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redhoodieone · 4 years

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Wrong Number

Plot: The reader accidentally texts a wrong number when trying to text her best friend. But this stranger doesn’t want to stay a stranger to her and the two of them engage in a texting relationship. But what happens when the reader wants to meet this Jason Todd? Will he be everything she wants, or should they just stay texting buddies?

This is technically the 1st part in a series I want to do. If this is well received, I will continue on. However, this could also just be a one-shot.

Warnings: Language and some Sexual Content. Bold is for Y/N. Italics is Jason.

This has to be a joke. I can feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment, even though I live alone and there’s literally no one around to see me right now. But what I’m staring at is something I never thought in a million years I would ever have to see in person:

Vibrating panties.

Of course, the packaged gift is from my so-called friends who are sick and tired of me being single and horny all the time. I suppose whenever we all go out to drink or party, I could be a loner and isolate myself from the typical discussions of hook ups and current crushes.

And to get back at me, I’m stuck with a pair lacy black panties that’ll “supposedly” make me cum.

Beyond angry and shaking from humiliation, I send a very pissed off text message to my best friend and a picture of the sexual gift I’m stuck with.

Is this some kind of evil, twisted joke to get back at me?!?! What am I supposed to do with this?!?!

I can feel my heart pounding in my chest when I grip my phone tightly in my hands. A text message alert sounds surprising fast.

Sexy panties...but you’ve got the wrong number, doll.

I immediately freeze. Oh shit! I was off by 1 number when I was texting in fury at my so-called best friend.

I’m horribly embarrassed once again.

Omg! I’m so sorry!

That’s okay.

The purpose of those vibrating panties is to make you cum, in case you didn’t know.

I gasp in shock at the bluntness from this stranger!

Excuse me????

You were asking about what to do with them. In the first text message? I was just answering your question.

And you know so much about vibrating panties, right? So, what are you? Some kind of panties expert???

LOL. You would be very surprised, sweetheart.

The stranger sends me a picture along with that text message. A picture of the same product I have that they Googled online and took a snapshot of the details.

And trust me, I’m an expert and my partners never need this when they’re with me.

I feel my cheeks heat up.

Whatever. Have a good evening.

I roll my eyes. I don’t think this stranger will even text me back. Who knew texting a wrong number would cause me all this awkwardness and red cheeks.

Same to you.

I toss my phone on the couch and force myself to go heat up some leftovers for dinner, and to push the Wrong Number Stranger out of my head for the night.

��———————————————————————

There’s a chill in the air as I walk through crowds of people on the sidewalk. It’s almost winter here in Gotham, and everyone’s dressed in scarfs, jackets, and pants. Pushing my way through talking strangers, I quickly rush into the coffee shop for warmth and treats.

Being the third in line, the familiar ding from my cell phone catches my attention.

Did you figure out how to use the vibrating panties yet?

My eyes widen at the text message from the Wrong Number Stranger.

For your information, no. I don’t need them. It was a stupid, mean present from my friends.

Ah, really? Presents like that are usually fun and helpful.

Meaning what??? Are you assuming I don’t have a sexual life going on right now???

Well, considering you’re so against the gift and you’re shying away from talking about the panties, I have to assume you’re single and you have been for a very long time, and you’re very easily embarrassed by anything having to do with sex.

I instantly frown at that message, until they text me a second one.

Look, that came out very harsh. I don’t personally know you, and you don’t personally know me. I’m the kind of guy who doesn’t shy away or avoid anything sexual. I guess it’s because I’m comfortable with it and I’ve been told I’m a Sex God more than a few times.

I have to exhale hard and shove my phone in my back pocket to have both hands free to carry my coffee and blueberry scone to the table to sit and eat.

Pulling my cell phone out, I see they texted me again.

I hope I didn’t scare you or make you uncomfortable. If you want me to stop texting you, then I will.

I don’t know why but my fingers begin to type back even when I know I shouldn’t keep talking to someone I don’t even know at all.

It’s okay. I don’t mind talking to you.

I feel myself smiling a little as I send another text message. What is wrong with me???

My name’s Y/N Y/LN.

My name’s Jason Todd. And I don’t mind talking to you either.

I like the name Jason. For some reason...it fits you. And it’s good to know your name since I had you saved as “Wrong Number” on my phone lmfao.

Well, Y/N is a gorgeous name. I don’t mind changing your name on my phone even if it means “Sexy Panties” is going to be Y/N now LOL.

Jason even uses the laughing crying emojis that has me laughing hard. I can see he doesn’t text like other guys, because he tries hard to spell correctly and use correct grammar.

Maybe he’s an avid reader and an English major?

And for the first time today, I smile for real.

————————————————————————

I was in the middle of cooking spaghetti for dinner when my phone binged. Picking up my phone, I see Jason texted me.

Have you ever wanted to punch somebody in the mouth and knock out all their teeth, and make them swallow their tongue?

I raise my eyebrows in surprise.

Not necessarily. Why? Are you planning to do that???

It’s fucking stupid, really. Sometimes I wonder why I’m still around this damn family.

I’m sorry to hear that. If there’s anything you want to talk about, I’m here for you.

I can see the three bubbles on my screen indicating he’s responding to me. My heart beats fast.

It’s just...my dad, I guess.

His dad?

He’s not really my dad. He’s not blood related to me. He adopted me when I was just a kid, and ever since then we’ve been at each other’s throats.

Is he mean to you?

Sometimes. But I guess I can be mean to him, too. It’s just hard to be the kind of guy he expects me to be. He’s a lot easier on my brothers. Sometimes I wonder if I should just give up and leave.

This is the first time we’ve ever gotten deep with each other. I feel my heart beating slow and fast at the same time whenever we speak. His vulnerability and sensitive side is refreshing; the egotistical and cocky side isn’t entirely him.

