#I follow more than 600 people so my dash is crowded

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

Also, it has come to my attention that Tumblr has been unfollowing me from people I was sure I was following.

So, if you see any notification of me following you back, it's because TUMBLR DECIDED THAT I WASN'T WORTHY OF FOLLOWING YOU.

*grumbles*

[kaetastic]

MINE

pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader

summary: On the streets of London, Luca Changretta feels the need to show people what’s his [requested: @supermegapauselouca​​]

warning: fluff, jealousy

word count: 2.5k

notes: thank you all so much for 600 followers! thank you for reading my works! have a good day and please take care! and i will never get tired of @supermegapauselouca​ ‘s asks! thank you so much! i hope this is alright :) my goal was 1.1k but somehow it surpassed that lol

Luca Changretta was at the land of the iconic historical royal mess, England, to accomplish a vendetta, to bring justice to his father’s death which will never be left in vain. His father was killed by a flock of infant gangsters who waved around their guns, Birmingham gangsters. People of an organisation that could barely handle shit. A reason to why Luca was slightly elated because all they ever was and will be are weakling gangsters. Not the mafia. Overlooking the two sides of the coin, the Italian, without a doubt, knew that his side of the fence possessed things Thomas Shelby will never get to touch. Just the name of the man was enough for him to regurgitate the small breakfast he had in the morning. All he needed to do was remove the Shelby’s name from existence, and he can get away to enjoy his long-awaited life in New York with his lover.

Give them the taste of their own medicine; then he might be able to finally catch pleasant snooze or deep sleep in the shared bed of his house at New York. However, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get to enjoy the sights England offered. Despite the serious, vital business he was on, it didn’t hurt him to experience the foreign country. Although he’s been to England before for his cousin’s wedding, the limited time had only allowed him a few days of exploring the country he was once at. He was barely impressed with what the country had to give, there are endless words and they ended up with the name ‘spotted dick’?

With a hand stuffed in his pocket that only gave warmth to the tips of his fingers, his tongue caressed the bulging splints of the matchstick that pierced into the flap of muscle. As he stood on the bricked sidewalk, he couldn’t help but notice the drop in temperature after he exited the store. Starting a fire sounds good right about now. The noise of cars conversing one another overlapped the shouting of civilians, enough to battle against those raging factories in the industrial sections of England that clashed of ramming metal and screaming of roaring fires. There was one sound that remained the same in New York and London, a bustling noise that others would find irritating, however, the mafioso grew to like it. It gave him a sense of security, a song that he didn’t need to drag all the way from home. It also reminded him that he was not on a peculiar land of another life form; although, cowering around Birmingham felt like it.

The honking of cars echoed into his ears as if it was a practising choir of amateurs who set an uneven tone of screeching pitches and guttural hums, a song played on loop in the early rising of the sun. To be months away from home, everything started to rock him even though he reassured he was going to be just fine. The boat he had anchored on England started to dance to the wavering current of events. The Italian didn’t do well with seasickness, so, now he felt homesick. To make matters worse, the bag of coffee he had brought had begun to crumple up at the lack of the product.

He was deprived of the warm walls that were coated with hung framed pictures of him smiling, something he doesn’t often do in England. But, that wasn’t even what he had missed. There were nights he wasn’t able to find solace in the hotel bed he was to slumber in until he has taken down the Shelby’s. There weren’t occasional rustling of sheets or faint mumbling of nonsense in the middle of the night. The absence of her presence resulted in a rocky week of fluctuating sleep for the mafioso.

The prickly material of the sheets hooked onto his ageing skin, tugging on it with a snap. Travelling far from home once again, begun to peel his eyes to notice the fine details that he would usually overlook, things that didn’t bother him before, such as the frigid wind that continuously bit into him every time his toes would accidentally poke out from the heating sheets with every meticulous movement.

Luca was grateful he chose Henley Street, it was more private and reserved. Although, a part of him only wanted to stay in the Inkberrow Hotel because of its theatre past of the iconic, William Shakespeare. Though, it wasn’t good for his cranking brain. The Italian liked silence, it was where he thrived best, but because he was metres away from home, it was only scribbled in his destiny for him to worry about what was going on at home.

The torment of only a couple of hours of sleep ended when the person who consumed the majority of space in his head had appeared. After a long day of unsuccessful negotiations that were not met to his satisfaction, all the Italian wanted was Y/N. God seemed to hear his plead as she had been sitting on his bed when he creaked the door open. Even though he was against the idea of her being at England as threats can be imposed onto her (never will he trust Thomas Shelby’s words that spew out of his mouth), shoved deep down his gut was a craving need for her. With her presence, he nearly met with the floor once she mentioned coffee.

Months without seeing his girl was excruciating. International calls were better than scribbled lines on letters, but it was nothing like being in each other’s presence. Whenever he had time to ponder which was more than adequate, it always directed back to her. Without a doubt, the Italian was constantly concerned about his mother’s well-being since she was alone during hardships of losing her son and her husband in a barely digestible timespan. Audrey Changretta insisted on bringing justice to her husband’s name. Luca Changretta was a mafioso, but he was also mama’s boy. 

