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bella-rose29 · 2 months

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Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - part 11

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: making out to the point of hickeys and low level states of undress (don't read if you're not particularly comfortable with it, it's pretty early on and you don't really need it for the rest to make sense 👍), swearing, reader's mother (Emma) is a gem and loves teasing them, lockwood's hands (and ring), I have no idea what came over me to make me write this (I was probably thinking about his hands let's be real)

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“I just don’t understand how they never gave themselves away,” Y/n said while she and Anthony got ready for bed.

He was in the bathroom, so she’d had to raise her voice a little in order to be heard. When he didn’t respond immediately, she frowned at the closed door. “Anthony? You alright?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, I’m alright, darling.” She heard shuffling and then the click of the door as it opened, and he stepped out, dressed in his pyjamas.

“Still can’t believe you have matching sets of grandpa pyjamas,” she snorted, moving over to the bathroom.

“You love my matching sets of grandpa pyjamas,” he called as she started brushing her teeth. “And as for how they never gave themselves away, I imagine they were all waiting for the moment they could finally breathe again. Your mother especially, did you see how tightly she hugged me earlier? I thought she might crush my ribs.”

“You’re so dramatic, Ant,” Y/n replied after spitting out the toothpaste. She washed her mouth out, flicked the light off in the bathroom, and headed for the bed. Anthony was already sat on his side, the covers pulled back for her to get in, and she curled up next to him. His arm automatically came around her body, fingers burying in the fabric of her (his) top.

“You love that too,” he said, pressing a kiss to her head. She hummed, burying her face in his chest and swinging her legs over his. The afternoon had been peaceful after Steph and Linda had finally left (although not without a lot of pointing fingers, empty threats, and slammed doors), with Y/n’s family asking questions about their relationship and wanting the real answers this time, and her father had received a call saying that the roads would be clear in the next day or so, and there was a limited train service starting up not too long after that. The storm had blown over faster than people had anticipated, but with the limited technology they had for weather readings, anybody’s guess could be the official report. They had booked tickets on the first train back in four days time, and Y/n knew that both her and Anthony were looking forward to getting back to Portland Row.

“You know,” she started, feeling her eyes start to close when he started threading his fingers through her hair. His other hand was on her thigh, just above her knee. “We should probably think about what we’re gonna do when we get back. About the whole ‘we don’t hate each other now and we’re actually dating’ thing.”

“Oh, that’s a good point. Maybe we just… don’t say anything, like your family? And see how long it takes for them to bring it up?”

“Ant, why would we do that?”

“Because it’s funny?” It was a rhetorical question, and she could feel him smiling from the way his jaw shifted over her head. His fingers hadn’t left her hair, and the hand on her thigh had edged upwards slightly while they’d been talking.

“I suppose it would be quite funny, wouldn’t it?” she mused, nudging her leg further into his grip subconsciously. He hadn’t taken off the ring he always wore, and it was cold against her skin.

“See, I’m winning you over,” he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

“You missed,” she murmured, sitting up a little and opening her eyes.

“Missed?”

“Yeah.” She took his face in her hands, nudging her nose against his before kissing him. When she pulled back after a few seconds he automatically followed her, eyes still closed while he searched for her lips again. “Anthony,” she breathed, feeling his breath fan over her face. He surged forward, his grip on her thigh tightening a little while the hand that had been in her hair slid down and cupped her cheek as he kissed her. She brought her hand to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his pyjama shirt and gasping when he deepened the kiss, and she thought she might pass out from how gentle yet desperate he was. She could feel it, how he was holding back and taking it slow, but the fire that burned in her needed more, making her shift in his lap so she was straddling his hips, and if she could take the sound he made when she did so and bottle it up to keep forever, she would.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he whispered between kisses, tilting his head slightly to press his mouth to her cheek, and then her jaw, and then her neck.

“I hope not,” she replied, burying her hands in his hair when he kissed a spot on her neck that made her feel like she was in heaven. “I quite like having you around, actually.”

“Yeah?” He made his way back up her neck, his hand hot and searing where it sat on her thigh. She met his eyes, the half-closed lids and blown pupils combined with his swollen lips making the fire burn hotter, and kissed him sweetly.

“Yeah.” His hair was a mess, but he’d never looked more beautiful than in this moment, the golden glow of the bedside lamp highlighting his features and casting long shadows at the same time, and she threaded her fingers through the mop of hair that was starting to stick to his forehead. “Just promise me something?”

“Anything,” he said, not waiting for her to finish. She thought she could live on the way he was looking at her, like she was the only thing he had ever wanted and he needed her to breathe.

“Stay alive for me? When we get back? You can’t keep- you can’t keep being so reckless with your- your life. Anthony.” He’d trailed the hand that had rested on her cheek down her side, and had gripped her hips with both hands, his fingers curling into the fabric of the shirt she was wearing and bunching it up slightly.

“Sorry, darling.” She supposed she could forgive him when his voice was so low and hoarse, and his fingers were creeping under the top to stroke her skin. “I promise I’ll live for you.” The next kiss burned, filled with the weight of what he’d just sworn, and it was only when they couldn’t hold their breath for any longer that they finally pulled away for air. “I promise,” he whispered into her skin, dragging her closer by his grip on her waist. “I promise.” His hand was drifting upwards slowly, the cold metal of his ring a stark contrast to the heat of their bodies, and she knew he was waiting for her to tell him it was alright. His lips had barely left hers, and when she took her hands out of his hair to start undoing the buttons on his shirt she felt his breath hitch.

“This okay?” she asked, smiling when he nodded eagerly, leaning back in for another kiss. He was drunk on her, she was sure, but she wasn’t exactly sober herself. Eventually he decided she was moving too slowly, taking the bottom of his top into his own hands and doing it himself. The next few minutes were frantic, Anthony’s shirt discarded on the floor by the bed and hers on the way to joining it, hands travelling over skin in an attempt to know every inch of each other. When he lifted her up and laid her on her back, settling between her legs while he braced himself on one arm and held her with the other, she knew she was doomed.

~~~

The next morning, Emma was on tea duty.

She and Ben took turns making teas for the family in the morning, and as she traipsed upstairs with a full tray of mugs (after depositing two in her parents’ bedroom downstairs) she yawned, hoping that everyone was at least a little bit awake so that she could go back to bed and read her book. John was first, bleary-eyed and scratching his side like a monkey, and he took his tea with a very sleepy “Mornin’ Mum”, the door closing in her face as soon as he had a grip on the handle of the mug. Then was Sam and Will, who were being made to share, and as she had expected Will was the opposite of John, wide awake and already dressed, reading in bed with the small lamp on so that he didn’t wake Sam. “Thanks, Mum,” he’d smiled, planting a kiss on her cheek and kicking the door shut after taking his and Sam’s teas. Tom was in the library with his colouring (she had to stop and put down the plastic mat so that he didn’t accidentally colour the furniture), and he barely acknowledged her presence when she left the mug on the table nearby and told him to be careful. Olivia wasn’t awake, so Emma left the mug on her bedside table and pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead before creeping back out and moving on to the last room before her own.

A soft knock was normally enough to alert Y/n, telling her that the teas were ready, but when after roughly thirty seconds nobody appeared at the door, Emma frowned, balanced the tray on her hip, and gently pushed open the door. “Oh,” she whispered to herself upon seeing her eldest daughter and Anthony curled up in bed together, both sound asleep.

She’d figured that the two of them weren’t actually dating after they’d first arrived, although at the time she’d thought it was more that they were in a rough patch and were attempting to hide it. They’d argued over who was taking the suitcase in, for crying out loud! But then Anthony had gone and comforted her after Steph had made comments that forced Y/n upstairs, and Emma had been confused again. When Olivia had been helping her get dinner ready that first night, she’d put forward the idea that maybe they weren’t together, and Y/n just felt that she couldn’t turn up without a boyfriend to a huge gathering where everybody thought she was in a relationship. Then things had started making sense, like the way Y/n had looked stiff in his arms for the first few days, or how she would glare at Anthony instead of gazing lovingly at him like Emma knew she herself did with Ben.

At some point something had changed, though, because now they were apparently actually together. She, along with everyone else, had spent the afternoon yesterday questioning the young couple on pretty much everything, including why the hell they hated each other in the first place. Anthony had gone bright red, apologising profusely for his behaviour, and then Y/n had interrupted and said that she should be the one apologising, and then the pair of them had traded such love-struck looks that it made even Emma want to throw up a little. She was planning on getting the photo albums out today, since she had been so scared of revealing that she knew the truth before that she hadn’t fully settled in to the role of Embarrassing Mother. She’d wanted Y/n to feel that she could come forward in her own time, and the situation was sticky enough as it was with Steph and Linda (she frowned at the memory of how poorly her sister and niece had acted) making comments and embarrassing Y/n that Emma had taken a step back. Now, however, there was no hiding. Anthony would be seeing all of the photos of Y/n as a baby, and that was that.

She would have a field day at breakfast, too, if her assumptions were correct.

From what she could tell as she put the cups of tea on the bedside table and had a quick look around the room, neither Anthony nor Y/n were wearing tops, and in the dim light of the room she could tell that there were definitely marks on both of their necks. She smiled to herself, pressing a kiss to Y/n’s shoulder, and tiptoed out of the room.

~~~

When Anthony woke up, the first thing he thought was how comfortable he was.

He opened his eyes, rubbing lazily to try and clear away the last remnants of sleep, and he realised that Y/n was lying with her back to him and he had wrapped an arm around her waist in an effort to meld their bodies into one. Their legs were tangled together under the duvet, his pyjama-clad ones mixed with her short-wearing ones, and it was no wonder he hadn’t been able to breath too well when he’d first woken up, because his face had been buried in her neck.

Her neck.

His eyes widened as he took in the state of her skin, littered in small marks (and one or two larger ones), and he knew that he would most likely be murdered when she woke up. He couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the memory of last night, though, and all the kisses they had shared. They hadn’t gone much further than that, both deciding it was far too early and far too risky in a house that was shared by most of her immediate family, but Anthony could have died a happy man after that.

He wouldn’t, of course, because he’d promised her last night that he would live.

He took note then of the two mugs of steaming tea on the bedside table, and realised that someone must have come in and placed them there not too long ago. Then he realised that whoever it had been had probably seen the hickeys on Y/n’s neck. “Shit,” he mumbled, closing his eyes briefly in an attempt to gather strength. It would be fine. Maybe they hadn’t been able to see clearly in the darkness of the room? But then again some of them were pretty large, and there wasn’t much chance of them being missed. Y/n was going to kill him.

She was waking up now, he could tell from the way her breathing changed and her body shifted, and she stretched out her legs and twisted in his arms to face him. “Good morning, darling.”

“Mornin’ Schmoopie.”

“I thought that name was banned?”

“Banned for you. I can use it.”

“Ah, I see.” He smiled into her forehead, pressing his lips to the skin in tiny kisses. “Did you sleep alright?” She hummed her assent, eyes still closed while she nestled further into him. He wondered if she could feel how fast his heart was beating.

“Did you?”

“Yeah. Best sleep I’ve had for a while.” It had felt like he’d blinked and gone from the after-effects of last night to waking up with her in his arms this morning.

“That’s good. Can I smell tea?”

“Yes, although I don’t know who it was that brought it in; I was still asleep.”

“Probably Mum,” she said, groaning and sitting up. Anthony watched her for a moment, small smile on his face as he took in her sleepy expression, then followed suit. He went to say something, but the movement of his body sitting up had pulled the duvet away and down the bed, and all thoughts went out of his head. “Shit, it’s cold in here,” Y/n hissed, putting down the mug she’d just picked up in favour of wrapping the blankets back around her torso. She paused when she realised Anthony had frozen and gone red, and frowned at the face he was making. “Are you… alright? You look a bit… I dunno. Weird.”

“What? Oh, I’m…” he swallowed thickly and met her eyes, immediately looking away again and studying the wall opposite the bed. “I’m fine.”

“Okay… I’ll pass your tea over if you want it?”

“Thank you.” He still wasn’t looking at her, although he did remove his gaze from the wall to ensure he held the mug correctly, and a slightly awkward pause followed.

“You didn’t put your top back on last night.” He heard her choke on her tea and pressed his hand over his eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean- I just- you-” he sighed, giving up on coming up with an excuse that would explain his previous statement.

“Of course I didn’t put it back on, I was way too warm,” she said once she’d recovered. “Wait. Were you staring at my chest?” When he didn’t answer and instead kept his gaze fixed on the tea he held she let out a laugh. “You didn’t seem bothered last night by me not wearing a top.” Now it was his turn to choke, and he had to set down his mug before he spilled the liquid. When he finally turned to look at her she had a smug grin on her face, sipping her tea while she watched him with amusement dancing in her eyes.

“That- that was different!”

“Different how?”

“I- you- it just was!” He wished the ground would swallow him up. Y/n snorted, taking a larger gulp of tea.

“I’m teasing, Anthony. You don’t have to look so terrified.” He didn’t think she would ever let him live this down. He had just taken his first drink of tea when he heard her curse softly. “Ant?”

“Yeah?” He looked over at her, brows drawing together. “What is it?” She bit her lip, eyes focused on something below his face. “Y/n?”

“You, uh… you’ve got…” she gestured vaguely to his neck, hesitating a moment before touching a finger to the skin just above his collarbone. It hit him, then, what she was referring to.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you leave marks on my neck last night?”

“… yeah?”

“Well we’re in deep shit.”

“… why?”

“I… might have done the same…” he trailed off, his voice growing quieter with every word, and she could only stare at him.

“Anthony.”

“Hmm?”

“Anthony. Please tell me you’re joking.” He didn’t say anything, instead taking another sip of his tea. “Anthony, if it was Mum that came in and did tea this morning then we are screwed because there is no way she didn’t see. Anthony answer me.”

“I’m not joking, sorry.” He couldn’t help but smile at her exasperated groan that followed, and he opened his mouth to speak again. “Although you didn’t seem bothered by me kissing your neck last night,” he said, using her earlier words against her. This time it was his turn to be smug, and he laughed when she lightly slapped his chest. “What? You rather enjoyed it from what I remember.”