I’m really sorry. I don’t exactly know what to say. But from what I know about you, I wouldn’t give up. You’re not a bad guy, Jason. If you’re trying hard to be good, then that’s just as good as being good in the first place.

The three bubbles at the bottom make me nervous. I wonder if I crossed the line. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything to Jason.

You really believe that?

I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t believe it.

For some reason...you believing in me makes me feel better.

I smile a little at that. I even feel a little better knowing I’m helping him in some way.

That’s good. I’m happy to know you’re okay.

I turn my attention to turn off the stove when I see the spaghetti sauce is hot enough to pour onto the soft noodles. My mind quickly turns to Jason. Would we ever hear each other speak on the phone? Will we ever send each other pictures of ourselves? Will we ever meet in person?

I know I want to meet him. For some reason, that thought doesn’t scare me even if I know he could be a serial killer and want to kill me.

But wanting to see what he looks and sounds like makes the butterflies in my stomach flutter like crazy. Is it even normal to feel this way?

My phone beeps. While serving myself a plate of dinner, I glance down and see his text message that stops my heart.

Do you ever think we’ll meet each other?

#dc comics #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd #batman

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oveliagirlhaditright · 4 years

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Red Oni and Blue Oni

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24226009

Right after Kairi rescues Sora, the two of them end up in France where Lightning and her friends live (a world connected to Verum Rex). And Kairi and Sora learn that they need her help in the upcoming Keyblade War. Meanwhile, Sora and Kairi become closer than ever before... but Sora becomes more and more unstable when it comes to the black box that they were able to steal from the Master of Masters and still have on hand. SoKai. Oneshot.

Author’s Note: The FFXIII stuff in here is post-Lightning Returns and Hope has gone back to being an adult again.

