbuster. Brace yourselves, you might wanna sit down.”

The screen changed back to Quentin Beck holding the camera on the Tower Bridge.

“Spider-Man’s real—Spider-Man’s real name is— Spider-Man’s name is Peter Parker!” Peter’s school picture appeared on the tv.

next chapter >

I appreciate all likes, comments, asks, and reblogs! Thank you for all the positive support!

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anonymousboxcar · 11 months

Text

Tilly the Dukedog (OC), Pt. Three: Bluebells & Sodor

Part One

Part Two

Here’s the final part of Tilly’s background/life story, from the 1960s to roughly the present day! Thanks for sticking with these posts. This is by far the longest one yet, so I suggest you grab a snack and a drink before settling in. I hope you all enjoy!

———————————

Tilly and Earl of Berkeley did their best to settle in on the Bluebell Railway. Like on the Cambrian main line, Tilly worked very hard to make sure all the new engines integrated and got along with each other. The Bluebell was among the first heritage railways; she wanted to make sure the model proved successful, to secure her and many others’ safety.

Earl of Berkeley, however, worried that Tilly was taking on too much by herself. He’d seen how driven she was on their old line, and he respected it very much. But he didn’t want to see her drive herself into the ground. “Everyone here wants the Bluebell to succeed,” he told her. “We’re all in this together.”

“…I know,” she said after a long pause. “I worry, is all. I don’t want to roll away and miss something.”

“We’ll keep each other in the loop, yeah? And you don’t have to go too far away. You can always delegate, give us things.”

The word “delegate” sparked something in Tilly’s mind. It reminded her of when she asked Edith to do something to set up a prank or a scheme in their Cornwall days. Looking at E.B., she knew she couldn’t go back to those days… but she could ensure they lived on.

So Tilly took it upon herself to teach E.B., an already cheeky soul, in all her old prankster ways.

There were practical reasons for doing this. She knew that most of the engines joining them were anxious and traumatized. Giving them things to laugh at, things at which to redirect their focus, would help them settle in and relax. It would make things run a little smoother.

Tilly also missed doing that sort of thing. Her schemes on the Cambrian main line were serious, caught up in the hard times and the desperation of it all. Times were still hard and desperate, of course. But thinking it over, she thought more good humor would’ve been helpful back then. She only couldn’t bring herself to do it again without her partner in crime.

Yet she still longed for a return to something much more lighthearted. She knew Edith would long for it, too. And that was enough for her to push past those buffers.

E.B. proved a skilled student who kept her and everyone else on the outer rims of their wheels. While lacking Tilly’s silver tongue, he had a knack at making people feel in on a joke. He was a class clown at heart, good-natured and happy to entertain. He laughed at himself more than anyone else, and that made him easy to trust.

For the first time in years, Tilly let herself loosen up a little bit too. She let herself grow closer to the other engines, being a friend as well as a counselor. She got in on some pranks and lighthearted schemes.

Nor did she stress over representing her line so much. While she was still representing the Dukedogs, so was E.B. They collaborated on educating guests about the GWR, their class, their lives as Bulldogs, and their Duke friends. And the Bluebell’s officials, unlike the GWR, supported their efforts.

As Stepney became the face of the Bluebell — of preserved steam engines, even — Tilly saw the anxiety under his mask. She shared her past experiences. Whatever reassurance she had, she gave to him. “It’s not the end of the world,” she told him after one gaffe.

“I know it isn’t. I just want to be a good representative for the Bluebell,” he said, looking at his buffers. “A engine losing his temper with the photographers is hardly that.”

“You were stroppy, but that happens to people. You’re a person. And so were our loved ones. Being imperfect and complicated is the best way to represent them, really.”

Stepney blinked, looking up. “I suppose so,” he said after a beat.“Can’t let them think we were all perfect angels, can we?”

“Oh, no.” She grinned. “Worse than historically inaccurate, that’d be boring.”

He barked a laugh at that.

In return for Tilly’s help, Stepney used his influence to push for more institutional support of her and E.B.’s efforts to educate the public. And he encouraged her to have her own fun, joining her and E.B. There were a couple prolific April Fool’s Days on their railway.

Knowing how she wished to respect Edith’s adventurous spirit, Stepney also told Tilly about his visit on Sodor. Curious, she joined him on several additional Sudrian trips.

I could probably fill up books talking about her dynamics with Sudrian engines, so I’ll restrain myself here to talking about her interactions with one character: Duck.

This is spilling over into yet more headcanon territory, but you guys remember how Duck told Peter Sam that “all Dukes were scrapped?” That remark isn’t incorrect, but it isn’t the full story, either.

It’s probable that Duck didn’t want to get bogged down in all the details while talking to Peter Sam. But I also like thinking he didn’t go into more detail because he never quite got over it. What if he had some friends in the Dukes, and was grieved and horrified to see new faces on their boilers?

“It was necessary for the survival of the Great Western,” he’d tell anyone who asked about it. And he believed it. He knew that no Great Western engine is above another, that it’s their Way to help each other in any way possible.

But for all that Duck cares about the GWR, I think he also cares about his individuality, feels the need to express himself in small ways. The idea of his bodily autonomy, already very limited, being disrupted in such a fatal manner for another engine, might’ve disturbed him. He wouldn’t blame any Dukedog for that, but he would struggle to lay responsibility at the feet of his beloved old railway.

Rather than deal with all his complicated feelings about this, I suggest here that Duck suppressed it. He avoided thinking about it, talking about it in detail.

So Duck didn’t speak much to Tilly outside of their first meeting. He was polite and civil in their few subsequent interactions, but always tense. It reminded Tilly of how other GWR engines responded to the Dukedogs in the first few months after the rebuilds.

It took years for Tilly to enact a successful plan to talk to him. He was slippery, but she eventually managed to finagle some down-time with him across several visits. It might’ve been better if she was less insistent, but that wasn’t her nature to let things lie.

Tilly’s first thought was to reassure him the way she did the others, saying she grieved the Dukes too. She tried this when they had a lull in their work together. Duck appreciated this and said so, but he still acted kind of uncomfortable. Tilly soon came to realize that this was tied up with his feelings about the GWR after further conversation.

Her perspective on the GWR — that it wasn’t as special as people made it out to be, often flawed like other railways — was a jolt to Duck. He disagreed at first on reflex, on principle, and Tilly took some offense. Things got heated.

But they managed to calm themselves by the next time they saw each other.

“I can’t tell you how to remember or feel about the Great Western,” Tilly said. “That was wrong of me. I’m sorry.”

Duck looked away. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. I’ve needed to think about it all for some time now, if I’m honest. I’m sorry I was so rude to you.”

“We were rude to each other.” She edged closer. “I… what I should’ve said is that it’s alright to have conflicting feelings about the Great Western. If it weren’t alright, I don’t think I’d still be here today.”

“It’s the Great Western Way to carry on, no matter the fuss or how I feel,” he said after a beat, glancing back at her. “And I’ve done my best at that.”

“Indeed. You can’t be that much of a traitor to the railway, then, if you’re still here.”

“I don’t mean to suggest you’re a traitor to it, or to any of them. You’re carrying on too, honoring your… Edith, was it?”

“Yes.” She drew in a breath, feeling her lower lip tremble all of a sudden. “I — I’m glad you think so.”

Duck rolled alongside her, slow and quiet. “I know so, from what I’ve seen of you.”

Tilly took a moment to recollect herself. Clearing her tubes, she said, “For what it’s worth, I think you’re carrying on the best parts of the Great Western. Edith would be chuffed to see you pushing for solidarity, for respect in the yards.”

“…thank you.” Duck offered a small smile. “I think you’re doing much of that, too.”

“Well. I’m not that respectful if I hounded all this talk out of you, am I?”

“Ah, there’s always next time — especially on this railway.”

Tilly and Duck keep in touch to this day. They enjoy each other’s company and respect each other’s approaches to the GWR, agreeing there’s more overlap than they first thought. Duck’s rigidity on the Great Western Way softened over time. And Tilly grew a better understanding and respect for the ways people carry out histories and legacies.

With her visits, letters, and work on the Bluebell, Tilly rarely feels lonely or unfulfilled these days. She’s keeping on in all the ways she knows how, remembering and loving and learning. She works to honor Edith’s wishes in the same breath as her own.

On the most recent anniversary of her rebuild, she went out on a long run and spoke to Edith as she traveled. She talked about how things were going, about how she looked after the boiler and cab. “They’ve mended it a lot over the years, you know,” she said. “It might not have any of your original iron anymore.”

She paused, feeling the wind on her face. Water sloshed inside her in lazy circuits, trailing a second heartbeat alongside her pistons.

“But that’s alright. I’ve kept your iron in other places, staying ever so busy and silly.” She smiled. “It’s hard work, and it’s worth it. All of it.”

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booksandchainmail · 1 year

Text

Pale 9.2

That was the awful part of life where it didn’t matter how smart you were. It just sucked to do and maybe if you were rich you could hire someone to handle it, sure, but she had no real interest in being rich.

being rich can be exchanged for not having to deal with boring parts of life!

She was a problem solver. She was dumb in some areas but she was good at that, especially if she had her friends at her back. Verona thought of Bristow. Sometimes she was too good at that.

Something that's come up a bit thinking back on Bristow is that Verona escalates beyond her intent or ability to handle.

In another country, retracing steps from blacked out days, weeks, or months, learning you had, ahem, dates with a string of washed-up celebrities, tipped the initial domino in felling an international drug cartel, and seeded a new religion, with one or all events commemorated with brand new tattoos.

so a normal shadowrun session

Charles’s entire tone was almost as if he wanted to die, talking about it. Like he was deathly tired of the subject or something.

I wonder why Charles is so annoyed by talking about the barrier. Just tired of having to reexplain it? Or does he not like the reminder that he can't practice anymore

“If I may interrupt,” Matthew said. “Sorry, we can’t dawdle or chit-chat too much."

This is the second time Matthew's cut Verona off from talking to one of the newer Others this meeting. She is getting off topic, but I wonder if he's mainly trying to keep the girls isolated.

It felt a bit like the new Others had been told things about them that had poisoned the waters. Like the first impression had been made for them already. Verona frowned.

yeah. The question is, by who? I could see Crooked Rook being wary of practitioners in general, but I'm more inclined to think this was some of the original Kennet Others, probably Matthew and Edith. They would be able to speak about the girls in specific.

