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justoneofthoseghosts · 3 years

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Break me + brettsey

A/N: To the anons who requested for this, I tried my best 🥲 Also, you know I love fluff so wow, this was really emotional to write but I do love a challenge so er, grab some tissues maybe.

Warnings: character death

Throughout the years, Sylvie has learned that life isn’t always fair.

No matter how hard she studied for the 2nd grade spelling bee, someone studied harder and got that big, shiny trophy. She had her first kiss at seventeen with a boy she thought she’d love forever but he ended up being a manipulative jerk, just the first of many who turned out to be frogs instead of princes. Her birth mom sought her out and just as they found their footing, she died at child birth.

But this one, it really takes the cake, Sylvie thinks.

She pleaded with Matt to get his cough checked out weeks ago, asking him politely when she noticed it getting more and more frequent. It crept in especially late at night in bed when they were supposed to be sleeping, instead, she would hear him try to stifle it so as not to wake her. He shrugged it off and told her not to worry, which is classic Matt. She should have known. Even after all these years, her husband is still so stubborn.

One night, when the coughing won’t stop, she manages to get through to him and he agrees to go to the ED. Sylvie grabs the car keys and leads him out the door.

They greet the new charge nurse, who brings them into a treatment room. Sylvie doesn’t think much of it as Ethan comes in and they make small talk and catch up with the ED chief, who at 70 seems to show no signs of retiring. He orders a few standard tests. They wheel Matt off to get an x ray while Sylvie goes to grab a snack from the vending machine.

When Ethan finds her forty minutes later, his face is grim. Her heart drops to the pit of her stomach and she knows it’s not just an ordinary cough.

Stage 4 lung cancer.

Matt Casey, retired CFD battalion chief has stage 4 lung cancer.

It’s like a cruel joke. Matt’s never smoked a single cigarette in his life but his career as a firefighter has finally caught up with him - all the fumes, the smoke, the dust have made their way into his lungs. Sylvie doesn’t cry while the oncologist takes them through their options. She’d gladly sit through a hundred rounds of chemo with Matt if needed.

Except he doesn’t want that.

They argue about it for several weeks. Matt says he wants to spend the rest of his days at home, maybe they can rent a cabin in the woods in Michigan where the air is fresh, the sky is blue and they can just be, waiting for the inevitable.

“Matt,” she starts to say, an edge in her tone. They've been going around in circles and Sylvie is ready to put her foot down.

Matt shakes his head, taking her hand and gently telling her what he's been repeating since that day they found out, “I’ve lived a full life. We have these great kids and grandkids. I can’t ask for anything more.”

Sylvie yanks her hand out of his grasp. She's had enough.

“What would you do if it were the other way around?” She yells, her voice trembling slightly. She doesn’t think she’s every screamed at him this loudly in all their years together but she doesn’t want to give up. She needs him to understand.

Matt sighs, running a hand through his now grey hair. After a beat, he looks her in the eye. She knows he can't lie and say he'll take it lying down if she were to tell him what he's been parroting.

“I’d be begging you to get the treatment because I couldn’t bear to live a day without you,” he admits quietly.

They hold each other’s gazes, neither willing to concede.

“Please, Matt,” Sylvie whispers as she feels the tears threatening to fall. She grabs hold of his arm, squeezing it. She needs him to fight, if not for himself then for her because she doesn't think she can handle life without him, not quite yet.

He finally relents, “okay, okay, we’ll get the chemo.”

He wraps his arms around her and pulls her close. Sylvie burrows deeper into his embrace, sobbing. She cries for the first time since they found out about the cancer and Matt rubs his hand over her back, comforting her.

Sylvie drives Matt to the hospital for his rounds of chemo while he jokes about shaving off his hair. One night, she wakes up to find his side of the bed empty and the light in the bathroom on. She peers in and sees him kneeling in front of the toilet, vomiting. She takes a seat beside him and quietly helps him, remembering their wedding vows.

In sickness and in health.

On the side, she starts to volunteer for the CFD’s firefighters cancer network, trying to raise more awareness on the dangers of such a noble job. She cheers with Matt one Spring morning when Gallo, Violet and Ritter decide to run the half marathon in full firefighter gear, in support of the cause. She’s glad that even if they’ve both retired, 51 still remains to be a part of their family.

Six months in, the doctor tells them that the chemo isn’t working as well as he hoped and the prognosis isn’t good. Sylvie still wants to continue but Matt sits her down one night after dinner.

“I think it’s time we just wait this out, Syl.” He tells her gently, interlacing his fingers in hers.

Sylvie wants to say no because this can’t be how it ends for him, someone spent his life saving people is about to succumb to a deadly, incurable disease. It really, truly is unfair.

But at the same time, she understands his request. He doesn’t want to put their family through another roller coaster ride of emotions, of uncertainty, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He’s saying he wants to take the reins and do it his way.

It reminds Sylvie of that quote from Harry Potter she read when she was younger.

To the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.

She didn't understand it at all at thirteen but she does now, glancing over at Matt and seeing the steely resolve in his eyes.

They’ve been together for over 30 years. They’ve built a home filled with love and kindness, full of laughter and running blonde children who all grew up to be exceptional adults with thriving careers. They have two wonderful, adorable grandchildren. She remembers what Matt told her, how he’s lived a full life.

She feels a tear slide down her cheek and Matt’s other hand brushes it away. She knows the next word coming out of her mouth will break her heart but she says it anyway because it's what's right.

“Okay.”

There’s something in the air, Sylvie thinks and her soul begins to fill with dread. Today, it seems, is the day. Matt’s been in bed for the last three days, not really able to move or eat much. Without the chemo, the doctor told them he had about three months to live and with each day that passed after that, Sylvie started to feel hope that maybe he had more to give.

It’s been a little over a year since the diagnosis. Sylvie’s trying to read a book while Matt is taking a nap. She’s distracted by her thoughts but hears him whisper.

“I think it’s time.”

She nods, her lower lip quivering. She approaches him and kisses the top of his head before making her way out of the room to make a few phone calls.

The house starts to fill with family and friends arriving to say their last good byes. Their kids are here, surrounding their dad and telling stories about how Matt always put them first no matter what. The remaining members of their second shift at 51 start to trickle in one by one. Sylvie told them it was going to be a celebration of Matt’s life, how she didn’t want them to mope around because it isn’t what he would want so they laugh and jest until late in the evening.

Matt kisses his grandkids one last time before they leave and Sylvie climbs into bed with him. He rests his head on her shoulder as she holds his hand and watches his eyes flutter close and his breathing gradually stop.

Sylvie recollects their many years together - growing from friends to something deeper, the first time Matt swung like Tarzan from the aerial after they got together and Sylvie telling him never to do it again and of course he did many more time and she never really stopped worrying, buying a house, their wedding day, the birth of their children, sending off each kid to preschool up until watching them graduate from college, meeting their grandchildren for the first time, celebrating personal and professional milestones together, cheering each other on.

She looks at her husband’s still form thinking yes, it has been a full life.

#you ask for angst and I try to deliver #but wow that was hard to write #and I'm sorry in advance #chicago fire #brettsey #fanfic prompt

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lincnok · 3 years

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Disney Princesses are all excellent role models

Nowadays, we see something called the feminist movement, something that was born to empower young women, and equalize society, a noble cause; now it is nothing like it’s original goal, and some even bash more feminine, or soft spoken women in the fictional media. I have seen many ‘feminists’ go off about how earlier princesses, like Snow White, Cinderella, Aurora and Ariel are all ‘weak’ and are ‘unfit to be role models for young girls’ whilst princesses like Moana and Elsa are praised for their ‘empowerment’. In all of these events, both on the opposite sides of the spectrum, there is barely ever any space for the girls in the middle like Tiana and Pocahontas. Whilst these characters aren’t recognized, some get bashed, and others praised above the rest, which is unfair as they are all excellent role models and here’s why.

(I’m gonna start from the first movie cuz I find it easier that way)

Snow White:

This princess is overlooked and consistently talked about as weaker and ‘less than’, when in actuality, she is as strong a role model as any other. Even in the face of death, she is kind-hearted and care-free, choosing to clean the dwarves home, and never saying one bad word about her step mother. Yes, she did open the door to a stranger and eat the apple, but she was fourteen, and in the original story, had been living with the dwarves for two years, essentially leaving her ‘sheltered’. She lived in the middle of the forest with a group of tiny men for God’s sake, do you really think she would understand the no strangers rule? And even then, eating the apple was something she did out of politeness, rather than stupidity. It was her innocence taken advantage of that got her poisoned, not stupidity or weakness. She is a positive role model because she was able to stay level-headed, polite and innocent, even under severe pressure.

Cinderella:

Now in her story, she is claimed as weak because, in some people’s eyes, she did nothing in the face of abuse. Is that true? Absolutely! But not because she is weak, but because she is strong enough to know when not to fight. She cried and had bad days, but still chose to do the things she was asked in order for things to remain peaceful. She worked hard to achieve what she wanted. When she was told she had to do all her chores and more in one afternoon to go to the ball, she did, and made a dress on top of that. She would’ve gone to the ball anyway if it were not for her step-family’s spite, all she need the fairy godmother for was a change of clothes and a ride. She was honest and hard working, unbending even in the face of abuse and pain, something all girls should aspire to be.

Aurora:

This is the one that gets the worst media, as she had little lines and screen time and ‘slept through her whole movie’. But in all honesty, the girl lived in the forest with three fighting fairies, who did little to help with education and knowledge of the outside world, keeping her as sheltered as possible. She was happy and loveable, with a definite affinity for singing, something she did on the regular. Of course, we don’t get to see much of her personality there, but I’d like to say that she was something of a carefree spirit, happy and optimistic, trying her best to keep others happy too. She was a little boy crazy, yes, but she was fifteen, and Prince Phillip was the first man she had ever seen, so you can’t really blame her for her fascination with him. She had no idea about a curse, and if something possesses you, you don’t really have anything to do about it, and you can’t do anything if you’re asleep for one hundred years. But she kept herself happy and cheerful even in loneliness, as the prince was not only the first male she’d seen but also the first human she’d seen since she was a baby, and yet she was obviously happy, jubilant enough to sing for hours in the forest, despite being alone for most of her life. Happiness can be found in the even in the loneliest of places and that is what Aurora teaches us.

Ariel:

This girl gets bad media too because of her choice at the end of the film. Through out the film, she is presented as a curious soul, wanting to find out how the humans lived, collecting the trinkets and items from the shipwrecks said humans left. She did go too far in her curiosity, though, signing her voice away for legs. But she was eager to learn, and that is something all girls should aim to be. As I said before, she is bashed for making the decision to stay on land and get married, rather than going back home, but that is a very common thing to do, more common that people think. If a girl falls in love with someone in another country, she has every right to stay there with him, and thus Ariel shouldn’t be penalized for something so common and accepted. Her family didn’t condemn her, they came to her wedding and were happy for her. She chose her happiness over cultural norms, and that kind of confidence is something we should all aim to have.