"Uhh, Miss Lightning? Why are you cooking me such a gorgeous meal?" "Because you need a pick me up after everything you’ve been through, it sounds... And I need an excuse to cook for someone who isn't Hope,” this Lightning Farron told Kairi as she smiled at her slightly. Kairi and Sora had ended up in this world after Kairi had finally found Sora… it seemed slightly tied to Verum Rex, but not fully—which was curious—but Kairi couldn’t help feeling that if they were going to defeat Yozora’s ultimate enemy, the Master of Masters, it was only fitting that they try to get help to do so in a world that touched Yozora’s. And that was what Kairi and Sora were trying to do right now… get aid from Lightning, her husband Hope, and perhaps Lightning’s sister that she had spoken of? Since before Kairi had started this new adventure, Master Yen Sid had given Kairi a device that would light up when she was close to someone who was destined to enlist with them in the upcoming war against the Foretellers… and the moment Kairi had seen Lightning, the heart-shaped locket had gone as far as to let a burst of light out of itself. And ever since then, Kairi had been trying to befriend Lightning. Sora, meanwhile, was outside waiting for this “Hope” to come home, so he could talk to him. “I can understand why you would get tired of cooking for one person… or two people, in my case. A few years back, I was the only one out of my small group of friends who could cook at all and Sora and Riku were always begging me for stuff. And while it was sweet, and I was happy to oblige, a part of me also wished they would pick up a cookbook, to be honest.” Lightning laughed at Kairi’s words, as she handed her a granola bar to tide herself over with until dinner came. Kairi opened it and laid the red wrapper down against the blue tablecloth, unable to think about Red and Blue Onis, as she did so. She wondered if she was, perhaps, the Red Oni to Lightning’s Blue one right now… "But at the same time,” Lightning told Kairi now, as she finished with her spaghetti sauce and came and sat across from Kairi, “even if you get tired of cooking for those loved ones, you still have to show them that you love them somehow… or they might fall to chaos." "Are you talking about your sister?" Kairi asked, as she craned her head to the side and tried to imagine what this girl who shared half of Lightning’s DNA would be like. Perhaps she would be the real other Oni... "Actually, forget that question. You must be talking about Mister Hope—he was the one we were discussing last, I mean—but I know Serah's the most important person to-" "It's okay, Kairi,” Lightning winked, whilst eating a protein bar herself. “I was talking about Hope, but it could apply to Serah, too." That sounded about right to Kairi. She knew that Miss Lightning was in love with this Hope... but she was also aware that Lightning's little sister, Serah, was the most important person in the world to her, since she had almost become her surrogate mother after their parents had died. And it made Kairi think of herself a bit, because while she loved Sora with all her heart... the other relationships in her life—such as her ones with Riku, Naminé, and Selphie—were just as important to her as that one was. "But, yes... Serah could have easily fallen, if she had been too weak and allowed herself to be seduced by a dream world she’d told me about... or if she had walked the road of the Seeress in the twisted way that a part of Yeul did, and decided to call the Chaos her home." "Right..." If Kairi was being honest with herself, she thought that she had to worry about similar things when it came to Sora now… for she feared what might happen now if he continued chasing the unobtainable dream that was her. She knew their last separation had really hurt him… and he wrongfully blamed himself not just for “letting her die”, but for having broken her heart in the worst way possible… But it hadn’t been his fault. None of it had. "But enough of this dreary talk. Do you want to go see some of France? I think it might make you feel better about what’s to come.” “I- I do. But if you don’t mind, I think I might go look myself. I need just a second of fresh air.” And before Lightning could answer her, Kairi went outside onto Lightning’s front porch (Sora was on the front one), and found herself wondering if she’d always be connected to great darkness since she herself had so much light. If she had to bear that, she’d bear it proudly. But Kairi didn’t want to think about that right now. Rather, she wanted to take in these modern streets, sprawling flowers on the edges of sidewalks, and fountains before her. Kairi was at one such fountain now… and as she took a deep breath, she tried to deal with the knowledge that Sora could potentially turn evil now (when she had first found him, he’d squeezed her as he’d told her that he’d somehow sensed some terrible… wishes that people had had for her, Riku, and the others… and how intent he was, had scared Kairi in that moment) and dropped one of her coins into the water, making her own wish. Lightning had also hinted to Kairi before, that Hope—or was it someone who had possessed him?—had become evil in a pragmatic kind of way… so did that mean that Sora would be okay in the end, like that ray of sunshine, or- It was just as Kairi was starting to fall into despair again, despite herself, that she felt a hand on her shoulder. And she would have known that touch anywhere… it was Sora. Years of reaching for Sora’s hand—and often being denied it—had ingrained the feeling of it into her heart… and she cherished that. She really did. And so, she laid a hand over his now. “Kairi?” Sora asked her now, as he gently turned her around to face him and looked at her with the sweetest eyes. “Are you alright? Miss Lightning said that you might be… upset about something. But here: why don’t you come in and eat supper with us and deal with it with us? You must be cold.” There was a part of Kairi that wanted to gently remind Sora that she knew how to use a fire spell now, if she really needed it… but she didn’t. No, she was too touched by his kindness and concern more than anything else. And maybe that meant he’d never turn away from her again… even if he thought he had to do so to protect her. Kairi walked towards Sora now—so that her head was leaning against his chest, and she then grabbed his arms to wrap around her waist… and it felt nice. It had been too long since they’d been able to be in each other’s arms like this. They’d barely even touched when they’d reunited, because they’d known right around that they needed to get Lightning into their party… so this really was the dream that both of them had longed for for years. Overhead, the last of the light from the sun had given out to bathe the area in darkness. But that was okay. Sparkling lights were coming on around them, making the situation even more romantic than it had been. Kairi blushed. “Sounds good, Sora,” Kairi relented, pulling away from him and only just resisting to kiss those sweet lips as they gazed at each other. “…Let’s go to our temporary home for right now.” And was Kairi imagining it, or could she almost feel his smile as he slowly but surely brought his face away from hers? “Only if my real home goes with me.” And it was a cheesy line—it was. Kairi knew it, Riku would have known it, and Kairi imagined that all of the worlds probably did—but she couldn’t help feeling touched by it, all the same… and to almost turn into a pile of goo. Hand-in-hand, the two made it back to Lightning’s home… and while the spaghetti was cold when Kairi and Sora eventually got to it… it was still the most delicious and romantic meal they’d ever had. … That night, Kairi had a hard time trying to sleep… for as awful and disrespectful as it would have been, she kept finding herself wanting to go over to Sora’s room and to sleep with him… since they’d finally shared a few, chaste kisses after dinner… and one that hadn’t been as much. And all of the newness of this, was making her heart sore and beg for more. But Kairi was also concerned about doing this… and not just for the obvious reasons. It was just that… earlier, she had been afraid what could happen to Sora—and the world—if he let his darkness out again, like he temporarily had when she’d found him. And didn’t most people associate… sex with darkness? So, could it be dangerous if they went forward with that kind of thing? …Just what was she thinking?! Kairi demanded of herself, as she made herself lay back on her mattress and ran a hand over her forehead. She was a Princess of Heart… she wasn’t going to go barge into Sora’s room… and do things with him while they were guests in a stranger’s house, was she? Kairi was about to tell herself “no”—that of course she wasn’t going to—and just demand that her body knock her out, so she could get a good night’s sleep and talk to Lightning, Hope, and Serah (when she got here) tomorrow, but she was much too keyed up to do that. So instead, Kairi found herself walking over to Sora’s room like a thief in the knight. When Kairi slithered into there, she told herself that she was just going to cuddle with Sora and keep everything as innocent as they usually were… especially since Sora was just reading a book right now—and clearly wasn’t interested—but Kairi didn’t trust herself anymore… so she fell onto his bed, stomach-first, and groaned. What was wrong with her? And why was she disappointed that he still wasn’t looking at her? “You okay, Kairi?” Sora asked as he refused to give her even a glance, but rather turned the page. Kairi huffed at that and sent Sora a glare. And, yes. She may have even had the gall to steal the novel away from him… to which he instantly cried out, “Hey!” But Kairi wasn’t having it. “You’re reading, Sora?” Kairi demanded, not able to keep some of the hurt out of her voice. What? Wasn’t she attractive to him, or- But he instantly made her cool down via his selflessness, as always, as he tried to explain his thoughts to her. “I just feel… I didn’t study