"You can decide how you want to handle patrols for the rest of summer.” “And after summer?” Lucy asked. “We’ll see, I guess."

I am in a paranoid state of mind here and wondering if Matthew isn't planning for after summer because he doesn't think the girls will still be around then

“There’s no way to argue this point without sounding like an asshole,” Lucy said. “I don’t even care that much about the gifts but I do care that I’m being put in this position. We didn’t ask, Montague offered. And now we’re being made to look like bad guys for even entertaining it. This sucks, you guys, and it sucks because you’re making it suck, and I don’t know why you’re doing that."

Matthew has gotten a lot more openly hostile

“I’d like to formally announce my intention to do the familiar ritual with Snowdrop. I know it’s not the best shortcut to power, but if it keeps her around for longer than the usual four or five years of an opossum’s lifespan then I think that it’s something I really gotta do.”

hopefully this will defuse things a bit.

“About Raymond, we talked about him earlier, he wants to meet Charles. And about Zed, and about Nicolette, and even Jessica Casabien. We’d like to stay in touch with them. I’d like to get the okay to invite them to Kennet. We can get them to agree to stay quiet, I think, and not interfere. But when it comes to stuff like the wards, or finding the Others, I think they could be big helps.”

hmmm. So this is obviously not going to go over well. And honestly I'm not sure it's a great idea (though there are obvious benefits for getting more power and help). I wouldn't want Ray getting involved: I like him, but he didn't object to the things Alexander and Bristow did. He's also well established in his power and authority: I could see him, with good intentions, taking some level of control over Kennet. And he's so well-connected that anything he lets slip can travel far.

Zed and Nicolette... that's a mixed bag. They're both good people, but they'd come at Kennet from a practitioner's angle. And Nicolette stepped up during the coup, but I think with people (like the Kennet Others) she doesn't particularly know or care about, she'd put her own safety and future first. Zed is more ethical, but he's also very investigative, and I could see his sense of morality backfiring if he feels compelled to intervene.

Honestly, of all these people, I'd pick Jessica as the one to invite to Kennet. She's already an outsider to practitioner society: she seems to dislike most practitioners and isn't attached to their worldview. And she doesn't seem like she'd be overly interested in any of the Others who want to keep a distance. If Kennet could help her with her cousin, I could see her being a really solid ally.

Verona was really curious what had prompted Avery to bring that up.

wanting to build something, beyond just the three of them?

“The difference is the Others knew of you before that meeting. Came to terms with you, discussed you. For us, you were an afterthought.”

and you were in their power, unAwakened human children, not young but growing practitioners

In the back, Snowdrop chattered at Tashlit, “I don’t even get to be an honorary goblin. They’re so mean to me, they don’t share any of their snacks!”

aww

“We have people we care about just as much as you care about Chloe or Faith,” Lucy said. “If something happened to them… that’s nightmare material, as far as I’m concerned. If someone like Chloe hurt them… just about everyone in Kennet’s precious to someone, like that, aren’t they?”

ghouls really seem like a terrible situation. No ethical way of keeping up a reliable food source in any volume. A quick google says that Canada has around 8 deaths per 1000 people per year. Even assuming every single corpse goes to feed ghouls, you'd still need 6,500 people to keep one fed. Which could work out, with small numbers of ghouls in cities, but really can't be sustained in a town the size of Kennet.

Verona looked down. Looked around at the grass, which needed a bit of mowing, had some weeds. A few divots where something like groundhogs had dug through. A few trees stood at the back.

if Avery takes Snowdrop as a familiar, then it's Verona who'll be taking a Demesnse. So it's really her decision here

"It’s big and it would be yours, if you want it. The amount of space you start with is pretty important.”

true, though I think ideally you'd have a building, not just a vacant lot. Can you build a mundane house to use as a base once the Demesnse is already set?

Settling down, locking an area down as her own for life, taking on that as a responsibility and investment… it felt like a lot, somehow. Heavy.

Verona seems like the least of the three to want this

Tashlit gave her a thumbs up.

could Tashlit move in, if Verona has a Demesnse? Seems like it might be easier to weatherproof than just a shack.

Permanence was scary. The steps they couldn’t take back. Bristow. The things they couldn’t undo.

#booksandchainmail reads pale #pale #wildbow

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seenoversundown · 3 months

Text

Sparrow Of The Dawn : Chapter Five

Sam x Willa (Fem OC)

Warnings: Swearing, One mention of the word 'Daddy', mentions of boners? Mild accidental groping, light talk of spit kink if you squint, a lot of movie references, Jumpscare Warning: Jeremy Allen White, mentions of very minor injury, Girls Night (gender neutral term), guys being dudes, mentions of avoiding a car accident, fluff, and per usual Sam just being his usual self.

Word Count: 8k.

Author’s Note: Taco Bell IS on the boycott list and just included for entertainment purposes. Also, if you need help with figuring out which companies are on the boycott list you can download the “No Thanks” app to keep track!

Summary: Sam unfortunately finds himself in not so meet cute with Willa. Hopeful that he doesn't cross her path again; the world works in mysterious ways and not always in your favor.

That's Not My Name - The Ting Tings “Are you callin' me darlin', are you callin' me bird?”

‘If it weren’t for bad luck, we wouldn’t have any luck at all’ is a phrase my grandfather repeated growing up. I feel that a little more deeply these days, especially when it comes to my truck. As I sit here, willing her to turn over every time I twist the key, I lose a bit more hope. I have got to get her looked at. I pull my phone from my back pocket and text the group chat, praying that someone is awake this early.

Me: Is anyone awake that loves me enough to drive me into work. Edith wont start again ☹️

Tweedle Dee 🦐: It’s your lucky day.

It only takes about ten minutes before Josh pulls up in his white Jeep truck, and I’ve never been more thankful that we all live so close.

“You look awfully dapper for 7:30 in the morning,” I remark, eyebrow cocked.

“And you are just a pair of cargo shorts away from being Steve Irwin, but you don’t hear me questioning you.” He retorts. Touche. “I thought I was dropping you off at the newspaper office?”

“You are, but we’re going to Wolfe’s Neck to take some nature photos for the assignment we’re working on. I’m meeting her at the office first.” Josh and I haven’t spoken much in the last few days; he’s always busy lately, working at the bar or devoid of his phone for hours, so I fill him in on the project.

“An incredible idea, Sammy. All hers, I assume?” He chides.

“Not.. all hers. I helped.” I speak a bit more defensively than I mean to.

“Convincing.”

“I did! We’re even using a couple of my film cameras because I’m so nice.” I further defend my stance.

He pulls up to the curb, effectively cutting our conversation short, thankfully, and I exit his car.

“Sam!” He yells jovially, and I turn around, his window fully unrolled. “Have a good day, Sammy Boy! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” He twists the dial on his stereo volume. The soundtrack of my suffering plays to the tune of ‘Barbie Girl’ by Aqua. I wave him ‘goodbye’ with a simple middle finger as he drives off. As I make my way back to the front door, there she is.

Birdie.

She greets me with, “I bet he’s a nightmare in the morning.”

“You have no idea.” I reach for the door, opening it for us both and letting her walk in first because I am a gentleman; however, I am still a pain in the ass. “Is it not too early in the morning for my voice today?”

“It's always far too early to hear your voice, Samuel.” She presses the button on the elevator and twists her shoulders toward me.

“How are we supposed to work together if you refuse to talk to me, huh?”

“It’s not like taking pictures requires conversation.” The sound of the elevator dinging catches our attention, and we both enter. Birdie reaches to press the correct floor button.

“How about,” I start, facing her and smirking with a cocked eyebrow, “we stop for coffee and breakfast, my treat? Since now, I don’t have to break the news to you that you have to drive.”

“You.. have my attention.” The elevator arrives, and we exit right, down the hallway, through the glass door, and past the reception desk. Sharon greets us warmly with a wave; she’s no Daisy, but she is lovely. Once we reach the cubicles, we separate, unloading our belongings on our own desks. Birdie looks good today. Her earth-toned Patagonia pullover fits snuggly, along with the black leggings on her legs. The tail ends of her brown bob poking out the bottom of her tan Carhartt beanie.

“I see you’ve dressed for the occasion.”

“Oh, uh yeah. I couldn’t exactly wear my Steve Maddens in the forest.” She stares down at the white socks and brown hiking boots I know are on her feet. “Where are we going, by the way? You never told me, just said, ‘I have a place.’”

“Wolfe’s Neck State Park, you been before?”

“Surprisingly, no. It’s on my list though.”

“It doesn’t open until 9, so we have a little bit of time to kill before we have to leave; it’s only a half-hour drive. Maybe forty-five or fifty with breakfast.”

“Did you wanna hit up Dunkies for breakfast?” she asks.

“Please, god no. They can never get my food right. I swear they have a secret vendetta against vegetarians.”

“I didn’t know you were a vegetarian. Is it an animals with faces thing?”

“Nah, Daniel, bet me fifty bucks I couldn’t do it. I never turn down a bet.” I sit down on my desk and cross my arms. Looking at her over the divider.

“How’d that turn out for you?”

“A new diet and fifty bucks richer,” I snicker.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The trail I lead her down is not a very long one. I can hear her small feet padding behind me, breaking branches and rustling leaves in quick steps. She takes two to match my every one. I figured one of the shorter trails would work better for getting in and out with enough time to head back and finish our project.

“Ooooh, it's giving Twilight,” she beams, eyes huge with excitement.

I turn to follow her gaze toward the large, moss-covered rock wall. A few fallen, slimmer trees lay around the bottom. She runs over toward it.

“This is the skin of a killer, Bella.” Reenacting a scene from the movie. A movie I’ve definitely never seen. “I don’t care. You won’t hurt me.” she quotes dramatically, switching from Edward to Bella. She matches Bella’s awkward movements perfectly. It’s hard not to laugh, her head bobbing, arms flailing, jumping back and forth between spots for each character. I haven’t seen this side of her yet, A fun side. Who knew Birdie had it in her?

“You know I’ve never seen Twilight before.” I lie as I slip one strap off my shoulder and pull my bag around to the front of my body. Unzipping the compartment that has her camera in it, I pull it out and give it a wiggle. She walks over to meet me.

“Never had a girlfriend in high school who forced you to watch it?” she smiles, jokingly as she takes the camera from my hand and slips the strap around her neck, checking over her settings.