As a man travelling to England for a vendetta, he came to the land as a lover of theatre. Not even a hefty weight of carrying out such a traditional task will drag his shoulders down. With the addition of his girl’s presence, the Italian wasn’t perplexed to why he was on the streets of lively London, out in the open. Her words had always managed to enchant him, even before they were even official. It was as if she had the ability to cast a spell on him. It was something along the lines of ‘going out for fresh air’ and ‘not get cooped up in his own exhalation’. If she wasn’t there, Luca was sure he would be a drowning mess as months proceeded. 

The corners of his lips curled up at the thought of a happy life. A happy life with Y/N, and he was sure once the vendetta had been accomplished, the life he dreamed of as a mere boy will come true. The morning scent of cars’ passing gas and overly scented colognes battled on the golden street. Mists of smoke vaporized into the air, a present for those who lingered behind the vehicle. Gentle rattles of the metal vehicle jittered throughout the frigid metal sheets as uneven crests of the brick road created a dizzying ride. Occasional screeching of whistles from police officers trickled into his ears, to which he only let out a laugh. A smear of bitterness coated on his tongue. He wasn’t sure if it was from men who could barely call their clothing... outfits or from the sight hazed over with a pane of red. 

The white pine of the matchstick pierced into his tongue, slashing through the muscle to snip away his thrumming blood vessels. Across the bustling road was a pavement overrun by milling heads of crowds who weaved through strings of beads. The fiery head of the stick gestured towards the ground, neck nearly snapped into fragments of floating bones. Luca sat behind a brick wall to those who lingered their eyes over his suit or most likely, the prominent black ink cross on the side of his neck, but his eyes did not quiver away from Y/N’s figure. 

Although the woman who scurried over the other side of the road to check out the trinkets she had found amusing, it seemed her plans had changed. Mumbling about bringing souvenirs home, it didn’t take long for her to dash away. The Italian had to enter a shop; however, he was not worried, for his henchmen trailed behind her. After being with Luca, Y/N memorized everybody’s faces and their names. She was slightly defeated when she had spotted them following her even though she was just across the store Luca was in, but she was not surprised. The Italians were at war, which only led to an increase to his already high worry about her. 

Under the grinning sun, the woman who managed to enraptured his heart sent those smiles that would cause his ancient knees to bobble. Not to him, but another man. The glint in her eyes sparkled under the rays of light like chilly cubes of ice that were dunked in whiskey, under a faint haze of the sunset. Dressed in a navy blue knee-length dress, an outfit Luca was proud to announce an uncle of his had stitched, and the same-coloured cloche hat, it was a drooling sight for him in the morning. After insisting that the day had a lot in store for him, Luca was sure it was a tactic she had used because the night before, he had his nose dug into his papers. 

His jaw ticked. Throwing a glance at the pair of men he had assigned to follow the woman, they replied with a shrug of their shoulders. Fucking useless. A part of him nudged him to trudge over to her and swoop in. Yet, he was glued onto the spot. Fingers pinching the neck of the matchstick, he crossed his arms as he grazed his eyes over the scene. 

A giggle seeped through Y/N’s teeth as the words of the man trickled into her ears. When the boy who had been sauntering around with trinkets in his hands had paced away after she had taken one in possession, she was approached by a man in a two-piece ashy grey suit. His name was Jacob, a lover of travelling, a reason to why he had even pursued in his career despite his mother’s worried speeches. Even the reason for his approach was amusing, the odd man had found the horse trinket to be like that of his childhood’s pony. Although, he mentioned that the pony was slightly more... rounded. Without knowing Luca’s eyes were caressing over the pair, she had indulged in Jacob’s presence, “It is true, I hear of these buildings in America and I wish to see them one day.” 

The ceramic horse she had purchased sat in the cowering darkness of her purse, a noticeable addition of weight had sagged the bottom of the purse, “I hope you get a chance to see them. If you do, my boyfriend is a businessman, I’m sure he can hook you up with something, he’s actually in that store.”

Pointing towards the shop Luca had entered not too long ago, her finger ended up bullseye on his face. Y/N wasn’t sure what expression he wore when she glanced at him. Clenched with narrowed eyes, the hat that sat on his head smeared a coat of shadow over his forehead. The golden rings wrapped around his fingers glistened under the rays of light, blaring beams into her eyes. Luca quirked his eyebrows. Although she would have liked to proceed with the conversation, the blurry figure of two men in dark suit popped out in the corners of her eyes. Before Jacob had the chance to inquire for any other information, she let out a breathy sigh, “I’m sorry, Jacob. But I must be on my way, good day.” 

Jacob’s mouth cranked open, but with a glare from the two ominous people who trailed behind Y/N, it caused his mouth to zip shut. Raising her hands at the honking cars who yelled at her for sprinting across the road, she called out his name, “Luca.”