“Your memory is wrong,” she grumbled, finishing off her tea.

“I don’t think it is, darling, but whatever you say.”

~~~

“Good morning love birds! Did you two sleep alright?” Emma chirped when Anthony and Y/n walked into the kitchen. She noted the slight flushed look to both of them (particularly Anthony who had gone a wonderful shade of pink that she didn’t think she’d seen before), and then the poor attempts at covering up the marks that decorated their necks.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Thank you.” Y/n looked like a deer in headlights, sitting down on a bar stool and smiling when her father placed a plate of food in front of her. “Thanks,” she muttered, picking up a fork and digging in. Anthony was apparently dealing with everything a lot better than Y/n, already engaged in conversation with John and Sam about something while he entertained Tom at the same time. Emma was glad that he was here, especially given how stressful Steph and Linda were, and she could tell that her eldest daughter was far better off with him in her life. He really cared about her, most likely better than Emma ever had, and while it stung to think that he was doing the job that she should have done, she was happy that Y/n had someone that she lived with to rely on.

“Are you sure, dear? You look quite tired, I don’t imagine you did much sleeping.” She did feel a little bit of remorse at her teasing, but it was too funny watching Y/n squirm in embarrassment while she tried to come up with something to say. Even Anthony was blushing now from his place on Y/n’s right. Besides, this was her first experience with being the Embarrassing Mother, and if she needed to she would explain herself to her daughter later.

“Did you do tea rounds this morning?” Y/n blurted instead, her brow furrowing.

“I did… where is this going?”

“Oh, no reason. It’s fine,” she said, entirely unconvincingly.

“Right, well eat up. Anthony, I’m showing you the photo albums after breakfast!”

“Mum, please don’t, I can’t take any more of this,” pleaded Y/n, but Emma just chuckled.

“I just want him to see some of the previous Christmases we’ve had!”

“Personally,” Anthony chimed in, “I would love to see the photo albums, Emma. It sounds like a wonderful way to spend the morning.” His grin could only be described as shit-eating, and Emma loved it.

She loved it even more when Y/n groaned and held her head in her hands.

~~~

“And here- what was happening here? Oh yes, she’d managed to get her head stuck in the railings of the bannister, only three years old!”

“So you took a picture before helping your three year old daughter out of the bannisters?” Y/n asked her mother incredulously, not enjoying the way Anthony was studying every single photo of her as a baby. They had already been here for roughly forty minutes, and they weren’t even a third of the way through the album.

“Well you don’t look too bothered, darling. In fact, you look like you’re having a whale of a time, look how big that smile is!”

“Shut up,” she mumbled, cuddling closer into his side. His laughter warmed her, and suddenly she didn’t mind so much that he was being promised copies of some of these photos. She knew that her mother knew about the marks on both of their necks, too, her suspicions confirmed after the whole fiasco at breakfast (there had been many more innuendos and exaggerated winks), but she didn’t mind that too much either. How could she, when Anthony was burning brighter than the sun right now, with his smile that lit up every room he walked into (or even walked past) and his easy charm? How could she be upset when he was sat so close to her, holding her to him so gently yet so tightly, as though he were afraid that at any moment she might disappear?

No, she was happy. Not about the current photo of her with cake smushed all over her face and outfit at her friend’s 4th birthday party, but generally, she was happy. Steph and Linda were gone, Anthony was here, and in a few days they would be back home with Lucy, and George, and Holly too when she came over.

For the first time in years, she was truly happy. And she could owe it all to Anthony Lockwood.

part 12 (final part)

Tag list: @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @anthgoldenhrry, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @aysha4life, @bobbys-not-that-small, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @imaginebeingmentallystable, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @lady-ashfade, @light-23, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @magicandrosewaters, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @reggiepeterss, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whistle1whistle, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @y0urm0m12, @zoom1374, @asyouwish-fromcabin3, @magicandrosewaters, @bobbys-not-that-small, @neewtmas (sticking you on just in case my lovely <3)

I don't think I'm missing anyone but there are so many people that I honestly can't say for sure, so if you want to be added to the tag list for the final part (and maybe... other... special posts... that might be written in the future... 👀), then let me know! <3

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #deck the halls (and not your partner)#enemies to lovers #fake dating #christmas

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elvisabutler · 1 year

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jealousy

summary: you know better than to talk to other guys sometimes in elvis's ear shot. elvis reminds you of why. fandom: austin butler | elvis ( 2022 ) | elvis presley pairing: austin butler elvis x female reader rating: m. word count: 2100 warnings: throat fucking. possessiveness. big daddy elvis ( so '74 to '77 timeframe ). mildly dubious consent. elvis's paranoia. elvis's prescription drug use. daddy kink, because elvis does actually refer to himself as daddy in this. gratuitous use of nicknames ( lil one, baby, honey, darlin', the whole nine yards ). mild hint of face fucking. kind of faintly almost d/s element but not quite. oral ( m receiving, f implied/referenced ) author's note: welcome to day 29 for kinktober, throat fucking with austin!elvis. okay so everyone needs to thank @butlersxbirdy for this one since at the time she and I literally were losing it over big daddy elvis. we still are, but it was basically hey which version of austin elvis should i do, and she was like big daddy without missing a beat. i'll have a 68 special version out possibly tonight or tomorrow but this one got top billing because i wanted to. but basically everyone else gives you soft big daddy, i'll give ya some fucked up big daddy. ( i'm going to give y'all a very very soft big daddy for the holiday season, don't worry. ) imagine whoever, this is supposed to be austin elvis but timeline i picked makes it tricky y'all know my particular drill.

Elvis is possessive, a fact that everyone who ever spends longer than two minutes with the man and has him like them is vividly aware of. You are Elvis's or you are not, there is that strict dichotomy that very few if any people break- and you are not one of those people. Priscilla, when you've interacted with her during handoffs for Lisa tells you it didn't used to be this bad, that yes, he could sleep around but she couldn't and that her finding her way into his former karate instructors bed after she left him made him so angry he was almost unrecognizable, but she figured it was fine and would settle down. Then she heard the stories from Linda and now you and- well she likes to pretend you'll calm him down. Not fix him exactly but you've already mildly tempered his pill usage and have him actually eating healthy despite being on the road. Maybe third time's the charm?

Except- here is the inherent problem, you're younger than him, not hard seeing as he's around his 40s but you crave attention in a way that he doesn't always provide. You wouldn't say he disregards the fact that you could leave- oh far from it- his worship of you legendary to all members of the Memphis Mafia and anyone who's had any sort of contact with Elvis as far as touring or recording goes. But sometimes he forgets- sometimes in the haze of his pills and every other thing he forgets that you can run free, you can easily run away from him and never look back- he's spoiled you with enough clothes that even if you had no marketable skills to speak of you could handle yourself on selling his trinkets alone.

You sometimes flirt as easy as breathing, a quality that Elvis will swear up and down is one of his favorite about you- you're pure, baby but Lord have mercy, the things your eyelashes fluttering can do to a man he had once said after you had told him about your sexual history. You flirt and flirt and boy- men- have a tendency to fall for it, tend to become wrapped around your finger in ways that would make your Mama blush. It gives you a rush of power, reminds you that even if Elvis is ignoring you for the fourth day and night in a row that you're attractive, you're the sort of woman men want and it gives you a little pep. But you know as well as anyone that you can't let Elvis hear or see you do what you do when you flirt though so you always make sure it's done out of his earshot, his eyesight and while he's preoccupied.

At least that's usually what you do, it's the fifth day and while you don't mind Elvis leaving you alone for a bit, for a day or two when it starts inching toward a week you can't help but feel bitter and angry. It's that feeling that leads you to where you are, your hand on some guy's- you think his name is Jeff- arm giggling at something that is not even remotely funny but you know how to charm a man. You're wrapped up in trying to make sure he's smiling that you don't hear the telltale sound of Elvis's buckle clanging as he walks up to see what you're doing. You don't notice how your conversation partner freezes as his eyes look behind you. You don't notice the scent of Elvis freshly showered until you feel his heat up against you, until you feel his breath against your neck and until you feel the growl emanate from his deep in his chest. You freeze after that.

"Darlin'." He says, his tone deathly calm. "Who's this? A friend?"

You open your mouth to say something before Jeff ends up muttering something about needing to head off but it was so nice to meet you and you turn to face Elvis a snarl forming before you can even stop it.

"Oh now you want to pay attention to me." You move to make sure Elvis doesn't try and grab for you. "Find someone else and you appear out of thin air."

Elvis's eyes narrow and darken making you very quickly realize you might have messed up. They're not as clear as they have been in the past weeks which means that just maybe he's not all there. That you've stepped into a minefield that he'll take you out of, just not right this moment. You move to grab his arm before he yanks it out of your reach. "Oh no, honey, you know better. I was- Come with me to our room, baby. Think I need to talk to you. Remind you of some things." He turns from you with a growl that has arousal curling low in your abdomen and has you traling after him in a way that sometimes embarrasses you with how eager you are to do it, but you can't stop yourself from doing it nonetheless. The walk and elevator ride up to where he's staying and where you should be staying is a silent one, punctuated only with Elvis grumbling something to himself and your heaving breaths the more you think about what Elvis is planning on doing to you. You enter the room and in an instant find yourself crowded against the wall, Elvis using his both his weight and his arms to make sure you're not moving any time soon. You open your mouth to talk before Elvis shakes his head and cuts you off.

"Ya know how jealous I get lil one. Know how I damn well wanna kill men when they're lookin at you as you're cumming just from me brushin' against ya. And yet ya let one of them think he could have ya." His hand moves to your shoulder and makes a movement like he wants to force you to the ground but he holds off for at least the moment. "Got me so goddamn riled up and jealous, baby. Got your Big Daddy angry. You wanna know what I do when I'm this angry with ya? What I've always wanted t' do when you get me this angry?"

You look at him in what you like to think is an attempt to look innocent, an attempt to charm him with those eyelashes you know he can barely resist only to see the look in his eyes, see the look of barely restrained anger written all over his face and realize that it won't work. The words you had meant to say die on your lips, swallowed in the guip you take as you nod.

"On your knees." He commands and leaves absolutely no room for questioning, his hand remaining on your shoulder in case you need some help getting down. "And deal with my pants while you're at it."

You comply, falling to your knees quicker than you ever thought possible, your hands working at his belt buckle and at the button and zipper of his pants, your hands shaking just a tad as you pull them down. He hadn't asked to have his boxers taken off so you left them, not that it did much to conceal what was happening underneath, how he seemed to be getting harder by the moment.

His hand that was on her shoulder moves to the back of your head, his ring covered hands moving to grip your hair in any way he could. "Little boys wouldn't know what to do with ya. Wouldn't treat ya like I do. Wouldn't have you coming nearly as hard as ya do with me." You shift a little, trying to produce some form of friction between your legs. You're so focused on that task that you don't notice how Elvis's eyes zero in on the motion. All you actually notice is how he ends up letting out a laugh that sounds downright evil. It sounds like that young boy who sang that he was evil and you shiver. "I'm gonna make sure you can't fuckin' talk to them for a week. Gonna wreck your throat so that all you can do is nod for yes daddy." He pauses and growls. "Bet you're gonna cum right now. Bet if I touched you right this second you'd make a mess of the goddamn carpet."

Leaning forward, you start to nuzzle at his cock through his briefs and realize that you can't feel any shame about it. You don't feel any shame about it, too busy trying to calm Elvis down and too busy remembering just why as much as you might want to stray from him when he wanders just a bit- you don't. "Daddy, I would. I would make a mess, but please daddy, you can touch me I want you to touch me."

Elvis yanks at your hair and thus you back a little roughly and you hiss. "No nuzzlin'. This ain't you getting a treat. This is you being reminded who you belong to." His tone is shifting into something that almost sounds like a growl. "Whose thick thighs you cum on. Whose cock you love having in that pretty pussy and mouth. Whose is it, darlin'?"

"Yours." You whine, pulling down his underwear without him actually asking to. "Your thighs, your cock."

His lips curl into a smirk as he uses the grip on your hair to force your face into his crotch. You have the foresight to open your mouth but even so you end up choking a little around his cock. He pauses when he realizes you're struggling, not wanting to hurt you exactly. You grip his thigh as an okay and he continues to push his cock further into your mouth until it's tickling the back of your throat. You swallow involuntarily and Elvis groans, low and in a way you want to hear over and over again. He starts to move, using his grip on your hair to control how quickly he's fucking your mouth, how deep his cock is reaching. You gag a little even as you try and relax just from the sheer force of his cock hitting your throat.

"Swallow, baby, do it again." He murmurs, trying to feel your throat start to constrict around his tip. "Fuckin' love this mouth. Most perfect goddamn mouth. Never gonna let it go. Never gonna let those boys take you from me. I'll shoot 'em before they do. Might not look like 'em anymore but they couldn't handle my girl."

You whimper at the words, your eyes starting to roll in the back of your head as you rut against the floor, wanting to touch yourself but resisting the urge. Elvis is still controlling the pace but you can feel how he's starting to struggle to keep up, his movements becoming a little less controlled, a little less consistent. You help out, making sure your mouth stays on him, that his cock still is hitting the back of your throat until you taste the saltiness of his cum and feel the warmth of it filling your mouth. You swallow, struggling just a little but Elvis doesn't let up, doesn't let you off until he's finished and you've swallowed as much as you can. He finally lets go of your hair and you lean back, breathing heavily, trying to ignore the throbbing of your clit and the mild burn you still feel in your throat.

"Wasn't flirting." You force out, your voice sounding like you had every sore throat known to man at once. You try and swallow thinking it will help before realizing it doesn't. "Want to cum, please."

His eyes are lidded when he looks at you, looking almost like he might want to fall asleep on you before he hums, holding out his hand to you. "Up on the bed. No talking till you come. Wanna hear you scream my name with my face in your pussy."

You take his hand, using the leverage to pull yourself up and frown. "I don't think I can scream. Won't make the noise."

He pulls you close and pulls you into a kiss. "You will. Then you can lose your voice. Then we can both know I fucked that throat of yours completely raw."

If you raise an eyebrow in a challenge, that's your business. And if after that eyebrow you don't speak for another week because you practically croak when you try? Well. That's yours and his business.