“Nope.” popping the ‘p’, “Never really dated til I got to college.” I take out my own camera.

“Aw got no game huh?” She makes a mocking frown at me as we walk down the trail.

“Got no game, huh?” I mimic her. Way to go, Sammy. Wicked come back. That’ll teach her.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

We take our time, snapping photos as we go until we reach the water. It's beautiful here. Large formed rocks surround the lake that makes up an amazing scenic view. The sunshine only adds to the effect. It's breathtaking every time. I can’t believe she’s never been here before. We slowly walk up to the edge of the water. She finds little crevices that the water runs through. In her continued child-like wonder she can’t help but kneel down to run her fingers through it, picking up small rocks to inspect before dropping them back into the tiny flowing river. The sun’s rays bounce off the water, the reflection a bit blinding, but I’ll take it on a day like today. It sparkles off the waves created by the small gusts of wind, which keeps me comfortable, but I notice the little shivers that run through her shoulders. Despite the minimal clouds in the sky, the sun isn’t strong enough to truly warm you from within this time of year.

I watch as Birdie steps onto one of the taller rock formations. She brings the camera to her eye, the clicking sound pleasantly mixed with the sound of all the petite rivers running nearby. She drops her camera and tilts her face toward the sun, eyes closed, taking in the warmth from the sunshine above. She looks as peaceful as it feels out here. I snap a photo of her. She brings her arms out as if she's standing at the head of the Titanic; I snap another one. That is what Maine is about, the simplistic beauty of being with nature. Any time of year, any weather. Just enjoying the feeling of connecting to nature. Water, trees, rocks, sunshine. All of it. Always.

I’m so lost in thoughts of her and home I don’t notice her suddenly standing in front of me.

“Earth to Samuel.” She sing-songs, fingers waving in front of my face.

I shake my head, willing my brain to focus on the task at hand. “Yeah, what.”

“Can I put this in your bag?” She’s holding a rock. A damp, white-ish looking rock clutched between her delicate fingers.

“Uh, sure?” I’m very confused. I open a compartment, and as she places the rock inside, she shivers again. I guess it is chilly despite the day’s sunshine. It's still March after all, though I’m not a great gauge for temperature because I run warm.

“Are you cold, Birdie?” I question.

She scrunches her nose in response. I fight with the thought of how cute that is. “I’ll be fine,” she dismisses. “I’m always cold.”

“Here, take my scarf. I’m hot anyway.” Pulling my scarf from around my neck.

She immediately gives me a side-eye.

“It’s.. not gonna bite, Birdie?” I tease her with a little wave of the scarf.

“Not my name,” she scrunches her nose again, apprehensively reaching out to grab it. “Biting I'm not worried about. It being magically cursed into strangling me when I least suspect it, on the other hand.” She tosses her hands back and forth like an invisible set of scales. Her hands work intently as she folds the scarf in half and places it around her neck, taking the ends through the loop and pulling it tight.

“What am I? Harry Potter?” I scoff.

She lets out a cackle. “Not even remotely. More like Lucius Malfoy.” She raises an eyebrow at me.

“Wow, straight to Lucius. Not even Draco, huh? Yeah, I guess I am Daddy.” I stop in my tracks as I watch her pluck another rock from the tiny river leading out toward the water.

“Ew. God, no.” Her infectious laugh hits me right in the gut.

“See, Lucius was evil.” She stands, and her eyes give me a once over before placing the rock in my hand, presumably to be put in my bag with the other one. “Draco had a good heart even if he was a little chicken. Plus,” raising her pointer finger, “he was hot. And you are neither of those things.” She turns back to the small river of flowing water.

My mind flashes back to the other night at the bar, where she’s sitting with her friend. “No, you’re right, Wilson. Sam IS cute.” Replaying in my head.

“Oh, really?” my mischievous side coming out to play. I step toward her.

“Mhmm.”

“OH, REALLY??” I repeat louder, taking another step. She stands to face me.

“YES,” she says pointedly.

I smile wide, now looking down at her.

“That’s not what your friend said the other night.” I bite my lip, tilting my head to the side and running my hand along my jawline. I watch as her eyes follow my movement, a fire lighting behind them. I know I’ve gotten under her skin by calling her out.

She raises both of her eyebrows, this time taking a step toward me to fully bridge the gap between us. Nearly chest to chest, nose to nose, she says, “Wow, I’m actually shocked you were able to pull your head out of your ass long enough to hear someone speak besides yourself.”

I chuckle, running my tongue along my teeth. “I don’t hear you denying it. Go on, you can say it. You think I’m hot.”

“And why would I need to deny such a clearly false statement, Samuel?” Confusion etched across her face. “You know, when you come up for air, usually you can hear better. You should try it sometime.”

“So, that’s not what I heard, huh? ‘You’re right, he IS really cute.’ ? Your friend never said that?”

“No, you didn’t. Because no, they didn’t.” She huffs. I pick up on the use of ‘they.’

“Right, right.” I nod my head. “So, do they frequently lie to embarrass you?” a silent acknowledgment between us.

She pulls out her phone, tapping away.

“Whaaaat are ya doing?” I question her clear deflection.

“Just looking to see if there is a quick care clinic open on our way home because, obviously, you need to have your ears checked out,” She pockets her phone. “Can we continue, please?” A swift eye roll follows as she turns to walk back toward the little river.

“Wait, wait, wait,” a breathy chuckle falling from my lips. “If it's not you who thinks I’m cute. Then it must be your friend, right?” She opens her mouth to try to cut me off before I even get started, but, “So, can I have their number then?” slips out before she can manage. I relish in the fact that I know I’m bothering her.

“No, no. Absolutely not.”

“Wow, for being Birdie, you’re not much of a wing-woman, are you?”

“First off, they would hate you. Second off, what makes you think I’d ever be your wing-woman. And THIRD-OFF, that’s not my name.”

I feel a bit of satisfaction and a warm swell of my belly when her nose scrunches in distaste.

I wander off back toward the trail we came down, keeping my gaze pointed toward the opening in the trees. Trying to focus in between the little gaps for anything interesting or photo-worthy. The leaves are not quite growing yet, and the ground still wet with leftover melted snow. I can hear the squish of the damp soil with every step I take. The lead into spring is probably my favorite time of year. Most people enjoy the summer because the weather is nice and warm and the surrounding cities are alive with tourists and events. But those moments of fresh life leading into spring show you that despite the dark coldness of the winter, you can still grow and bloom into beautiful potential. The hope of it all, to come out the other end of the darkness to greet the sunshine, is why it's such a valued season to me.

Just then, Birdie comes padding over to me with two more rocks in her hands.

“Sam, I found more.” She calls on her way over. I, once again, pull my bag to the front, and she opens a pocket, attempting to deposit the rocks herself.

“No, not there, I have a lens in there.” I zip it back up and choose a different one. “Try this one.” As she’s trying to fit the larger of the two in there, something clicks inside my brain.

“You’re one of those girls, aren’t you?”

“One of what?” Her brows are knit in frustration when she realizes the rock is too big. She picks another, thankfully empty, pocket.

“One of those girls that sits around with her crystals and her tarot and her moon water.” I chide.

Her hands stop what they are doing and she slowly looks up at me, eyes narrowing. “How do you know about moon water?”

“It’s a long story.” I shake my head and sidestep the comment so I don’t have to talk about ‘she who shall not be named’. “You know my brother is into all that shit. He’s got crystals all over the place.”

“The brother that owns the bar or the one with the mustache?”

“Uhh.. both of my brothers have a mustache.”

“You sure about that.” She smirks. Oh, they’re both gunna just looove that. “Actually, why don’t you give him my number since we seem to actually have things in common.”

“No.” immediately denying her. “If you refuse to be my wing-woman. I refuse to be your wingman. No way.”

“Fine then, at least make yourself useful and find some space to fit this in your bag.” Flashing the rock, she couldn’t fit before.

“Seriously, how many more of these do you need, Birdie? My bag is getting heavy.”

“How about you hold this one.” She pulls a small crystal from her bra, and drops it into my open hand. “It’s good for grounding. Maybe it’ll help center you. Woo sah, Sam. Woo Sah.”

Very funny.

I offer to drive the way home and now I’m curled uncomfortably in the driver's seat of Birdie’s car. Partly to get warm again and partly because of the intense growling of my stomach.

“We should stop for lunch before we head into the office,” I suggest.

“Where?” She pulls out her phone, searching for options.

“Is there a Taco Bell nearby?”

“You can eat at Taco Bell? I wouldn’t think a Mexican food place would be vegetarian friendly.”

“Taco Bell is hardly Mexican, but you can sub almost anything out for beans. Plus, I’m craving a crunchwrap.”

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We pull up to the drive-through speaker, and I place my order. “I’ll have a cravings box with a black bean crunchwrap supreme, a spicy potato taco, and cheesy fiesta potatoes, and a Large Dr. Pepper, please.” Her eyes are boring holes into the side of my skull as I pull out my card to pay. I scrunch my face in question.

“Nothing.” is all she says.

She leans over the center console to place her order, elbows perched and ass off the seat. I know she’s trying to be able to project her voice from across the car, but she is so close. I shrink back into my seat to try and give her space, but I can't escape her sweet floral perfume. Oh, she smells so good. I close my eyes, reveling in the mixture of orange blossoms and vanilla as it clouds my brain.

“I’ll have two soft taco supremes and a medium Baja Blast, please.” She plops her ass back in her seat, “Ready?”

I open my eyes again. “Yep.”

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I hand the cashier my card and receive the receipt and we pull up to the second window. She is staring at me again with the most unpleasant face.

“Okay, what gives. Why are you looking at me like that?”

The worker opens the window and hands us our order. Birdie's own customer service voice shining through her ‘thank you so much!’ Unwrapping our straws and sticking them in our respective drinks while I slowly pull away from the building. I reach for my Dr. Pepper and take a large, satisfying gulp.

“How can you possibly drink that?”

“A Dr. Pepper?”

“Yes! It's like.. Against the law in at least 22 states to not order Baja Blast when you go to Taco Bell.” she quips.

“Oh, you’re not gunna like this.” I pause.

She stares intently.

I take a deep breath in and exhale slowly, “I.. don’t.. Like Baja Blast.”

She stares some more. This time, the brown of her eyes barely peeking through the thin space between her eyelids.