The Italian sauntered away, fingers fiddling with the toothpick as her voice fell on his deaf ears. With a huff, she stomped towards the Italian even though his colossal strides led her to go breathless, “Luca, look at what I got.” 

Yanking out the glossy horse from her purse which seemed to be painted by unsteady hands since wavering trails of pink overlapped to concoct a pastel purple which soon swirled down its poor legs, the corners of her lips curled down as she had only seen the faults under a proper angle of sunlight. Although she wore a toothy grin to the man who glanced at the mess of a trinket, Luca continued to pace to nowhere. A part of her became blue since she assumed he would find it hilarious to even be put up in their home, while the other was irritated. Y/N couldn’t care less for the horse, she was annoyed by his abrupt behaviour of a wild, untamed child, “What’s going on with you?” 

Slightly more exasperated, she weaved through the crowds who opposed current. Y/N felt like a fish who was streaming up a stream of water. Even though Luca’s lanky figure, added by his lavish suit was seen by almost everyone, no one bothered to apply the same to her. So, Luca sauntered at a casual gait, fingers twiddling with the matchstick, his legs were not crisscrossed or in coiled swirls, as everyone made a path for him, while Y/N had to duck under slabs of wood carried by workers and scoot around bawling children. Were they even supposed to be up this early? 

Then, it all clicked together. Halting on the spot which caused people to throw glances, the corners of her lips quirked up. Luca Changretta was jealous. The Italian didn’t know where he was even going, all he did was focus on the sidewalk and he didn’t bother to check the street names. That was when agile footsteps screeched in front of him, “You’re jealous,” An icy glare that would normally send everyone into shards of ashes was shot at her, which only made her grin. “Luca Changretta is jealous.”

Despite his stoic face and tight lip, her sing-song voice seeped into his heart. And oh lord, if only the corners of his lips did not twitch, the teasing would’ve ended, “You are!” Arms wrapped around the cooling fabric of his suit, she rested her body onto him. “Are you just gonna ignore me?” No words fell off his lips as he continued walking without hurling a glance. “Fine. Just to let you know, I’m wearing your favourite.” 

Shocks of volts zapped into his feet, tugging the strings of his leg to halt once her voice deepened to huskiness. Grazing his eyes the crowd, he could see her figure fading into the distant. Oh, that little minx. 

[tumbler-tidbits]

Bunker Bunch- Ch.6 Not in the Cards

@spnkinkbingo square filled:Impala sex

@spnfluffbingo2019 square filled: Road Trip AU

@spnsongchallengebingo square filled: Meant to Be by Florida Georgia Line & Bebe Rexha

Word Count:roughly 2,800

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: After the wedding you and Dean set off for your Heavenly Honeymoon in Vegas. But since when does anything go as planned for the Winchester’s?

Warnings: language, implied cheating (not really though, you’ll see), roleplay, playing hard to get, brief mention of bad relationships, dom/sub themes, semi-public sex, fingering, car sex, P in V sex, overstimulation, praise kink, FLUFF.

A/N: This is my submission for @crashdevlin 600 follower challenge. My prompt was the song “Meant to Be” by Florida-Georgia Line and Bebe Rexha. Lyrics are in Bold and Italics

A/N2: Thanks to my awesome beta @maddiepants 😘❤️

Finally. The Bags were packed and loaded into the trunk of the Impala, snacks in the old beat up cooler, and your man in the driver's seat. You bid everyone farewell and slid into the sleek black Chevy. Dean turned the ignition and Baby roared to life, it was time to put the pedal to the metal on your Honeymoon road trip to Vegas!

Things seemed to be going smoothly, several hours on the road in companionable silence, singing along to Dean’s classic rock tapes. Finally, after passing what you swore was the same farm three times you had to speak up,

“Dean, do you know where you’re going?”

“Course I do sweetheart, we’re goin to Vegas!”

“No, I mean right now. Where are we?”

“Baby, lay on back and relax, kick your pretty feet up on my dash, stop worrying sweetheart, I've driven cross country my whole life Y/N. I know what I’m doing” he replied calmly.

“But Babe I’m pretty sure we’ve passed the same farm more than once. I think we’re going in circles” you said clicking at the new navigation system that Sam had installed as a wedding present.

Dean looked at you and slowly pulled over to the shoulder. Once the Impala was in park he picked up the navigator and looked at it. He tapped at the buttons but the robotic British voice just kept repeating “turn left at the next stop”.

“Sonovabitch!”Dean mumbled, “its this stupid, convoluted techie crap that Sam put in! It’s busted!”

“Dean calm down. No need to go​ nowhere fast, let's enjoy right here where we at” you said trying to calm his anger and admiring the beautiful fields of blooming flowers.

Dean reached over and opened the glove compartment, only to find it empty.

“I don’t even have the map! He took my map? Dammit Frances when I get back to the Bunker I’m gonna kick your ass!” he shouted slamming his hand on the steering wheel for emphasis.

“Without the map, Who knows where this road is supposed to lead. I’ll have to pick one up at the next gas station” he sighed looking down the main road.