Belle:

Belle isn’t bashed so much as diagnosed, and I feel like that isn’t right to do. I’m not saying that it isn’t true, but there is so much that is ignored about Belle’s story that should be mentioned. Like the fact that she is educated. This is something that was very rare in the time period in which she lived, and she definitely needs to get more recognition because of that. In an essay I read, it was said that she would be the equivalent of the village’s ‘IT guy’ and that is exactly right. When she rejected Gaston, she never said a bad word about him, nor wrote off his affections or was rude, she simply declined, which is something that should be respected and applauded rather than bought down. There is also the fact that she is quite feminine in appearance and picks a decidedly feminine dress despite being raised by a single father, which is a detail I rather liked, as it lets Belle be on both sides of the spectrum, being able to expertly communicate with her male friends, whilst also being ‘girly’ with her female friends, and thus makes her a well rounded character. Her falling in love with the Beast, may have well been a psychological disorder, but it wasn’t like her feelings weren’t reciprocated. And she wasn’t kidnapped. Kidnapping is abduction, meaning that you are taken or held somewhere against your will. She chose to stay. And it wasn’t like she was held in particularly bad conditions, the only condition was that she couldn’t leave. Yes, she was provided an ultimatum, but she chose to stay. And then made the best out of it. The falling in love was a side effect. Belle was educated, but not arrogant, kind and humble, polite and feminine, and those traits are wonderful, and make the princess an incredible role model.

Jasmine:

Jasmine is one of those princesses who is forgotten about, but I’ve come here today to let you know she is an absolute girlboss. In her movie, she was the crown princess, and her family ‘needed’ her to marry so that they could have a king and her dad could retire. But she wanted to marry for love instead of just political power and wealth and thus turned all her suitors away. This meant that she never gained any of the rights she would get if married and had to live in the palace for the rest of her life until she found ‘the one’. And if you pay attention, you’ll realize that Jasmine was the ruling monarch because Jasmine was royalty and Aladdin was not. She was also only 17 when she became queen, which makes her queendom so much more impactful. Her little outing one the outside gave her that little bit of compassion that she would’ve needed to become a great sultan. She may not have been a warrior, but in terms of political prowess, she was one of the most powerful. She is the ruler that girls should want to look up to and follow, a role model to her community as well as her audience.

Pocahontas:

I don’t really know much about her, but I know enough to say this. In the film (not real life), she made the opposite decision to Ariel, and chose to stay with her tribe rather than stay the man she loved. That was a brave decision, and the fact that she made it in the face of pressure is to be admired.

Mulan:

Ah, yes. The great feminist icon. But the one who gets condemned for having a prince. Yes, she was a great warrior, and yes, she was professional, but that all doesn’t mean she’s not allowed to find love. She can be all those things and still be a mother and a wife, they don’t have to go separately. And, you know what? The fact that she had a prince just made it all the more inspiring, because thats what the #MeToo movement should be about, embracing all kinds of women, and not separating the roles of mother and wife from the roles of leader and independent. Having a husband doesn’t make you any less, and that, among other lessons, is what Mulan teaches us.

Tiana:

Tia should get about as much hype as Mulan, but in reality, she doesn’t. She is very much forgotten about other than the fact that she is black. Her story isn’t about ‘conquering racism’ or anything attributed mainly to ‘black media’, but instead is about a working girl, doing just that, working. She worked hard to achieve her goal, and not once did she even try to take a short cut. She found love along the way, made some friends and lost some friends, impacted some friends for the better, and achieved her goal, no short cuts and a whole lotta jazz music. That’s what the Princess and the Frog is about, working hard to achieve your dreams. That sentiment is something everyone should learn, and the fact that that’s a black girl up there being that role model for us just makes it even better.

Rapunzel:

Rapunzel, the queen of self-isolation. But despite that, she was always happy and optimistic, which is something us cynics could stand to learn about. She was curious, but had some common sense. She was probably the most organized out of all the Disney princesses, as she had a set schedule for everything. She was probably the most artistically gifted as well. She definitely not stupid, but instead innocent and gullible, but capable of defending herself and running a good negotiation. She could’ve been a lawyer! She was a perfect example of someone talented using their talents to better the people and that’s what makes her someone to look up to.

Merida:

Another warrior, except this time, set in Scotland without a prince. You guys know the story. Bought up in a home where all she was expected to do was get married and have kids, Merida yearned to be outside with her bow and arrow, but instead was told no. Eventually, tired of the pressure, she goes to a witch to get a charm to make make her mother more lenient. Instead, the charm turns her mother into a bear, and turns her curious little brothers into bear cubs. The race is on for Merida to get the cure before it is too late. She successfully cures her mother and brothers, fights the evil Mor’du and comes to appreciate her mother more. This little family story shows a headstrong girl getting love and affection from her family without condescending, and the best interests at heart. She sets of to fix her own mistake, something still not really shown in media. She teaches girls to love their family even when you don’t agree, stand up for themselves, take responsibility for their actions and try their best to fix their mistakes.

Elsa:

I’ll start with her because this list is oldest to youngest. Another Princess without a Prince, she’s actually a queen for most of the movie, and isn’t even the mainest main character. She still teaches girls something. With her headstrong character, she was morally sound despite dealing with an immense feeling of self-hatred and fear. Only when she really broke did she ever intend to hurt anyone. She shows you how to be yourself in spite of the of the danger. She is brave and strong, with powerful abilities and love for her sister.

Anna:

Anna isn’t in the spotlight as much as Elsa was, seemingly naïve and gullible. Except, you have to realize that Anna is that she was left literally alone for God knows how long. Hans was the first person she’d met and liked who didn’t leave her alone. She liked him a lot, and it is believable that she would’ve said yes to Hans when he proposed. But still, as the story went on she became more mature, but didn’t lose her childlike spirit. She teaches us to go to the ends of the Earth for the ones you love, but to not be a push-over. To stand firm in the face of danger, but to not be reckless. Anna teaches us what true love is.

Moana:

“If I go there’s just no telling how far I go!” Moana is an adventurous soul, unafraid of nonconformity, and in love with the great unknown. She falls in love with the sea, and, even though she is prohibited, follows her dreams. She is the picture of determination and willingness to go out into the unknown, and she isn’t afraid to be herself, even amidst hardships, rejection and danger. Such a sprit is something to admire and aspire to have.

Every last one of the girls on my list is a role model and I hope you now understand why. So don’t look down on a little girl when she says her favorite princess is Cinderella. Don’t cuss out the little black girl who says she wants to be Snow White for Halloween even when there’s a princess that looks like you or vice versa. Don’t roll your eyes at the girl who says she likes Anna better than Elsa, or she wants to be a queen like Jasmine. Don’t hate on these characters because of circumstances they couldn’t control or because they’re not like you, because every single one of them is and can be a role model to a little girl, they all just cater to different types. Yes, the Disney princess line isn’t all representing, and many of these tales are taken out of context or made more light hearted, but no matter what the story is, these girls are their own characters and we should respect that, and everyones opinions on them.

Aight, I’m out.

#respect #disney princess #disney pride #merida #snow white #tiana #disney movies #modern disney princess #aurora #moana #mulan #rapunzel #pocahontas #everyones a princess #elsa #anna #jasmine #ariel #cinderella

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justathoughtfulangel · 3 years

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The One That Came Back (Draco Malfoy Mini Series, Final Part)

Hi everyone! Here is the third and final part of my Draco Malfoy Mini Series, The One. If you’d like to see more details about the series as a whole and a summary of this part, you may do so here. If you’d like to read more about my OC, Amara Grimaldi, you can do so here.

PLEASE read parts one and two before you read this! You can find part one, The One Who Was Lost, here; you can find part two, The One That Got Away, here.

Word count: 4, 706

Please don’t hesitate to message me if you have any questions/concerns/comments.

Whenever you see “~~~”, I am transitioning to a new scene. If you see “~” instead, we’re in the same scene but different characters are being shown.

If you have a hard time following the scenes, please use this scenes list as a resource.

Happy Reading!

Amara sat in her office, overlooking the Hogwarts grounds from her window. Night was upon them, and most of the castle was asleep. Snow fell down gently, forming a soft blanket that glittered in the moonlight. Scrolls of parchment lay on her desk, already graded and ready to return to her 3rd-year students. She took a moment to look around absentmindedly, thinking of her journey here.

After the war, Amara took her friends to her family’s vacation home in Paris. She didn’t admit it at the time, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione understood that she didn’t have the strength to see her childhood home and not have her father there to welcome her. They stayed for a month or so, slowly healing from the wounds of the war. It was a break they all desperately needed.

Hermione and Amara both saw value in returning to Hogwarts for their last year of school, while Harry and Ron opted to begin working as Aurors immediately. The Ministry welcomed the heroes with open arms. After finishing her education, Hermione, too, joined the Ministry. For years, Amara wished to become a Potions professor at Hogwarts. She worked toward that dream by creating two of her own potions within the next two years, wanting to substantiate her skills beyond those written on her school transcript.

The first potion she created was Lamisquia, a potion that put Amara in a great deal of danger during its inception. Lamisquia was the vampire-equivalent to Wolfsbane, yet even stronger. It had the ability to return vampires to their human form. Testing it had been disastrous, but it was ultimately successful.

The next potion she made was Sirpotalis, an elixir to lengthen the lifetime of plants. Amara’s invention was greatly needed in the Wizarding World; it could fight food shortages and also nearly immortalize plants such as Gillyweed, Asphodel, Belladonna, and many other valuable ingredients often utilized in potions.

During this time, Ron finally admitted his feelings for Hermione. They were wed within the next year. Not long after, Harry and Ginny married as well. Life was slowly moving on for everyone. She took the time to meet her friends as often as she could; Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Amara often had lunch together at The Leaky Cauldron, The Three Broomsticks, and a variety of Muggle restaurants in London. It had taken some time, but the four were leading very peaceful lives.

Beyond her involvement in the Second Wizarding War - seeing herself commemorated in new History books and Chocolate Frog cards felt strange, to say the least - and her family name, Amara had created a name for herself, one she took pride in. After taking a well-deserved break, Amara took the place of Professor Slughorn when he retired.

But, even as everything was falling into place, Amara could never be truly happy. After all, one piece was missing. She hadn’t seen or heard from Draco since the War. Her thoughts were stained with the images of him walking away from her. She could still feel his hand slipping out of hers. The Malfoys occasionally appeared in The Daily Prophet; editorials and opinion pieces on the innocence of past supporters of Voldemort were popular with the average reader.

She had tried to move on, she really did. Amara had forced herself to go on some dates but gave up on the endeavor eventually. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy the company of these other men… they just weren’t him. He was a plague on her heart and mind that she couldn’t dispel.

Blinking away tears, Amara locked her office for the night and Flooed to her home. The peaceful silence in her childhood home brought her some solace. On the way up the stairs, she paused. Her eyes fell on the painting of her parents and her hand came up to clutch their rings, still dangling from the thin golden chain she never removed.