enough on my last adventures, Kairi. Maybe if I had, I could have found a more peaceful solution to some things... And I have to say, this book’s idea of having a resistance set up at a base that can only be reached through a certain secret passage, is genius.” Oh. What was Sora thinking, then? That they could try and hide away the black box of the Master of Master’s that they’d acquired? Or was he implying that they should try and hide from their problems now and ignore them, because they’d done enough? As Kairi laid down with Sora now—so that her back was to his chest and her head under his chin—she found herself following his train of thought, perhaps. “Sora… do you ever wonder what the point of all of this is? That we’re going to hide this box, maybe—because what else can we do with it—but eventually someone’s going to find it again, after the Master of Masters has fallen away, and we’ll be back to square one?” Sora flinched at this… and Kairi could hardly blame him; she laid her head on his stomach and began massaging it, to try and make her feel better about her question. “If they do… then we’ll stop them, or someone else will pick up the torch. Which isn’t the ideal answer, I know, but…” “It’s all we can do, and somehow that’s the only answer… I know. I know,” Kairi finished what he’d surely been about to say, but he surprised her as he lifted her face to look at his. “Except… that it isn’t, Kairi. There never is one answer—least of all for us—I was so sure back then, that I had to finish my duties before I let myself do what I wanted, in giving you the time of day. But I-” “Sora?” Kairi started, as she tried to pull away from him… but he wouldn’t let her. Not in a demanding or possessive way at all, but as if he knew she’d misunderstood him and didn’t want her to bolt before he could explain himself. “Are you feeling guilty for… for ‘taking me for granted’ before, because I told you-“ “No, Kairi. I’m not… I just- I just want to love you. Is that alright? Let me love you.” And she did. … The next morning, Kairi heard that Sora and Hope were having some conversation about boomerangs. Apparently, Sora was sad he’d never learned how to transform his Keyblade into one—or been able to use a Keychain to somewhat make his Keyblade resemble one—and was trying to figure out if he could do so now. Hope was only too happy to help, it seemed. And all three girls present laughed—being unable to find the conversation anything but adorable and amusing. “How’ve you been, Serah? The husband treating you well? He’d better be,” Lightning said, as she reached across the kitchen table the ladies were sitting at and took her sister’s hands in her own. Serah smiled at Lightning and squeezed her hands… and it made Kairi miss Naminé and Xion. “We’re doing great, Claire. I promise… Snow still feels bad about how he was in Yusnaan, but we’re working through it. Right now, he’s being in absolute angel in being a substitute teacher for me so that I can visit you. Work wouldn’t have let me go, otherwise.” And it seemed to Kairi, that if Lightning had ever thought she had reason to approve of this “Snow” before, it was nothing compared to how much she did now. “Next time you see him, be sure to give him my thanks,” Lightning whispered. “Or maybe I’ll pick a phone up and tell him myself.” “You probably should call Snow, Claire, so that you can both stop pretending that you’re not the closest of in-laws… but I’ll be sure to tell him, too… “And I’m sorry, Miss Kairi and Mister Sora. I’m afraid I haven’t properly introduced myself! I’m Serah,” the younger Farron sister muttered as she shook first Kairi’s hand and then Sora’s. “Nice to meet you!” “Nice to meet you,” Kairi and Sora chirped at the same time. And it made Kairi want to give Sora an Eskimo Kiss for it, for proving more and more why they were perfect together. But she surprisingly held herself back. Later, Kairi, Serah, and even Lightning found themselves working together to make a scrapbook… And Kairi would have liked to say it was because she was trying to bond with Light and Serah—so they’d help them out in this Keyblade War, or whatever it would be—but honestly? She just needed some rest and relaxation, and to find her old self some, since she’d nearly killed herself in trying to bring Sora back… but not that she’d ever change it. Sora and Hope had moved onto more serious topics, however, and Kairi could make most of it out—even though she wasn’t trying to spy—as she cut out a picture of a father and his little son to put onto a photo of a flying ship. “Are you doing better… from how calculated you became when that Bhunivelze possessed you? Or do you still slip into that kind of mindset at all?” “Heh,” Kairi heard Hope say, as he finished carving a Keychain for Sora (why Lightning had let wood working tools into her house, Kairi wasn’t sure, but since Lightning seemed more a fighter than a chef… maybe she moreso didn’t understand why people wasted their times with fancy dinners in the kitchen). “You’re worried that you’re going to become heartless. That you’re going to turn into a monster, because you want to destroy this box of yours, that has people’s wishes for revenge in it: the only wishes that kept them going at some point.” “Sora…” Kairi started—giving up on the guise that she hadn’t been paying attention to him, because this was certainly news to her—but Sora was already acting like everything was fine. He completely ignored that Kairi had said his name, which hurt after the previous night, and walked over to Lightning to talk to her. “Miss Lightning? That pasta you made with olive oil was amazing… do you mind if I have the recipe?” Lightning grinned the slightest bit—as she began leading Sora to the cabinets above the kitchen sink, where this recipe apparently was. “…Thank you. Hope, my loser of a husband, doesn’t like tomato sauce… so I have to do something. But while I became quite the chef on my last journey… it was actually Serah who gave me the idea to use olive oil.” Everyone was laughing together now. Hope was ribbing Lightning for calling him her “loser husband”, and she only teased him back harder… Sora and Serah were bonding over their love for olive oil. And even Kairi had jumped in, to kind-heartedly tell Hope to not take any of Lightning’s joking seriously, because she always liked to poke fun at Sora… but even during all of this mirth, Kairi couldn’t help the foreboding that had settled within her stomach… and a single tear sled down her face. … That night, Kairi found Sora trying to destroy the black box… just like she knew he would. For some poetic reason, he had chosen to do so in the gorgeous plaza they had been in together the night before… As Kairi had tried to rest that night, she’d felt Sora’s strain in her own heart (and had, perhaps, even heard the loud clank, clank, clank that could be heard from him striking the metal with his Keyblade again and again, Kairi thought wryly) and had found her way to him. And as Kairi walked to him now, Sora had already given up and was running into her arms as he sobbed. Kairi whispered sweet nothings into his ear as she ran a hand through his hair, and stared angrily at the cobblestone before her—daring anyone or anything to try and hurt him even more right now; if they attempted it, she would destroy them. “Kairi… of course I couldn’t leave well enough alone. Of course I couldn’t. I thought that if I could solve the mystery of the box now, I could save us some hurt down the road. And I’m sorry for that. I’m so sorry!” …Somehow, Kairi didn’t think Sora was sorry for keeping things from her or being self-sacrificing, but was just sorry that he hadn’t succeeded and she’d found him like this. It made Kairi worry her lip, but she tried not to let him see… because she really still had no idea what was happening, after all. “Sora,” Kairi hummed his name, when she thought he had calmed down enough that he wouldn’t get upset—or lie again—if she questioned him. “You didn’t tell me that the box housed people’s desire for revenge. And… as dark as that idea is, does anyone have any right to destroy it, then? As in… poor taste as these ‘wishes’ were, they were the only thing that kept those doomed souls going. If we don’t know for sure if the box will hurt us with those curses… I think it’s riskier to try and do something to it and unlock its vengeance thatway.” “You’re… right, Kairi,” Sora told her as he kissed her neck now. But he didn’t do so in a way as to seduce her, as he had eventually done last night (and Kairi shivered in remembering how good that all had been), but as a way to say he loved her… and perhaps something else that Kairi couldn’t figure out. “I’m just trying to take too much on by myself, as I always do… but I’ll- I’ll stop. I think- I think we got Light and her friends to help us when the time comes. So why don’t we go home and see Riku now?” “Okay!” Kairi agreed, finally making good on her desire to stand on her tiptoes to kiss Sora’s nose, because if Sora was talking about Riku he must have been back to his old self. “Sounds good to me! You know how I miss Riku.” And the two of them headed back to Destiny Islands… but Kairi should have known something was wrong with Sora then, since he was acting like Destiny Islands was home… when he’d long ago said that it was wherever she was. … It was some months later—when Kairi, Sora, Riku, Donald, and Goofy were in a new world together… a cave, where some demigods and a god were there?