“I’m starving” you said, “how about a picnic over there in the grass? We got nothing but time” you said rubbing his shoulder. Dean sighed and turned the car off,

“As long as you're right here next to me, everything's gonna be alright.”

Dean smiled and grabbed your hand, interlacing your fingers together as you walked through the fields of flowers.

If it's meant to be, it'll be, it'll be

Baby, just let it be

If it's meant to be, it'll be, it'll be

Baby, just let it be

After a nice lunch, a quick nap, and some flower picking, you both piled back into the car to continue your trek to Sin City.

So, won't you ride with me, ride with me?

See where this thing goes

If it's meant to be, it'll be, it'll be

Baby, if it's meant to be

Three days… three days of pure hell. I mean sure, there were some nice moments, like the picnic with Dean, but for Chuck sake could anything else go wrong?! First the driving in circles, from the busted navigation, then you got a speeding ticket when Dean FINALLY let you drive so he could sleep, you got stuck in traffic for hours because of an accident on the highway, some asshat tried to mug you at a Gas n’ Sip and now? Well now, Dean hit a pothole and Baby blew a tire! And you aren’t even halfway to your Vegas destination!

So here you sit, at a bar, in the middle of the afternoon, while Dean mother hens the mechanic across the street. Your phone buzzed and looking at the caller ID you saw it was Dean. You answered with a huff,

“What.”

“Well hello to you too” he replied

“Sorry” you mumbled

“It’s alright. Look, I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news sweetheart but Baby needs a rim replaced too, so we won’t be outta here till late tomorrow afternoon...”

You slammed your fist down on the bar

“Sonovabitch”

Dean just let out a long sigh and you instantly felt bad,

“I’m sorry babe, it just seems like we’re never gonna make it to Vegas! Like the universe is against us and everything that can go wrong is!” you explained.

“I know sweetheart, don’t worry too much about it ok? We just have to adapt to the situation,and make due with what we have. We’ll be alright.”

You hung up with Dean when the conversation finished, and ordered a drink. You weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Eventually the evening crowd started to fill the bar, but you just ignored them and continued to nurse drinks. The music was blaring, pool games going,people dancing, all in all the night was a bust and you were feeling lonely without Dean. Then you saw a handsome stranger walk in.

He was tall, muscular, short brown hair and the greenest eyes you’d ever seen. He wore a smirk on his face that accentuated his dimples and implied his cocky nature. He strutted into the bar like he owned the place, and every female had their eyes on him.

He was a sight for sore eyes in his sleek black suit, though you thought that it was strange attire for a night at the bar. You turned back to your drink, no way he would look your direction you thought bitterly, besides your newly married.

So imagine your surprise when he pulled up the empty stool next to yours. He flashed a pearly white smile and you blushed. Actually BLUSHED! What the hell was wrong with you?!

“Heya darlin’ what’s a pretty little thing like you doing all alone in a place like this?” He says.

You roll your eyes at his cheesy pick up line, but politely reply,

“What’s a guy like you doing wearing something like that in a place like this?” You ask gesturing to your shared surroundings.

He raised his eyebrow in amusement at you and reached into his pocket, pulling out an official looking ID.

“Agent Plant, I’m just passing through town for a case” he said nonchalantly.

“Really?” You scoffed “what kind of case?”

“I’m afraid I can’t divulge that information sweetheart” he crooned and you rolled your eyes again.

“Don’t call me sweetheart”

“Well aren’t you feisty” he replied, clearly not swayed by your attempt at disinterest.

“Look, Agent Plant, Whatever your trying at. Ain’t gonna happen” you said pointedly.

He held his hands up in a placating gesture “Not tryin’ anything, just makin’ conversation ‘sall”

When he turned to leave, your heart fluttered in disappointment, and you reflexively grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Wait! I’m sorry, I don't mean to be so uptight, but my heart's been hurt a couple times…” you trailed off.

“Don't sweat it, but if you don’t mind me askin’ who would be crazy enough to hurt you?”

“It was a long time ago. I don’t like to talk about it. It was by a couple guys that didn't treat me right. I ain't gon' lie, ain't gonna lie.”

You looked down at your drink and fiddled with your fingers. Unsure as to why you were spilling your guts to this green eyed stranger.

“Well shame on them. I’m sorry that you weren’t treated the way you should be”

That peaked your interest.

“Oh? And how exactly do you think I should be treated… Agent?” You asked in a sultry voice.

He smiled, all pearly white teeth biting into his plush bottom lip before he spoke.

“Well. You deserve to be treated like the goddess you are. Strong, Independent. Beautiful… but uh, I’m thinking you need someone to show you a good time, and to be totally honest sweetheart, given the opportunity I would show you myself.”

You smirked at that, a warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach, mixing with the butterflies of anticipation. Throwing caution to the wind and suddenly feeling bold, you placed your hand on his thigh and gave it a squeeze before responding,

“ What if I gave you the opportunity?” You whispered in his ear while your hand slowly reached to palm his cock through his slacks. “Cause I'm tired of the fake love, show me what you're made of. Boy, make me believe what your saying to me.”