Even when they were both gone, Amara felt their love radiating from her memories and the colored canvas. It gave Amara the hope she desperately needed. Perhaps she wouldn’t have a love like theirs in her own life, but the memory of her parents’ love would be enough. It had to be. It was all she had left.

~~~

There she was, night after night, writhing in excruciating pain on the mahogany floor of his home. The pleased screeches of his aunt, no matter how loud, weren’t enough to drown out her screams. Each one stabbed his heart, leaving a searing burn there indefinitely. Crimson blood trickled down her forearm and colored the wood beneath her. He was shackled; his strength wasn’t enough to break free of his restraints and go to her. She shrieked louder. Her blood spilled faster. His chains squeezed him tighter.

Draco jolted awake as he did every morning. A thin layer of sweat painted his skin. His exhausted eyes, courtesy of months of tortuous nights, contrasted deeply with his alabaster skin. The sun was just beginning to rise, lighting up his small but luxurious London flat. In his weary stupor, Draco shoved his sheets aside, heading to the bathroom.

The face in the mirror was pale, sallow. Light had left Draco’s eyes long ago. He, quite likely, had forgotten how to smile. He had no reason to smile. Though Veratiserum had proven the true thoughts and actions of him and his family, there were scars Draco had to manage, scars that refused to heal. He tried to lose himself in the crowds of London. The large population of Muggles made no difference to Draco, not anymore. In fact, he rather appreciated it. Muggles did not view him and his family with disdain. To a Muggle he crossed on the street, he was no one.

Draco didn’t know what he was trying to find in his solitude. He just knew that solitude was the only thing he could bear. He had no desire to listen to his father speak of marrying him to Astoria Greengrass. His mother’s loving concern, while endearing, was nearly suffocating. Draco needed silence. While the silence brought him peace, it couldn’t stifle everything. It couldn’t stifle the haunting memories. It couldn’t stifle his hopelessness. It couldn’t stifle how much he ached for Amara.

Amara. The one person he wished to see most. Draco knew he didn’t deserve her forgiveness, but he knew he had it anyway. Somehow, she forgave him every time. It was something he did not understand. She had explained it once before; Amara said she forgave him because she knew him, the real him. But how could she? Draco no longer knew who he was, he hadn’t for quite some time. The version of him Amara always forgave no longer existed.

As Draco sat near the window, flipping through the Daily Prophet, an owl tapped against the glass, a letter bearing the Hogwarts Crest held in its beak….

~~~

Laughter and chatter rang throughout the Great Hall. Amara sat with Neville, as usual; both had grown closer since they began teaching. Just recently, Neville and Luna had broken up amicably and Amara was one of the few people Neville spoke freely to. Amara could see how much Neville loved her, but even he agreed that perhaps he and Luna were not meant to be. Just then, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and stood, the desserts disappearing before them.

Unlike other nights, however, Minerva did not just bid the students a good night. “Now that we’re all fed and ready to end another day at Hogwarts, I have one last announcement to make. Within the next week, a few old students will be returning to Hogwarts to come speak to you all about their experiences, sit in your classes, and have volunteered to answer your questions about life after school. They will be here next Monday and shall stay for a few days. Be prepared with some questions and be sure to learn from their experiences!”

Amara smiled to herself, wondering who she’d get to see again. Harry, Ron, and Hermione hadn’t mentioned anything to her, so it was possible they couldn’t make it. Her thoughts flitted to Draco once more, but the likelihood of him accepting such an invitation was low. She had no idea where he was. Amara scolded herself for indulging the thought, turning her attention back to Neville once more.

~~~

Three days later, Amara walked around her classroom, returning numerous rolls of parchment to her 6th-year students. Some of the lot had a hard time seeing her as a Professor, given that she once roamed these halls as a student alongside them. This never bothered Amara. She spoke to them as she would with acquaintances: somewhat formal, but not with an air of authority.

“Now, based on your essays, some of you don’t have a solid understanding of The Draught of Living Death, and that’s perfectly alright. It’s a dreadfully tricky potion, which is why I would like everyone to have a solid theoretical understanding of it before we attempt to brew it.” Amara could not get any further with her lesson, however; she was interrupted by someone she wasn’t expecting to see today.

“I dunno, I could brew it successfully in 6th year.” Harry sat in the back of the classroom, Ron right beside him. “Because you cheated, Harry.” Both men grinned widely, mirroring the expression on Amara’s face. “Stop crashing her lesson, you two.” Hermione stood behind Ron, her eyes shining. The murmurs of surprise from the students had died down. Not many had seen this group together since the end of the war. The three friendly intruders hushed then, allowing Amara to get back to her lesson, though without much success. They had set the classroom abuzz, and Professor Grimaldi could not stop smiling.

~~~

A grand feast had been prepared in the honor of the alumni attending. Amara had seen numerous familiar faces: the Patil twins, Justin Finch-Fetchley, Seamus Finnigan, Oliver Wood, the Greengrass sisters, Theodore Nott… But no Draco.

No matter how much she missed him, Amara’s mood could not be dampened by the memory of him tonight. Never did she imagine being back in the Great Hall with her dearest friends, laughing and sharing a meal together without a care in the world. Hogwarts was once again their home, bright and welcoming.

Neville, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat together, regaling each other with stories and fond memories. The five were in the midst of discussing the Yule Ball, with Harry mentioning his pleasant surprise at seeing Neville come in very late into the night. Amara momentarily remembered her date: Dominic Murtaugh from Durmstrang. He was nice enough, but she had left him rather rudely following Ron’s jealous outburst. Not to mention, Draco had been staring daggers at the bloke all night.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw just a flash of a platinum blonde head; it disappeared far too quickly. Amara did not indulge the thought. She would not let herself hope. Certainly, her mind was only imagining it…

Draco arrived at Hogwarts hours ago and had managed to avoid most people – even the woman he wanted to see most. It was a large enough castle, and he knew where he could hide. He couldn’t stop himself. He had no reason to anymore. There was no threat, no more excuses. He would be the man Amara saw and loved.

Even so, when he saw her after years, just a hundred feet away, he paused. Draco would never want or love anyone more than he had ever loved Amara. But what if she no longer cared for him? She had every reason to stop. How many times had he hurt her? He had failed her over and over. Did Amara even deserve to have someone like him in her life? Draco had given her too much misery, and he had no desire to give her any more.

~~~

The next morning, Amara was setting up for her lesson with the Hufflepuff and Slytherin 1st year students. Eleanor Tregor, a muggleborn Slytherin student, walked to her seat timidly. Amara smiled warmly at the girl, who looked down at something and then back up at her professor. Her behavior was intriguing.

Finding some bravery, Eleanor approached Amara, showing her the Chocolate Frog card enclosed in her hand. “Excuse me Professor, is this you?”

AMARA GRIMALDI

Currently Potions Master at Hogwarts

One of the many heroes in the Second Wizarding War, Amara Grimaldi worked alongside the Chosen One and was instrumental to the downfall of the Dark Lord. Afterwards, she created two potions, Lamisquia and Sirpotalis, which have brought plentiful benefits to the magical world. By those who know her, she is described as unfailingly kind and collected in the face of adversity.

Amara’s smile was one of wisdom and humility. “Yes, Eleanor, that is me.” The shy student said nothing more, seemingly intimidated by her teacher now as she shuffled back to her desk. Amara moved away from her desk and kneeled beside her. “What’s the matter, dear?” Eleanor took a shaky breath, her soft brown eyes anxious and upset. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be good… something worth remembering. The other Slytherins make fun of me. They say I don’t belong in Slytherin because I’m not from their world.”

Part of Amara’s heart throbbed in memory. She knew someone who held such beliefs once, and she knew the pain of being on the receiving end of such insults. “Eleanor, you were Sorted to the Slytherin house because of who you are within and who you are meant to be. The Sorting Hat saw ambition and a desire to achieve within you. I know it will come to fruition someday. One of my dearest friends is a muggleborn, and she is a much greater witch than I am.”

Other students were filtering into the classroom now. Eleanor sniffled softly but then smiled. “Thank you, Professor Grimaldi.” Amara nodded and put a supportive hand on Eleanor’s shoulder as she stood, beginning the lesson soon after. A Hufflepuff student, Trevor Yannick, had taken a seat next to Eleanor; Amara could sense a friendship in the making.

Classes were in session. The halls of Hogwarts were rather quiet between hours. A few 5th-year students mulled about during their morning free period, but Draco remained out of view. He was far past the age of climbing into the trees near the Black Lake, and yet here he sat anyhow. The waters of the Lake were calm; Draco’s mind was anything but.

Amara was the same, and yet she was different. He had only seen her from a distance, seemingly consoling a student before the class began. The changes were mostly physical: her hair was longer, her eyes not as vivid. Draco could once see the light of the world encompassed in them. What had made it fizzle out?

Ambrosi had died, and he was not there for her. She traversed through dangerous terrains alone in her quests to pioneer her potions, and she had no one to come home to. Draco had lost her. With what right could he go to her and say he loves her?

“Malfoy?” The voice came from below him. Only someone who would know to look for him here would be able to find him. The person who spoke to him was Harry Potter. Draco descended as swiftly as he could, and the pair said nothing to each other for a few moments. The last time they had spoken, Harry had saved Draco’s life.

Harry’s mind was occupied with how wrong he had been about Malfoy. If it wasn’t for his help – and the artful deceit of his mother – the world as they knew it would be drastically divergent to what it was today.

“How are you, Potter?” Pleasantries were not needed, and they were perhaps excessive, but Draco could not think of anything else to say. Harry was not about to indulge them. “Have you spoken to Amara yet? Have you told her you came back?”

Draco’s answer was in his silence. “Look, Malfoy…” Harry had many things he would like to say, yet none seemed to come to his tongue. “I don’t know what holds you back, and I won’t tell you what to do. All I know is that Amara has never loved anyone the way she loves you. You haven’t lost her yet, but you can’t expect her to wait for you forever.”

Harry knew there was a great probability Amara would never love another but playing on Malfoy’s vulnerabilities was the best way to motivate him. He had learned that much of him after years of being his rival.

Draco said nothing. Harry had pointed out another thing Draco always had: not only her forgiveness but also her patience. He was silent for many more moments, and Harry, too, said nothing else. Then, he broke from his trance. “Thank you… Harry.”

Harry blinked in shock for a moment but then smiled with a little hesitation. He was like a brother to Amara; if Harry was in Amara’s life, he would be in Draco’s, too. “Go get her, Draco.”

~~~

The sights from the Astronomy Tower were breathtaking, as always. It was snowing once more, though Amara wasn’t very cold. She was remembering the last winter night she stood on this balcony. Draco had joined her those many years ago; it was one of their last real conversations.

Shaking her head as if to dispel the memory, Amara wrapped her shawl around herself, turning to leave. Perhaps she would Floo back to her home for the night. Yet, she wasn’t alone. “Amara…”

She was in front of him. Draco had seen her in his horrifying dreams every night: the angel he could never save from the pain and darkness. Here she was. It was all, and it was everything.

Amara lost her voice. She hadn’t simply been imagining him. He had been near her, and now he was here. How many letters had she written to him, graced with her tears? They had never been sent. Those tears – her pain – was not another burden Amara would place on him. She could not stop her tears now.

“You came back…” She would ask for nothing but him. Didn’t he know by now?