—that Sora’s desire to get rid of the box came back again. Riku had just taken a fatal wound to the chest… and while Kairi and Donald in particular kept trying to heal him with their magic—while Goofy defended them—nothing seemed to be working. It was then that Kairi saw Sora get this far away in his eyes, as he summoned the box back… while all the demigods around them yelled at Sora not to do what he was about to do, and even the goddess said that. And Kairi was right there with them. “Sora,” Kairi said, as she moved from sitting by Riku to kneeling beside him—because she needed to be somewhat elevated, so Sora could see her but she also needed to still seal Riku’s wound with her touch. “What are you planning to do? Open the box… and kill the spirit of someone who maybe wished for the suffering of Riku’s family, if such a person exists? You have no proof that that will save Riku. And I think Donald and I are getting close to making some progress here. Just let us-” But Sora did not listen to Kairi… and he looked to her, much like a terrified lost lamb in an unforgiving world, as he demanded, ”Anyone who has reason to harm Riku, show yourself now!” And a little girl with her hair in ringlet curls made an appearance… and she was so beautiful, that she reminded Kairi of what a child between her and Sora could be like. But things were twisted right now, so who knew if she and Sora would ever bear children together, but this little girl wasn’t twisted to Kairi. Rather, she was just a sick little girl who’d made a mistake. And as Kairi—and the brunet in the orange shirt holding a sword—tried to get over to the spirit of the child, Kairi could tell that she was about to pay for that mistake. “I did,” the spirit explained, with her head bowed. “This boy’s ancestor robbed my family and slit their throats… and tried to do the same with me. And as I laid there dying, as his ancestor escaped the scene, I wished that his family would suffer similarly to how mine had.” But instead of asking the girl to take the wish back—because even if they had tried to explain to her that Riku was innocent, she probably wouldn’t have—Sora just stabbed her in the chest… and she disappeared as light enveloped her from her heart… and then to her head and toes. And as she did, Riku—who had been unconscious—woke up gasping, but that wasn’t enough for Sora. Seeming to be possessed by a need to right all of the sins that were in the box now, he summoned another spirit to him… this one of a teenaged boy, who Kairi didn’t want to hear the story of! She didn’t! Because as horrible as they were… there was innocence in them, too, and Sora wanted to destroy that and him, all the same! “Dude,” said another one of these “camper” demigods, “that’s not cool. All of Team Leo Valdez is going to be against you, I’ll tell you what. As will the power of Hephaestus!” And the boy “Leo” summoned fire to his hands. But Sora seemed to be done debating… because he sent Kairi a sad smile, before opening a Corridor of Light and disappearing through it with the box in his hands: neither Kairi or anyone else, could reach him in time. Perhaps because they’d stupidly expected Sora to leave through a Corridor of Darkness, because of his dark actions, and were therefore dazzled by the light? And as the Corridor closed, Kairi saw Sora ending that boy’s spirit as well… before summoning another one, as he sobbed as she did. She wouldn’t see him again until the Master of Master’s plan finally came to fruition. And even amidst all the death around her (Kairi suddenly sensed that Leo wasn’t going to live… and that was why they were here to find a “Physician’s Cure”, to try and stop it), Kairi thought she felt something inside of her kick… but that couldn’t be. Could it? … They were… at the Keyblade Graveyard again—and Kairi tried not to let that knowledge traumatize her toomuch, as she fought the Master’s Foretellers, the Master himself, and even Sora some (though Kairi knew now that Sora wasn’t evil. He was just being pragmatic, perhaps, but she hated that, too… and she wondered how he couldn’t)—and Lightning, Serah, and Hope had come to join the Guardians just as they had promised. Right now, both Sora and the Master of Masters were trying to appeal to the group’s sense of a greater good (the Foretellers were either still knocked out from the last beating they took, or waiting somewhere deeper in the labyrinth to trap them)… and Kairi thought she was going to throw up. “We- we have to kill Ephemer!” Sora was urging them now—as he held onto Ephemer’s shoulders tightly, so that this boy who had long since lost his Keyblade couldn’t move—“and I hate this, Kairi, Riku… Donald, Goofy. You know I do! It’s me, after all! And… Ephemer saved us a- all last time… but did you know that there were no death threats in the black box… until Ephemer betrayed the light by desiring bad things for the Master of Masters? And that was the first seed of darkness that led to the creation of the Heartless. I swear, we won’t hurt another living human being after this, but he-” Right as Sora said those atrocious things, a slight rain began falling on this destined place—something that took many of the Guardians of Light aback and made them gasp, since they thought that such a thing was impossible here… but not Ephemer, Kairi noticed; he just seemed to look out into the rain longingly, as if waiting for someone who would never come. “Spare me, Sora!” Riku snarled, as he stepped into a defensive stance in front of the Master and Sora, but didn’t summon his Keyblade yet. “You’re not evil! And you really don’t want to do this! I don’t think you willdo this, because not only would it make you a hypocrite for chewing me out on our first quest, but it’s clear you’re trying to spare us from making this choice because your ‘hands are already dirty’... That’s not the train of thought of someone who could actually go through with this.” “Yeah,” Hope agreed, pulling out some sort of technological weapon he’d recently invented, since he was now ashamed to use his boomerang since Sora—who was using a boomerang Keyblade transformation—had been corrupted. “I don’t think I even went this far as Bhunivelze. And I was possessed then, and so with an excuse, and you aren’t.” “And I don’t think you’re going to hurt this Ephemer,” Serah piped up, as she was perhaps the bravest one of them all—in choosing to walk towards Sora and the Master of Masters. The Master of Masters seemed like he was about to raise hands against her—which had Kairi starting to run towards her, even while the baby in her protested and made her want to get sick—but Serah stopped him by pointing her sword that doubled as a bow-and-arrow at the Master of Master’s forehead. “Because even if you think Ephemer is guilty and needs to die, or whatever, he looks so much like your friend Hope… so I don’t think you could hurt him for thatreason.” “You’re drowning now, Sora,” Lightning offered the strongest bit of wisdom through all of this—wisdom that they would all soon realize was from her having experienced something like this herself. “Drowning in yourself… and you think you deserve to, for your own sins, and that you can’t and shouldn’t be saved… but that just means you’re reaching out now more than ever.” And Kairi certainly thought that he must have been… and a certain strategy occurred to her then, to try and pull him out of this hole, the way Kairi had heard that Lightning had been rescued by Hope and then vice versa. She was a Princess of Heart, wasn’t she? And therefore, good at purifying things, right? Why didn’t she try doing that for Sora? …And maybe Ephemer first, if it was true that something really did need to be changed about him for the day to be saved? Before anyone could object or react, Kairi threw herself into Ephemer’s arms and kissed his cheek… and as she did, she understood why he’d turned against the Master of Masters, as he whispered that truth in her ears: it had been because he thought he’d set them all up for failure. And if Kairi didn’t think that that was the answer right there and the Master of Masters was the true culprit, even while he played the philanthropist. But still sensing anguish within Ephemer for what he had done, anyway, Kairi focused all of her power into healing the poor boy’s heart… and as she did, she thought she saw him opening his eyes for the first time and breaking free of Sora’s hold. “Kairi?” Ephemer asked. And he did so in an almost reverent way that gave Kairi pause… Meanwhile, she pushed him back towards the other Guardians for safety, as she rocketed towards Sora’s chest once again. This time, the Master of Masters was summoning No Name towards her, but like Serah had kept him in check just a moment ago… Lightning did the same now, as she pulled her gunblade out, sprang into action, and slashed at the Master’s throat. Kairi touched Sora just as a single tear fell from his eye onto her. And through their connected hearts, she could see all that he’d recently gone through… and how he hated what he’d done—what he’d become—but had genuinely thought it needed to be done to save the world. And maybe- maybe he’d been right. At least for the box stuff and Ephemer at least needing to be redeemed, but he hadn’t been about the rest of it. But despite everything, Kairi didn’t think he needed to be this destroyed, either. What mattered, was that he hadn’t gone through with real evil in the end. “It’s okay, you know,” Kairi whispered into Sora’s ear as he fell to his knees and all of their friends began running towards them… with the Foretellers hot on their heels now, “if you don’t think you can see the forest for the trees anymore. Sometimes, I think I’m blinded by the light… But Sora, there’s someone who’s going to enter the world now who’s going to be the best parts of both of us. And if that isn’t proof that things can always get better and we’ll win the day… I don’t know what is.” And as this news lighted up Sora’s face and heart—and he tried to stammer heartfelt responses to Kairi, but no words came out and so he just settled on stroking her face—he was able to get to his feet and shield his friends in a barrier the moment they reached him… but he also charged it with electricity, so that the Master of Masters and Foretellers were temporarily blasted off world when they touched it (all of the Guardians, and their three new friends, would chase them down and properly end this later)… And the barrier? It was made of pure light. “You see? Everything’s going to be alright,” Kairi told Sora as she kissed his forehead and he likewise went to try and kiss her stomach. And this time, Kairi thought he believed her.