He grasped your wrist to stop your movements and looked young straight I’m the eyes before asking, “But hold up, girl, don't you know you're beautiful?”

“You think I’m beautiful?” You blushed,

“Hell yeah sweetheart, And it's easy to see.”

He stood then, grabbed your hand and headed for the door, pulling you along with him. You were smiling like a Cheshire Cat, and slick began to pool in your panties at the thought of where the night was headed.

If it's meant to be, it'll be, it'll be

Baby, just let it be

If it's meant to be, it'll be, it'll be

Baby, just let it be

So, won't you ride with me, ride with me?

See where this thing goes

If it's meant to be, it'll be, it'll be

Baby, if it's meant to be

He dragged you out to the parking lot to a sleek black classic Chevy Impala, polished and gleaming in the moonlight.

Surprised, you stopped walking and had to ask “Wait, I thought she wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow?”

“I’ll be the one asking the questions here Miss, If you would please come with me” he replied, opening the back passenger side door and gesturing for you to get in.

You quirked an eyebrow at him, oh so no breaking character huh? You thought to yourself before getting back into your role.

“I’m sorry Agent” you said with emphasis on the last word, “I’m not going anywhere”.

Agent Plant gave you a disapproving look.

“I think it would be in your best interest, if you got in the car sweetheart.” He said. “Or do I need to pull out the cuffs?”

You shuffled your feet and squeezed your thighs together to try and alleviate some of the ache in your core. You weren’t exactly sure how you wanted to play this game.

He raised his eyebrow at you in a silent question and you crossed your arms over your chest. He was over to you in three strides, his mouth right at your ear. Hot breath on your neck sending tingles down your spine when he spoke,

“You might really want to think about what you do next sweetheart. I don’t take kindly to being disobeyed” he growled, “Now. Are you gonna be a good girl and get in the car? Or am I gonna have to show you whose in charge here?”

You swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry, and shook your head. He stepped to your left side allowing you access and you quickly made your way to the car, giving a surprised squeak when he smacked you ass as you passed.You quickly slid into the backseat, and Agent Plant followed.

He barely had the door closed before his hands found your face, pulling you towards him as he started ravishing your mouth.

He wasted no time in ripping your shirt open, sending buttons flying all over the car.

“Dean!” You shrieked at the suddenness of his actions,

“Sorry Y/N, I need you, now.”

His hands roamed up your thighs as he pulled your lace panties down your legs, revealing your already soaked core.

“Damn baby you're so wet” he said swiping a finger through your slick, “this all from me playing fed?”

You nodded and moaned when he slid two fingers in and started thrusting. His long fingers easily reached you sweet spot and in no time at all you were crying out your pleasure. When you began to cry out and he clamped his hand over your mouth, while his other hand continued to fuck you with his thick fingers.

“Ah ah ah baby girl, you gotta stay quiet for me. You wouldn't wanna attract any unnecessary attention would you?”

You shook your head, and he slowly removed his hand from your mouth. You bit down on your bottom lip to keep from crying out your pleasure when he added a third finger.

“That’s a good girl” he crooned and with a few swipes of his thumb over your clit you were coming, as he swallowed down your moans with his mouth.

While you caught your breath, he quickly unzipped his black slacks and pulled them down with his boxers, just enough for his hard cock to spring free. You reached to begin stroking him and he stopped your advances,

“No baby, tonight’s about you” he said.

Then he kneeled between your thighs, lined himself up, and slowly pushed into your aching core. He kept his thrusts agonizingly slow and deep. So deep.

He worked you up for what felt like hours,the long slow drag of his cock thrusting in and out of your clenching pussy, an overwhelming sensation.

The only sounds to be heard were the wet squelch of him fucking you, his hot ragged breaths, and the slight creaking as baby rocked with the motions of his thrusts. Mixed with the way your sweat soaked back stuck against the seats as he fucked you into the hot leather was maddening. The coil in your belly was ready to burst, but you just couldn’t let go. Everything was too much and not enough at the same time, and you didn’t know what to do.

As if he could read your mind, Dean leaned down and whispered in your ear,

“C’mon baby, come for me”

“C…. can’t” you sputtered.

You were wound so tight, too tight, and tears of pleasure/pain began to leak from your eyes. Dean leaned down and kissed them away,

“Yes you can Y/N, just relax baby, I got you”

He quickened his pace just slightly, gently rubbing circles around your clit, as he licked at your stiff nipples, sucking one into his warm, wet mouth. That was the final push your body needed and the coil snapped violently, sending white hot pulses through your body as your back arched, and mouth opened on a silent scream.

Dean came at the same time, riding you both through your climaxes until he collapsed over you, spent. He rolled you both so you were snuggled on top of his chest, body limp and eyes heavy.He kissed your forehead and draped his jacket around you, holding you close and you promptly fell asleep.