“Dr. Pepper just hits better.” I shrug.

“We- Are not friends.” Turning back to the food in her lap.

“Consider it one of my 19 crimes,” mumbling around a bite of my lunch.

“Every sip is a little act of warfare, Sam.” She argues a bit further down the road. “I cannot believe you would commit such.. Such TREASON in my own car.” Her hands wave theatrically in front of her.

“Oh, you’re a Queen now, are you?”

“It is my car, so if I say I’m the Queen of my car, then I’m the Queen of my car. And I rule that drinking Dr. Pepper is an act of treason.” She crosses her arms, chin raised high, a playful smirk sitting on her plush, chapstick-covered lips.

I laugh, a good, full-bellied laugh. She’s fun when she wants to be. When she’s not being so combative.

“I’m so sorry, Your Grace,” I respond and enthusiastically take a bite of my spicy potato taco. She rolls her eyes at me.

“How much food did you order?”

“What? I’m a growing boy!” I argue.

As soon as I take another bite, chipotle sauce comes out the bottom and lands right in my lap. “Oh shit!” I once again say around my food. She starts to rummage through the bag for some napkins. When she finds one, I reach my hand out to take it, but she bypasses me completely, leaning right over the center console with her head nearly in my lap, hands working to try and get the sauce out before it stains.

That’s how I ended up praying to the Gods above that I don’t accidentally pop a boner while she cleans up my crotch. What have I done to deserve this?

“It’s fine. It’s not on the seat. It’s just on your pants. Hold on.” I squirm under the pressure of her fingers as she tugs to flatten out the fabric of my khakis to make sure she gets it all.

“It's fine, Birdie. Birdie!” raising my voice to catch her attention, to no avail. “I can take care of it when we get back. Or we can stop off at my apartment, and I can change.” I plead, desperately wishing for this to be over.

“I almost got it. Stop moving!” I glance down as she slaps my thigh. Holy shit. She licks the napkin then and I swear I see Jesus in the middle of the freeway. I press the brakes to slow down to avoid a collision. Trying my best to focus on the road ahead, but instead, now all I can think about is her spit on my dick. Oh God. My eyes go wide as soon as the thought crosses my mind, and my dick definitely twitches.

Oh, don’t go there. Not now. Think Sam, Think. Grandma Althea. Her house is old and smells like moth balls. Her hands are always dry from all the fabric she touches because she’s always sewing something. She coughs really loud and wet because of the cigarettes she smokes. I breathe a heavy sigh of relief when Birdie sits up. She clears her throat, “I uh think it should be all set.”

We drive the rest of the way back to the office in silence. I really hope she didn’t notice. But then again, I do have terrible luck.

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When I walk into the dark room, Birdie is already in there; the red lights casting a glow on her that reminds me of the first time she walked into my brother’s bar. Though now she’s rifling through the lower shelves.

“Whatcha lookin’ for?”

“I uhh, I haven’t developed film since college. Tryna find some instructions.” Her ass in the air as she continues her search.

“I don’t have nine film cameras for nothing, Birdie. I know how to develop film I can help.”

She stands and faces me, the uncomfortable expression on her face taking on a completely different view under the light. I wish I knew her well enough to know why she’s so uncomfortable.

I get us set up with our film canisters and developing mixture while she grabs the rolls of film from my bag. We each carefully cut the film off the cassette. I try to focus on what I’m doing instead of how our fingers gently brush each other while loading the film onto the reel. I pour the developing mixture into each canister while she watches on.

“We have to shake them every, like thirty seconds for a few minutes, and then we can do the stop bath,” I instruct her, and she nods.

Her small, delicate hands hold the rather large container as she shakes it back and forth. “Like this?” She questions, her brow furrowed. And.. I am only a man. Staring too closely at the motion of her hands, I freeze. For christ’s sake Sam. Be normal for 5 seconds. As I clear my throat to answer, I drop my canister. In her attempt to help me we end up crashing our heads together.

“OW.” “Oh Fuck.” We mumble at the same time. I feel around for the edge of the counter and end up knocking the other film canisters into the sink.

“For fuck’s sake,” I whine. I reach to grab those, and Birdie bends down to grab the one I dropped. And, it is so dark in here she ends up ramming her head right into my junk.

“Fuck!” I yell. At the rate we’re both complaining, I’m sure they think we’re trying to fuck. If only I were that lucky. Instead, I now need to ice my goods.

I hold my breath, willing the pain to stop.

“Sorry.” her apology is small.

A strained “It’s fine” tumbles from my lips.

We continue awkwardly fumbling around each other, trying to make sure the rest of the containers stay properly agitated, and instead, she gets properly agitated. If this was a cartoon, I’m positive that steam would be coming out of her ears.

“It’s too small in here; you are far too large, and it's too dark.” She huffs.

“I don't know what to tell you, Birdie. It’s a darkroom, and I cannot get any smaller.”

“That’s not my fucking name.” Angrily, setting down the container with a loud thud.

We add the stop bath and then the fixer, making sure to keep a good distance from each other, and then finally rinse and soak the film.

When we hang the film up to dry, I realize I have about a foot on her.

“Need me to get you a stool, shortie? Or should you just hop on, and I could lift you up.” A cocky smirk spreads across my lips.

“Nah, you’re the man you could do the heavy lifting,” she makes air quotes around ‘heavy lifting’.

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Once they’re fully dry, I gather the film strips and bring them to the lightbox. Scooting our stools close and setting each strip up one by one to see the negatives of our photos. Shooting nature is one of my favorite things but Birdie really does have an incredible eye for it. Of course, I’d never tell her that because she would hold it over my head. Our styles are very different, which is clear to see lined up next to each other, but they still look amazing together.

“These.. Are really great, Birdie.” I smile down at her and bump her with my shoulder gently. Her face softens a bit and I can’t help but think how beautiful she looks. I am a man- I’m not blind.

“The hard part is choosing the best ones. It feels like choosing my favorite children.” Her infectious laugh plays through my ears, and I smile back.

We take some time discussing which ones have the best lighting or the best proportions. Which ones we think will make great features and finally settle on eight ‘prized children’ to print. The other eight photos selected for our presentation will be digitally edited and printed outside of the darkroom, making at least half of this project easy. At least the editing and printing we can do from the comfort of our homes in our PJs. Which is exactly what I will be doing after I see Daniel for dinner.

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We settle back in the dark room using the projectors to print our respective photos. I don’t know what’s in the air today because I keep messing up. Either exposing for too long or too short and I keep running back and forth between the developing tray and my projector to try to correct it. On one of my passes, I run smack into Birdie. In my effort to stop the collision, I put my one unoccupied hand out to cushion the momentum and ended up grabbing her boob instead. For fucks sake. How does this shit keep happening?

I pause, slowly backing away. She just heavily sighs.

“Well.” She brushes her hands off and adjusts her beanie. “That’s the most action I’ve had in a minute.”

Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “Is that why you’re such a tight ass?”

“No, I have,” she emphasizes, “such a tight ass because I do squats.” And now I’m thinking about her in tight gym pants doing squats.

“Well, if you ever need help loosening up a bit, you know who to call.”

“Jeremy Allen White?”

“Who?” I match her confused expression.

“Oh, you know, he was in Shameless. The bear?” her brow further knits each second that passes. “He just had that big ad campaign for Calvin Klein?” Calvin Klein? As in.. models. Cool. First Edward, then Draco, now.. models.

“Yes, because I definitely seem like the kind of guy who keeps up with Calvin Klein campaigns.” Really trying to drive the point home with a snarky tone.

“Oh..” I try to read the expression on her face before she continues, “I just thought because of you.. You know, actually know how to dress yourself.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“You shouldn’t. Your competition is the genre of men who pick up a shirt off the floor and go, ‘yeah, this smells clean’.” She stands on her tiptoes as she hangs her last photo and then promptly exits the darkroom.

A few minutes later, she returns through the circular door. It always reminds me of something a magician would have on stage. A weird sort of contraption to ensure the light stays out and doesn’t ruin the developing process for those inside.

“Sam.” her voice is quiet again, just above a whisper. I look up at her and can barely make out her petite frame in the dark. She’s just standing, a strip of film pinched between her fingers, head hung low.

She continues just as quietly, “Did you.. Um. When did you take these?” The realization hits me. I forgot about the pictures of her.

“Oh. Uhh. You were just.. Ya know in your element. And I sorta thought. Well, this is a big part of what Maine is like. Ya know. Outside, nature. You just seemed.. Happy. Thought it should be captured..” I trail off. Oh God, she’s gonna think it's weird. It's not weird, though, right? No, Sam, it's fine.

The length of silence kills me. The longer she doesn’t talk the more I start to internally freak out. As if being a naturally warm-blooded person wasn’t bad enough, I feel myself start to sweat. I wipe my forehead of the perspiration gathering there and grab at my wrists for a hair tie, of which is conveniently missing at this moment. Please say something… please.

“This.. um.” she pauses, inhaling and exhaling a deep breath. “They’re lovely, Sammy. Thank you.”

Sammy.

“Yeah.. yeah. You’re welcome.” I shift my focus back to my photo.

“So, uh.. Anyways,” she says, calling my attention back to her. “Since we’re printing the photos here and we’re editing the digital ones at home, you can just email me the finished ones when you’re done, and we can talk about the bullet points we’ll go over for the presentation.” She turns on the projector light until she gets the desired contrast, and then turns it off and carries her photo to the developer bin. I grab my own photo and walk over to meet her, dropping it in the solution to join hers. She idly uses the tongs to move her photo around the bin to help the developing process. Just like shaking a Polaroid picture, it doesn’t really work; it only passes the time.

“That sounds good, Birdie.” I reach to grab the other set of tongs and end up blindly bumping her arm in the process, knocking hers to the ground. She bends down to retrieve them, and I set my sights on a different pair of tongs to my left. Two things happen at once. First, I bend slightly to reach the other pair. Second, she headbutts my ass. That’s two parts of me she has head-butted today.

“We’ve touched more today than I ever thought we would in this lifetime.” She groans.

“Think about us touching often, huh?” because I can’t help but try to get under her skin every chance I get.

“Why are you like this?” she complains. She tosses the tongs back on the counter and goes to fish the photo out with her fingers. I lunge to stop her, but I’m too slow.