#my writing #shanna writes #my work #mine #sokai

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worldcakecakecake · 4 years

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On Deutschland and Italia by Lovio Valenti

Lovino writes a series of blog entries on the relationship between Germany and Italy as he deals with a move to Hamburg, his brother’s wedding, and his budding romance (which he denies) to the infuriating Gilbert Beilschmidt.

Chapter 4

On Deutschland and Italia.

Division and Unity.

It’s Happening.

I believe that in no other two European countries are you going to see such division in its country itself.

We like to divide Italy as north and south, while Germany in west and east. It’s the kind of thing that helps create a crisis of national identity to the people, and we continue to feed it with media, accents, clothes and even foreign stereotypes, and no such ending can be expected soon. Yet, Germany and Italy supported the idea of a European Union even before other countries thought about it. You can find writings about it in Nietzsche and Mazzini’s work. Germany and Italy luckily got to see it happen and it was rather fruitful for both countries during a certain number of decades. After the harshness of unification, the passage of monarchy to republic, two world wars and the heavy presence of communism, Germany and Italy could focus on flourishing their economies and once again found themselves being a very important part of Europe.

But even so, were dealing with two completely different countries here.

The obvious first thing is the language, different views of politics, economics, culture, and of course, memes.

Germany and Italy are the opposite on a girded scale, yet despite what I’ve written in my past entries and what it seems, Germany and Italy don’t actually have a rivalry and there’s no competition…well…in a political sense.

In my next blog entries, I will be speaking more about this, but some of you had questioned about my brother’s soon wedding and want to hear more about it and my growing opinion.