The next morning, after you and Dean had showered and had breakfast, you got ready to hit the road again.

“Dean, do you really think we’ll get to Vegas? I mean, our trip hasn’t exactly gone smoothly” you asked. He shrugged his shoulders before responding,

“Maybe we do, Maybe we don't, Maybe we will, Maybe we won't, it doesn’t matter as long as we’re together. But if it's meant to be, it'll be, it'll be, Baby, just let it be.”

If it's meant to be, it'll be, it'll be (c'mon)

Baby, just let it be (let's go)

“Whaddaya say sweetheart? Won't you ride with me, ride with me? See where this thing goes?” He asked, sliding his hand across Baby’s hood. You smiled, and stood on your tiptoes to give him a chaste kiss in his plush pink lips,

“I say let’s get outta here”

You both slid into the car, Dean revved her to life, popped in a Metallica tape and cranked up the volume. Holding each other’s hands with the windows down and your hair blowing in the wind, you and Dean sped down the highway, ready to go wherever the road would take you.

If it's meant to be, it'll be, it'll be

Baby, if it's meant to be

If it's meant to be, it'll be, it'll be

Baby, if it's meant to be

If it's meant to be, it'll be, it'll be

Baby, if it's meant to be.

END

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[femmekisses]

30 Questions About Me

I was tagged by @hufflebunch! Thank you!!                                                                     

Rules: Answer the questions and tag 20 blogs to get to know them better

Nickname: Emily, Ivy, and Milly! Gender: Female Star Sign: Capricorn Height: 5′3″ Time: 7:17 pm Birthday: January 9th Favorite Bands: MGMT, TV Girl, Girlpool, Foster the People, Blink 182, Third Eye Blind Favorite Solo Artists: (Sandy) Alex G., Grimes, SOKO, Mars Argo, Gregory and the Hawk Song Stuck In My Head: Demon by M.A.G.S. Last Movie Watched: The Room Last Show Watched: Law and Order SVU When did I create my blog: Maybe over two years ago? What do I post: Nature aesthetics and lesbianism Last Thing I Googled: Law and Order SVU Season 13 episode 13

Do you have any other blogs: I have over 7, but only 3 or 4 are active. Do you get asks: Yes, sometimes!  Why did you choose your url: I’m not sure. It sounded cute. I’m about to change it. Following Blogs: UHHHH... ~600. A lot of them don’t post anything anymore so my dash isn’t all that crowded. Followers: More than 100 but less than 1000. Favorite Colors: Teal Average hours of sleep: 5 on average.  Lucky Number: I don't think I have one. Instruments: I’m learning how to play guitar, and I played violin for 4-5 years before I quit. What am I wearing: Jeans, my best friend’s hand me down shirt, and a really warm bathrobe. How many blankets do I sleep with: 4-5 Dream Job: Scientist (Environmental) Dream Trip: Þingvellir National Park, Iceland. I’ve been once, but I’d like to go back. Favorite Food: I’m not sure. I love food. Nationality: American Favorite Song now: Sarah by Alex G.

I’m not tagging anyone this time!

[thesak]

The Dunnes: ‘Stronger than ever.’

Twenty years ago today, Tim Dunne made a quick dive into a friend’s pool and woke up hours later in an intensive care unit, partially paralyzed. He has been an inspiration to his family, friends and everyone who’s known him ever since. Here’s a story I wrote about Tim and his family in 2005, as his sister, Kelly, was helping lead Northport’s girl’s basketball team to a county championship.

A passion than strengthens family ties The Dunnes: Seven-and-half years after accident and ‘stronger than ever.’

Northport Record, Jan. 20, 2005 — Kelly Dunne gritted her teeth and curled her face into a slight sneer as she lay on the floor in front of the Northport bench, the victim of a shirt-grabbing, arm-flinging intentional foul late in an ugly game against Sachem North, last Saturday.

Kelly, the junior who starts at guard, collected herself, stood up and reacquired the stoic look, the wide-eyed straight stare that she nearly always maintains as part of a quiet, unassuming na-ture on the basketball court. The teeth and the facial contortion were gone with a flashbulb.

Only family noticed. Kelly’s mother and father, John and Eileen, and brother Tim, all veter-ans of on-the-court battles and far greater off-the-court obstacles, were watching from the stands and on the sideline. 

“I don’t think she meant to hit you that hard,” John told Kelly after the game.

“I don’t know, I felt like I was Superman,” Kelly said. “Someone said to me, ‘I was getting ready for you to get up and deck that girl.’ I was like, ‘Um, no.’”

Therein lies the character, the determination and the sportsmanship that is embodied by Kelly, in continuation of a tradition set forth by her parents and her brothers — Greg, Richard and Tim.

Inspired To Succeed

Greg, 27, played basketball on the 1995 Long Island championship team at Northport and at Nazareth College in Rochester. He led the team to the NCAA tournament and was selected as an All-American while earning the nickname “the Magic Johnson of Division III.” He current serves as the assistant head men’s basketball coach at the State University of New York-Brockport and works as an investment professional in Rochester.