Now, it’s definitely not life-threatening to handle photo-developing chemicals without gloves. But they are, at the end of the day, chemicals and can sting like a bitch if you have opened wounds. Given how clumsy she is, I anticipate –

“Ouch, FUCK!” she yells, cradling her hand. I grab her by the wrist and shimmy us over to the sink, where I turn the water on cold. When the temperature is cool enough, I pull her finger under the running water.

“That was stupid of you.” I gently scold her. There’s no weight behind my words, just concern.

“How stupid, Sam? I didn’t realize I had a cut. Is it bad? Do I need to see a doctor?” She rattles off.

“Hey, hey, hey.” I leave one hand on her wrist, keeping it in place under the faucet, the other one I place on her cheek. Settling in the crook of her neck beneath her ear. The palm of my hand burns against her cool skin; she really is always cold. Despite the darkness of the room I still pull her gaze to meet mine. “Calm down, okay? You’re fine, I promise. A little stupid, maybe. But you’re fine.” I rub my thumb along her cheekbone, hoping to soothe her worries. I can barely make out her eyelids as they flutter closed for a moment and then open again.

“You promise?” I can feel the anxiety radiating off her.

“I’d pinky promise if you wanted me to.” I joke, and she lets out a small giggle. Pride settles in my chest, knowing a crisis is averted.

“God, that was stupid.” she laughs again and rests her forehead against my chest.

“Lil bit.” I shake my head and slide my hand down to rub her back. Part of me doesn’t want to move from this spot, knowing she's comforted, but I ruin the moment anyway. I pull back from her, hand resting on her shoulder now.

“Lesson learned, huh?”

She zips the top portion of her Patagonia pullover a little higher when we make it outside. I pull out my phone to see who is available to be my chauffeur home.

“Did you need a ride home, Sam?” She asks, pulling her collar up to her ears. The ends of her hair start to stick out.

“I was just going to see which brother was a spare and could swing by.” I drop my eyes back to my phone.

“I can give you a ride home if you want? I know you’re not too far out of my way, I can just.. Drop you off?” placing her foot on the next step down and pointing toward the parking lot.

“You don’t have to do that. None of them do anything productive anyway.” I laugh.

“Do you have more than just the two?” I bite my lip and smile when her brow furrows in confusion.

“No, but you know Daniel? The bouncer? We went to grade school together so he’s been my best friend since we were like six. He's basically a brother at this point. Ya know, brotha from anotha motha.” Her gentle laugh bringing forth another swirl in my belly.

“Oh, I was about to say. I’m not sure the world could realistically handle any more of you Kiszkas.” She says when we finally reach the sidewalk.

“Yeah, they broke the mold with me. Realized I was peak Kiszka genes and said, ‘all done’.”

“Seriously though, I can give you a ride. It’s no big deal.”

I fall in step with her, “Why not? None of my degenerate brothers are answering me anyway.”

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The drive back to my apartment is quiet. Almost too quiet for us. The awkwardness of the day still lingering in the air. I clear my throat to cut the silence, but I can’t think of anything to say to fill it. I just fidget with my fingers instead.

“How are you getting to Boston tomorrow?”

“Uhm, well, the plan was to ride the train in like I did last time, but Edith almost made me miss it.”

“Edith. Right. Your truck.”

“She’s having trouble turning over.” I run a hand through my hair.

“Well, I don’t want to have to worry about you missing your train and messing up this presentation for us by not being there, so i'll pick you up at like 6 a.m. if that’s fine with you.”

“You don’t have to do that. I told you I live close to my brothers. I'm sure one of them can take me.”

“It’s really fine. I have to make the drive anyway and I really want this presentation to go off without a hitch. It would make me feel better if I knew for sure you’d be there.”

I don’t read into that sentiment. She just wants the project to be successful, and I know that. So I agree, much to my dismay. I hate feeling like a burden to people, and with Edith giving me trouble, I feel pretty much like a burden to everyone who has to deal with me.

When we reach my apartment, she pulls over to the sidewalk out front.

“Why don’t you put your number in my phone, and I’ll text you when I leave my apartment. I’m only like ten minutes away.” She pulls her phone out from the center console near her gear shift, and I put my contact info in. Entering my phone number and email under Sammy Kiszka with the camera emoji.

“I put my email in there so you can flag it, but shoot me a text with yours when you get home so I know where to send the digitals.” I place her phone back in her palm. “Thanks again for.. carting me around.” I let out an awkward laugh and scratch the back of my neck.

“No problem, see you in the morning,” she gives me a tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” I grab my camera bag and hop out of her car. Shutting the door with a small wave through the window.

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When I hear the signature knock, I know Daniel’s arrived. Two quick knocks, a pause, a single knock, another pause, and ending with two quick knocks. I don’t know when he developed that habit, but he only uses it on my door. Penelope lets out a loud boof of a bark and runs ahead of me, her shaggy hair swaying with her little jumps. Well, little for Pen. When I open the door, she’s already sniffing and pawing at his legs.

“I brought beer.” He says as he holds up the 12-pack of coronas, careful not to trip around her. “Hope you got limes.”

“It’s me. Of course, I do.” Gesturing to myself and stepping aside to let him in, “Plus, I have an extra large meat-lovers pizza on the way.” I resist the urge to make a joke about ‘meat-lovers and guys night.’ “So.. tell me what’s wrong.” I continue, following him into my kitchen. He's stacking the beers one by one inside the fridge to keep cold, Penelope impatiently waiting for her attention from her favorite uncle. Her words not mine. I can tell by the expression on his face he’s struggling with whatever is on his mind. He closes the refrigerator door and shrugs off his coat, setting it on a nearby chair.

“Hello, Penny girl. I wouldn’t forget about you, I promise.” She laps at his fingers as he playfully pets her face. Still reaching for her head as he stands, he takes a deep breath. “I, uhh, went on a date last night..”

“Still living up to your name, I see. How was it? Awful? Terrible? Did she have a big head or lipstick on her teeth?”

“Very funny.” He snarks back. “It was terrible, thank you very much.”

Eventually, I get the full story out of him. His date, named Allie, a very adorable waitress he met through a friend of a friend, was completely horrible (pleasant), didn’t let him pay (she wanted to split the bill because her drink was expensive and she felt bad), and.. the kicker? She opened the door for him (she got to the door first). We’re each two slices and a few beers deep, and I can’t figure out where the awful comes in.

“She sounded completely fine, Daniel. I don’t get it?” I lean back against the couch, Penny quietly snoring by my feet.

“She ordered a salad, Sam.” he looks at me expectantly as if that answers everything. “A SALAD!”

“Oh no. A salad. How completely terrible of her.” I roll my eyes.

“I.. want a girl who isn’t afraid of eating a burger.” he shrugs, drawing a sip of his corona and lime.

“Do you want me to be honest with you?” I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes in frustration.

“Always.”

“Bro.. you have got to get over Melody.”

He stands, effectively scaring Pen awake, and I watch him pace back and forth in front of my TV. She pads over to him, nails clicking against the hardwood until she can get her paws on him.

“This has nothing to do with her.” He stops and reaches down to run his fingers through her fur for some comfort through this uncomfortable topic.

The subject of Melody has always been a touchy one. He dated her in high school, and we were all pretty good friends for most of our childhood. I really liked her for him, actually. Until she broke his heart when we all graduated and ran off to college, leaving him in the dust and I was the one who was left to clean up the mess. The mess being Daniel because he was.. A full blown mess. He would never admit that, though. But what can you expect when you get your heart broken for the first time? I kind of get it. He has always been and always will be my brother, and I’ll always be there for him. No matter what. Which naturally means I’ll always harbor a severe distaste for her, even if I know I don’t have to worry about seeing her ever again.

“This has everything to do with her. You haven’t been able to make it past the first day with a girl since you broke up. It’s been what? six years?” I shoot him a pointed glare. He stops pacing and crosses his arms, waiting for whatever else I have to say.

“Have you considered that trying to get to know someone while eating food is actually incredibly awkward? Or is this really just about the monstrous salad?”

“She also wanted to go for a walk after dinner.” He defends. The sigh I let out.. My God. “Why would I wanna go for a walk when I stand all day at work?”

He cannot be serious right now. The weakest arguments known to man.

“You’re an active guy, Daniel. Why wouldn’t you want to go for a walk? Doesn’t Linda always go on about your golf arms or whatever?”

“No, that’s completely different, and you know Linda is the love of my life.” he smiles wide, his tongue poking out just beyond his teeth.

“Right. So what other red flags did she have?” I dig a little more.

“Okay, well, she tried to kiss me?”

“GASP.” I feign shock. “She wanted to kiss you? How very dare she. Daniel, that’s absolutely insane. It’s not like you guys went out on a date or anything.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.” he plops himself back down on the couch beside me, his shadow following him until she perches her head on his knee. I swear, when he’s here, it's like I don’t exist. “Tell me about poking girl. How’s that going?” He lays his head back and pulls his trucker hat down over his eyes.

“Good. Project is good. I still can’t ever tell if she likes me or not. We bicker and banter all day long. It’s entertaining as hell for me. Then, there are some moments where she acts like a sweet, normal girl. But most of the time, it's just bickering.” I take a swig of my beer. “I gave her a nickname to get under her skin, and she makes this face every time I say it. It's very.. Samantha from Bewitched.” I swallow my laugh down with another sip.

“Whaddya call her?” he asks with a smirk, eyes poking out from underneath the brim.

“Birdie.”

“Birdie? Why on earth does that get under her skin?”

“Dunno.” I shrug. “But it does. And I take sick enjoyment out of irritating the fuck out of her.” I set my empty beer back down on my coffee table.

A maniacal laugh escapes him. Clutching stomach, he bends forward. I start to wonder if he got high before he came over because what the hell is so funny?

“Oh god.” He wipes a tear from his eye and rights himself on the couch. “So you think she’s cute, huh?”

“I mean.. I.. have eyes, yeah?” I answer with confusion heavily present in my tone. “But we don’t get along. As in cannot go five minutes without bickering, don’t get along.”

“You always did like em’ psychotic, Sam. None of us are stupid.” he chuckles.. to himself because I am not laughing.

“No, I don’t!”

“Right, and Chelsea was what? Totally normal? You didn’t listen to a single one of us on that one, and we all told you.” I forgot about her. The girl I dated right before ‘she who shall not be named.’ We saw each other for only a few months but what a whirlwind it was. We went to a concert an hour away, and she ran off with one of the roadies. A fricken roadie? Left me there to get home by myself, considering, yep, she drove. But again, she was hot, so what was I to do?