“Amara, I…” Draco could not say anything else before Amara ran into his arms. All her anger and hurt momentarily subsided. Then, his arms came around her, holding her close, and she was whole again.

The snow fell near them. The winter air swam around. Yet, neither was cold. This was warmth. This was hope. This was love… There was much to say, much to do, and much to face. Draco and Amara would do it together, and that was more than enough…

~~~

Amara never believed she would be here again. It was a place she had spent quite a bit of her childhood in; it was also the site of her darkest memory. Draco’s hand squeezed hers as they looked upon Malfoy Manor from the gate. “We don’t have to do this here, Amara. Just say the word.”

She took a deep breath, saying nothing as she looked up at him. Draco’s health and being had improved greatly: his skin was no longer pale, his eyes slowly beginning to fill with life and light. “No. I should go speak to her. Not the other way around.” Narcissa was always the closest thing Amara had to a mother in her life, even after Draco distanced himself from her in their school years.

They walked through the grand gates silently. Narcissa greeted them before they even entered the foyer. She knew Amara like any mother knew their child. She knew her likes and dislikes, her tendencies, her tone when she lied… Her suffering to see Amara in pain was no different than the pain that clutched Narcissa’s heart when she saw Draco’s. Narcissa moved to hold her daughter, not saying another word.

Perhaps it was the warmth of Narcissa’s embrace that ripped a sob past Amara’s lips. She had not truly allowed herself to feel the extent of her loss and her pain. Her love for Draco, though immensely powerful in its own right, was world’s away from how she adored his mother. “I’m so sorry, my dear. I am so sorry I couldn’t protect you. Please forgive me.”

Narcissa’s tear-filled eyes looked upon her son as she held Amara. She had been able to call her son away from the war but had left Amara there. Narcissa had not even contacted her at Draco’s request.

“Please don’t apologize, Narcissa… everything is fine now. Let’s not dwell on the past.” Draco had been silent, a non-participant in this overwhelming interaction up until then. He, too, joined the embrace, holding the two women he loved to the ends of this universe and back. The three stood there, reminding themselves they were all safe and sound… they were a family that would heal together.

~~~

A few months had passed. To everyone but Amara’s surprise, Draco too became an Auror alongside Harry and Ron; his firsthand knowledge of the Dark Arts proved to be a great asset.

Draco was now well accepted by Amara’s friends; Ronald had taken some convincing, but even he couldn’t deny the changes he saw in Draco. He seemed to be an entirely different man than the boy he knew in school.

Hogwarts was closed for the summer, and Amara had whisked Draco away to the Grimaldi summer home in Paris. The two went from room to room when they arrived, reminiscing about their childhood shenanigans here. At night, they sat in front of the fireplace. Tonight, Draco lay with his head in Amara’s lap, staring at the flames and watching them dance. This was happiness. This was peace. This was where he would want to stay forever.

Amara looked down upon him as Draco shifted to meet his eyes with hers. Her fingers caressed his hair soothingly, and his brushed against her cheek with a touch as light as a feather. “Do you remember… in sixth year… Slughorn’s classroom… and he had brought Amortentia?”

Amara smiled wistfully, her eyes entranced with his. She nodded before taking a glance around this very room. It contained the memory her Amortentia held. This was the place where she would always remember Draco. He was her Draco now, and he would always be, but it was here where the Draco of her childhood – her first love – would forever remain.

“Within it, I always smell our memories from here. The fireplace, the caramel and ice cream and hot chocolate from our vacations… and you.” Draco’s hand gently held her cheek, framing her face as he pulled her down into the sweetest of kisses, sweeter than any of their memories. It was here he had to ask Amara to stay by his side forever.

Not letting his lips leave hers, Draco sat up, bringing Amara into his lap. They were wrapped up in each other, hidden in their own corner of the world. “Amara…” He had so many words planned, but they all escaped him. Draco would speak the words that came from his heart. “Years ago, I ran into a little girl at a party in my home. She wore a purple dress, yet her shoes were stained as if she had just run through some fields. She became my best friend… and she was my first love.”

Amara’s heart was racing, and as she listened, tears began to well up in her eyes. “Only, I had failed her time and time again. I left her, but she always came back to me. I hurt her, and she always forgave me. One thing I have never forgotten… is that I promised to marry her one day. It was the only promise I had made to her, and so it is one I cannot break.”

“It was right here where I had made that oath to Amara Lucianna Grimaldi, and it is here I will see it to the end.” Draco had shed a few tears as well, and his voice was held back by the force of the love he felt. “Tonight, I will not ask her to marry me. I only intend to inform her I am keeping my promise. It is tonight that I make her a new promise… a promise to protect, love, and cherish her forever.”

Though he had asked no question, it was present in his eyes. Amara answered with a kiss, and Draco’s soul felt resurrected. Healed as if it had never been harmed. For now, he had his angel, and with her, he could conquer all trials. She was his strength. She was his love. She was his home.

~~~

Three years later, the Grimaldi-Malfoy Manor was filled with sunshine, smiles, and laughter. The tiny giggles of the newest member of the family, Scorpius Draco, echoed over the bathroom tiles as he splashed his hand against the water, wetting his father’s face. He had graced the lives of his parents with his arrival nearly one year ago, and it was as if both had been revived. “Dada!”

Draco laughed as well, wiping the water from his eyes. Though both had aged some, Amara still looked at him the way she always did. Her heart just about melted when she saw him with their son. Draco picked Scorpius up, blowing a raspberry on his tummy before wrapping him up in a towel and peppering kisses all over his face. Scorpius’s giggles transitioned into happy but tired coos as he hugged his father’s neck as best as he could.

His eyelids began to droop then, as if right on schedule. Soon enough, Draco had him ready for bed while his mother got him a bottle. Amara sat in the rocking chair; Scorpius nuzzled into her chest as he drank, his eyes barely open. Tucking him in was always the hardest part, simply because neither parent would want to let him go, but let him go they did with the promise of each other and a new day together as he drifted off to the land of the sweetest dreams…

~~~

Twenty-one years later, the family was now one of five. Scorpius’s younger sister, Aelia, was just like their mother, even more so when the third child came along. Perseus was a troublemaker, and whenever he got hurt, he ran to his loving elder sister who took care of him just as Amara did.

On this warm spring afternoon, Amara and Draco sat with their friends – extended family, really, for they were Aunt Amara and Uncle Draco without being related by blood – enjoying tea as the children all ran around the large yard behind their home. Draco, Ron, and Harry were having some discussion about work, as usual. The women were used to this and were in conversation about their own lives.

Amara was easily the favorite Professor at Hogwarts, or so Rose reported. Within the last year, she had taken Professor Flitwick’s post as Head of Ravenclaw House after his retirement. Hermione made leaps and bounds in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, recognized for her outstanding work; there was even talk of her taking the position for Minister of Magic. Ginny had retired from the Holyhead Harpies just recently and was now a Sports Editor for The Daily Prophet.

Laughter and smiles could be seen everywhere. Lily and Aelia had managed to cover to discover some wildflowers and were busy braiding them into each other’s hair. From the corner of her eye, Amara noticed Albus and Scorpius slink off towards the brook just a ways away. They reminded her an awful lot of her and Draco when they were young. Rose sat on the edge of the fountain with a book, enjoying the sunshine and pleasant wind as she read aloud to Perseus. Hugo and James were flying around on their broomsticks, both of their mothers asking them to “Slow down!” at the same time.