#austin butler elvis x you #austin butler elvis x reader #austin butler elvis #austin elvis #austin elvis x reader #austin elvis x you #austin butler elvis x y/n #austin elvis x y/n #austin butler #austin butler elvis smut #austin elvis smut #ally's kinktober 2022 #kinktober 2022 #ally writes #think i did all the tags?

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bubblybellyblog · 3 months

Text

Sudden Surprise

(From the drafts)

CW: diarrhea

Lina’s stomach was full of butterflies, jazzed up from her first (and only!) keto coffee from the bright green bag on her hotel counter. She’d been on a new dietary regimen recommended by another nail technician for a few weeks, and was loving her new team, no #family, of #GirlBosses.

Lina’s supportive, albeit doofy, husband, Tripp, was exasperated with her new fad, but knew it was only a matter of time before she opened her eyes to the Pyramid Scheme. His sister in law, who Lina grew up admiring, had already warned her that “multi-level marketing” was a cult-scam, and they were all confident that after the conference, Lina would quit.

So, they, along with the vast majority of Lina’s friends, politely declined her offers for a healthier lifestyle. But Tripp had helped her pack her bags for the national conference, and Lina found herself boasting about his support as she and her team filed into the first conference session.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie, can I get by?” Lina was interrupted suddenly by another woman whose eyes anxiously darted through the crowd. “The bathrooms, you know, before we start...”

Lina quickly moved aside, in a flash, pitying the breathless girl with a hand holding her stomach. Thank god my team is eating clean in this overwhelmingly large crowd, she thought, relieved that her own stomach’s butterflies were gone and replaced with a steady rumble, which she interpreted as settling. Still, the rumble distracted her just enough to miss two of the girls in her upline (the ones who’d recruited her, who mentored her), exchange tums tablets before the lights dimmed and the panel speakers began.

15 minutes later, Linda found herself distracted, again, by her stomach. An ache had begun moving downward in belly, leaving it bloated against her tight, bright team top. Knowing the next break wasn’t for another hour, Lina placed a hand gently on her lower tummy, hoping to quiet it and focus on the speakers and crowd. Still, the rumblings turned louder, indicating to Lina and those closest to her that something was not going well.

As the panel began to wind down and the speakers moved to wind the crowd up and get everyone excited, Lina found herself in stuck in some sort of digestive dilemma - her gut turned as she reluctantly stood and waived her hands in the air. Two rows in front, another girl seemed equally unenthused, and Lina noticed her hands clasped tightly across her tummy. Then, just as the crowd went into an abrupt silence (as part of the programming), Lina’s gut unleashed its loudest cry yet - a long, wet, uncomfortable gurgle followed by a sharp stomach cramp.

Her teammate, Megan, turned to her in horror and shock. “Are you alright?” she asked concernedly. Lina, now awkwardly pale, nodded, though her stomach was now sending her all of the classic poorly signs.

“I think I need the restroom...” she began, as Megan nodded and pointed her to the doors in the back of the hall.

Lina stood slowly, feeling the keto coffee from that morning drop lower in her belly. As she turned and began walking through the rows of seated other women, she wished she hadn’t eaten so much of the provided breakfast - the scrambled eggs and spinach and ham felt like a sick lava in bowels that sloshed with every step. The thought was enough to make her dry heave a bit.

#upset stomach #upset tummy #upset belly #stomach virus

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rocks-in-space · 1 year

Photo

1. “Red Amaryllis,” Barbara Crooker // 2. "Red Amaryllis,” Georgia O’Keeffe // 3. "The Power of the Doctor,” Doctor Who, Chris Chibnall // 4. "Six Recognitions of the Lord, Mary Oliver // 5. "Horse’s Skull with Pink Rose,” Georgia O’Keeffe // 6. “Sweetness,” Linda Hogan // 7. “From Blossoms,” Li-Young Lee // 8. Return of the King// 9. "Peonies,” Mary Oliver.

[Image IDs:

Image 1: Text reading “Our little lives, so brief. But oh, the bloom.”

Image 2: A realistic painting of a closeup of a red amaryllis flower on a yellow background.

Image 3: A still from Doctor Who showing a close-up on the 13th Doctor’s smiling face. Text on it reads, “Oh, the blossomiest blossom.”

Image 4: Text reading, “I row my beautiful, temporary body through this water-lily world.”

Image 5: A realistic painting of a horse skull with a pink rose on top against a blue background.

Image 6: Text reading, “I want to do it too, / take in all the sweet life caught inside this world.”

Image 7: Text reading, “O, to take what we love inside,/ to carry within us an orchard, to eat/ not only the skin, but the shade, / not only the sugar, but the days, to hold / the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into / the round jubilance of peach./ There are days we live / as if death were nowhere / in the background; from joy / to joy to joy, from wing to wing, / from blossom to blossom to / impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.”

Image 8: A still from Return of the King showing the head of statue of a bearded man on the ground in the woods. The top of the head is covered in white flowers.

Image 9: Text reading, “Do you love this world?/ Do you cherish your humble and silky life? / Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath? Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden, / and softly, / and exclaiming of their dearness, / fill your arms with the white and pink flowers, with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling, / their eagerness / to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are / nothing, forever?”

end ID]

#web weaving #web weave #connections #poetry #mary oliver #georgia o'keeffe #doctor who #thirteenth doctor #13th doctor #lotr

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clusterbuck · 2 years

Text

winner winner chicken dinner

He’d rolled his eyes when Linda had sent him the recipe, the brightly coloured letters at the top of the page spelling out MARRY ME CHICKEN. She’d told him to make it for Buck some time and he’d sent back every unimpressed emoji he could find, but—

It wasn’t supposed to work. He hadn’t made it because he’d thought it would do anything, only because the creamy chicken with sun-dried tomatoes actually sounded really good.

Only now Buck’s sitting at his kitchen table, the words marry me hanging in the air, and Buck looks just rattled enough to make Eddie think there’s something more than a joke behind them.

Even after months of practice, Buck still doesn’t like working a shift without Eddie. Especially now that Eddie's back from what Buck’s taken to calling his dispatch side quest, now that Eddie should be back by his side.

He doesn’t like working without Eddie, but he likes this part. The part where he walks into the Diaz house at the end of the day, past Christopher playing video games on the couch and into the kitchen. The part where he finds Eddie with some music on, humming along, standing at the stove stirring something and swaying to the beat.

Buck likes the part where he can pretend, just for a second, that this is his life. That he could take another few steps and walk up to Eddie, wrap his arms around Eddie’s waist and bury his face in Eddie’s neck. That he could slip his hands under the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt and Eddie would laugh, low in his throat so Buck would feel it in his chest, and turn his head to the side so Buck could kiss him hello.

It’s not real, but it almost doesn’t matter. Because Buck can’t have everything, but what he does have is—it’s enough, he thinks.

It’s enough, he tells himself.

He has Eddie. He has Christopher. It’s enough.

At the stove, Eddie looks up and smiles at him. “How was the shift?”

“Qu—uneventful,” Buck says, the instinct not to describe shifts as the q-word so strong by now that it bleeds into his vocabulary even when he’s not at the station. “Boring.”

“Shame,” Eddie says, poking at his skillet with a spatula. “Too bad there weren’t any deadly fires to keep you entertained.”

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” Buck laughs. “Inconsiderate of the universe.” He sits at the table and scrubs a hand along his face, then notices the table isn’t set yet and gets up again, reaching for the cupboard where they keep the plates.

“You don’t have to do that,” Eddie says when he notices Buck laying out silverware.

“Yeah, well,” Buck says. “You’re always cooking now. I figure I might as well contribute something.”

“Not arguing that,” Eddie grins. “Just that Christopher’s on table duty today.”

“There’s days now?” Buck asks, and Eddie gestures towards the fridge with his elbow. Stuck to the door is a chart drawn on pale blue construction paper, the days of the week printed along the top in Eddie’s neat handwriting and a list of chores running down the right-hand side.

Buck trails a finger down the column for Tuesday and finds Christopher’s name in the slot for setting the table, written in the kid’s own untidy scrawl.

Then he glances one row lower and finds his own name, next to dishes. He looks up at Eddie.

“I’m in your chore chart?” he asks, fighting to keep his voice level.

Eddie looks over and huffs a laugh, then turns back to the stove. “Of course you are,” he says. “We all are. You gotta pull your weight around here.”

“No, I know, I mean—” Buck starts, and Eddie turns back to him again and grins.

“I know what you mean,” Eddie says. “Like I said. Of course you are.”

Buck swallows. “Well, okay,” he says. “I'm almost done, so Chris can have the day off today. We can start tomorrow.”

“Last night, Chris made me put off starting until tonight since you were working,” Eddie says, and Buck very much does not have a lump in his throat. Really. He doesn’t. “But okay.” He brandishes the spatula in Buck’s direction. “We’ll start tomorrow. For real.”

“Promise,” Buck says. “I’ll memorise the entire chart so I don’t accidentally do anyone else’s chores.”

“Or you could just look at the fridge,” Eddie says.

“You can quiz me after dinner.”

Eddie just laughs and pokes at his skillet again, then reaches to turn the stove off. “It’s about ready,” he says. “Go get Chris?”

“On it,” Buck says with a mock salute, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

Dinner is incredible. Buck’s still getting used to the fact that Eddie cooks now, but whatever Eddie did with the chicken, it’s working. The potatoes are crispy and delicious, and he’s even made a salad to go with it.

“Jesus, Eddie,” Buck says. “Did you sell your soul to the devil in exchange for cooking skills or something?”

“Nah, just Linda,” Eddie says. “She sent me this recipe last week.” Christopher slips away with a mumbled excuse about homework and Eddie gets up to start clearing the table, stacking plates in the sink. All three of them are scraped clean, not a scrap of food remaining.

“Worth it,” Buck says, and then, without thinking, “God, marry me.”

There’s a crash, one of the plates shattering in the sink. Eddie turns around to stare at him, and some faraway part of Buck’s brain screams at him to make a joke and laugh it off but—Eddie’s eyes are almost as wide as his own.

—

Marry me.

The thing is, it wasn’t supposed to work. Eddie wasn’t expecting it to work.

It wasn’t supposed to work. He hadn’t made it because he’d thought it would do anything, only because the creamy chicken with sun-dried tomatoes actually sounded really good.

Only now Buck’s sitting at his kitchen table, the words marry me hanging in the air, and Buck looks just rattled enough to make Eddie think there’s something more than a joke behind them.

“Eddie—” Buck starts, just as Eddie says “Buck—” and his voice sounds hoarse even to his own ears. He can practically see Buck’s heart skip a beat, see the way his pulse is hammering under his skin, his own heart matching it beat for beat.

Time stretches out between them. Eddie knows that with every passing second they get further from being able to write it off, to dismiss it as nothing more than a joke, but still, neither of them speaks.

The thing is, Eddie doesn’t want to dismiss it. It’s—insane, probably, but Eddie wants Buck to say it again and he wants him to mean it and more than anything he wants to say yes, because he’s tired of this almost-life they’ve been living for months now. He’s tired of suppressing and holding back and all the while wondering if Buck is too, wondering if he’s just seeing what he wants to see in those moments when he thinks Buck’s eyes flash dark with longing.

He’s tired of Buck hovering at the edge of their life like the moon orbiting the earth, so close but unable to take that final step.

And Buck—

Eddie’s always been good at reading Buck.

So he takes a step forward. “Buck,” he says, heart in his throat. “Marry me.”

He keeps his gaze fixed firmly on Buck so that he knows he means it. He watches several expressions chase each other across Buck’s face, confusion and disbelief and careful hope, realisation, and then joy that spreads like a flower into bloom.

“I mean it,” Eddie says, holding back a sigh of relief when his voice comes out steady and strong. “Marry me. Move in with me, so I don’t have to watch you drive away at the end of the night and we can put you down for more things on the chore chart and you can play the racing games with Christopher since you’re much better at them than I am, and just—marry me.”

Buck is still staring at him, mouth hanging open. Eddie reaches over, his fingers feathering along Buck’s jawbone before he gently closes Buck’s mouth. He’s holding his breath, about to bolt and hide in his bedroom or maybe lock himself in the bathroom for the rest of eternity when Buck’s hand comes up to cover his own and his face softens.

“I—” Buck starts, hoarse, then clears his throat and tries again. “Really?”

“Really,” Eddie says. “I mean—unless you don’t—”

“No!” Buck says quickly. “I mean—I do,” he says. “Just—how really?”

Eddie’s about to say really really, but he’s a little afraid they’re going to get stuck in some kind of eternal loop so he just holds his hand out and waits for Buck to take it. He pulls Buck to his feet and reaches for him, settling his hands on either side of Buck’s face and leaning in to kiss him. It’s slow at first, careful, until Eddie pulls back just enough to whisper really and Buck sways against him, taking slow, careful steps until he’s backed Eddie up against the kitchen counter. Buck’s hands run down Eddie’s body and he shivers in delight and anticipation, and a surprised noise escapes his mouth when Buck’s hands wrap around his thighs and hoist him onto the counter. Buck takes a step closer, pressing against Eddie, and Eddie hooks his legs around him.

“Yes,” Buck murmurs against his mouth and Eddie swallows it, swallows all the other small sounds that spill from Buck’s lips as they get acquainted in this new way, at once familiar and exciting.

There’s a sound by the door that Eddie doesn’t quite recognise, and then one that is definitely his preteen son. “Gross,” Christopher says, side-eying them as he pours himself a glass of water. “You could at least wait until I go to bed.”

Eddie stares at him but Buck just laughs, dropping his forehead against Eddie’s shoulder. It takes a second but then Eddie’s laughing too, and Christopher rolls his eyes as he deposits his glass in the dishwasher.

“Okay,” he says. “Good night. Love you both.”

“Good night, buddy, love you,” Buck and Eddie say, more or less in unison, and that sets Buck off laughing again.

“Hey,” Eddie says, bumping his foot against Buck’s leg to get his attention. “I love you.”

Buck grins at him, brilliant like the sun. “I love you too.”