I still completely disapprove of it, but, my brother is expecting my help and since I am a good brother, I do intend to be a part of it…even if it involves having to meet with stingy face Gilbert here.

We are constantly being told to stand each other for the sake of our brothers, but I’m thinking they’re only doing it to annoy us…or they actually want us to get along so this can go as smoothly as they want.

I am not going to make it easy for anyone.

“I’m going to touch… this salami.”

“No!” Feliciano saved the plate, moving it in such theatrics from the counter.

“Let me! Maybe it can poison him!”

“Lovino! You’re not going to try and kill Gilbert with my food!”

“Our food! I was the one that brought and boiled that spaghetti you really like.”

Feliciano came to a realization, going to check the readied pasta.

“I’m joking! I didn’t poison anything,” he found himself having to clear.

Feliciano still tasted some of the readied noodles…adding a bit of the sauce…taking from the bread.

“Don’t eat it all before they even get here!” Lovino scolded.

“Just checking! It’s all delicious,” Feliciano signed as he cleaned whatever drops had fallen in the meantime.

It was just as the familiar knock came, getting Feliciano to shriek, to rid of his apron and fix himself as quick as possible. He practically tripped as he made his way to get the door.

“Careful!” Lovino scolded, not minding in taking his own taste from the sauce.

“Lieben.”

“Amore.”

The two greeted to each other as disgusting as ever, with a deep kiss and a wrap of their arms around one another that left the brothers in the back silent and awkward.

“Gee, Feli, thanks for inviting me in,” Gilbert interrupted, getting a groan from Ludwig but a smile from Feliciano.

“Come on in, both of you.”

Ludwig followed Feliciano to place a beautifully wrapped plate of colored meringue cookies in the table, both going on excited with conversation of how it was made, in each other, leaving Gilbert standing awkwardly still near the door, with nowhere else to lay his eyes but on Lovino, mixing the sauce to keep his eyes focused on something and not glare daggers at the older Beilschmidt in the room.

“What ya’ making?” He dared ask.

“Go sit down on the couch and don’t ask me questions,” Lovino commanded and Gilbert shrugged, not knowing what to expect, but followed his order and took seating, beginning to look through his phone in the meantime.

The four of them enjoyed from dinner together, the ones mostly conversing being Ludwig and Feliciano, a comment here and there from Gilbert and Lovino, always a small temptation calling to fight over the smallest thing, but luckily Ludwig and Feliciano would stop it before it could escalate and heat the table in anger and hatred.

Ludwig unwrapped the meringue cookies and they all dug in, Feliciano bringing in a hard-covered notebook, along with a folder full of financial information of both him and Ludwig.

“So,” Feliciano clapped his hands to begin.

“We’ve been researching, finding out everything we need to know about planning a wedding, and many sources suggest, before anything, to establish a budget,” Ludwig explained.

“And why do you need us for that?” Gilbert wondered.

“Control.”

“To make sure we’re not exaggerating and that were not choosing a very low number either,” Feliciano continued.

“We don’t want anything too lavish. We want simplicity, small, something for just us and our closest friends and family to attend.”

“But beautiful, special and to remember,” Feliciano wanted to add.

“Both your jobs, as we have chosen you each to be our best men, is to make sure we don’t exceed the amount we’re going to decide now.”

Both the elder brothers shrugged, not seeing it such a difficult job.

Feliciano opened the books and numbers, something that Ludwig was immensely proud about him doing, wrapping an arm around his waist to let him know, Feliciano smiling up at him.

The elder brothers wanted to barf.

“So…this is the amount we’re willing to use,” Feliciano pointed, professionally with a pen.

“2,000 euros only?” Lovino raised an eye.

“Yeah…is it still too much,” Feliciano worried.

“No, that’s too little!”

“I…actually have to agree with him here. I doubt they’ll be much you can do,” Gilbert said, earning Lovino another raise, not expecting that at all.

“What number would you better recommend?” Ludwig leaned to them.

“4,000!” At Lovino’s loud acclaim, a sudden idea began to settle in Gilbert’s mind, one that made him oddly smile for the moment, but he decided to push it and see.

“6,000!” He suddenly shouted with Lovino, the younger brothers looking between the two in deep question.

“That’s…uh…” Feliciano wanted to say.

“Still too little, you’re right! How about 8,000 instead!”

“No, no, 10,000!”

“Hm…10,000 sounds about right,” Lovino had to agree with Gilbert.

The younger couple was still too startled from the numbers to actually pay attention to how their brothers actually agreed and worked together to arrive at that final count.

“10,000 euros?” Feliciano wanted to faint.

“Yeah, it should be enough,” Gilbert shrugged it like it was no big issue.

“That’s…too much.” Ludwig had written it down as a choice, looking at it as if it was a hideous monster to fear.

“Trust me, people usually use more than that on a ‘simple’ wedding,” Lovino pointed.

“There is no such thing as a beautiful and perfect wedding that was done cheap.”

“But it…shouldn’t matter…we just want to get married. Everything else is just…making it more special,” Feliciano added shyly.

“Yes or no, do you want it to be special?” Lovino went to the point.

“Yes.”

“Then you have to pay more than what you two were expecting.”

The two gazed between one another with that deep question if to agree.

“Should we…risk it?” Ludwig asked.

“It’s your wedding!” Gilbert shouted.

“You’re not going to get married and have a day like that again. So, I suggest you go full at it and enjoy it as you should be,” Lovino found himself backing Gilbert.

It was working, the couple slowly coming to its agree.

“But…we don’t want to go bankrupt either,” Feliciano brought sense again.

“You two will have pretty good jobs. I’m sure the money will come to you easily. I think you should be thinking about what an amazing outcome it will be more than anything,” Gilbert continued and with those words, the two smiled between one another and decided on the 10,000-euro limit, writing and circling it in decision.