As Harry once put it, all was well.

~~~

This completes my Draco Malfoy mini series. I cannot tell you how many times I cried while imagining my beloved characters finally getting their happy endings. As always, feel free to reach out to me on here. Your reviews and reads mean the world to me, so I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Until next time, JustAThoughtfulAngel <3

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penwieldingdreamer · 4 years

Text

Just died in your Arms

Thank you all for your wonderful feedback, we’re now coming closer to the beginning of the movie as this chapter is still pre-movie. The paragraph mentioned here is from the fairytale The Frog King or Iron Henry by the Brothers Grimm. I also put up a link in my bio for all current and new readers of this or my other stories, there you can ad yourself to my taglist, that way I won’t forget anyone and you can choose for yourself if you want to be tagged or not. Have fun and happy reading.

Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: angst, violence, mentions of death, mentions of illness, long chapter

Words: 2807

Part 3

Rain was pouring, the droplets running down the large windows of your loft. Gingerly you sat on the short bench in your living room, cradling your arm and wincing at the pull on the stitches on your back. Charon was just finishing up, being the one taking care of you after your failed mission.

Another assassin had gotten to your target sooner, killing him seconds before you could. Watching his body drop to the floor, you instantly reacted, getting into a defensive stance, your gun at the ready. Blinking once, twice and then all hell broke loose. Shots ringing out behind you, ricocheting off of the building. One stray bullet hit your arm, it was just a scratch but still hurt like a bitch. When you were out of ammunition, you turned to hand to hand combat, the one technique you always had trouble with. John was a big help for you, but now you were on your own.

Distracted, the other hitman was able to hit you in the back with his concealed knife, cutting deep into the tissue. A cry left your lips and you saw the smirk on his lips, satisfied with his work.

“You should leave now, Y/N, this business isn’t for little girls.” he mocked you, motioning with his fingers to come at you.

Being trained as an assassin you did what you learned and charged, your heeled foot hitting his knee before he could react, while his fist connected with your jaw. You closed your eyes for a second, wincing at the pain before you were ready to attack again, letting your fist fly at his adam’s apple. The wind was knocked out of him and he watched you wide eyed, clearly having underestimated you. Grabbing the knife out of his hand you gave him a kick to the stomach, making him stumble back before you plunged the knife in his jugular. Leaning next to his head, your lips brushed his ear. “I’m not a little girl.” you growled, twisting the hilt of his knife before you pulled it free. “Asshole.”

“Miss Y/N.” Charon pulled you from your thoughts as he was done putting the medical supplies back into his bag. “I suggest you take it easy for a few days. Your Uncle would not approve of you getting hurt again so shortly after that mission.”

Giving the receptionist a tight lipped smile, you leaned your head back against the window. “Thank you Charon. I guess Winston will be visiting me soon anyway.”

“You’re welcome, Miss.” he acknowledged, nodding his head at you. “Take care of yourself, will you.”

Your answer was a short nod, turning back to the outside world which reflected your inside quite well.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, the melancholy washing over you, surrounded by the paintings you worked on, the pictures you used as your cover. Winston sat down across from you, brushing his hand along your cheek and turned your face so he could look at your bruised jaw. His eyes glinted in anger, ready to rant at you, when you pulled your head away.

“Stop it, uncle, it’s just bruised.” standing up from your seat, instantly regretting doing that, feeling the stitches rubbing under your black leather pants.

Watching you carefully, the owner of the Continental debated if he should follow or stay where he was. Ever since John Wick had left and retired from his job as hitman you had been distracted, unfocused and easily injured.

“Y/N. When will you stop feeling heart broken?” your uncle argued as you walked over to your kitchen. “John is married now. You were there, you heard him say ‘I do’. What more proof do you need that it is over?”

Leaning against the counter, your hands clenched into a fist. You closed your eyes, holding the tears at bay as you thought back to the day you had seen John smile at his wife.

It was a wonderful day, the sun was shining and a soft breeze blew through the trees in front of the chapel. You had decided to say a final goodbye, standing in the back of the church, the only thing anchoring you the little clutch you wore to your light blue dress and silver heels.

John’s side of the holy house was sparsely filled, probably friends from his time at the Marines. On Helen’s side there were so many, you could make out a few artists, painters or writers likewise that were quite known in New York. You decided that you would take a seat, no reason in being suspicious when every one was sitting down and you remained standing.

And then the march sounded, signaling the bride’s arrival. John was nervous, wringing his hands like a schoolboy being scolded. You had never seen him so happy, so relaxed standing at the front, waiting for his soon to be wife.

Helen walked down the isle, the veil covering her brown hair, intricately arranged on her head. Watching her, you felt envious as she glided along the way in her white, long sleeved lace dress, the train of her skirt flowing behind her like the clouds on a sunny day.

When the preacher asked the guests to speak up if they were against the union you felt the urge to call out, but could stop yourself, knowing the former assassin would never forgive you. So you remained silent, as much as it pained you to let him go. Before the ceremony had been over you left the chapel, fearing if you would stay John might see you when he had so knowingly left you behind.

You wanted. Needed to see him only one last time.

“Remember that story about the frog king mother used to read me every night?” you asked, looking out the window, the rain having slowed down a bit. Winston had made his way over to you, putting his arms on your bare shoulder, your torso covered by the black tank you had worn under your blouse. He nodded slightly, waiting for you to continue. “At the end, when Henry took the prince to his kingdom in the carriage, the prince heard that sound, like the wheel was breaking.” you breathed deeply, feeling the tears trail down your cheeks.”A-And Henry tells him it’s only the band around his heart so that he could lessen the ache.” Your voice wavered as you recited the paragraph, feeling your uncles lips on your temple. “He said the same two more times until all he felt was happiness and relieve. I guess I will have to break another wheel to finally be able to be happy again.”

“Oh, my love.” Winston cooed, pulling you into his arms, your head bedded on his shoulder as sobs racked your body. “You’ll be happy again. Why don’t you take a vacation, go somewhere sunny and relax.”

Shaking your head, you buried closer to the only part of your family you had left. “I-I wa-want to sta-ay here.” you hiccuped, clawing at his suit jacket, trying to hold yourself upright.

The owner of the Continental had never been one to show affection, none but you. “Why don’t you come to the hotel, get your mind away from Johnathan. You could help Charon at the reception or tend the bar with Addy, she’d love to have another female there with her.”

Nodding your head, you brushed the tear tracks from your cheeks. “I’ll think about it.” Swallowing the lump that had build up in your throat you looked at your uncle. “I still have some paintings I need to finish.”

“All right.” Winston said, giving your shoulder another tight squeeze and laid a quick kiss on your forehead. He moved around you and left you standing in the kitchen, alone with your thoughts.

»¤«

“Oh, you only have three more minutes.” Addy grinned at you, drying the whiskey glasses on the counter. “What are you going to do tonight?”

Grinning at the brunette behind the bar you put your last order in, before you pulled your apron off. “Probably sit around at home and watch one of those sappy RomComs.”

Laughing, you turned around, waving at your uncle who sat at the far back of the lounge. He raised his glass, smiling at the way you acted. So carefree, happy, like so long ago. The last time you had seen John Wick had been four years ago on his wedding day, since then you tried to maintain a routine of helping around the Continental, painting your pictures and only sparsely taking over assassinations. Sending him one last kiss you turned to the bartender, pulling her in a tight hug and left the lounge in the underground of the hotel.

The first time you had walked into the large room you felt like trespassing with all these assassins flitting around, but now?

This was your life. You knew everyone in their by name and sometimes had a good friendship with them as long as they didn’t try anything, knowing your uncle would revoke their right to stay at the hotel.

Swiftly making your way up the stairs, passing by the kitchens and saying good night to the cooks, you entered the lift. Charon was still at the reception this time of the night and was taking care of your things, so you didn’t have to put them somewhere in the back.

“Good night Charon.” you addressed the concierge, pulling your bag and jacket from under the table and gave the dark skinned man a swift kiss on his cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Smiling his soft smile, he pulled you in a tight hug, watching as you sauntered down the hallway of the hotel. It was the same each night, seeing that smile on your lips made his heart feel light, knowing you deserved the happiness after those troublesome years.

When you reached the front doors, your smartphone in hand ready to order pizza you stopped dead in your tracks.

Casually, with his hands buried in his jeans, leaned John on his Mustang, the rain starting to drizzle again. He looked tired, broken, nothing like the man you remembered four years ago.

“Hello Y/N.” he said as you finally reached him.

Blinking at the former assassin, you weren’t sure what you should say. Or feel. Were you happy that he was here? Were you angry after you had finally begun a normal life without him?

“W-What are you doing here, Johnathan?”

He gave you a tight lipped smile, tears you hadn’t known he was able to produce in his eyes. “I just got back from the hospital.”

“Is something wrong? Are you” you swallowed around the dry lump, cocking your head at him. “Are you sick?”

John shook his head, the droplets rolling off his dark tresses. “Not me, Helen.”

Feeling your eyes water you pushed yourself against him, pulling your arms around his larger frame. Sadness constricting your throat as you thought about what he must have been feeling right now.

“Do you want to come with me?” you asked once you pulled away from him. “We could order pizza and you could talk about what’s going on.”

Swallowing, the retired hitman rubbed under his eyes, all evidence of his tears gone in seconds. Nodding his head, John gave your shoulder a tight squeeze and opened the door of his Mustang. Sitting down in the leather seat, you waited for him to get in and soon with a roaring engine he drove off toward your apartment. He had only been there once before when Winston had told him to get you back to the Continental, the one and only time up until today.

It wasn’t a long drive, but silence ruled over you making the air thick with tension. Shifting uncomfortably in your seat, you spied on John how he was driving the car along the still busy roads of New York, before you finally and thankfully arrived at your building. Getting out of the car you swiftly made your way over to the entrance as the rain was coming down heavier than before. With the lift you moved up to the penthouse floor where your loft was. It was still the way the last owners had left it, industrial and boho style, just like you wanted it yourself.

“Make yourself at home.” you said entering the open space and pulling your coat off. John copied you, hanging his leather jacket over the back of the kitchen chair. “Do you want something to drink?”

Shaking his head, he watched you carefully, his hands twitching by his side as if he wanted to reach out and pull you in. Taking a step towards you, John fidgeted, like the day he stood in the front of the church waiting for Helen to walk down the isle.

“Want to tell me what’s going on with Helen?”

“She’s sick.” he confessed moving away from you to stand by the large windows, the rain reflecting his mood. Knowing he needed the comfort you stood behind John, laying your hand on his shoulder. “They still don’t know what it is exactly, but she’s - uh- she's going to" he paused, taking a deep breath "Die.”

Your fingers squeezed the hard muscles underneath his shirt, feeling them shudder with rage, anger and pain. “Maybe they just need time to find out what is causing this. Johnathan, you know that there are so many possibilities. She’s going to fight for you.”

Turning around, you saw a man that you didn’t recognize, broken beyond repair from the news of his wife’s coming death. He laid his forehead against yours, letting his hands move to your own shoulders and pulled you against his front. “I don’t want to loose her, Y/N. She’s all the things I wanted, needed in my life.”

You felt your heart constricting at the confession, knowing the former assassin would never look at you like he looked at Helen and yet you pulled his head down, laying it on your shoulder. The tears finally left his eyes, making their way down his cheeks and splashing against the skin of your neck, but you didn’t care as you let your fingers glide through his dark strands, cooing at him like he were a small child. All too soon you felt the weight of him leaning on you and you pushed him to the large couch, getting comfortable with the 6'1" back in your arms. Your hands moved over his shoulders, along his neck and through his hair in a soothing rhythm. John’s breathing evened out and you felt him relax into your body. Seeing him like this, you swore to yourself that you’d make sure to give him as much time as you could.