It’s only later, once they’ve cleared the kitchen and started settling down for the night—Eddie a little giddy about the fact that he gets to share the bed with Buck for real now, that he doesn’t have to worry about accidentally reaching for him in the middle of the night because he can do it with his eyes wide open—that Eddie remembers Linda, and laughs so hard Buck shushes him and points in the direction of Christopher’s room.

“What’s so funny?” Buck asks, and Eddie just manages to whisper Linda before he’s laughing again.

“Linda,” he tries again, taking a deep breath. “She sent me that chicken recipe—it’s called marry me chicken. Said I should make it for you.”

Buck snorts. “I guess it does what it says on the tin,” he says, reaching out for Eddie until Eddie gets in the bed and Buck can tuck himself against his side. “You know I meant it, right?”

“I know,” Eddie murmurs. “I did, too.”

“Good,” Buck says. “Okay. We can google thank you brownies tomorrow.”

#911fic #buddie #buddie fic #the fact that 'marriage proposal via chicken' is now an ao3 tag i have used. what is my life #shush emma #emma writes

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elizadushkudaily · 4 months

Text

HAPPY 43RD BIRTHDAY ELIZA DUSHKU! (December 30th, 1980)

Eliza Dushku + Instagram photos - 2022 to 2023

top row: the 3 Point Foundation 10 year celebration (Nov 2022) (x) middle left: Linda Pizzuti's New Year's celebration (Dec 2022) (x) middle middle: Beyonce concert (Aug 2023) (x) middle right: Boca Raton (Feb 2023) (x) bottom left and middle: Cape Cod (Sept 2023) (x) bottom right: "Murder in Boston" premiere (Dec 2023) (x)

#eliza dushku #social media #instagram #reposted no editing #some cropping but no other editing #happy birthday

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thot-of-khonshu · 2 years

Text

Mermaids

(Part One)

Part Two

Frankie Morales x Fem! Reader

Summary: After taking his daughter to a theme park, Frankie runs into a beautiful mermaid performer that he can't stop running into. Can they tread lightly or will they go off the deep end?

Rating: Explicit 18+ (All fluff for this chapter but there will be eventual smut)

Content: Pining, meet cutes, mermaids and Frankie endearingly singing terribly.

Word Count: 4K

A/N: After watching Triple Frontier, of course I went into Frankie Morales brainrot and have a full idea for a series now. Thank you so much to @heythere-mel for being my beta reader and encouraging me to write the fic! I hope you all enjoy part one!

Breathe, dive, somersault, wave, smile.

Some days were easy, some days you just had to remind yourself to do these five easy steps. You looked down at the tank in front of you, your brightly colored fins, the cavernous looking wall separating you from guests who had paid to come and see the spectacle of the mermaid. You took your first breath and felt the calm of the warm water greet you.

You knew graduate school was going to be difficult and expensive, so you figured why not suffer with a job that you do and could do well? You’d been swimming before you could walk and that skill had transferred into school teams, bathing suit tans and shiny trophies. As much as you enjoyed it, though, you knew the idea of being the female Michael Phelps wasn’t exactly your calling and that education was something you aspired for. But now that it was time to get through the last year and a half of your academic career, you figured this was the time to show off your skills.

You tried to get a job at the local Y as a swim instructor but they were unfortunately all booked up. The coach had given you a heads up on an opening for the new amusement park opening in town; they had an aquarium section where they needed underwater mermaid performers. Had you ever done something like that before? No, but was it an opportunity to live out your 6-year-old fantasy? Absolutely.

As much fun as working at an amusement park sounds, though, you’d had your experiences with terrors of families in the short time you were working there. Kids screaming at you, telling you what to do, their parents telling you what to do and then not stopping their children from attempting to throw things into the tank and having the audacity to get angry at your co-workers for calling security. People marveled you every day at this job, so every day you would come into work with excitement and ever-growing apprehension.

Diving into the water made you feel so at peace; it was where every thought and every voice was muted. As chaotic as the park could be, it was also so therapeutic to be able to do this every day. You waved to the small crowd gathering and rose to the surface, leaning onto the tank to wave and blow kisses.

“Daddy, look at the mermaids!!” You heard a sweet, tiny voice exclaim. Hearing kids so excited to see you and their faces illuminate was so rewarding; it was as if they had sprinkled some of the magic they believed in towards you and it fueled you through the day.

You turn to follow the little voice who exclaimed and see a tiny young girl with a cherubic young face and wavy curls cascading down her little body. She had a wide smile showing off two missing teeth, one in the top row, one at the bottom. She was bouncing her heels in her bright pink Crocs and tugging at her father’s sleeve.

“I see, I see!” He exclaimed. “Que linda!” He smiled up at you, a grin similar to his daughter’s without the missing teeth. He had crinkles in the corners of his eyes, his daughter’s energy radiating towards him and the two of you locked eyes. Of course you’ve seen dads that are easy on the eyes before but there was just something so sweet about the way he was looking at his daughter, anything that made her happy made him happy and he was currently looking at you with such awe and whimsy through his dark brown eyes you felt a bit exposed.

You gave your most extravagant smile and waved them over for a picture.

“Liliana, look!” The dad kneeled down to quietly ask his daughter, “Want to take a picture?”

Liliana squealed as she ran over to take a picture with you. “You’re so pretty!! Daddy, when I grow up can I be a mermaid with her?!” She asked in between pictures.

“Of course, sweetie. You’ll be the most beautiful mermaids of all.” He grinned behind his phone, giving you a knowing look. A coworker of yours took the father’s phone so all three of you could take a picture together.

“Can I be mermaids with you, please?” Liliana looked up at you, moving her body from side to side.

Unfortunately, part of the job was to stay silent; the manager didn’t love the idea of improvising and said it would give the “mystique” of the mermaid. You knew it was a load of crap, but you had to oblige. So you fervently nodded at Liliana as she squealed in excitement to her dad.

“Daddy, I wanna be just like her when I grow up!!” Liliana said to her dad, her dad smiled adoringly at her, a dimple exposed on the side of his face as he looked back at you. You felt your cheeks redden and luckily at that moment before he could see you blush, your coworker motioned for you do to an underwater picture and you dove in, smiling underwater as you could still see the little girl’s excitement vibrate even through the thick glass. They gathered their things, Liliana waving to you one more time as her father took her hand. You blew her a kiss and gave her a wave, her father mouthing “Thank you!” As they walked away.

Families like that are exactly why you took this job. The complete sparkle in that girl’s eye from seeing a mermaid and her dad’s infectious grin would get you through the next few hours in the tank. If all families were as sweet as they were, it would be a quicker, easier shift by far.

A few more hours in the tank went by quickly and it was time to head out for the night. You were convinced that the sweet father and daughter couple set the mood. Not everyone is so polite and nice and they set the precedent for the night. As a celebration for an easy shift you decided to hang out for a few; maybe grab a funnel cake and ride the Ferris wheel before heading home and hitting the books.

After grabbing a funnel cake, you’re in line for the Ferris wheel, playing catch up on texts when you hear a sweet, familiar voice behind you.

“Dad, I can’t wait to get all the way up to the top!”

“Are you so excited, baby? We’re gonna be on top of the world!!”

You turn around and there’s the sweet little girl and her ever patient father from the beginning of your shift right behind you. Your hair is still drying from the tank, with a tank top and shorts on and you’re sure you won’t be recognized, you’re sure they had a full day seeing all sorts of characters. When you briefly turned, you met eyes with her father. He gave you that every so adorable side smirk, nudging onto his daughter at his side as she looked at you with wide adoring eyes.

“Daddy, look!! It’s the pretty mermaid lady!!” Liliana exclaimed. You couldn’t help but smile back and then you remembered you were off the clock and you could talk to them.

“Hi!” You smiled at her, you looked at her dad apologetically. “Sorry for the lack of fins but — “

“Dad explained it to me.” Liliana said cooly, “you’re not a real mermaid, you just work for the real mermaids that can’t leave the ocean.”

You chuckled at her; she was clearly bouncing with energy and had so much to talk about which must’ve kept her dad active.

“I sure do! But that doesn’t mean you still can’t be a mermaid!” You kneeled down to her level as she opened her wide mouth, exposing the gaps between her baby teeth. “You wanna know the number one thing about being a mermaid? Always have fun!”

“And always wait to go back in the water after half an hour if you eat!!” Liliana said sternly, sounding like she was reciting something told to her over and over.

“We must have had this conversation about five times today,” her dad started. “She had a great time at the aquarium.”

“We saw all the animals!! We saw seals and sharks and turtles!” Lili exclaimed. “I wanted to see more mermaids, but daddy said we had a full day already and that we could always come back and we have to because I have to hear about your mermaid friends and how to be a mermaid!”

“Lili, I’m sure she doesn’t want to chat about her mermaid friends all night.” Frankie said.

“It’s really no problem at all! I mean if she’s going to be a mermaid at some point, she’s gotta know the ropes right?" You winked at Lili, her pink Crocs bouncing up and down as her dad grinned at you.

“Daddy I have to learn!! Can you ride with us on the Ferris wheel and tell me? Can we ride with her please, please, please?” Liliana squealed, her face going back and forth from you both.

He gave you a questioning look, to ask for confirmation, but you smiled at both of them and nodded. Why not? Their energy was so contagious and it would fit to end the night with their great energy as well.

“Well, if we’re going to be going to the top of the world together, we should know each other’s names. I’m Frankie and this is obviously my daughter Liliana.” Frankie extended his hand to yours to shake, it was calloused, rough and big.

Through the line it was mostly you and Frankie telling each other about yourselves; he was a private flight instructor, and this was his first time making it out to the park with Lili since it opened. You told him how long you had been at the park and how you were using this to go through grad school; he asked questions about your major, seeming genuinely interested in your studies.

Lili was too tired to interrogate you, the day seeming to catch up to her but once you had gotten on the Ferris wheel, her questions came through a streamline of renewed energy; What’s your favorite part about being a friend of a mermaid? Can you really breathe underwater? Do you know Ariel and Flounder? When can she become a mermaid?

Frankie kept looking across the passenger car, giving you apologetic glances at his daughter’s many questions but you really didn’t mind. She was incredibly sweet and full of such a contagious sparkle, you could see why whenever she smiled so did he.

At the top of the wheel Lili insisted on another picture with you, nestling next to you with her large toothy grin. You and Frankie continued to speak as Lili ogled outside of the car. He asked more about how you were working through a job like this and going through grad school and he would look at you in complete awe.

“Part-time jobs sure ain’t like they were at my age.” He joked. He was clearly older if you couldn’t already tell by the gray peppered into his speckled beard. He really was cute, constantly waving his hand through his wavy hair after taking off his worn out baseball cap. A strong face with such softness backing behind it. He looked rough around the edges, but it was clear Lili was his sweet spot. He had mentioned Lili’s mom, but all he had said was that Lili has several fish at her house. He was clearly single, but you also thinking this was a onetime occurrence, just an end of the night with an incredibly earnest father and daughter duo.

Once you got off of the wheel, Lili was clearly getting more tired than she had bargained for, dragging her feet along the dirt until Frankie scooped her up in his arms. You and Frankie continued to have a bit of small talk.

“Thank you again for the pictures and riding with us, you really didn’t have to. You completely made her day.” Frankie whispered over her.

“I promise you, you two ended up making my day. Believe it or not I rarely get families as sweet as this.” You said back to him, he tilted his head and smiled, almost studying you and you had that feeling of open vulnerability wash over you again.

“I should probably head home.” You blurted out. “But it was lovely to meet you both and I hope you come back soon.” You almost hated the way you sounded so automatic, so professional but you did genuinely want to see them again without it sounding too forward.

“You can count on it. I’d walk you to your car, but I promised Lili I’d get her a jacket at the gift shop.” Frankie smiled, how sweet to consider that. Liliana briefly climbed out of her father's arms to squeeze her little arms around you, promising she’ll come back soon for her mermaid lessons. You went your separate paths and turned around again to watch Frankie and Lili, her broad dad carrying her in his arms as she drifted to sleep. Frankie turned and you two briefly smiled at each other amongst the sea of people, he gave you a small wave and mouthed “See you soon”.

You sincerely hoped so.

“Oooh, dad!! Look another Barbie book!! Let’s get that one too!!“ Liliana exclaimed down a large aisle, stretched with children’s books as far as her eyes could see.

If there was any constant, he was glad to see in his childhood and his daughter’s it was the library. He grew up with his mother bringing him every week, his thirst for reading and knowledge growing by the day. Of course when he got older he was made fun of for it but it came in handy during the Army. He must’ve saved his buddies asses so many times during flight school and he was at the top of his class.

Liliana had that same drive to learn and explore so of course every Saturday they could together, he’d bring her to the library and check her out any book she wanted. That required her red Radio Flyer to wheel the books around and a lot of patience for his baby braniac.

“Oooh, dad what about Clifford?! And the Very Hungry Caterpillar?? Oooh and a mermaid book!! We can bring it to the park to show the pretty mermaid lady!!!”

“We can’t bring the books to the park, baby, they’ll get all wet.” Frankie quickly countered.

Lili had been talking about mermaids all week since they had visited the amusement park and seen you; the very sweet girl who had the patience for Lili’s many questions. Lili couldn’t stop talking about you; the way you swam, how pretty you were, she must’ve asked to see the pictures of you two together at least ten times. Frankie definitely didn’t disagree with how pretty you were, especially admiring the way you smiled and lit up when it came to Lili.

Frankie couldn’t wait to bring her back to see you but he also didn’t want to look creepy. A single dad dragging his kid around to see one specific mermaid performer? He didn’t even know when you worked next and he every time he thought about it there was that pang of regret. He needed to accept that maybe one day he’d see you again, but probably not anytime soon.

At some point, Lili was finally done trying to investigate every book in the children’s section to check out and Frankie tugged the much denser wagon up to checkout as Lili tried to make her way into the wagon with the books.

“Liliana…” Frankie lowered his voice but Lili just giggled and began swinging her legs off of the side of the Radio Flyer.

“Baby, you gotta be careful, I can’t wheel you with all of these books in the—“

And just like Frankie warned, the wagon tipped over at the front, Lili quickly jumping out and hiding behind Frankie as a few books flew out of the wagon. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Frankie moved to pick them up when someone started to help pick them up.