“Hey now! She wasn’t.. that bad.” I say innocently.

“Right, that’s what you always say. Sam – I never take advice from anyone – Kiszka.”

“Yeah, alright, keep laughing. As if I’d take advice from ‘One Date Daniel’.” I elbow him in my defense. “Besides, I’m not sure I have much to worry about. Once the project is over, I won’t have to see her again unless we actually do well.”

I get up and head to the kitchen to retrieve another beer from the fridge, and my own dog doesn’t even glance up at me. She just rests peacefully by Daniel’s side. I open the drawer to the left and pick up the bottle opener, and pop the top. I take a long drink before I reenter the living room.

“I uhh, actually the receptionist at the Boston Globe is really cute. Her name is Daisy. We hit it off a bit when I was there last.” I point to the flowers laid on the shelf. “I stopped by the farmer’s market after work and picked up some daisies. Thought I might ask her out tomorrow.”

“Daisies for Daisy. Real creative, Sam.”

“Hey!”

“How’s Birdie gonna feel about that?” he inquires. I pick up the flowers from where they rest and give them a light sniff.

“Oh, she’ll hate it. She already chirped me about hitting on Daisy last time we were there. Said something about ‘it's easier watching teenagers flirt.’ or whatever.” I set them back down and take up my spot on the couch.

“Yeah, you never did have any game.” He tips his corona back, finishing the remaining liquid and setting it on the coffee table.

“You say that like your game is any better.” I shove his shoulder.

“I may be ‘One Date Daniel,’ but at least I get dates.” he chides, linking his fingers together with a crack of his knuckles in front of him and placing them behind his head.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Chapter Four

Chapter Six

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Other fics / one shots are here

Taglist bestiees! (I missed you all week and i'm so glad that we're back together again 🫶🏻 I hope you enjoy the chapter!!)

@gvfsstardust , @myleftsock , @mindastreamofcolours , @dont-go-home-without-me , @literal-dead-leaf , @lizzys-sunflower , @mackalah , @klarxtr , @ourlovesdesire , @threadofstars , @edgingthedarkness , @writingcold , @takenbythemadness , @i-love-gvf , @ladywhimsymoon , @earthgrlsreasy , @peaceloveunitygvf , @violet-hayes , @musicspeaks , @anythingforjtk

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bisexualbumblebee-writes · 1 year

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New Coven Part 1- Marko x OC

Marko x Heather

Description: After their sire Susannah dies Heather, Edith and Wendy are sent to California to find another sire that Susannah had made a pact with many years ago.

Word Count: 2k

“Y…You need to get out of here,” said Susannah through strained grunts. Heather, Edith and Wendy’s sire had (so far) gotten the brunt of holy water from the vampire hunter’s attack on them. They’d been running from said hunters when Susannah’s injuries finally caught up with her, causing her to stumble until she fell. The girls attempted to pull her along despite their exhaustion from the rather eventful night thus far, but they all knew it was in vain. Susannah likely wasn’t going to last much longer, but that didn’t stop them from trying.

“We’re not leaving you, Sue,” Edith shook her head quickly, trying not to tear up.

“Listen to me,” the sire stuttered through clenched teeth, looking the leader in the eyes desperately. “Leave me, I can buy you gir…girls some time but you n-need to leave now. G-Go find Max, he’ll help you.”

“Max?” Wendy repeated confusedly, earning a nod from the weakening woman.

“H-He lives in Santa Carla, there’s already a house there for you. Tell him that I sent you. He and his boys will take care of you girls,” she said before carefully pushing Edith, urging them to leave. “Now go.” The group’s ears simultaneously perked up upon hearing the hunters grow closer, and yet the girls were still hesitant.

“Su-”

“Go!” Susannah roared with what little energy she had, attempting to stand up. That was finally enough to kickstart the girls, leading them to fly away as the hunters descended upon their sire.

It was a long and sorrowful journey to California, even with their vampiric speed. The girls had to stop every morning, which gave them time to mourn their lost sire. Of course, Susannah wasn’t technically Heather’s sire as she’d been turned by another vampire named James. But Susannah had taken the once lost younger vampire under her wing and gave her a sire when James wanted nothing to do with her, and they formed a bond over the years. Which meant the youngest vampire was just as devastated about the woman’s passing.

They eventually made it to Santa Carla just a few days later. They didn’t know much about this Max person, but apparently he and Susannah were close enough that the woman trusted him enough with her ‘children.’ He owned a video store if they remembered correctly, so they went to just about every video store in the city looking for the man using the rather vague description Susannah had given them: brown hair, glasses and tall.

Several hours and a surprising amount of video stores later they finally found him in a relatively popular one not too far from the infamous boardwalk. Upon entering it they were met with a pretty African girl - obviously a human - at the front counter. She offered them a polite customer service smile and nodded in acknowledgement before greeting them.

“Welcome in,” she said politely. “Looking for anything specific?” The girls looked amongst each other for a moment before Edith, as Susannah’s second in common, took the lead and stepped forward.

“We’re uh, looking for Max,” she informed the girl, Maria. “Is he here?” Maria looked towards the back unsurely, but the girls could smell another vampire nearby (likely Max), so Edith continued.

“Tell him Susannah sent us,” she added. Maria finally nodded at her then walked to the back of the store. The girls stepped to the side so as to not be rude to incoming customers as they waited. Just a few minutes later the girl walked back out.

“He wants to see you in his office. After going through the door, it’s the first door on the left,” Maria explained, pointing to the back door she’d previously gone through. Edith nodded and thanked her before leading Heather and Wendy to the back. They followed Maria’s instructions and knocked on the first door on the left.

“Come in,” a slightly baritone voice called from the other side. Once they got permission they entered with Edith still at the lead. At the desk sat a man that matched their vague description. It was Max. The girls internally sighed in relief upon seeing him, watching as he offered them a sympathetic smile.

“Hello girls,” he greeted, standing up. “If you’re here I can only assume that something happened to your sire.” His knowing tone made them uneasy. How did he know why they were here?

“Well, yes sir,” Edith nodded respectfully. “But, how did you-”

“Susannah and I have known each other for decades, having been turned around the same time by the same sire,” he explained with a small chuckle as he walked around to the front of his desk. “Though we went in different directions when we were the ones to sire our children. But, we made an agreement that if anything were to happen to one of us, the other would take care of their coven.” The girls nodded in understanding, though they remained silent. Max tilted his head curiously.

“So, what happened?”

“We were being chased by hunters,” Heather explained quietly. “She got hit with holy water, then distracted them so we could get away.” Max’s sympathetic expression returned and he nodded gravely.

“I see,” he muttered, removing his glasses as he leaned back against his desk. “I’m sorry for your loss, girls.” The trio nodded gratefully.

“So, what happens now?” Edith asked what they were all thinking.

“Well, I believe the first thing you need to do is meet my coven, then we can decide what to do about your living situation.”

“Oh- you don’t have to worry about that,” Wendy responded quickly. “Susannah said that she had a house here that now belonged to us.” Max looked surprised, but nodded anyway. Their conversation was cut short when a knock occurred at the door. The group looked over as the door opened, revealing Maria.

“Sorry to interrupt, but they’re back,” she said in a rather tired tone. Max sighed softly and slipped his glasses back on, having to keep up appearances since vampires had perfect vision.

“Perfect timing,” he muttered as he stood up again. “Come along girls.”

The trio followed him out of his office and to the front. There stood four boys and one girl looking like they were ready for a Misfits concert. By smell alone, Heather could tell that they were another vampire coven. The girl was pretty, with curly red/brown hair and a red skirt to match it under her black shirt and leather jacket. The first boy looked weirdly like a Billy Idol wannabe with bleach blonde slightly spiked hair and dark clothes including a black trench coat, the second one was tall and dark with black hair and a rather stoic expression, and the third looked like he were trying to recreate Dee Snider’s Twisted Sister look without all the makeup with his blonde hair and leather jacket.

The last boy is the one that caught Heather’s attention. He was the shortest out of the bunch, and he looked the youngest. His curly blonde hair paired well with his beautiful blue/green eyes. He wore a colorful jacket with all sorts of colorful patches and added accessories. Under said jacket was a cropped white shirt, and he also wore faded jeans with a leather cowboy style cover over top as well as tattered brown boots. His hands were adorned with fingerless black gloves, which she could only see because he was biting his thumb to hide his cheshire-like grin. She couldn’t deny that he was cute, and he instantly intrigued her.

Their eyes met just a moment later, and she watched his eyes widen upon giving her a once over, face going slack as an unexplainable pull settled between them and only them (based on the only mild interest that the other three boys showed). After a moment the boy’s grin returned, though he was hiding it behind his hand once again. Heather hadn’t even realized that she’d stopped walking until Wendy got her attention. She shot the younger vampire a confused look, but Heather merely brushed it off and they followed Edith and Max over to them.

“I thought I told you boys not to come in here,” Max said in an annoyed sighing tone, which confused Heather (and Edith and Wendy based on their mental questioning). They all assumed this was his coven. Was there more than one in Santa Carla? Heather watched as Max and the boys seemed to have a mental conversation of their own, which meant that they truly were his coven, which only served to confuse them even more. Finally after a moment the Billy Idol look alike, who seemed to be the leader, finally nodded to Max with a disinterested look before gesturing to the other boys to leave.

“And take your little friends with you,” Max added, lightly shoving Edith. The girls stared at him in shock, which began to turn to anger, but then they noticed Max subtly lean down and whisper something into their leader’s ear.

“It’s just an act,” Edith informed them mentally. “We need to follow the boys, they’re gonna take us back to her place and we’ll proceed from there.” That calmed Wendy and Heather down enough to nod and follow the boys out. The group walked into an alley just beside the video store before the leader stopped to face them.

“You girls know how to fly?” He asked, earning a nod from the girls. “Good, we’ll fly back to our place then.”

“Try to keep up,” the blonde one that looked like he belonged in Twisted Sister exclaimed with a laugh. And with that, the five strangers were up in the air and flying away. The girls weren’t far behind them. They flew over Santa Carla until they appeared near a bluff, which they stopped at the edge of. The girls continued to follow them as they walked down the steps leading to a large opening between the rocks.