Somehow you must have fallen asleep, too, because when you woke you heard the water running in your shower. The weight had lifted from your body and you knew that John had helped himself around your home. Standing up, you grabbed the robe that was hanging by the door to the bathroom and waited for him to finish up, sitting at the kitchen counter. Once he was done the former hitman was already halfway dressed, moving over the the table, where he had put down his wallet and keys.

“John?” you called leaning against the door frame, following his movements as he was getting dressed.

The fabric of his dress shirt slipped over his shoulders, instantly hiding the tattoos on his back. You still remembered how your nails raked over the skin, feeling the raised bumps of scar tissue there when you had been together all those years back.

“I need to go.” he murmured, the vibration of his voice flowing over you, sending a shiver down your spine. “Helen needs me.”

You pulled the lapels of your robe closed, not from the shiver, but from the coldness that swept over you. John was leaving again, which was understandable with her condition, yet still it hurt, the band around your heart tearing slightly.

“I love her.” he told you, his fingers brushing over your jaw. One last time you felt the calloused skin on your own, the hands that could be so gentle and yet kill with a mere flick of the wrist.

Sliding down the closed front door, you sat on the carpet. The tears now flowing freely as your voice was only a hushed breath. “But I love you, too.” With those words you felt the band tear away, freeing your broken heart for the last time, to finally make way for relieve and happiness.

But why must it always hurt so bad at first?

Part 4

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cyn2k · 7 years

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Prompt Fic: Shades of Future Past (Zimbits)

I’ve not posted anything original before, and I’ve never written fan fiction. But I saw the below prompt posted by a friend (original prompt source), and this outline just begged to be written. Of course, it just kept getting longer and longer. I’ve left it in outline form, as I truly don’t have the skills to turn it into the monster it threatens to be.

Prompt:

Cleaning out your grandfather’s house after his death you’re going through boxes in his attic when you come across a box of photo albums labeled with your name.

You smile and begin to flip through them. Your smile fades, you don’t recognize many of the people. That is when you realize the dates are from ten to fifteen years into the future.

After the overdose and rehab, Jack returns to his parents’ house in Montreal. He hasn’t lived there for more than a few months since his first billeting for Midgets years earlier.

He has no idea what he will do with his life. Hockey is all he knows.

He starts seeing Dr. Turgeon twice a week. He doesn’t say much at first, but an anxiety attack in his 5th week of visits starts their discussions. He does not talk about hockey or his father. He does talk about how alone he feels. He doesn’t talk about his lack of a future. He doesn’t talk about sex, or whatever that was with Kent.

Bob tries to get him to come to meetings with him (keeping him in view for when he’s ready to return to hockey), but Jack can’t see that far ahead.

Seven months in, one of his Peewee coaches contacts him about coaching some of the kids at his old rink. He says he’ll think it over.

On his next therapy visit, he brings up hockey for the first time.

Jack’s grandfather died a year after the overdose.

Jack’s grandparents live in California. All 3 of the Zimmermanns come for the funeral.

Grandma has decided the house is too big for her alone and wants to downsize to a senior community in Arizona, or maybe Florida. Jack hopes she chooses Florida, as it’s closer to Montreal.

Alicia asks Jack to stay with her after the funeral to help clean out the house. Bob has commitments and returns to Montreal.

Alicia’s brother and sister-in-law help out after work, but Jack does most of the heavy lifting.

California homes don’t have basements, which Jack finds odd.

They can and do have attics, though, and his grandparents had a lot of stuff.

Grandpa had a lot of WW2 memorabilia from his father’s family, including a number of diaries from both male relatives in the war effort, and female relatives involved in the workplace. One of his great aunts worked at the Douglas Aircraft factory in Long Beach.

Jack takes one of the books on WWII history and spends the rest of his free time at his grandparents’ house reading all the books he can find in the collection. Alicia arranges to have the books and diaries shipped home to Montreal, as Grandma and his cousins have no interest in them. (He will later use 2 of the diaries as source material in his senior thesis.)

The box with Jack’s name on it is underneath a quilt Jack recognizes from a visit just before he entered the Q. Jack smiles. They’d gone to Knott’s Berry Farm because his grandpa loved the restaurant there. It had been a good visit.

There are 3 photo albums in the box - one a deep red, one blue and gold, and one white. He doesn’t remember his grandparents taking that many pictures.

Opening the red album, the first picture he sees is a pie. It looks good, but he’s never much cared about sweets. He turns the page.

The pages are filled with pictures of a group of men in front of a rather dilapidated looking house. Most of them are tall, but there’s a much shorter man right in the middle. He had big brown eyes. Jack thinks they look happy. He smiles and turns the page.

The same men, now joined by several women, including one of the shortest women Jack has ever seen, are now in front of a large building. Jack thinks it’s probably an ice rink.

He takes another look at the last picture, and realizes one of the men looks like his father. He looks again. The man has blue eyes. He is standing next to, and has his arms around, the short blond man he noticed before, and a man with a very bushy mustache.

He flips through several more pages. The group appear to be taking pictures at a college campus, and they look like good friends. The man who looks like his dad makes his skin feel shivery. His eyes are drawn, over and over, to the blond man, who isn’t always smiling. Sometimes he looks like he’s scolding one of the others.

Jack’s heart hurts. He’s never had a group of friends like that. He puts the album down and picks up another one.

The blue and gold album has a logo on the front that he recognizes.

He opens the page to a Falconers hockey team photo on the ice. He doesn’t want to recognize the man in the #1 sweater with a C on the shoulder. He shivers.

He can’t deny that the next photo is himself - a promo shot of him in the same #1 sweater. He looks so old. There’s a small scar on his chin, and maybe he’s broken his nose at least once.

The next several pages are game shots. He glances at them, recognizing scrimmages and game shots with other teams. He does not see any that look like the Aces.

He turns the page, catches a glimpse of silver, and shuts the book quickly before he can swear whether he saw a certain large cup.

He puts the book back in the box, and takes several deep breaths before lifting out the white album.

On the first pages he sees have photos of himself with his parents. Looking at his parents first, he thinks they look good. He doesn’t recognize the dress his mother is wearing, but thinks they must have been tired, as they look older. He smiles.

He doesn’t recognize himself at first. His hair is shorter than he’s ever remembered wearing it, and he looks like his dad. The suit doesn’t look anything like his style. He flips the page.

The next set of pages features pictures of a smiling blond man with beautiful big brown eyes and a radiant smile, surrounded by what must be his parents.Jack recognizes the blond from the red album.

The next two pages hold pictures of a group of people, all featuring the blond man from the previous page. Many of them look like the men from the first album. There are only two women in any of the pictures - the short Asian woman from the red album, and an African-American woman who seems to be coaxing the others into place. Jack wonders why he’s not there.

Two of the pictures were taken when everyone seems to be laughing hard, except the blond man, who looks indignant. He turns the page.

His own face smiles back at him, along with the big eyes and wide smile of the blond man standing next to him.

While Jack-in-the-picture has a regular tie, the blond man wears a bow tie. They are the same color, as are the suits they’re wearing. Jack’s smile fades. He turns the page.

Their parents have joined them in this picture. Everyone is smiling. Their moms are wearing corsages.

Jack feels light-headed. He shuts the album and places all 3 back in the box, carrying it downstairs.

He does not discuss the box with his mom, but decides to bring it home.

They finish clearing out the attic two days later. Alicia and her mother have been researching real estate online. Grandma still leans towards Arizona, although she might stay in California to be closer to friends.

Alicia and Jack return to Montreal. The WWII books and diaries he’d picked out appear on one of his shelves, replacing some of his hockey trophies.

Jack looks through the photos once more, avoiding a certain silver image in the Falconers album, before sealing the box and hiding it in the back of his closet.

He feels hopeful for the first time since waking up in the hospital. Since long before that, really.

He contacts his Peewee coach and agrees to start helping out with the kids. Alicia and Bob are thrilled, but decide to say nothing.

Dr. Turgeon is the first person he talks to about Kent. While his parents know he was with Kent, they’ve never talked about it. Progress is made.

A few months later, Jack talks to his parents about attending college. He doesn’t let himself think about the box in the closet, but is pleased when his mom brings up Samwell as an option.

He mostly forgets about the box in the attic.

At Samwell, he chooses history as a major, with a focus on the 20th century and WWII. He joins the hockey team.

Two years later, when he first sets eyes on the small blond frog on the Haus tour, he can’t remember why he looks familiar. This irritates him.

The next three years pass. Jack graduates and joins the Falconers. He does not remember the box at all. He and Bitty come out to their friends and families.

Bitty graduates and moves to Providence, to no one’s surprise. Jack takes him to dinner and proposes 2 weeks later, also to no one’s surprise. They marry the next summer.

Bitty’s mom makes a photo album of the wedding.

Bitty keeps a photo and scrapbook of his time with the Falconers. Jack notices, but doesn’t pay much attention.

In his fourth year with the Falconers, his first year with the C, the team goes all the way. Jack comes out on his Cup Day, which he spends in Montreal with his family and most of the SMH gang.

Jack is traded to the Schooners a year later. He leads his new team to the second round of the playoffs, but they are eliminated by the Sharks. He is traded again, to the Habs. Jack suspects his dad may have been involved.

Bitty isn’t thrilled about the paperwork for living in Canada, but does enjoy spending time with his in-laws while Jack is away.

Bitty’s working on his second cookbook, and Alicia has taken to making guest appearances on his vlog. Bob makes occasional outrageous appearances, leading to the trending hashtags #badbobbakes.

They win the Stanley Cup two years later. Jack is 32 and starting to think about retirement. He doesn’t think too hard around the Cup, because you can’t take chances with Cup magic.

Jack and Bitty have a house and a dog, and perhaps the cat that keeps showing up for chicken that Bitty may slip her from time to time, and are thinking of starting a family. Suzanne and Alicia may be tag-teaming them.

They return to Samwell for Jack and Shitty’s 10-year reunion, after Jack’s second Cup win with the Habs. (He just might have had some thoughts about that). His Cup day is a week later, back in Montreal.

The SMH gang decide to throw their own reunion. They’ve rented a house, and Bitty bakes. The gang devours the first three like they’ve not seen pie in years. (As if Bitty would ever leave his friends pie-less.)

Jack arranges with Lardo for a photographer friend of hers to come with them and take photos while they tour the campus and spend time together. Jack has his own camera, but knows that time with friends is more important than taking the right photo. The photographer gets his own pie.

The photographer sends him a digital file, but also sends Jack a photo album of the best shots. The album cover is red.

He opens the album to a photo of one of Bitty’s pies. He turns the page. There are Ransom and Holster, Shitty and Lardo, Chowder and Cait (no one calls her Farmer any more), Ford and Nursey and Dex, and Jack and Bitty in front of the Haus, which is looking even worse than when he’d lived there. And another of them in front of Faber.

And he remembers. He does not look any further.

He does, however, gather the wedding album, the Falconers album, and the reunion album, and places them in a box. After sealing the box, he asks Bitty to label the box with his name. It sits on the chair in their bedroom.

On Cup Day, he whispers his wish when no one is looking.

When Jack and Bitty get home, the box is gone. He’ll pick it up the next time they go to visit his parents.

#check please #zimbits #prompt #first fic

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mbtizone · 7 years

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Richard Gilmore (Gilmore Girls): ISTJ