“Thank you so much, you really don’t—“ Frankie met eyes with you, grinning as you had the mermaid book in your hands. Lili called your name and ran to give you a big hug. You met eyes with Frankie as he gave you a small wave and a wink.

“I see the library is popular today!” You exclaimed. “I had to pick up some resources for a paper but it’s good to see some familiar faces.”

“Likewise.” Frankie smirked at you, crossing his arms and giving you a sight of his forearms in his short-sleeved shirt. Of course he had his baseball cap, covering his curls that still managed to peek out. You tried not to stare, you looked back down at the book.

“I see you’re studying up for your mermaid lessons, missy!” You grinned at Lili.

And while Lili and you talked about mermaids, Frankie checked the books out, grinning to himself. Of all the places to see you again, there you were. You were without your mermaid gear and wet hair, trading it for some leggings, a t-shirt and a low bun with a pencil stuck in between it. You looked cute, studious. There were so many sides to you he hadn’t known yet.

Frankie asked about your week as you had walked out of the library, going into a further conversation about your studies. You found out that you lived fairly close to one another, only a few neighborhoods away. You had walked to the library, not minding getting your steps in but when leaving Frankie had insisted on giving you a ride home.

“It’s the least I could do to make up for not walking you to your car after the last time we saw you.” Frankie nudged at you.

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you.” You said.

“No!!” Lili whined. “I want you to come with us, we can sing Little Mermaid.”

Frankie raised his eyebrow at you with a grin that made your heart slightly race. “Who can say no to that?”

And so you hopped into Frankie’s truck with your books in tow. Lili was your immediate backseat DJ, asking what your favorite Little Mermaid song was.

“I have to go with ‘Kiss the Girl’” You said. You knew it sounded corny, but it was the truth. You loved the buildup and the harmonies.

“Lili loves that one.” Frankie grinned, his one broad hand pawing the steering wheel.

“You do too, dad! Sing along.” Lili said.

“Alright, alright.” Frankie laughed.

Frankie played the song, and Lili started singing and swaying in her car seat.

There you see her

Sitting there across the way

She don't got a lot to say

But there's something about her

Frankie looked over at you, looking back at Lili with such joy. This was only one of the handful of times you had spent time with her and you seemed to absolutely adore her. Smart, sweet and beautiful. As corny as it was, there really was something there he couldn’t quite put his finger on but he wanted to know more. You briefly looked at him, sharing a brief moment as you gave him a small smile, shyly looking away. He had hoped he hadn’t creeped you out, your eyes facing back on the road but Frankie could’ve sworn in the corner of his eye that he saw you glancing at him again.

Frankie joined with a low baritone during the second verse, immediately making you laugh. Frankie had such a hard exterior, if you didn’t see him with Liliana you would’ve seen him as the man he describes himself as - the former Army member and pilot. There were many layers of Frankie you wanted to get to know.

By the last chorus you were all singing along in the car, Frankie yelling Scuttle’s lines making Lili howl with laughter.

Sha-la-la-la-la-la

Don't be scared

You got the mood prepared

Go on and kiss the girl

Frankie had pulled into the driveway of the house you had rented with your girlfriends.

“Aww, I don’t want you to go yet.” Lili whined.

“Lili, she’s gotta go home and so do we.” Frankie said to her. “It was so good to see you again.”

“Thanks a lot for the ride.” You wish you had more to say.

“We’ll see you soon? When do you work at the park next?” Frankie asked.

“Next weekend, but actually before that some of the girls and I are doing a tank at the fall festival in a few days.”

“What?! That’s amazing! Lili and I absolutely need to come and see you.” Frankie exclaimed. He wanted to know more details, maybe ask if he could get your number to know exactly when you were going to be there…but he chickened out, not wanting to sound like the creepy single dad wanting to know a gorgeous younger woman in all the wrong ways.

“Of course! I can go ahead and send you over some info!” Before you could even second guess yourself you pulled your phone out of your pocket and handed it to him. “If we’re going to keep running into each other, we might as well coordinate sometimes.”

Frankie grinned, entering his phone number into your phone. He handed it back to you; you sending a quick text to his number letting you know it was you. You stepped out of the car, saying goodbye to Lili and Frankie.

“I’ll see you both very soon and Lili next time I see you, I wanna know all about that mermaid book!”

Lili nodded exuberantly. “I’ll start reading it today, I promise.”

You looked over at Frankie. “I’ll see you soon?” You bit your lip. God, you hoped you weren’t coming on too strong.

“I wouldn’t miss it.” He grinned. You walked up to your front door, turning around and seeing Frankie’s truck was still there. When you opened the door, he began to pull out, waving back at you.

Of all the libraries, in all the counties in this city, there they were in yours. You set your books down on the table and thought about what to text Frankie about the event. A flyer? The specific time you were supposed to go on? Maybe you shouldn’t double text him.

About a half an hour later, you received a text from Frankie’s number.

“Hey! Can’t wait to get info on the fall festival. Don’t hit the books too hard :)”

You smiled, responding to the text almost immediately. “I’ll try not to. Thanks again for the ride! And the car karaoke.”

“It was the least I could do. And I do not mean the singing, I’m sure that was a sight to see.”

“It was very cute :)” Did you really just say that? You can’t believe you just said that.

“Well, I’ll be sure to brush up on my Disney songs before the Fall Festival ;)” Frankie texted back quickly.

Were you two flirting? Was he just being sweet? Whatever was going on, it was clear by the silly grin on your face and the rush whenever you got a notification on your phone to see if it was him that you were clearly not just enthusiastic to see the sweet Liliana, but you were also growing an attachment to her dad.

Whatever was going to happen, you knew you had to tread lightly or you would be in deep, deep water.

#frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #francisco morales #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fluff #frankie morales fluff

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hannahhook7744 · 9 months

Text

'Look closely, you will see! There's four of us (Just four of us)!' Au:

Summary: Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley are secretly twins.

Also the two of them along with Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins are also numbers.

Name(s):

Francine.

Franny.

(First Replacement) 006.

Birth year:

1960.

Power(s):

Precognition.

Name(s):

Ricky.

(Original) 003.

Birth year:

1960.

Power(s):

Emotion manipulation.

Name(s):

Jamie.

009.

Birth year:

1969.

Power(s):

Heat Generation.

Name(s):

Marcy.

009.5.

Birth year:

1969.

Power(s):

None.

Name(s):

Thomas Beauregard Hagan.

Tommy.

(Original) 005.

Birth year:

1966.

Power(s):

Super Strength.

Partially Invulnerability.

Name(s):

Caroline Annalise Perkins.

Carol

(Original) 006.

Birth year:

1966.

Power(s):

Fire Generation.

Fire Manipulation.

Fire Resistance.

Name(s):

Stefano Richardo Harrington.

Steve.

(Original) 007.

Birth year:

1966.

Power(s):

Regenerative/Super Healing.

Repeated Restruction.

Name(s):

Robin Elizabeth Buckley.

007.5.

Birth year:

1966.

Power(s):

Telepathy.

Name(s):

Jane Ives.

Jane Hopper.

011.

Birth year:

1971.

Power(s):

Telekinesis.

Telepathy.

Name(s):

Kali Prasad.

Birth year:

1964.

Power(s):

Illusion Manipulation.

TOP ROW:

Jeanie Perkins. She's a nurse. Born in 1942.

Andrew 'Andy' Perkins. He's a news anchor. Born in 1942.

Linda Buckley. She's a language teacher. Born in 1940.

Francis 'Frank/Frankie' Buckley. He's a garbage man. Born in 1941.

BOTTOM ROW:

Norma Harrington. She's a lawyer working in the family's legal department. Born in 1940.

Richardo 'Richard' Harrington. Business Founder and Owner. Born in 1939.

Jolene Hagan. She's a waitress. Born in 1941.

Jackson 'Jack' Hagan. He's a truck driver. Born in 1939.

Here's another edit:

Their comfort toys/first ever toys:

#steve harrington has powers #steve harrington is a number #experiment steve harrington #robin buckley has powers #tommy hagan has powers #carol perkins has powers #stranger things #stranger things: six #stranger things au

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kmomof4 · 2 years

Text

Hotel Neverland: A New Fic for CSSNS22

Hello everyone!!! I am so thrilled to share my entry for this years @cssns!!!! I’ve had this in my head for a while, and I’m so excited to finally post it!!!!

All the love and thanks to the mods for hosting another FANTASTIC event, @hollyethecurious who helped me get it plotted back in May when I visited, and to @profdanglaisstuff for her beta services and her expert advice on how to make this a little more unsettling, a little more creepy, just a little more all the way around... Thank you all so much, ladies!!!

And finally, to my artist @thesschesthair. Mandy is an ACTUAL SAINT for her GORGEOUS artwork for this fic and I am absolutely BESIDE myself for ALL of it!!! Please go give her heaps and loads of love for her work!!! She did several banners for the fic that I had a hell of a time choosing between, so I decided, why not use them all? And then, at the eleventh hour, she did another piece of work that sent me into TOTAL SCREAMING FLAILING CONNIPTIONS. It’s a bit spoilery, so it’ll be at the end of the fic.

But now, without further ado, here we go!

Fic Summary: A CS story for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer ‘22

Rating: M (smut)

Words: 6611

Tags: CSSNS22, Inspired by Hotel California, Ghost Story, Smut

On ao3

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

@hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @kingofmyheart14 @profdanglaisstuff @branlovestowrite @thisonesatellite @ultraluckycatnd @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @shireness-says @kymbersmith-90 @darkcolinodonorgasm @bethacaciakay @searchingwardrobes @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @aprilqueen84 @qualitycoffeethings @superchocovian @artistic-writer @donteattheappleshook @doodlelolly0910 @seriouslyhooked @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @xsajx @klynn-stormz @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @zaharadessert @elizabeethan @xhookswenchx @gingerpolyglot @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @sailtoafarawayland @justanother-unluckysoul @veryverynotgoodwrites @jonesfandomfanatic @deckerstarblanche @the-darkdragonfly @batana54 @purplehawkcaptain @k-leemac @motherkatereloyshipper @apiratewhopines @killiansqueenofthejollyroger @onceuponahookandswan @meat-pie-with-sauce @cosette141 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @fleurdepetite @hookmecaptain @o-wild-west-wind

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Killian Jones shook his head and looked around, thoroughly confused. He stood in the middle of the lobby of a hotel. The last thing he remembered, he was cruising down a desert highway on his Ducati Superleggera V4 on his way somewhere he couldn’t seem to recall. The sun was low in the sky on his left, bathing everything in hues of orange and gold and making his eyesight go hazy. He remembered thinking he needed to find a place to spend the night, and the next thing he knew, here he stood.

The lobby and common room behind him looked like the decorater had taken tips from the Disney Imagineers responsible for the Tower of Terror ride at Disney World. A thick layer of dust and cobwebs covered everything. Tiffany lamps emitting a soft glow shared space with knick knacks of every description, lending a fussy feel to the room, while overstuffed antique chairs and sofas lined the walls.

Turning to the wide, scarred, wooden counter in front of him, the only thing in the room relatively clean, he found a massive guest register the size of an altar Bible of some Medieval cathedral sitting on top of it. A row of old fashioned keys hung on hooks behind the counter.

Where was he? What was this place? Where was the staff?

A man sat at an old fashioned typewriter, clacking away. His eyes glowed with a barely suppressed mania as his fingers flew over the keys. He had brown wavy hair and wore an old fashioned brown leather bomber jacket that looked old and beat up enough to have actually belonged to a WWI flying ace.

“Good evening, sir,” a perky voice sounded from behind the desk. Killian turned and was met by a spritely blonde with a smile that, while welcoming, seemed to hold an undercurrent of mischievous glee and was just a bit too wide to be natural. “Welcome to the hotel. How long will you be staying with us?”

Killian approached the desk, scratching behind his ear. “Uh, not sure, really.” He looked around again before his gaze settled back on the unnerving grin of the woman in front of him. “I don’t… uh, I mean… I’m not sure what I’m doing here. Or where I was going.”

The woman waved away his words with an air of indifference that was even more unsettling than the grin. “Oh, you needn’t worry about that. You’re not the only one.” She opened the large tome before her and looked at him expectantly.

“Uh, Killian Jones,” he said.

She wrote his name in a small clear script and then turned to the keys, grabbing one off the hook. She lit the candle he hadn’t noticed on the counter and led him out of the lobby and toward where he assumed the rooms would be. As they walked along the empty hallway, he could hear murmuring voices down the other corridors but couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying. Snippets sounded like they were welcoming him to the hotel and expressing their hope that he would enjoy his stay. There were no doors that he could see on those other hallways, so he had no idea where the voices were coming from. He glanced around wondering about the thickness of the walls or if there was a hidden PA system somewhere.

They were suddenly in front of a door, and the woman unlocked it and opened it for him. He stepped into the room and turned back to his hostess.

“We hope you enjoy your stay with us,” she said, brightly. “There’s a dance in the courtyard going on now. The other guests gather there nightly after dinner and you are welcome to come join us if you like. Dinner is served at six.” And with those final words, she disappeared. Killian poked his head back in the hall and saw a couple of other doors nearby before withdrawing back into his room and shutting the door. He had no desire to join the dance with the other guests. He’d get a good night's sleep and leave first thing in the morning.

He looked around the room and his eyebrows furrowed in question. There was nothing in the room except a bed and small bathroom. No dresser, no tv, no desk. It also looked like it could use some updating- the paint was peeling in the corner of the room and the bedspread had definitely seen better days. He walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The clanking from behind the walls when he did, had him hurrying to turn the spigot off before any water emerged from the ancient sounding pipes. He left the bath and moved toward the door, planning on going back to the desk and getting a different room. As he stepped out into the hallway, the door next to his also opened and a golden haired goddess stepped out.

Killian’s mouth went dry as he tried desperately not to stare. Her hair hung nearly to her waist in thick waves that he could just imagine running his fingers through. Her figure was thin, but the tight blue jeans and white tank top she wore showed off the strength in her arms and legs. Sparkling green eyes he could easily get lost in turned to him as she smiled. His mouth snapped shut and he couldn’t help scratching at that place behind his ear that always itched when he was nervous. She turned down the hallway and started to walk away. Killian hurried to catch up with her.