Once she was inside Heather had to hold back from gasping in awe. She was standing in what looked to be the lobby of a beautifully haunted looking Victorian hotel. It was tilted and broke, and yet mostly intact. Heather thought it was amazing. She’d never seen anything like it before. Her gaze suddenly broke when she heard a voice beside her.

“This was the hottest resort in Santa Carla back about eighty years ago,” the curly haired boy said, which made her look at him, therefore noticing that same cheshire grin. “Too bad they built it right on top of the San Andreas fault. In 1906, when the big one hit San Francisco, the ground opened up and this place took a header into the crack.”

“Man, you wouldn't believe the cool stuff we've found in here,” the second blonde added with a carefree sounding laugh.

“It’s incredible,” Heather said softly, still enchanted by the sight.

“Isn’t it?” The leader agreed with a small smirk. His intense gaze was almost enough to unsettle her, so she moved closer to Edith.

“So, you’re Susannah’s girls, huh?” He continued, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Max has told us about you.”

“Funny,” Edith responded unsurely. “She never mentioned anything about Max or you guys until she…” she trailed off, not quite wishing to say the word.

“Yeah, Max told us,” he nodded. “Sorry for your loss.” The girls nodded gratefully at that, though they didn’t know what to say. Edith was the first to speak.

“Well, I suppose it would be nice to start with introductions,” she ultimately said. “I’m Edith. This is Wendy, and this is Heather.” As she spoke she pointed to each girl respectively when she said their names, prompting them to wave at the boys. The leader nodded.

“I’m David. This here is Dwayne, Paul, his mate Liz, and Marko.” Just like the girls, each boy waved when their name was said, Liz opting to add a smile when she waved as well.

“Well, now that that’s out of the way, what happens now?” Wendy questioned. David took a moment to look at his boys, having a mental conversation that left Paul walking away from the group for a moment. Once the blonde returned, he had what looked to be some sort of bejeweled glass bottle. David looked at the girls once again with a small smirk.

“You’re gonna drink from the bottle and become part of our coven.”

#the lost boys #The Lost Boys 1987 #tlb marko #tlb marko imagine #tlb marko x oc #the lost boys 1987 imagine #the lost boys imagine

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atlanticcanada · 1 year

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Anglophone East School District makes changes to try and address overcrowding

A dozen schools within the Anglophone East School Distract are expected to look different in the coming years following a decision made Thursday night by the Education Council to address overcrowding within its schools.

“In the last month we grew over 110 students,” said Anglophone East School Distract Superintendent Randolph MacLEAN.

“110 new students just in the last month, from all over Canada and all over the world.”

The school board came forward earlier this month with several proposals after seeing exponential growth across the entire district, including many schools being over capacity.

Thursday night brought forward decisions that MacLEAN calls systemic changes across the entire system to respond to the situation.

“We’re currently moving 51 students, who can not attend their local school because it’s full,” said MacLEAN.

“So we’re moving 51 students around the district. We want kids to be able to go to their local school and we want to be able to respond to that. These changes are in response to that.”

He says the decisions will be rolled out in two parts.

Providing a summary, MacLEAN says no boundary changes will be implemented in Shediac, but four portables will be added to address the immediate need. Additionally, he says a new school will be under construction next year.

Portables are also being added to Lou MacNarin in Dieppe, while officials continue to look at what a boundary change could look like down the road.

Maplehurst Middle School and Northrop Frye Elementary School, in the northern part of Moncton, both have changes expected to be rolled out for the 2024/2025 school year.

MacLEAN says Northrop Frye will be converted to a Kindergarten to Grade 4 school and Maplehurst will become a Grade 5-8 school. He says with this change all students will attend Harrison Trimble High School.

There is also a school under construction on the Bernice MacNaughton Campus, which MacLEAN says is expected to be a middle school when it opens.

He says once this school opens in 2024/2025 it will cause a domino effect for other changes within the district: Bessborough will become a Kindergarten to Grade 5 school, Edith Cavell will become a Kindergarten to Grade 5 school and Hillcrest will be reimaged as a learning facility.

However, schools in Riverview will see changes happen this coming September.

“Riverview East will become a Kindergarten through grade 5 school and that school will transition between 550 to 580 students with space for enrolment growth and then it makes Riverview Middle School about 775 with space for normal growth there as well,” said MacLEAN.

He says Riverview East is already over capacity, however, the solution doesn’t feel like the right answer for Shiekera and Glen Roy Smith, who have a child in Grade 2 there.

“People are moving every day so I think this issue is not going to go away because where we live, the houses have doubled since we moved there two years ago,” said Glen Roy.

“So I don’t think the solution is changing the structure of the school, re-zoning probably would have made a little more sense, but for me the change in structure of a school is not the right move.”

He adds, he believes the decision was made before parents had the chance to weigh in on it.

“To me it’s putting the ox before the cart and this was a rushed decision,” he said.

Shiekera put forward a petition to keep Riverview East a k-8 school when the decision came out, that has over 350 signatures on it.

“It’s not too late, it’s still not too late and I’m hoping that they don’t fail us,” she said.

“However far we need to take this, however much we can get this brought to the limelight, we’re going to do that. This is unfair what you’re doing to kids.”

She has also presented several solutions to the district and government officials including redirecting new students to schools that have space, update the requirements needed for parents to enroll their children, including proof of address, and “grandfather” the current students until the end of tenure.

“[Thursday] kids wore two hearts on their cheeks,” she said.

“Parents suggested it. In the middle of one heart was RES, in the middle of one heart was k-8. The teachers, the students, their hearts are shattered right now for the instability.”

While her child is in grade 2, she says she is fighting for all of the students who are going to be impacted by the change.

“When I see my child, at any school or any institution, that instruction is apart of me,” she said.

“So the substance of that institution will affect my child and other children so I don’t just consider ‘oh I only have a child there,’ all of these kids I consider them connected to me some how. These are her friends, this is her surrounding.”

Meanwhile, comments online were mixed after the decisions were made public. Some parents were speaking out in support for the solutions that the district came up with, but others were very upset.

“This is the second and third step to an ongoing process,” said MacLEAN.

“Part of those processes is when the new school comes online, both Hillcrest and Bessborough are supposed to come offline. We’ve made a request to the provincial government, there’s been a commitment that we’re able to keep those two schools that’s why there’s reconfiguring there to respond to growth. At the same time I’ll be going to the district education council in May to request new schools.”

He says these are the decisions the district will be moving forward with, but they will continue to evolve to meet the needs within the schools.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/kQ01xwH

#new brunswick #prince edward island #nova scotia #news #politics #canada #CTVAtlantic

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starlling-writes · 1 year

Text

Steel My Heart fanfic WIP

So basically this fanfic is gonna be my take on the story Ginny Di's OC Temper "wrote" under the same title, Steel My Heart. After watching Ginny's vid with Edith & Augury, I got motivated to really work on this again (after my initial kick to after this tweet exchange (yes that's my main twitter, which I barely use))

—so I've decided to share what I have so far. If you haven't heard Ginny's ad with Temper (I cannot for the life of me find the vid with the world anvil ad she was in T^T), basically she's a blacksmith that moonlights as a writer; her current story is about an "adventurer who falls in love with [his] sword, but they can’t be together because the sword is so sharp, their love is dangerous."

I don't know how long it's going to take me to finish this fic, or if I'll actually write beyond the beginning/meet cute between the MC & the sword (in which case I'll release my brainstorming notes that have a lot of fun details). Once it IS done, I'll be posting it in a new post here, and on AO3. Links will be shared on Ginny's patreon discord too.

Anyway, enjoy the WIP as I update; or wait until I properly post the fic and enjoy the anticipation :)

—

UPDATES

March 5

[As this is a WIP, everything is subject to change. Also, it's not edited at all, so dont be surprised by mistakes/inconsistencies/etc.]

CH 1 - Woe to Weal

“How much can I get with—” Anneal paused as he dumped his coin purse on the bar and counted, meekly continuing, “three silver?” He was down to his last coins. He didn’t enjoy relying on the sympathy of others, but he had no choice but to bank on it.

The barkeep gave him a pitying look before going back into the kitchen. Hopefully that was good. There hadn’t been much in the way to scavenger or hunt on his way into this village, so any food would be good. On cue, his stomach growled like an owlbear. Not that it could be heard over the boisterous group that stumbled in, making everyone turn and look. A hallow pang turned Anneal’s head back to his measly fortune.

A fortune that was swiftly swiped up by the barkeep. In its place, a plate of food and a stein of mead were set. And the key for a room. He was about to thank the barkeep but one of the new, rowdy patrons all but slammed into the bar beside him. “Good friend, some drinks and food, if you please!” the halfling lilted. “And later some rooms so we may rest at ease.”

They eyed the gold she offered, then the group of hers who were all lost in their own conversation. “You’re adventures.”

“That we are, indeed. And we’re open for hire, should you so need,” she honeyed on.

“Yeah, actually.” They reached under the bar and pulled out a small flier. “Go see the mayor. She’ll give you the details. If you can manage to handle this tonight, you can imbibe and stay for free.”

“Well well, what a deal—”

“Sorry,” Anneal cut in, “but is this request open to all adventurers?”

They both looked at him. The barkeep raised their brow as they looked him over again. “You’re an adventurer?”

“I am.” Anneal cleared his throat, then straightened up and adjusted himself. “I admit, I’m… a bit down on my luck at the moment, but I can hold my own.”

A strong hand clamped on his shoulder. It seemed that the halfing’s group had been listening in and were all now circled behind me. The orc woman leaned in close. “Trying to be competition, little man?”

She could easily snap him in half—he had mixed feelings about that. “No, no!” he quickly defended. “I—I’m clearly no competition for the four of you.”

“Correct,” she said.

“I merely meant more of a… partnership? If you will—if the job is even something that would benefit from more fighters?” He glanced to the barkeep, hoping his desperation wasn’t noticeable to everyone.

It was.

The barkeep shrugged. “Hell if I know. Mayor knows more,” they deflected, then promptly removed themself from the situation developing between all of the adventurers.

Anneal slowly turned and faced the group he callously interjected himself into for this job they knew nothing about. Their expressions ranged between friendly, curious, reluctant, and unimpressed.

The orc spoke up again. “So, how do you fight? You look like fragile magic wielder.”