Dominant Introverted Sensing [Si]: Richard is hardworking, responsible, dutiful and traditional. He believes in doing things the “right” way. Because of his old-fashioned outlook on the world, he sometimes tends to clash with Lorelai. It’s difficult for him that she rebelled against their lifestyle and their way of engaging with the world. He believes in going to school, getting married, having kids, and doing everything the way it “should” be done. Lorelai’s way of living her life can be rather frustrating for him. Richard is a creature of habit and routine. He’s not big on change and prefers for things to continue in the manner that he is accustomed to. Richard is good at keeping a schedule and enjoys structure in his life. He and Emily go to Martha’s Vineyard every year in the fall. When they are unable to get their usual rental, they refuse to go anywhere else because they always go to Martha’s Vineyard in the fall. They find it preposterous when Lorelai suggests they try going somewhere else instead. They couldn’t possibly go to Europe, because they go to Europe in the spring. He wants Rory to go to Yale because that’s where he went and he had so many good experiences there, so she will, too!

Auxiliary Extroverted Thinking [Te]: Formality is second nature to Richard. He is a successful businessman and his main points of conversation are about work. Whether he’s catching up with an old acquaintance or meeting someone for the first time, he usually immediately opens up with how things are going at their job, what they do for a living, or what they intend to do for a living. Richard is a pragmatic man and usually keeps a cool head. He doesn’t let emotions influence his judgment, and can speak rationally about matters that are typically upsetting for other people to discuss. Richard can sometimes be controlling and meddle in other people’s business affairs. He pressures Luke into franchising the diner, even though that isn’t what Luke wants. If he sees a way for someone to improve their business, he will simply point out what they should be doing in order to become more successful. For Richard, it is important to have success to be measured. Whenever Rory’s achievements are recognized he becomes extremely delighted. He’s thrilled that she finished in the top 3% of her class. When Richard retires, he is unable to just sit around doing nothing and ends up returning to work.

Tertiary Introverted Feeling [Fi]: Many of Richard’s moral judgments come from what is traditionally established as the “right” and “wrong” thing to do (Si-Fi). He often tries to push those on other people, and can become deeply disappointed in them if they don’t live up to his expectations. Richard is not an emotional man and rarely ever discusses his feelings. He cares about his family very much, but he can sometimes be oblivious to what they’re feeling. Sometimes, however, he can be in tune with what another person needs, such as when Rory runs away to their house after a fight with Lorelai. and he insists that Emily give her space. He socializes because that is what tradition mandates, and he can feign interest in conversations because that’s what people should do. Richard would prefer to read or play golf than entertain guests, but that’s the way society works, and so, he acts accordingly. However, sometimes his Fi will determine that something is completely ridiculous, and Richard will refuse to go along with it, even at the expense of his Si desire to respect tradition and social norms.

Inferior Extroverted Intuition [Ne]: Richard can have a hard time outside of his comfort zone. “New” ways of doing things and “alternative” ways of living can be difficult for him to understand. He sometimes struggles to accept when things are different than what he’s used to. However, Richard enjoys travel and values new experiences. He encourages Rory to see the world and believes that she’s destined for “more” than Emily’s life of D.A.R. meetings and planning fundraisers and various social events. Every now and then, he is open to doing something that isn’t “traditional,” such as eating frozen pizza or having Rory act as “best man” when he and Emily renew their wedding vows.

Enneagram: 6w5 Sp/Sx

Quotes:

Richard: Emily! Emily: Let me do that. Richard: I hope the Larsons are coming tonight. Emily: Richard, no business. This is your granddaughter’s party. Richard: Five minutes of shop talk isn’t going to spoil the evening. Emily: Five minutes, please. Richard: Emily. Emily: If I ever heard you keep your shop talk down to five minutes, I’d drop dead. Richard: Emily. Emily: In fact I could drop dead and you wouldn’t stop talking business. You’d just step right over my body to get to the speakerphone.

Richard: Running around with Logan, joining the D.A.R., planning parties… Emily: What’s wrong with joining the D.A.R.? We both agreed she needed a job. Richard: Fundraisers and tea parties? It’s frivolous and meaningless. She has more to do, more to be! I don’t want that life for her! Emily: You mean my life. You don’t want her to be me.

Richard: She’s having sex, Lorelai. She’s having sex under my roof. I paid $40,000 to redecorate her sex house. I bought her a sex mattress. Her sex box springs. I provided everything she needs to waste her life. Lorelai: Dad, Rory having sex is not your fault. Really, she was having sex way before the big renovation. Richard: I feel so much better now.

Rory: So, Grandpa, how’s the insurance biz? Richard: Oh, people die, we pay. People crash cars, we pay. People lose a foot, we pay.

Richard: Oh, no, those aren’t the terms we agreed on. Lars: They most certainly are. Richard: Lars, you were at the same meeting I was. We specifically spelled out a five year extention, not a three year one. Lars: I heard three.

Rory: Oh yeah. I like Spanish. Biology on the other hand . Richard: Oh, I’m still waiting for the day when my knowledge of the inner workings of a frog’s intestinal system can be applied to my work in the insurance industry.

Richard: I’m going to have to echo Christopher’s call for civility here. A mutual mistake was make many years ago by these two, but they have come a long way since. Straub: A mutual mistake Richard? This whole evening is ridiculous. We’re supposed to sit here like one big happy family and pretend that the damage that was done is over, gone? I don’t care about how good a student you say that girl is…. Lorelai: Hey! Straub: Our son was bound for Princeton. Every Hayden male attended Princeton including myself, but it all stopped with Christopher. It’s a humiliation we’ve had to live with every day, all because you seduced him into ruining his life. She had that baby and ended his future. Richard: [grabbing Straub’s arm] You recant that Straub! Straub: You’re spilling my drink. Richard: You owe my daughter an apology. Straub: An apology, that’s rich. Richard: How dare you?! [grabbing Straub] How dare you?! Emily: Richard what are you doing? Richard: How dare you come into my house and insult my daughter! Straub: Let go of me! Christopher: Whoa, whoa, what is going on here? [putting himself between them] Richard: Shame on you Straub, shame on you for opening all this up again. Straub: Get your purse Francine. Richard: My daughter is very successful at what she does. Straub: We’re leaving. Richard: You’re not leaving. I’m kicking you out.

Lorelai: Ok. Well look, thank you. Richard: Thank me? For what? Lorelai: Well for what you did in there. I’m….I’m just unbelievably touched and grateful for what you said to him, for defending me like that. I know it was hard for you because, well….but thank you. Richard: Why do you think I did it? Lorelai: What? Richard: Why do you think I did it? Lorelai: I don’t know. Um, out of protectiveness I guess. Richard: You don’t need to be protected Lorelai. You’ve made it very clear that you can look after yourself and that you need nothing from anyone. Lorelai: Mm. That’s not…. Richard: A member of my family was being attacked. The very Gilmore name was being attacked. I will not stand for that not under any circumstances. Lorelai: Ok, well it doesn’t really matter why you did it. Richard: Yes it does matter why I did it! It matters greatly! Lorelai what are you going to take away from this? That everything that happened in the past is suddenly fine because I defended you? Lorelai: No. Richard: That the hell that you put your mother and I through for the past 16 years is suddenly washed away? Well it’s not. Lorelai: We’ve all been through hell dad. Richard: I had to tell my friends, my colleagues, that my only daughter, the brightest in her class, was pregnant and was leaving school. Lorelai: That must have been devastating. Richard: And then you run away and treat us like lepers. Your mother couldn’t get out of bed for a month. Did you know that? Did you? Lorelai: No. Richard: We did nothing to deserve that. Nothing to earn that! Lorelai: I get it. I’m horrible. So why don’t you disown me and adopt Christopher, you love him. Richard: Don’t be a martyr Lorelai. And don’t be naïve. Do you think I love the boy who got my daughter pregnant? I wanted to kill him! I would have too with my bare hands. But there’s a proper procedure to be followed in a situation like this. Lorelai: Marriage. Richard: Christopher was willing to follow the procedure we laid out, you weren’t. Lorelai: What about what I wanted Dad? Didn’t that matter to you at all? Richard: Sometimes one has to sacrifice something in order to do what is right. Lorelai: I feel indescribably sad for you right now, dad. Richard: Well save your emotions Lorelai. I’ve had my fill of them tonight. Lorelai: So, um, we just end it here. Nothing….resolved? Richard: I’m tired.

Richard: This is the fourth ridiculous gathering you’ve dragged me to this week. Emily: I’m the president of the board Richard, I have to be there. Richard: Saving the Berringiny pansy. Who ever heard of such a thing? Emily: It’s a very rare flower that is rapidly disappearing from the face of this earth. Richard: Well, who cares? Emily: As president of the horticultural society, I have to care. Richard: The last thing I need is to spend four hours being bored out of my skull by the same people I’ll be bored out of my skull by tomorrow night at the symphony fund-raiser.

Emily: [on the phone] And that would be the same as what we were paying for our old place? John: Exactly the same. Richard: Except for the grounds fees. John: Well the grounds fees are higher. Emily: But the grounds are larger, Richard. Richard: I’m just trying to get all the information, Emily. Emily: All the information is that this is our last chance to go to Martha’s Vineyard for the season. That’s all the information. John: Emily, Richard. Richard: I realize the position we are in, but this is a business transaction. Emily: Oh for heaven’s sake. John: Richard, Emily Richard: As a business transaction, one in which money goes out and we receive certain goods and services — Emily: And he’s patronizing me, how lovely. John: Emily, Richard. Richard: I must treat this conversation with the same care and devotion to detail I would any conversation that would be considered a business transaction. Kindly allow me to do so.

Lorelai: Nothing. Rory just dressed up in a cute apron the other day and so I was teasing her about it. Richard: Why did you get dressed up in an apron? Lorelai: Well. We’ve decided to give up on that pesky Harvard dream and focus on something more realistic. Mom, Dad, Rory’s decided to become a maid, just like I was. Emily: Is that funny? Did she think that was funny? Richard: What would have posessed you to say such a thing? Emily: And in front of Rory? Lorelai: I was kidding. Emily: God. My heart stopped.

Richard: So, Dean, where are you planning to go to college? Dean: Oh, uh, well I… Lorelai: Geez Dad, start off with ‘what’s your favorite baseball team’ or something. Richard: I’m talking to Dean. Dean: I don’t know yet. Richard: You don’t? Dean: No, not yet. Richard: Well, what kind of grades do you get? Emily: Richard please, don’t grill the boy. Richard: I’m not grilling the boy Emily. It’s an easy question. A’s, B’s, C’s? Dean: I get a mixture actually. Richard: Mixture? [laughs] What’s the ratio? Emily: Richard. Richard: I’m just trying to get to know the boy Emily. After all, Rory brings home a young man to dinner, the least we can do is learn something about him.

Richard: In a minute. So Dean… Rory: Uh, Grandpa? Dean: I know. Richard: Harvard, Princeton, Yale. Lorelai: He said he knew Dad. Richard: You need top grades to get into a top school. Dean: Yeah, well, Rory’s really smart. Richard: Yeah, she is really smart. Rory: Mom? Lorelai: Yeah, why don’t we all go sit in the uh… Richard: So, how are you planning to make a living once you graduate from this college you haven’t thought anything about yet? Rory: Grandpa, can we talk about something else? Emily: I’m going to get that book. [leaves] Richard: I asked you a question. Dean: I don’t know what I want to do. Richard: You know, when I was ten years old, I knew exactly where I wanted to work. Lorelai: That’s because you were always picked last for dodgeball. Richard: I knew I wanted to go to Yale, and put on a nice suit everyday and be a very important man in a very powerful firm. And I knew I wanted to travel and see the world. Dean: Well, that’s great. Richard: I wanted to see La Traviata at the La Scala Operahouse. I wanted to walk the ruins of Pompeii. I wanted to travel the far east… Lorelai: And be a ballerina or a fireman. Richard: Lorelai, this isn’t funny. Lorelai: It’s a little funny to think of a ten-year-old kid dreaming of the La Scala Operahouse. Richard: Rory does. Rory wants to travel. Rory has plans.

Richard: This family has standards. You live up to them, and you should expect that everyone that you spend time with live up to them also. You are a gifted girl with immense promise, and you should learn very early that certain people can hold you back.

Rory: But I told everybody to have their idea pitches prepared so that we can get you in and out of there as quickly as possible. Richard: Rory, this is an assignment. We will give it the time that it requires. Rory: Okay. Richard: However, efficient is always best. Rory: I totally understand.