“Uh, hi…” he stammered, as they continued walking.

“Hi.”

“Killian Jones,” he said, holding his hand out to her.

She smiled and took it. “Emma Swan.” She walked with a casual confidence that made Killian think she knew exactly who she was, what she wanted, and how to get it, and his heart rate increased with the instant and overwhelming desire he felt for this woman.

“It’s nice to meet you, Emma.”

“You, too. Are you new to the hotel?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah,” he said enthusiastically, grateful for any opportunity to keep talking to the stunning beauty. “What do you know about this place? The lady at the counter showed me to my room, but it could really use some updating and the noise from the pipes when I turned on the shower made me worry that something besides water was going to come out of it. I was heading back to see if I could get a different room.”

Emma’s eyes grew a little hazy. “Yeah, there really is something weird about this place. I can’t put my finger on it. My room is nice enough, but the people here are a little strange.”

“I thought so, too,” he murmured. The bad vibe he’d gotten when he checked into the hotel was completely gone in Emma’s presence. She was making him feel like this might be heaven rather than the hell he’d thought it might be. They continued down the hall comparing notes on the circumstances of their respective arrivals.

“Yeah, I can’t remember exactly how I got here, either,” Emma informed him. “I was heading somewhere…” she shook her head like she was trying to shake away cobwebs from her memory bank, “I can’t remember where exactly, but it was important, whatever it was.” She stopped and looked up at him, her eyes clear and intelligent, and Killian swallowed hard. “I haven’t left because I didn’t see the point when I have no idea where I’m supposed to be going.” Her brow furrowed in sudden confusion. “How odd is that? I just stay here because I can’t remember where I’m supposed to be going? That’s crazy!” Killian watched as the sudden haziness descended over her eyes again. This whole situation was definitely puzzling and edging toward creepy and he really wasn’t sure what he should do about it. One thing he knew for sure, though, he wanted to stay with her.

“So, where are we going?” he asked as they started moving again.

“Oh, the courtyard dance,” she told him. Killian nearly stopped in his tracks.

“The courtyard dance? Why?” he asked, suddenly feeling that anxiousness that had just hovered at the edges of his consciousness since he got here actually creep up his spine. He scratched behind his ear again. “I’m not sure I want to go.”

She laughed lightly and looped her arm into his. He was grateful for the easy camaraderie she displayed toward him, but it didn’t assuage his unease at the situation. It was as if she had completely forgotten her earlier confusion and agitation. “Why not? They’re fun. It’s where you can meet everyone here at the hotel.”

“Are there lots of guests here?” he asked. “You’re the first person I’ve seen, other than the lady at the desk and the guy in the common room with the typewriter.”

She nodded in recognition. “I don’t know who he is. He’s never participated in any of the hotel activities. Always sitting in the corner typing away on that old thing. He’s never spoken to any of us that I know of. As far as how many people there are here, I mean,” she shrugged her shoulders, “there’s not a huge amount, but there’s enough to have some fun with. We have the dance every night and we eat dinner together.” Her eyebrows furrowed again and her gaze cleared. “At least, I think we do…”

Killian took a deep breath as they entered the lobby- empty again, Killian noticed- and Emma led him across the room to the deck outside. The space below was filled with people dancing to the strangest music he’d ever heard. It had a peculiar, other-worldly quality to it, something that reminded him of the Twilight Zone or Dr. Who, although he couldn’t strictly say it was particularly reminiscent of either. And he couldn’t see where it was coming from. There was no band or DJ down on the floor. From where he stood, he could see probably in the neighborhood of twenty to thirty people down on the concrete of the courtyard. The area was strung with fairy lights in addition to the light of the full moon up above and from the hotel itself, making it possible to see quite clearly.

The man he’d seen in the lobby earlier was now down on the edge of the dancefloor, still clacking away on the old typewriter in front of him, still seemingly ignoring everything around him. Killian shook his head and continued to peruse the area.

Two men near the foot of the stairs caught his eye. One was tall and lean with curly dirty blonde hair and scruff lining his jaw. His clothing looked like something someone might wear on a hike or a safari- blue jeans, short sleeved khaki green shirt, boots. He had a wholesome, boy next door look about him, but his eyes looked a bit lost as he looked around like he didn’t know where he was. He stood on the edge of the dancefloor fidgeting, before moving toward the back of the courtyard. He stood there for a few moments before moving agitatedly back toward the stairs. The nerves on the man were palpable and Killian wondered why he didn’t find someone to dance with to burn off some of that excess energy.

The second man Killian noticed was dressed in an oddly ornate fashion- a fancy top hat that flared a bit at the top sat on his head, a dark blue paisley shirt with a black waistcoat over it, and black pants. He stood near the edge of the floor holding his arms out wide with his first finger and thumbs touching, as if he was holding something very small in his hands. He moved his feet side to side in a dainty two step like he was dancing with a child, his eyes red rimmed and a grimace was upon his lips. He stopped moving and climbed the stairs toward where he and Emma stood, seeming to be in some sort of a trance, not fully aware of anything around him. As he approached them, Killian could just catch his mumbled words.

“Where is she? I don’t know where she is. Who is she? I have to find her,” he murmured, before turning and heading back down the stairs again.

Killian turned to Emma and pointed out both men. “Who are they? What’s the matter with them?” he asked.

“Oh, that’s Graham and Jefferson,” she answered him. “You don’t need to worry about them. They’re friends. Come on.”

Before turning to follow her, another man caught his eye. He sat on a throne-like chair to the left of the deck and courtyard on a dais overlooking the dancers down on the floor. He wore a black three piece suit and the gold chain of an old fashioned pocket watch was visible even in the low light. He had straight, stringy, shoulder length, gray hair and an air of disdain clung to him like a second skin. As Killian studied him, the man noticed their presence and smiled. The smile definitely didn’t reach his eyes, or at least, it didn’t light up his eyes like a smile was supposed to. There was a cunning satisfaction, a slow curling of the lips in malicious glee that sent a feeling of foreboding skittering down Killian’s spine. He turned toward Emma to see her descending the stairs to the courtyard. Thankful to take his eyes off the unnerving man to the side, he followed, catching up to her just before she stepped onto the dancefloor.

She turned toward him, holding out her hand, her eyes filled with a come hither look that Killian was helpless to respond to. A slow, cocky smirk spread across his lips as he responded to her unspoken invitation and took her hand, drawing her close. They moved together in a sensuous dance that nearly made Killian light headed as all the blood in his body raced to where they were so closely pressed together. He tightened his arms around her back, holding her closer and pressed kisses to the long plane of her neck, tasting the sweet summer sweat that glistened on her skin. She tilted her head back, granting him more access as a low moan escaped her. Everyone around them- the other people on the floor, the man sitting on the dais, the man at the typewriter- completely disappeared as he danced with Emma. He had no idea who she was, where she came from, or how long this might last, but he did know he wanted everything she would give him for as long as humanly possible. There seemed to be a connection between them that he’d never felt with anyone and her behavior toward him suggested she felt it too. He could only hope he wasn’t imagining all this between them.

He spun her out and drew her close again. He nosed at her neck before placing an open mouthed kiss to her pulse point, making her shiver. “Want to get out of here, love?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Come back to my room.” She pulled away from him and moved to the stairs, Killian following closely behind her. As they entered the lobby, Killian noticed a bar area off the common room he hadn’t noticed earlier. Squeezing her hand lightly, he let go and moved toward it as Emma continued on toward her room.

Killian entered the lounge and found a short, rotund man with a red knit cap on his head.

“Good evening, sir,” Killian greeted him. “A bottle of your best rum, if you please.”

“That would be Captain, my good man,” the man corrected him with a genial smile. “Captain Smee, at your service. I’m afraid we haven’t served rum at the hotel since 1969, but may I interest you in a bottle of pink champagne?” He pulled out a bottle for Killian’s inspection and Killian nodded his agreement. He reached for his wallet and Captain Smee waved him off. “It’s taken care of, sir.” Killian nodded again in acceptance and thanks and walked away.

A few moments later, Killian stood before the door to Emma’s room. He took a deep breath and knocked. A muffled Come in, it’s open, reached his ears and he opened the door. This room was very different from his own and much more like what he’d expect for a hotel, although, admittedly, more decadent than any hotel he’d ever been in. The carpet beneath his feet was thick, and as he turned his head to the right, he could see a whirlpool bath and separate shower in a marble lined bathroom.

As he proceeded further into the room, he found Emma laid on a sumptuous 4 poster bed, covered with more pillows than he’d ever seen in his life. The lamps next to the bed glowed with a soft light that only further highlighted her beauty and Killian caught his breath. She was fully dressed, but she was still the most beautiful and sexy woman he’d ever laid eyes on. He placed the champagne on the desk before he dropped it and moved over to the bed as she sat up and looked at him from under her lashes. Not a word was spoken between them, but everything he wanted to know about her and them was clearly written on her countenance. Desire, trust, contentment, acceptance. Love? She was like an open book to him and he’d never take that precious gift for granted. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gently pushed her back and climbed up on the bed, covering her with his body.

He lowered his lips to hers, capturing them gently in a soft give and take that after their dance in the courtyard he never would have thought himself capable of. The feel of her hair as his fingers wound themselves in her soft tresses was like liquid gold pouring over him that threatened to drown him. He ran his tongue along the seam of her lips requesting entrance and she opened to him eagerly with a soft moan.

Tongues danced and hands roamed as they kissed. Killian pulled the bottom of her tank top from the waistband of her jeans and his hands found their way to her skin. It was beyond any doubt the softest and smoothest thing he’d ever touched and he didn’t think he’d ever get enough. He cupped her breast and flicked her nipple through the lace covering it as she arched into him, keening her pleasure.

She seemed to melt into him, her body soft and pliable under his hands as he undressed her slowly. He laved her breasts with attention the moment they were exposed to him before moving lower, placing open mouth kisses to her torso until he met the waistband of her jeans. He opened the button and pulled her remaining clothes down her long legs and followed with his mouth. Every moan and cry was a symphony to his ears as he discovered every secret place on her that brought her closer to that pinnacle of rapture. He watched her face as he stroked her higher and higher before burying his face in her neck and sucking on her pulse point as she fell, drawing out her climax. Once she came back to herself, she rolled them so that she lay on top of him and began undressing him.

“My turn,” she whispered, catching his lips in a passionate kiss. Killian’s eyes rolled in the back of his head as she removed his shirt and buried her fingers in the chest hair she exposed. She moved to his neck, placing soft kisses there before marking him as he’d marked her earlier. Killian didn’t think he could be more happy or content than to bear her mark for all the world to see. Flipping them again once she’d finished undressing him, he raised up and searched her eyes one more time.

“Are you sure, Emma?”

“Yes,” she assured him. “Please, Killian. I need you.”

She raised her hips to meet his and he could hold himself back no longer. Mouths meeting with a passion he’d never expected to experience himself, he slid home, capturing her long low moan in his kiss. Giving her a moment to adjust, he began to move when her legs wrapped around him and she pulled him closer, impossibly closer. He didn’t think heaven existed, but if it did, it was right here in her arms. Never had he felt the kind of bliss that coursed through him at her touch. Never had he felt such a connection with another person. Not only physically, but emotionally and mentally as well. There was nothing that could even come close to explaining it. He’d heard the expression, of course, about finding your other half, even if he didn’t believe it, but it truly felt like this woman, that he’d only met a few hours ago, was a part of him. A vital part of him. It was like he had found his home. The place he’d never realized he needed and yet had never stopped searching for.

She shouted his name as she convulsed under him and he fell right behind her into sated completion. Aftershocks shook her as he gathered her close. He kissed her lips softly before moving to kiss each of her cheeks, her forehead, and then the tip of her nose as he slipped out of her and fell to the side. Emma hummed contentedly and turned to him.

Killian searched her jade green eyes as he wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her close again, touching her forehead with his own.

“I love you, Emma Swan,” he told her. “Stay with me?”

Her fingers carded through his hair for a moment before she spoke.

“Yes, Killian,” she murmured against his lips. “I love you, too.”

She snuggled into him, placing her head on his chest like a pillow. Running his fingers up and down her bare back, he fell asleep.

~*~*~

They were awakened suddenly by the loud clanging of an old fashioned dinner bell. The sound was so loud, he really couldn’t tell if it was coming from within his own head, trying its best to crack his skull trying to get out.

Once they were fully awake, only moments really, the cacophony stopped. The blessed silence was nearly deafening. He turned to Emma, her eyes still wide in shock.

“You never get used to that,” she muttered.

“What was that?”

“That was the announcement for dinner,” she informed him. “Remember when I told you we all ate dinner together?” He nodded. “That’s how we’re called to the feast.”

“Seriously?” he asked, incredulously. There was no way he was going to endure that again. They had to leave the hotel before tomorrow night’s summons.

Emma moved slowly, but threw a sly smile over her shoulder as she rose from the bed, still naked. The last almost twenty-four hours had been, without a doubt, the best of his life. Spending the night and the entire day sequestered with Emma in her room, with only catnaps really in between rounds, made him feel even more connected with her than he had the night before. Killian reached for her, trailing his fingers down her side, delighting in the feel of her skin before laying back on the bed with his arm behind his head.

He watched as she slowly dressed and he couldn’t help the smirk of satisfaction as he looked at her.

“You might want to get moving,” she informed him with a raised eyebrow. “That summoning will go off again here in about five minutes if we’re not out of the room by then.”

That was all it took to get him to move. “Welp,” he quipped, sitting up quickly, “better get my ass in gear then.”

“And a fine ass it is, too,” she said, with another smirk. He responded in kind and bent over at the waist to give her an eyeful as he grabbed his clothes from the floor.

It only took them a couple of minutes more to get dressed and emerge into the hallway, guaranteeing no repeat of the extremely offensive wakeup call. As soon as Killian closed the door behind them, he heard a pounding coupled with an anguished cry down the next hallway.

“What’s that?” he asked. Emma shook her head.