“I’m busy all the time, I’m working all the time, but it’s fun,” Greg said from Rochester, be-tween his shift at the investment firm Pics Telecom and an evening practice.

Richard, 21, also played basketball at Northport and maintained academic dexterity with nightly trips to the library and late study sessions. He is in his senior year of pre-med studies at the University of Notre Dame in South Bend, Indiana. He works at a homeless shelter and last year interned in the emergency room at Memorial Sloan Kettering Hospital in New York. Kelly calls him a genius.

“I live my life on the go. I’m nonstop,” Rich said from South Bend, following a walk across the campus where 10 inches of snow has fallen in the last three days.

His hectic pace is similar to that of Greg and Kelly, who balances basketball, performance in the school choir, study and a social life. Following a game against Walt Whitman, the week before Christmas, Kelly rushed to the locker room, changed into a sweater and skirt and dashed to the choir room to prepare for a concert performance.

“We’re very active people and we don’t like sitting around and waiting for things to happen,” Rich said. “We’re proactive people and maybe that’s why we work so well as a family. Being active keeps us going and it makes our lives exciting.”

Tim, 25, is an inspiration. It has been seven-and-a-half years since the steamy early summer afternoon, the week before graduation from Northport, when he made a quick dive into a friend’s pool and woke up hours later in the intensive care unit at Huntington Hospital, partially paralyzed.

During his recovery, and the years of adjustment since, Tim has inspired Kelly, who was nine at the time, to a precocious emotional maturity and Rich, who was in eighth grade, to a career in medicine.

“I spent months and months in the hospital and I saw how my brother and my family reacted to tragedy and turned it into a positive,” Rich said. “I saw myself being able to help people in a similar way, helping people who were sick.”

Tim has influenced friends, more than any paid inspirational speaker ever could, to grumble less about their own insignificant misfortunes and to live each day with a positive outlook. And he has motivated the Northport community to philanthropy, evoking donations to fund hundreds of thousands of dollars in needed renovation costs for his parents’ home, for the van that is used to transport him, for the motorized wheelchair that has become part of his visage and for other victims of spinal cord injury.

“It was unbelievable, the outpouring of support that people showed to me,” Tim said. “If there was a day that I didn’t feel like getting out of bed to go to physical therapy, I just sat there and would think about all the people who sent letters, who sent donations and it really motivated me.”

Tim graduated from Hofstra University in Hempstead in 2003 with a double major in journalism and psychology. He wrote feature stories during an internship with the local weekly newspaper, the Northport Observer, but had to back away from those duties when health woes and back pain from typing limited his productivity. He plans to apply to law school — his friend Joey DiPalo, the young man whose cardio pulmonary resuscitation helped revive Tim after the accident, is a lawyer in Queens — or a Master’s program.

“I’m really kind of indecisive about what I want to do next,” Tim said. “I’d like to go to law school, but I’m worried that with some health issues that I have it might be too difficult. I know that I would be able to do the work, once I get in there, but physically I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it. It took me five years to graduate [from Hofstra] and it really took a physical toll on my body. Even just to write a two-page paper it’s difficult on my back. ”

For now, he remains committed to being a fixture at Northport girls basketball games, cheering Kelly and sharing his observations with her, whether she likes it or not.

“Kelly gets frustrated because I try to tell her little too much, sometimes,” Tim said.

“Too much, every time,” Kelly interjected.

Bound By Basketball

John and Eileen were introduced to basketball while growing up in the Boulevard Gardens apartment complex in Woodside. They were friends, but did not begin a formal courtship until they reached their 20s, Greg said. The game was their first love and the infatuation grew through play in high school. John crashed the boards at Brooklyn Tech in Fort Greene and Eileen honed her shooting at Mater Christi in Astoria.

As John and Eileen drove toward professional life and marriage, basketball remained as much a constant as strong religious values and the strength and determination that have carried them through tragedy and triumph. It is a kinship that has been passed to each of their four chil-dren, that Greg, Kelly and John continue to foster and that Tim, Rich and Eileen support from the sideline with praise, critique and affection.

“We just all love it, it’s a passion,” John said. “Basketball is our first love.”

Between Greg, Tim, Rich and Kelly, and the leagues of the Amateur Athletic Union, the CYO and the Eaton’s Neck youth program, John has coached more than 600 games. He has attended well over 1,000, including battles at Northport long before he ever knew his children would play on the varsity squad.

“We started coming to the games long before our kids were even of age to play,” Eileen said. 

“I probably came to girls games before Kelly was born,” John said. “I would watch Rich Castellano coach before I knew we would even have a girl.”

The Dunnes’ early development helped aid their success on the teams at Northport High School. Tim, Rich and Kelly have each appeared in the county semifinals.

Greg, playing in the veritable glory days of Northport boys’ basketball, reached that level of the playoff labyrinth twice. In his senior year, 1995, he led the Tigers to 23 straight wins and a berth in the state semifinals in Glens Falls.