Paris: This is why I’m proposing manufacturing something that no teenager should be without – a first aid kit. Louise: A first aid kit? Paris: Specially designed to fit in a locker with minimum space disruption. Bandaids, antiseptic, cotton balls, q-tips, ace bandages, aspirin. Rory: I don’t know, it’s possible. Does anyone have any questions about it? Richard: They sell these things in every drug store, do they not? Paris: Yes, they do. Richard: There’s also a registered nurse on every campus. Her office would contain the products that you’re talking about, correct? Paris: Possibly. Richard: Well, what makes you think you can get a young person to spend good money on something that they could get for free, or at least at a lower cost? Paris: Because I know one thing about the modern teenager. Richard: And what is that? Paris: That you can get them to buy anything as long as it comes in a leopard print. Louise: True. Madeline: Very true. Paris: We get them with style. We dress up the kits with sparkles, colors, pictures of bands. Sport themes for the boys, animal pictures for the puppy and unicorn bunch, chess boards for the Bobby Fischer freaks – a style for every taste. Plus, we use neon bandaids, pink or blue gauze for the bandages, anything that seems young or flashy or bright. Richard: And that is how you intend to set the business world on its ear? Paris: That’s right. Richard: Tricked out first aid kits? Paris: For the locker. Richard: And you really think that’s going to work? Paris: Yes, I do. Richard: So do I. Paris: Really? Richard: It’s perfect. It’s simple, it’s easy to produce, the possibilities are endless. I love it. Rory: Well, I think we’ve got our product. Richard: Now, we need to go through this point by point. Paris: Okay, let’s do it. Richard: Now, the secret to a great campaign is a great idea. Now, we’ve got that, let’s move on to finances. Um, uh, do any of you have dinner plans, because we’re gonna be here for awhile. Let’s all turn to page four. Here we go. Now, the January projections…

Richard: In the dining room, everyone. Rory: Wow. Richard: Welcome, everyone, to the first official board meeting of the StyleAid Corporation. Will everyone please take a seat? Chip: I feel like Ivan Bosky. Richard: Rory, you are group leader which translates into chairman of the board, which means you sit at the head of the table. Rory: But that’s where you sit. Richard: No, not today. Come on. Now, at this point, I would like to turn the meeting over to Paris who will bring us up to date on our latest developments.

Paris: Now, listed in front of you are all the contents contained in the RX-2002, plus the additional style options, twelve in all. Every one of them waterproof, fireproof, and comes with a five-year warranty. Richard: Which is longer than most of your high school careers. Paris: He is funny. Richard: Now there is also a deluxe model with extra features designed to personalize your kit even more specifically for your needs. There will be a snap-in CD case which can hold up to ten CDs, there’s a lighted vanity mirror, and a divided compartment for makeup and knickknacks. A picture frame and a hidden mini vault for valuables which can be locked for safety. Paris: Terrific idea, Richard, really – top notch. Richard: Thank you, Paris. Rory: This is really amazing. I want one of these. Richard: Exactly the point. Now, let’s check in with our marketing department. Uh, Madeline, Louise – what have you got for us? Madeline: Okay, well, first we go for the obvious – magazines. Louise: You know, Teen, Young Miss, Seventeen. Madeline: Spin and Rolling Stone, especially to hit the guys. Richard: I hear that Jane magazine also has a young, hip following. Rory: How do you know about Jane magazine? Richard: I have my ways, young lady. Chip: We should also check about placing them in certain mall stores. Richard: I also think we should go straight to the source. Paris: The schools? Richard: Why not? School bulletin boards, websites. We can set up tables at football games and pep rallies. Emily: Well, how is everyone doing here? Richard: Just fine, Emily. Emily: Good. Is there enough food? Richard: Yes, there is plenty of food. Emily: What about ice cream? Would anyone like some ice cream? Richard: Emily, we’re in the middle of a business meeting. Emily: Oh, ah, well, I’m very sorry. Uh, go back to your business meeting. Richard: Now, I think your projections for…

Emily: Do you want to talk about what happened? Richard: Emily, don’t pry. Emily: I’m not prying, Richard. Richard: The girl obviously needs some peace. Emily: How do you know that? Richard: I can tell.

Richard Gilmore (Gilmore Girls): ISTJ was originally published on MBTI Zone

#6w5 #Gilmore Girls #Richard Gilmore #Sp/Sx #ISTJ #Type 6 #enneagram 6 #mbti #mbti types #mbti personality types #fictionalcharactermbti #fictionmbti #tv mbti #enneagram #enneatypes #enneagram type

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hottytoddynews · 7 years

Link

Courtesy of Ole Miss Athletics

Ole Miss and the State of Mississippi lost one of their greatest sports legends Sunday afternoon, July 9, 2017, with the death of Hall of Famer Edward S. (Eddie) Crawford III, who devoted 54 years of service to the University of Mississippi, including the final 11 years in a part-time role as Special Assistant to the Athletics Director.

Following a brief illness, Crawford, 82, passed away at Sanctuary Hospice House in Tupelo, Mississippi. Arrangements are incomplete.

Crawford, a native of Jackson, Tennessee, actually spent 58 years in Oxford, having been a star athlete for the Rebels and Ole Miss’ last three-sport letterman, excelling in football, basketball and baseball from 1953 to 1956. He also participated in track for one season. Eddie’s most important titles were husband, father, Pap and lovingly known as “Coach” by many. He is survived by his wife of 60 years, the former Shirley Wagner of Grenada, Mississippi, and two children, Kim (Brett) Sidelmann of Van Alstyne, Texas, and Kip (Whitney) Crawford of Oxford as well as two grandsons, Slater and Logan.

Born July 25, 1934 in Jackson, Tennessee, he was preceded in death by his parents Edward and Louise Crawford and a sister, Laura Beth Burnett.

“Eddie Crawford has given more than he received,” said University of Mississippi Chancellor Emeritus Robert Khayat. “As an unofficial ambassador for Ole Miss for more than 60 years, he served our university in virtually every capacity. He and his beloved wife, Shirley, were always friends of students, representatives of the university at weddings, funerals and social events and at state and national sports events.

“Eddie was an outstanding student (Omicron Delta Kappa) at Ole Miss and the Crawford home was always a welcoming place for their friends and for friends of the university. Intangible contributions are difficult to measure, but Eddie’s fingerprints are found across the life of the university and in the lives of our students. He will not be replaced, but he will be remembered and missed.”

A member of four Halls of Fame, Crawford was inducted into the Mississippi Sports Hall of Fame in 2012, the Tennessee Sports Hall of Fame in 1996, the Ole Miss Sports Hall of Fame in 1988 and the Jackson‑Madison (Tenn.) County Hall of Fame in 1986. In 1990, Crawford was honored by the Ole Miss Chapter of the National Football Foundation and College Hall of Fame with its Distinguished American Award.

Prior to his “official” retirement in 2004-05, Crawford was the senior associate athletics director the previous 12 years, after serving eight years as the associate athletics director for development and director of the Loyalty Foundation (now the Ole Miss Athletics Foundation). He also served as interim athletics director at Ole Miss from April to June of 1998.

After serving five years as associate director of the Foundation, Crawford was elevated to the position of director following the retirement of Billy Mustin in 1985, who had served as director since 1975. Crawford joined the athletics department in June of 1962 as head basketball coach, freshman football assistant coach and varsity scout. He was head basketball coach from 1962-63 to 1967-68, posting a 46‑97 record. His football duties included coaching the offensive backfield and receivers before taking on full‑time recruiting responsibilities in 1977. Following the 1979 season, Crawford joined Mustin in the Foundation.

As the starting left halfback, the “Rebel Clipper” helped lead Coach John Vaught’s Rebels to back-to-back Southeastern Conference titles in 1954 and 1955. Crawford had a three-year career rushing average of 6.4 yards per carry and also averaged 31.0 yards per kickoff return, which remains a school record. A two-way player, he also played a vital role in the Rebels leading the SEC in total defense in 1954 and 1956.

Crawford still ranks in a tie for third among Ole Miss single-game scoring leaders with his 24-point performance against LSU in 1956 as he scored once by rushing, twice on pass receptions and once on an interception. Little did he know at the time, Crawford’s four-TD performance in Baton Rouge would turn out to be a life-changing event. Apparently he was in the process of pursuing his future wife, Ole Miss head cheerleader Shirley Wagner, who had refused his previous attempts. Once his four TDs were in the record book, that all changed and they finally went on their first date. When they were finally married, it was a love affair which lasted 60 years.

Crawford was involved in numerous big plays on both sides of the ball during his Ole Miss career, but none bigger than his interception against TCU in the final minutes of the 1956 Cotton Bowl, which sealed the 14-13 win over the No. 5 ranked and Southwest Conference Champion Horned Frogs.

Although playing with a separated left shoulder, Crawford still contributed on both offense and defense that day in the Cotton Bowl Classic. With Ole Miss trailing 7-0 in the closing minute of the first quarter, he ripped off a 59-yard touchdown run, but a 15-yard penalty wiped out the score. Vaught’s Rebels then fell behind 13-0 in the first half before quarterback Eagle Day brought the Ole Miss offense back. Ole Miss finally captured the lead when Billy Lott’s five-yard run and Paige Cothren’s PAT with 4:22 remaining set the stage for Crawford’s late heroics.

Following the Ole Miss kickoff, TCU picked up a first down at its own 30. However, on the next play, Crawford made an impressive over-the-shoulder interception of quarterback Richard Finney’s downfield pass, then returned it 27 yards to the TCU 36. Day quickly used the final three plays to run out the clock and Ole Miss had its 14-13 win.

In basketball, he started at forward for Coach B.L. “Country” Graham in a lineup that included All-Americans Denver Brackeen and Joe Gibbon. Pulling double duty (football and basketball) in the winter, Crawford practiced late at night after football practice. It was the same arrangement in the spring as he had to fulfill his spring football obligations before heading over to the baseball diamond.

“It was the hardest thing I had to do,” Crawford recalled for a Clarion-Ledger story which appeared just prior to his induction into the Mississippi Sports Hall of Fame. Although he enjoyed participating in other sports, football always remained his first priority.

Playing for Coach Tom Swayze, Crawford was an All‑SEC center fielder in 1956 when he led the league in home runs and served as team captain as the Rebels won the SEC Western Division and NCAA District III titles that season to advance to the College World Series.

Even though he didn’t letter in track in 1955, Coach Wes (Doc) Knight had him compete in the sprints during home meets. Since track season usually ran at the same time as spring football, it was not uncommon for Crawford to remove his pads during practice and head to the track for his scheduled event. Once he had competed on the track, Crawford would then return to the football practice field, put on his pads and get ready for the next play.

Crawford’s skills in football became legend at Ole Miss, but his greatest potential may have been on the diamond where he impressed major-league scouts both in high school and in college. He fondly recalled as a high school senior the week he spent in St. Louis when the Cardinals were attempting to sign him to a contract. “I was in the dugout in a Cardinals uniform and between innings would throw in the outfield in place of Stan Musial,” he said. Crawford declined the opportunity to sign with St. Louis to enroll at Ole Miss on a football scholarship.

It would not be the final time for him to be pursued by the majors as the Brooklyn Dodgers made a run at him just prior to his senior season, but Coach Vaught reminded Crawford he had come to Ole Miss to play football. Eddie and Shirley also wanted to get married his senior year, but Vaught’s policy didn’t allow players to be married, so they waited until after the 1956 season.

Following his collegiate career, Crawford played in the North-South Game in Miami, Florida, and was then drafted by the New York Giants of the National Football League. He was an instant success with the Giants in 1957, playing first team as a defensive back and flanker on offense. However, the nagging shoulder injury from his college days limited his pro football career to that single season, even though Giants assistant coach Vince Lombardi was encouraging Crawford to return in 1958.

With his mind made up to retire from the NFL, Crawford then entered the coaching ranks as an assistant at Greenville (Miss.) High School in 1958. He was named head coach at Greenville High in 1959 before returning to his hometown of Jackson, Tennessee, when he was named Jackson High School’s coach and athletic director in 1960, a position he held until returning to Ole Miss in 1962.

Prior to enrolling as a freshman at Ole Miss, Crawford earned All-Tennessee honors as an end in football and a center in basketball while playing at Jackson (Tenn.) High School. He earned four letters in football, four in basketball and two in baseball during his prep career and served as captain of the 1952 Jackson High baseball team. Crawford also played in the 1952 All-America high school football game in Memphis, Tennessee.

Courtesy of Ole Miss Sports

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