“No idea.”

Grabbing Emma’s hand, he led them at a run to find where the noise was coming from. When they arrived at the door, he grasped the knob, surprised to find it turned easily. The door swung open to reveal a petite brunette with tear tracks running down her face.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she cried, falling into his arms. Killian turned confused eyes to Emma who just shrugged. He ran his hand up and down the woman’s back as he murmured soothingly to her. She finally looked up at them. “Thank you so much for getting me out of there.”

“Where did you come from?” Emma asked. “Were you trapped? Who put you there?”

The young woman’s blue eyes were wide in fright as she began to speak.

“My boyfriend and I were on our way somewhere…” she trailed away and shook her head for a moment. Killian shot a significant look to Emma who cut her eyes to him in return. “I don’t remember exactly where, but suddenly we were here and this man…” she shuddered this time, “He was here. In the lobby. He gave me the creeps.”

“What did he look like, lass?” Killian asked.

“He had on a suit,” she informed him. “He wasn’t much taller than me, thin, shoulder length gray hair.” Killian nodded encouragingly for her to go on. “He looked at me very strangely. My boyfriend didn’t appreciate it. And then when he welcomed us to the hotel, Will said we wouldn’t be staying, and he laughed, saying he’d like to see us try to leave. He had this look about him that reminded me of a reptile. Like a crocodile. Or a snake. Will grabbed a letter opener off the counter and ran at him. He stabbed him, but he just laughed and then I found myself in the room alone and I couldn’t get out.” She turned her eyes back on Killian. “I can’t thank you enough for freeing me.”

“Of course, lass,” he soothed her, putting his arm around her shoulder and drawing her into a side hug in comfort. “I’m glad we found you. I’m Killian Jones and this is Emma Swan. We’re on our way to dinner. Won’t you join us?”

“Yes, please,” she agreed. “My name is Belle French. Maybe Will will be down there?” she asked hopefully.

Killian shrugged. “I have no idea. But we’ll help you find him whether he’s there or not.”

“Thank you so much.”

Emma led the way down the hall to the Master’s chambers. Once they arrived, they saw all the other people from the courtyard the night before. Including the man with the typewriter and the man from the dais.

“You!” Belle cried. “What did you do with Will?”

“Oh, I did nothing with your paramour, dearie.” The man’s voice had an oily, slithering quality that made Killian think Belle’s earlier assessment of the man was quite on point.

“He stabbed you!” Belle exclaimed. “I saw him! You should be dead!”

The man laughed. “You can’t hurt me. We are all just prisoners here.” His eyes held a manic gleam in them that made Killian shudder as he looked around at their companions.

Jefferson had a speculative glint in his eye as he looked toward the ornately set table in the middle of the room.

“Maybe Will couldn’t kill him,” Jefferson said, looking first at the table and then back at the man in front of them. “But I bet if we all tried, we could…” He grabbed a wickedly sharp knife from the table and charged the man. Graham and Belle followed his lead, the latter with a cry of fury and anguish, and descended on the man as his cackle rose to the ceiling.

Killian could see his fellow guests were getting nowhere. Blood flowed, but the man just laughed and laughed and laughed. He grabbed Emma’s hand.

“We’re getting out of here, love.” He dragged her behind him until they emerged into the warm summer night. A highway leading nowhere stretched before them. Presented with the choice of following the road or going back inside… It was really no choice at all. “What do you say, love? Want to see where it goes?”

Emma shuddered. “Anything to get away from here, Killian. And as long as I’m with you,” she murmured.

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles before leading her down the steps to the road. They started walking but after just a few minutes, they could see a familiar shape rise up out of the evening gloaming. As they got closer, Killian felt his mouth drop. It was the hotel. The same one they’d just left.

Emma looked up at the stone edifice and Killian could see the tears gathered in her eyes. He turned back the other way- the way they’d come from- and could see nothing but the same road they’d been traversing cutting straight through the desert.

“It’s not possible,” Emma cried, burying her face in his chest. “Can’t we just be free from this place?”

Killian held her close and whispered soothing nonsense into her hair.

“Come on, love,” he cajoled. “This can’t be the same hotel. You’re right. It’s not possible. Let’s walk around it instead of going in and see what we can find. Maybe our vehicles are here, since we didn’t see them at the other.”

She nodded and jerkily wiped the tears from her face. He took her hand again and led her around the side of the building. What they found in the back, brought them to a complete and sudden stop.

A graveyard.

And all those who attempted to kill the beast at the other hotel. They stood motionless before headstones with their own names chiseled into the marble.

Graham Humbert

Jefferson Hatter

Belle French

Will Scarlet

Emma Swan

Killian Jones

Killian looked at Emma and at all the others who stood transfixed before the macabre scene.

“I don’t know what this means,” Killian began, “but maybe we can get some answers inside. Come on.”

That seemed to do the trick as they all shook their heads as if coming out of a trance. Killian held Emma’s hand tightly as he led them all inside. The interior of this building was exactly the same as the hotel they’d left earlier. Only this time, there was someone to greet them. A kid. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen. He had blonde wavy hair, but if the eyes were the mirror of the soul, then this kid didn’t have one. His eyes were black as midnight but held a depraved delight in their depths that Killian didn’t think he’d forget for the rest of his days. And the smile on his face… If the beast at the other place reminded him of a crocodile or a snake, then this one seemed to be the devil incarnate.

“Good evening, all,” the boy said.

There was a collective growl from their companions that Killian heard himself and Emma joining.

“Who are you?”

“Where are we?”

“What the hell is going on here?”

The questions came from all directions and the boy just waved them all off. “Relax,” he told them. “We are here to receive. And only receive.” The gleam in his eye intensified as he turned his gaze individually upon each of them. “You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave my Hotel Neverland.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed. “We can check out?”

“Oh, yes,” the boy assured her.

“That’s it then,” she proclaimed. “We’re checking out.”

Her announcement was met with enthusiastic agreement from their company and the moment they made their intentions known, they could hear a man’s voice from outside the hotel shouting. Killian watched as Belle’s face lost all color as she turned and ran from the hotel. Killian and Emma followed her out the door only to find her caught up in a warm embrace with who could only be Will Scarlet. Will’s name on the headstone next to Belle’s and her response when she heard his voice was enough to clue Killian in to the man’s identity. Tears flowed down her face as he held her close, kissing every part of her face. Killian felt his own eyes fill with tears as he witnessed their heartfelt reunion.

When they finally pulled apart, Belle turned to the rest of them and motioned everyone forward.

“This is my boyfriend, Will Scarlet,” she introduced. “Will, this is Killian and Emma, and Jefferson and Graham.”

“Nice ta meet cha’ll.” He waved at them and then turned back to Belle. “When I got that tosser at the hotel, I found myself here, alone.” He turned to the building behind him and Killian’s eyes widened when he realized it’d been there all along, but he hadn’t noticed it until now. It looked like a 1950’s diner and a sign above the door proclaimed the place to be Granny’s Bed and Breakfast. “Come on in.” He moved his arm in an all encompassing motion and led the way into the establishment.

As they entered, Killian saw the man with the typewriter again, still clacking away, still ignoring everything around him.

Will led them all to a corner booth and they all settled in. As soon as they did, the man at the typewriter approached them with several sheets of paper in his hand. He handed one sheet to each person at the table, except Will. Killian looked down and saw his name and birth date at the top of the page. Next to his birthday was yesterday’s date.

He turned confused eyes up to the man still handing out the sheets.

“What the hell is this?” he asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” the man asked him. “That’s your obituary.”

Killian’s jaw dropped as he looked back around the table at his companions, all wearing the same shocked look that he was sure he was sporting, and then at the paper in his hand.

He skimmed over the paper, and as he did, he suddenly remembered everything that had been hazy or completely gone from his memory since he’d arrived at the hotel. He’d been on his way to visit his brother and sister-in-law, Liam and Elsa, in Flagstaff after the birth of their first child. He shut his eyes as he remembered seeing a shimmering light in the distance and thinking it’d be a good place to spend the night and then waking up in the lobby of the hotel. The accident that killed him was still blessedly absent from his memory, but the obit in his hand made clear exactly what had happened to him.

He looked around the table at all the others. They were still reading, varying emotions playing across their faces. Belle laid her head on Will’s shoulder and Killian smiled at them before turning to the man still standing at the end of their table.

“How do you know all this?” he asked. “Who are you?”

“My name is August,” he answered. “And I am the first. This stretch of highway has been cursed ever since I drove my motorcycle off a cliff a little ways down from here in the early 1920’s. Innocent travelers must be and remain very alert on this stretch of road, or else they will die. Any hint of inattention or sleepiness and it’s all over. Because of what I did, I have always remembered and I have been tasked with recording the stories of those who find themselves here.”

He looked around again and saw that everyone was finished reading. Looking at the paper again, he told the others his story. When he was finished, the rest of them shared theirs as well.

Emma Swan was a bail bonds woman chasing a skip to Vegas. She’d been dead nearly a month and had left no family or close friends behind. She turned her soft smile upon him and Killian felt his heart flip as he considered how blessed he was to have this woman welcome him into her heart and her life. Er, afterlife, that is…

Jefferson Hatter had been on his way to the Grand Canyon with his daughter Grace. She had survived the accident that claimed his life several months ago and was now living with her best friend, whose parents were pursuing adoption proceedings since Grace had no other family to take custody of her.

Graham Humbert had been on a hike a few weeks before near the highway when he fell wrong and broke his leg very badly. Out in the middle of nowhere, there was no signal for his cell phone to be usable and no one would be looking for him for another week. Instead of falling victim to dehydration or a wild animal, he’d decided to take matters into his own hands and shoot himself. The restlessness that had characterized his behavior back at the hotel had been because his body hadn’t been found yet. Now it had, and that had been the impetus for him to be able to move on from the hotel.

Finally, Will told his and Belle’s story as he looked between all of them and back at the woman still resting her head on his shoulder with a tender and affectionate gaze. They’d been on their way to Vegas to elope. Her father hadn’t approved of Will, but Belle wouldn’t be deterred. It had been her idea to take off and get married and her father was just going to have to find a way to live with it. But now, here they all were.

August nodded in understanding. “When people in the hotel are ready to move on, they usually wake up enough to attack the beast who oversees the hotel. But whatever the circumstances, they find their way here. They find out what happened to them and are able to choose their happy ending. I’ll be leaving you all now. Enjoy your afterlife.”

As soon as he was gone, an older woman approached their table.

“I’m Granny,” she introduced herself. “Y’all are welcome to stay, but I only have three available rooms.”

Killian looked around the table and then noticed a tall leggy brunette approach them behind Granny.

“I think the two couples would appreciate two of the rooms, Granny,” she said. Then she turned a wide smile on the other two men who straightened up just a bit as her attention focused on them and smiled back. “One of you can have the other room, and the other can stay with me. Unless… you both want to stay with me, of course.” Jefferson and Graham looked at her, then at each other, and back to her again. Killian could plainly see what their answer was before either of them began expressing their agreement.

So began the Happily Ever Afterlife for Killian Jones and Emma Swan, Will Scarlet and Belle French, and Graham Humbert, Jefferson Hatter, and Ruby Lucas.

The End

Thank you for reading and sharing! I’d love to know what you thought! Don’t forget to scream with me to Mandy for her artwork!!!

#cssns22 #hotel neverland #krystal writes #art by thesschesthair

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somethinginrocknroll · 1 year

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Fifty-four years ago today…

The Beatles had their last concert together. On top of the Beatles' Apple Building at 3 Savile Row London, the Beatles, plus Billy Preston, played on the roof for their Let It Be Film. The band, John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, and Ringo Starr, with the assistance of Billy Preston, played for 42- minutes with Apple workers and member partners Yoko Ono and Maureen Starkey. Linda McCartney was present but stayed in the warm studio. The concert began midday with people walking the streets during the lunch rush. The show created noise complaints and congestion on the roads causing British Police to go to the roof and end the show.

#Beatles #beatles fandom #get back #roof tops #rooftop concert #george harrison #john lennon #Paul McCartney #ringo starr

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usafphantom2 · 6 months

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I was delighted to see this picture of my old friend, Jim Shelton. Whenever I think of him, I think of the story of what he did at the OL8 Kadena. Jim is a Living Legend

These men worked hard and played hard. There was an unannounced competition between the Habu‘s to see who could create the funniest prank.

My Dad, Butch Sheffield he, sent a note to the Wing Commander Jerry O’Malley flunking him on his own inspection of base housing in 1972 to make the prank even funnier. I was at the O’Malley‘s house with Peggy when Mrs. O’Malley started screaming, “We flunked our own inspection! She ordered her daughter to get out to the driveway and scrub the already spotless driveway! When Jerry came home for lunch, Diane showed him the typewritten letter expressing their disappointment in how they kept their house on Lakeview Drive. (written by my father) he signed it, Colonel Hornblower O’Malley laughed and put the paper down. I don’t know if they ever figured out who it was, but this is how those men rolled. I was fortunate to have a front-row seat at this event and many more.

Jim’s prank,

We had a lot of fun with the Flight Surgeons. To us, they were just kids hanging around the big kids; They were fresh out of medical school and flight surgeons training at Brooks Field. They had the meaningless task of checking us before every flight. We were all very healthy and needed little or no care from them.

To their credit, they took their job very seriously, and this set them up for some excellent jokes that were played upon them.

Jim Sheldon thought up the best one, and took place at the OL. Jim wired up the Old World War Two ambulance the flight surgeons used while at the OL, so the red light on the top of the ambulance was always on when the ambulance was running. The light was behind the driver and on the top of the ambulance and could not be seen by the driver. He then met the new flight surgeon on the flight line when the tanker came in from the States. The tanker usually arrived about dinnertime.

Jim briefed the new flight surgeon that the ambulance was his to drive all the time he was at the OL and that he was always on duty, twenty-four hours a day, and should have the ambulance close by at all times in case of emergencies. Also, because he was on duty, he could park it anywhere on base and to disregard any and all reserved parking spaces.

Jim told him how to find the Officer Club. The new flight surgeon was impressed by how important he had become upon arrival at Kadena and drove off the flight line and toward the Officers Club for dinner. He was also impressed how people would pull over and let him pass on the road to the club.