Along the way, the Tigers scored a 50-35 win over Bridgehampton for the county championship, before a capacity crowd at Stony Brook University. Several of the Bridgehampton fans, Tim noted, took exception to his brother’s razzle-dazzle style and, more notably, his overweight appearance. They drew a sign and hung it from a railing.

“Pillsbury Dunneboy,” it said, complete with a doughy caricature of Greg, who had been shaped rounder than the prototypical point guard.

“When I saw that sign from across the way, I got so mad,” Tim recalled.

Tim sneaked around to the Bridgehampton section of the stands and stood near the sign, a sophomore from Northport amid rows of enemy territory.

“I waited for the right time,” Tim said. “[Greg] made a really nice move and scored on a nice driving layup.”

Tim ripped the sign and screamed wildly at the fans that he suspected had made it.

“I hated to see anything like that about my family,” Tim said. “I just wanted to stick up for him.”

Nearly a decade later, the story of Tim’s self-guided seek and destroy mission still provokes smiles and a sense of appreciation.

“He went over there and took care of business, that’s the kind of kid he is,” Greg said. “He’s fiercely loyal to his family and his friends. If you’re doing something wrong to his family, you better watch out, even now.”

Greg connected on 4 three-pointers and led the Tigers with 20 points. He scored 19 in the Ti-gers’ Long Island Class A championship win over Hempstead and added a team-high 22 in a 57-56 double-overtime loss to Henninger in the state semifinals.

“It was a great experience because I was doing it with all of my best friends,” Greg said.

John coached several players from the 1995 Northport squad, in AAU and reached the organization’s national championship against teams from across the country, some of which featured eventual pro-fessional stars. “We grew up playing basketball in the park every single day since eighth grade.”

Tim played on the 1997 Northport team that beat Sachem to reach the semifinals and then lost to William Floyd, 34-28, in what became a battle of defense, will and perimeter shooting. Rich appeared in the semifinals in 2001 and scored a basket, as Northport lost to Brentwood 49-43. Kelly made her trip last year, while a sophomore, as the Lady Tigers made a remarkable run to a state semifinal against Ossining.

Kelly Green, Blue & Gold

Kelly’s affinity for Northport athletics, and her intrinsic relationship with the Lady Tigers’ success, began well before she ever addressed Rich Castellano as coach. At age 3, she was an honorary cheerleader, complete with uniform, for her brothers’ teams. Later, she watched as a fan as the girls teams led by Cami and Kim Ruck charged toward the Long Island Championship.

“When Kelly was a little girl and probably when the other girls were little girls, and any little girl that likes basketball in Northport, grows up and wants to be a Lady Tiger,” Tim said. “They’ve been to the games, they’ve been to Hofstra. Kelly came with us to the games at Hofstra when Kim Ruck was playing in the Long Island Championship. These girls have grown up wanting to be a part of the Lady Tigers.”

Kelly attained her childhood dream and, shortly into her sophomore season, left an indelible print in Castellano’s mind — a three-pointer from the corner to defeat Sachem in the 2003 Suffolk Shootout tournament.

“That’s one of my favorite shots of the year,” Castellano said. Kelly hit a similar basket in the county championship game against the same Lady Flaming Arrows, last March. “Here she is a slight little blonde girl canning the three from the corner.”

Well-liked off the court and respected for her knowledge and diplomacy on the court, Kelly has assumed an unspoken leadership role. She also has one of the team’s most singsong plays named after her — Kelly Green.

“She’s one of my favorite kids on the team, she’s just positive all the time, she’s receptive all the time,” Castellano said. “She has grown as a defensive player. She’s very perceptive. She’s got one of the best shots on the team.”

After the Sachem North game, and the takedown that momentarily pulled the cover off of Kelly’s cool demeanor, last Saturday, Castellano approached her with thanks.

“I just told her, I said, ‘Listen, I appreciate what you do,’” Castellano said. “She’s a student of the game; she knows what to do to win.”

Her brother Greg, the assistant coach at SUNY-Brockport, agreed.

“As a player, she’s very skilled, she’s not the strongest, not the fastest, but she’s got a very good basketball I.Q.,” Greg said. “She does what Rich Castellano asks her to do.”

Teammate Jillian Byers, the senior guard who also plays on the girls’ lacrosse team with Kelly, concurs.

“She’s every coach’s dream player. You want to have that girl on your team. She’s very determined. She has unbelievable court vision,” Byers said. “She’s an all-around person. She’s one of the girls on the court who you think, ‘should I give this ball to her,’ and you have total confidence in her that she’s not going to turn the ball over.”

Through the tragedy of Tim’s accident and the triumph of his recovery, of basketball championships and academic success, the Dunnes have remained strong and steadfast to live in a new kind of normalcy. Kelly plays and Tim takes down mental notes.

“Seven years later, we’re still going and we’re stronger than ever,” Rich said. “We’ve become a closer family and each and every one of us is better for it. We’ve become better people, we respect one another and we really love each other. I couldn’t ask for anything more for a family life.”