“Uhh…” He didn’t enjoy being called fragile, but compared to her, it was fitting. Especially with how scruffed up he was at the moment. “Well, I guess it’s sorta like magic.” He flicked his hand and in it appeared a spectral dagger. “Right now, these are all I got. But I know how to fight with other weapons, too. I’m best at being sneaky and such. You know—rogue shit.”

She nodded acceptingly. “Not bad. Maybe we work on more fighting skills for you.”

“Wait, so… you’re all fine working together?”

“We all fall on hard times at least once. It’s always good to help others when you can.” The elf with pastel hair held out her hand. “I’m Cerromet.”

“Anneal. Nice to meet—ahh!” When he went to shake her hand, a small creature jumped over Cerromet’s shoulder and tried to bite his hand. Luckily, he withdrew in time.

Acting fast, Cerromet turned her hand and grabbed the little psudo-dragon by the belly. She held the fang-bearing creature to her chest and pet it sweetly below its chin. “Sorry about Bloom. She’s just hungry.”

“She’s not the only one!” piped up the gnome. She hopped up on the stool beside him and leaned over for a better look at the plate the barkeep left him. “It’ll be nice to have some actual food instead of goodberries.”

“I’m sorry the ones I make are so sour,” Cerromet pouted with a little attitude. “That’s just how my magic is, Pen.”

The halfling leaned on the bar and stole his stein of mead. She took a swig then said, “I’m Burr, by the way; and Bi’Kern is our burly friend. She’s tough, for sure, but kind in the end.”

“I don’t mean this as a criticism, but just an honest question. Do you always speak in rhyme?” Anneal asked.

“It’s more fun to speak in song. Try it sometime and tell me I’m wrong.”

“Do you ever not speak in rhyme?”

“You’ll sooner see ancient dragons fill the sky, than you’ll hear a lilt fail from I.”

“Okay, okay… what’s a rhyme for orange?”

Bi’kern smacked the back of his head. “Stop being ass. Just drink already.” Burr made a point to start chugging the drink she stole from him while conspicuously returning to the table they had claimed.

— — —

Fun Notes: Most main characters are blatantly based off Ginny’s other OCs, and renamed after smithing terms (in case it doesn't come up later in the story, Pen is short for Pennyweld). Also, going to be adding various quests Ginny has made too (can you guess what this first one is gonna be?)

#ginny di #fanfic wip

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fairviewasylum · 1 year

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Chapter Four

Edith walked down to the common room, realizing she didn’t have her arms crossed. If nothing else, she was determined to help Juniper feel comfortable and safe. She would hate it if that sweet woman saw her roommate as an angry and bitter child. Amy was standing next to Bennet now, talking quick and fast as ever, using her hands to gesture and expel energy as she spoke. Edith took a far seat from their discussion, not wanting to hear whatever chaos she was spilling from her mouth. A younger guy, maybe in his mid twenties, not much younger than Edith’s thirty, was sitting in front of the TV watching whatever they had on. Some nature documentary about big cats it would seem. He was zoned into it, and lost to the electronic imagery. Man-made magic, Edith always thought to herself. She noticed his arm was covered in tattoos, several of which were still scabbed and obviously recent.

“Your ink is beautiful,” Edith commented passively, turning her attention to the TV and taking a sip of her water. The young man perked up and immediately smiled. “You think? I just started work as an apprentice, and the guy I’m working under did it.” He excitedly shared. “That rose is really well done, there at your hand with the skull,” Edith said, pointing out the one still healing. He excitedly rolled up his pant leg and showed her a man’s face screaming, with numbers and words surrounding it. Edith recognized the face but didn’t know the name. “You like Lux Miner?” He asked and the realization of who it was hit Edith. A talented young musician who lost his life to his inner demons and substance abuse. “Never got into his music, but he was a really talented soul.” Edith said. The young man nodded in agreement, then rolled up his sleeve further showing a funny tattoo of hot sauce. “Got this one too,” he laughed. “That’s good shit,” Edith laughed, then leaned down to show her only tattoo. It was an eye on her ankle, replicated from a book series, that the main villain had on his own ankle. “This is my only one, it’s from-” Edith started, but the young man got excited and cut her off. “Cricket’s Symphony!” He said enthusiastically. “Yeah!” Edith grinned her first genuine smile. “Was the last book series my grandfather got me for my birthday, before he passed away.” “That’s a good meaning for some ink,” he nodded in approval. “I wonder if we could watch that movie that came out,” he thought aloud eagerly. “If they can stream it, I bet it’s available on the service this is on.” Edith offered, and without missing a beat he hopped up and ran off to talk to Bennet. Within a moment Bennet was over and scrolling through the TV to type the name in the search function. The young man and Edith watched as the series started, then talked about the various actors and things they loved seeing them in besides this. Halfway through the movie, the young man hopped up and with a crayon and the back of a printed out word search, wrote out his name and phone number. “We’re allowed to exchange info in here, they want us to make friends I think. Anyway, here’s my info, message me sometime and I’ll hook you up with a free tattoo.” He said while handing it over. Parker Padley, was his name apparently. Edith folded the paper in half and tucked it into her bra, the one pocket they couldn’t take away. “Thanks! I’ll take you up on that I hope ya know.” Edith assured the eager young guy. “I’ve always wanted a spiral on my forearm or another eye to mirror this one on my other ankle.” She said, nodding down to the one she already had. “I’m Edith, by the way.” “I’m Parker,” He grinned, extending his tattooed hand for a firm shake. They watched the rest of the movie in a comfortable silence, mentally escaping from Fairview if only for a couple hours. When dinner was being served, Juniper made her way out of their room, accompanied by Bennet who must have fetched her. He sat her at the same six seater table that held Edith, Parker, Amy, and another elderly woman that Edith hadn’t learned the name of yet. “What’s dinner tonight?” Juniper asked as she sat next to Edith. “Chicken sandwiches,” Amy said. “They keep the menu for the week by the drinks, if you ever want to look!” She added, and Edith could see her body jiggling as she kicked her feet under the table with unnatural levels of energy. “Oh that doesn’t sound so bad,” Juniper concluded and began staring out the window, detached from where she was, just like Edith had been feeling. Bennet, and the aide that had silenced the door alarm earlier in the day, began handing out trays labeled for delivery to specific patients. Amy was first, and ate with such speed and fervor that she was half finished before anyone else at the table received theirs. The meal was a plain bun and over cooked breaded chicken patty that resembled cardboard more than meat. Served alongside a scoop of mashed sweet potatoes and broccoli. A new face, another young man, came and sat at the table. Amy was immediately tense at his arrival, and got quiet from telling us about her time in the military. He didn��t say a word, just ate in silence as everyone at the table slowly finished eating and left the common room. Amy was the first to leave, followed by Parker and Juniper. It was just Edith, the nameless elderly woman, and the new face. “I’m Vivian,” the elderly woman stated to Edith. “Edith,” she offered in return. “Thomas.” The quiet young man said between bites. “Now that I can finally get a word in, you live in the area?” Vivian asked Edith. “Down in Cinder, but I’m originally from Emerald Valley. You?” Edith asked in return. “I don’t live anywhere, I’m on my own. They picked me up cause my car ran out of gas, and I was just trying to walk to a fucking gas station and they thought I was a nut.” Vivian said, rolling her eyes. “Seems about right,” Edith chuckled, enjoying the brash woman’s energy. “Fuckers, the lot of them.” Vivian grumbled. “Eh, that kid isn’t so bad,” Vivian motioned to Bennet, who was collecting finished trays. “And this one’s quiet, but he’s alright.” She added, motioning to Thomas who was eating quietly to himself, wincing at being pointed out. “Sounds like you just like the guys,” Edith teased her, also enjoying the uncomfortable air hitting Thomas. “Don’t you know it!” Vivian cackled loudly smacking her hand on the table. “I like this one!” She shouted to anyone who would notice, motioning at Edith. Vivian went on to tell Edith about what landed her here; she had driven from a few territories over to help her siblings arrange a funeral. She missed the details on whose funeral, exactly. “Those shitheads, they treat me like I’m useless. I used to work in the food industry, I know how hard it is to get spaces on short notice. I did my best, I got a conference room at a hotel, not the fanciest, but what we could afford. I got deli-trays, lots of drinks, and I did my best. They just showed up and complained, so I stormed off, ran out of gas, and here I am.” Vivian raised her arms in exacerbated desperation. “Don’t even know where my car ended up!” She exclaimed and shook her head. “That’s fucked up Vivian, sorry you went through that. Family sure doesn’t like to admit they are the ones being the assholes, huh?” Edith asked, noting that Thomas had slowed down eating and was paying attention at that point. “Don’t you know it! You are related to assholes, I take it?” Vivian asked. “Eh, it depends on the day.” Edith shrugged, thinking of her own complicated relationship with her mother. Vivian laughed and shook her head. “I know mine will come to their senses, I don’t think they even know I’m here.” Vivian sighed. “In the meantime, I’m stuck here, and I got all my clothes from the closet. They itch like all get out, I can’t stand it.” She said cautiously, not to sound unappreciative. “The closet?” Edith inquired. “The community closest where donations go, so people can wear street clothes instead of the robes.” Thomas offered softly, motioning to his own attire to imply he hit up the closet too. “I guess I’ll be headed that way at some point,” Edith murmured. “Family all back in The Valley?” Vivian asked, recalling Edith had mentioned that’s where she was from. “Yeah, out here by myself. Got into a fight with my partner and it landed me here.” Edith offered, since Vivian had gone into detail on what landed her in the asylum. “No shit, guys are dumbasses. Sexy fuckers, but their brains don’t work right.” Vivian offered in response. Thomas took that chance to get up and walk away abruptly, leaving his tray for Bennet to collect. “He’s a good kid, he doesn’t like swearing though, something about religion and properness, I think he grew up in some kind of cult.” Vivian explained, excusing his quick exit. “Ah, yeah, that stuff is wild.” Edith agreed, thinking of the various religions that existed and how seriously they took themselves. Edith didn’t believe in any Gods, but she knew magic and science existed, and that was good enough for her. She also knew from her work with the elderly who neared death, that humanity needed its comfort mythologies to get them through the night. Bennet came and took her tray, but Vivian was still puttering along on her sweet potatoes. Not wanting her to feel alone at the table, Edith stuck it out while she finished up to keep her company. She took that time to look around at who was in Fairview with her, finally breaking her bitterness to adjust to her surroundings properly.

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