The Base Commanders house sat up on a hill along the road from the flight line to the club. The Commander was sitting in his backyard relaxing with a beer after a long hard day at the office when he saw the ambulance with its red light 🔴going passing his house on the way to the club. He quickly called the command post whose duty it was to call him when any emergencies occurred on base. The Command Post didn’t know what was going on at the base. The Commander jumped into his staff car and went in hot pursuit of the ambulance.

When the Commander arrived at the Officers Club, he found the ambulance parked in HIS reserved parking space right in front of the Club. He jumped out and rushed into the Club asking who was driving the ambulance and where was the emergency?

They pointed to the new flight surgeon standing at the bar ordering a drink before dinner.

The next morning the Habu Commander had all the crews in his office to explain to them that they had upset the whole base and not to do anything like that again, but he could NOT keep a straight face while explaining the prank.

Jim Shelton is a very brave American patriot. He spent 10 hours in the SR 71 Cockpit Flying over the Israel in 1973 during the Yum Kippur War.

Linda Sheffield Miller

@Habubrats71 via X

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dollarbin · 8 months

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Dollar Bin #8:

Judy Collins' Fifth Album

Judy Collins had it rough.

Like just about everyone else in history, her songwriting could never compare with that of Joni Mitchell, Sandy Denny or Leonard Cohen; rather she introduced the world to those artists by covering Clouds, Who Knows Where the Time Goes and Susanne. Nearly 60 years later we're more than content to listen to Joni, Sandy and Leonard's own versions and forget all about poor Judy.

And her version of Amazing Grace is nice, sure, but comparing her take to Aretha Franklin's is as silly as comparing my writing to that of my famous brother.

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And no matter how many times she posed in the nude with odd, defiant joy Collins could never compete in the looks department with Linda Ronstadt. Who could? All Linda had to do was put on a Porky Pig tank top.

Collins couldn't even win the boyfriend war. Joan Baez claimed Bob Dylan long before his ship came in, so Collins had to shack up with none other than our forever nemesis Stephen Stills, her sweet blue eyes serving as the muse for one of his only good songs before he wandered off to forever suck.

So it's no wonder that the Dollar Bin is chock full of Judy Collins.

(Please note that I bought my copy for a mere 91 cents. And that was in the last year. After noting this, please join me in praise of the God of the Dollar Bin, from whom all blessings flow.)

Anyway, don't be fooled when you see Judy's Fifth Album lodged between Captain & Tennille's corpulent dogs and CS&N's schooner of certain destruction. Snap Fifth Album up; it's awesome.

So let's drop the needle!

Collins' spent her first four albums stuck in the Hootenanny Spin Cycle, producing an album every 6 months full of churning, seasick guitar work and strident, declarative singing. Baez's sound at the time is similar; like stage actors 25 years earlier who couldn't adjust to film's close ups, early 60's folk singers, Dylan excepted, all belt to the back row when in the studio. It's as if they are unsure how exactly this new fangeled thing called "amplification" works.

But with Fifth Album, recorded in 1965, Collins achieves comfort and ease before the microphone, setting the stage for every studio singer who's come since; she sings to us rather than at us, and every moment is wonderful.

Let's start with Thirsty Boots. I always wondered why Dylan covered the song, pretty terribly, for Self Portrait. Now I know. Bob wanted to sound like Judy.

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Equally great is her take on Mr. Tambourine Man. There's a lot to say about the track; here it is if you'd like to listen while I ramble.

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Dylan's original hit the street in March 65; the Byrds altered the world's axis with their cover a month later. Collins' version didn't come out until the next Fall but it's unclear when she actually recorded the song.

Without any proof, I'd argue that she laid her take down that same Spring. After all, she doesn't sing the song as if it's a Dylan or Byrds cover. Instead, it sounds like she heard Bob sing the song in her apartment one night, demanded the lyrics, then went into the studio and owned it on her own terms the next day.

Sure, Roger McGuinn, who'd served as a mediocre player and arranger for Collins on her previous studio record, invented that iconic 12 electric string sound. Sure, Dylan knew his way around a six string. But Collins straight up shreds on the guitar; no one else is playing for her here. Had she been born 20 or 30 years later and not been shackled by 60's and 70's sexism, it's easy to imagine Judy showing Kim Deal, Kristin Hersh, PJ Harvey and all the boygeniuses who followed how to rock.

There's a lot more to this record. Collins' does her trademark thing yet again, introducing the world to Gordon Lightfoot via her cover of Early Morning Rain. Yes, I know, Ian and Sylvia put out their version a month earlier. But who wants to listen to them when we could listen to Judy?

A year or so later she'd take her talent agent shtick to a whole other level by famously talking Leonard Cohen out of his reticence to even get on stage. Collins knew talent when she heard it, long before others. That's why she relegated Stills to bass in her band in the late 60's and never covered one of his crummy songs.

Let's end with perhaps the most obscure track on the record, The Coming of the Roads. I keep a list in my wallet of previously unknown-to-me artists to seek out whenever I'm deep in the Dollar Bin. Because of Collins' cover of this song, Billy Edd Wheeler is currently underlined on that list.

Dear friends, I hope you are all well. Thank you for reading. I hope your next hunt through the Dollar Bin turns up something half as beautiful as this track.

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#judy collins #bob dylan #the byrds #mr tamborine man #stephen stills still sucks #sandy denny #leonard cohen #gordon lightfoot #Youtube #linda ronstadt

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cockadoodlebumtits · 1 year

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Mentioned all the renewed Goncharov (1973) hype to my mum and she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, your aunt was really excited about that film when it came out, she got all the girls at the office to watch it. They even made little leaflets for each other and made copies when the boss wasn’t looking.” I couldn’t believe it. My Auntie Pat, making what sounded like early Goncharov zines? Was Mum sure it was Goncharov? “Trust me, I remember. I used to call it ‘God, Shut Up!’ to annoy her.”

So obviously I have never rung my aunt so fast in my life. I hardly dared to hope she’d still have some bits of paper from her first job kicking around 49 years later (she did not appreciate me phrasing it like that, for the record) but she loved the film so much... Here’s what she could dig out for me without completely turning the house upside down. Apparently they were in her ‘important documents’ folder along with less essential things such as her kids’ birth certificates, vaccination records, etc. Full transcript below the cut.

[Image 1: A scan of a photocopy of the first page of an old typewritten zine. It's quite legible, considering. A hand-drawn title at the top of the page reads 'THE WEDNESDAY CHIMES' in capitals. The 'C' of 'CHIMES' has a little clock face drawn in it.

The typewritten portion of the page reads as follows (titles were originally in red, but are just in a slightly paler grey on the photocopy).]

A GONCHAROV ZINE INSPIRED BY STAR TREK ZINES – 7TH OF NOVEMBER, 1973, BRIGHTON

Joan Chipperfield, Nancy O'Reilly, Linda McGregor, Susan Armitage, Maggie Williams, Mary Coleman, Pat Hutchinson.

Thank you to all you ladies for contributing, please don't forget to put a few pence in the petty cash (new pence, Mags) to cover reproduction costs. -LM

THE CLOCKTOWER. The scene at the clocktower was one of our favourites, of course, but one thing we haven't really discussed is the use of colour in this part of the film. This was the turning point for the red-blue colour motifs, in my opinion, so it has a lot of both colours in the way it's lit and the various characters' [deleted word] palettes. I'm pretty sure this was when the Goncharovs' colour palette first diverged, with the first appearance of Goncharov's red tie replacing his blue one, and Katya still wearing only cool colours like her trademark grey/silver and her blue brooch. Obviously they're in two different physical places at this point but as the film cuts between them these colours show that they're also not on the same page emotionally. I think Andrey is actually [misspelt 'actualy'] wearing less red than in some of the previous scenes (even excluding the opening, which is in the future, where everything is red) showing how tired he is at this point. If anyone remembers exactly what Andrey was wearing please let me know – I'm honestly not certain. Did he still have his wrist-watch at this point or had he already lost it? -SA

KATYA. I just think it's really sad that Katya is trying so hard to make her life work even though everything is against her – Goncharov himself, her guilt over her father and what happened to him, even sometimes Sofia – but she keeps going and she is doing her best, but then it all comes crashing down around her anyway. -MC

GONCHAROV AND ANDREY. I don't know if this makes any sense, but it sort of feels as though Andrey is more like Goncharov's wife than Katya is. Whenever he has a bad day in the film, he turns to Andrey instead of Katya. And then, to a certain extent, this is mirrored by Katya's relationship with Sofia. She's protective of her and she's trying to help her make her way in the world, but she also relies on her far more than she ever does on Goncharov. I just think that's really interesting. -PH

MUSICAL SCORE. I don't know how you all remember so much about the film so long after we went to the pictures. All I remember is that the tickets were too expensive for how many times in a row we saw it, and I can't believe I let you talk me into it oh and also the music was very good, I enjoyed that immensely. I wish the orchestra would visit for a concert so we could all appreciate it again. -JC

APPLE FRIEND. I want to know more about the 'old friend' who gave Katya the apple in the market. There are so many unanswered questions about their relationship in the past and what that friend is doing there now, because aren't they in Italy? I don't remember if they were there to try to take over Naples or if they moved to get away from their old lives and events overwhelmed them to the point where they tried to take over Naples but either way it seems very far away to bump into an old friend unless that old friend was there for a reason. What was apple friend doing there? I think maybe it's a bit like the apple in Snow White, and Katya was right not to eat it. What do you all think? -MW

ICE PICK MAN. What was his name? Joe? I would have watched a whole film about him, to be honest. He was a very exciting character and in many ways he went on almost the same journey as Goncharov, only faster. I wonder if he had a Katya somewhere, waiting for him to come home. -NOR

[The page is signed with the typewritten initials LM, next to the page number 1. Both of these details are in the paler grey that was originally red.]

[Image 2: A scan of a photocopy of the first page of an old typewritten zine. It's quite legible, considering. A hand-drawn picture sits in the top-left of the page, incorporating the word 'CHIMES'. It is a scene featuring a small town with a church in the foreground, a river, and a small copse of trees with a flower. The river runs over the 'M' of the word 'CHIMES', which is incorporated into the drawing to resemble a bridge. The 'C' has a pair of clock hands in it, and in the top of the M is a little platform with two figures on it.

The typewritten portion of the page reads as follows (titles were originally in red, but are just in a slightly paler grey on the photocopy).]

A GONCHAROV ZINE – 23RD OF JANUARY, 1974.

Joan Chipperfield, Nancy O'Reilly, Linda McGregor, Susan Armitage, Maggie Williams, Mary Coleman, Pat Hutchinson.

Thank you to all contributors, money in the petty cash please. -NOR

SOMEONE WHO LOVES YOU. “Katya.” She turned in the doorway of the room, meeting Sofia's eyes in the mirror of the vanity. “I hope, more than anything, that one day you find someone who loves you. Someone who loves you the way you deserve to be loved.” What could Katya say to that? It was all she had ever wanted for herself, but it was forever out of reach. Once, she had hoped that her husband would be that person. But the time for such dreams was long past. She was silent for too long, and Sofia spoke again. “Well? Aren't you going to say it back?” But Katya couldn't. -LM

THE BATH. I keep coming back to the bath scene – I know you're all sick of hearing about it. But given Goncharov's fear of drowning and the unease and distrust in this scene in general, the fact that the bath was so full, too full, to the point where Goncharov can't even move without water slopping over the side onto the floor, so he just sits there and barely moves except to shiver... I don't know, I feel like that means something, and I'm going to work it out. -PH

A KINDER FAREWELL. Goncharov could see nothing but the gun, for a moment, his very breath catching in his throat. Then he forced his gaze upwards, to Andrey's face. “Must it end this way?” Andrey swallowed hard. “All things end this way, Goncharov.” “But must they? Can't we make some time to find a better way? Can't we just... go away from all this? You and I? Where they will never find us?” Andrey's hand, holding the gun, shook. He lowered it slowly. “Where could we go?” “Anywhere you like,” said Goncharov, and they walked away together. They found a little house in France and lived happily ever after, and nobody from their old lives ever found them. -JC

JUST A FEW NOTES. The opening scene of the film really sticks in my mind, because even though none of the other characters appear in that opening scene, the piece of music that plays every time Andrey is on screen is underscored by all those little tunes that go with the other characters. I noticed it on the second or third night we went – to begin with Andrey's theme is alone, but then it's joined by little pieces of Goncharov's, Katya's, and Sofia's. I think the little two-note sting from Ice Pick Joe's final scene even appears, but very slowly and gently. Very clever! -SA

NOBODY EVER SLEEPS. None of these characters seem to stop for a moment! Even when we see Katya and Goncharov in their dressing gowns, getting ready to go to bed, it turns into an argument and Goncharov leaves. (I do think it's funny to imagine him out wandering through Naples in his dressing gown, being angry. Scary Mafia man that he is.) And when Sofia appears to be asleep that time, she opens her eyes at the end of the scene, revealing that she's been listening all along. It's a wonderful film but I get tired just thinking about how exhausted they must be. -MW

THEY CALLED ME JOE. Disappearing had been a gruesome business. Joe hadn't enjoyed carefully staging his own death, arranging for a witness, manipulating events so he would appear to be violently killed. But there had been no other way. Joe had been trapped in a cycle of brutality, known by the weapon he wielded and not the name that meant family or home. Escaping from the mess he'd got into – the mess he'd made – in Naples meant leaving it all behind, both the good and the bad. It semed seemed to Joe that most of the people he knew there who weren't already dead would be soon. So he staged his death, and he fled everything that he knew, and he got himself a nice job selling ice creams on Brighton beach. He met a nice girl one day, and she said, “well, what do your friends call you?” “They called me Joe,” he said. -MC

[The page is signed with the typewritten initials NOR, next to the page number 1. Both of these details are in the paler grey that was originally red. End ID.]

(Also, credits: the paper background is by Annie Sprat on Unsplash and the font is Remington Noiseless, via dafont.)

#goncharov #unreality #i thought we were missing something #i absolutely had other things to do today but here we are #explanation in the link in the title

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