Gilbert and Lovino smirked, evil intentions hidden underneath it.

As the night went on, Ludwig and Feliciano made sure that they had the 10,000 euros available, working with checking their savings and loans, signing and calling, while Gilbert and Lovino settled on the couch, way apart from each other, looking at some random movie Lovino had chosen from Netflix.

“You should have put footloose,” Gilbert complained.

“Fuck you.” Lovino raised the volume of Annie.

“Come on, now you should help us with the guest list,” Ludwig called.

“Already?”

“Isn’t that for later?”

“Knowing the amount of people who are coming will help us decide the size of the venue, of food, seats. Just come on,” Ludwig told, helping Feliciano in writing down the obvious of their grandparents, parents, brothers, close uncles, aunts and cousins.

“Should we invite Laura?” Feliciano wondered happily, while Ludwig flinched.

“You want to invite Ludwig’s ex to your wedding?” Gilbert laughed.

“But she’s super nice to us! And she’s always bringing us waffles and I love baking with her. She’s also a really good friend of Lovino’s.”

Lovino smiled, expecting of her company on such a dreaded party.

“Are you sure it won’t start drama?”

“Highly doubt so.”

“What happened is in it the past,” Ludwig wanted to remind.

“All right, go ahead!” It had Gilbert wondering of any other person in their lives who was bound to create disaster.

“Okay, so, Carlos.”

“Mhm!”

“What about Martin?” Lovino smirked.

“Oh yes! Let’s invite Martin!” Feliciano excited, in ways that made Ludwig ignite in fury and vengeance.

“No!” Ludwig practically shouted.

It brought sudden startling silence in the room.

“Why? What’s wrong with Martin?” Feliciano wondered innocently.

“Everything, absolutely everything! I don’t want him near the ceremony and party!” Ludwig was decided, even if he looked like a pouting child, Lovino and Gilbert having to hold themselves from laughing.

“But…he’s a really good friend of mine. He’s super nice and buys me very nice things…like that golden bracelet with the really pretty heart in it.” Feliciano indeed thought it any other innocent gift, while Ludwig burned, Gilbert and Lovino having to hold their own laughs by getting pillows to muddle their possible sounds.

“Please…don’t tell me you haven’t noticed it at all…” Ludwig worried.

“Noticed what?”

Ludwig didn’t know whether to give a breath of relief…or worry on how Martin could take advantage of Feliciano’s occasional naïve self.

“You know what, I’m decided, he’s not coming,” he decreed.

“Well I’m deciding that he is coming!” Feliciano denied in turn.

The glare, the fury that sparked between them, had Gilbert and Lovino actually sharing impressed expressions, both eyes and mouths widened, ready for the big show that was sure to take place. Feliciano, in a show of disobedience, took the list and wrote the dreadful name, making it sure now. Ludwig huffed, a large intake of breath that many thought the release would make winds blow across all the apartment, but what came out was simple, given up…as the usual to make his lover happy. He let it be, not questioning, but he was visibly angry, not bothering to even speak and add to the list of visitors that Feliciano, Gilbert and Lovino continued to do by themselves.

Gilbert added annoying family members, unwanted friends or relatives that they had long forgotten about, and Ludwig didn’t add a word. Lovino in turn added his own horrible suggestions, Feliciano too kind to deny. By the end of it, they had more than a hundred guests.

“Are you sure…this is okay?” Feliciano for once questioned, facing the number and having second thoughts.

“The more, the better!” Lovino assured.

“You want everyone to celebrate, don’t you?” Gilbert suggested.

“Yeah…but…”

Lovino placed a finger against Feliciano’s mouth. “Don’t think about it!”

“Think about the party!” Gilbert excited, raising himself and already celebrating as if it was to take place that very moment.

“Uh…okay.” Although clearly unsure, Ludwig was stuck in his inner anger to really answer, just shrugging and so Feliciano sighed, forcing himself to accept.

“Is that all you need us for then?” Lovino questioned, already beginning to get his things.

“Yeah, I guess,” for once Ludwig answered.

“Awesome! I’ll be getting my ass elsewhere too.” Gilbert joined Lovino in his own stuff picking, both cleaning the apartment of themselves on the way, running off as if they were escaping from something heinous.

They left the apartment in awkward silence.

Heading down the stairs was like a charge, and when they both headed out into the air, it exploded in loud laughs, echoing surely in the street and perhaps even their brothers could hear in their own flat.

“I gotta give it to you! I gotta give to you!” Gilbert shouted, pointing and clapping.

“You played along good!” Lovino shouted in turn.

They both released, twisting in the area as they let it all die down, in a calm to match the night despite being in such a city. Then came a realization, one that hit them with the passing alarms of an ambulance making its way pass them.

They actually…laughed and agreed on something…together…it was…horrendous.

As if erasing its passing, as a try to ignore it, they stood straight, looked away, walking to their respective directions and not even wishing a single goodbye.

On Deutschland and Italia.

Tensions.

It is ongoing, and even traditional, that Germany and Italy continue to settle meet ups for events, institutions, activities and diplomatic visits. As I mentioned in my first entry, Germany and Italy’s relationship has ancient roots and our government and people try to keep it alive as I’m sure the Romans and Germanics would have wanted. The biggest Italian cultural institute is in Germany, while its counterpart, the Goethe institute has its own achievements in Italy. Politicians though, still think the relationship has its tensions and that it’s even declining.

Germany and Italy, to my disgust, have a relationship like that of an old married couple, no problems but lacking the love and passion one would expect from a country like Italy. What needs to be rekindled is that desire, that want to try and improve relations so they can be yet another stronghold of Europe.

For my brother and his fiancé, on the other hand, I would rather that they wouldn’t try to find such ailments to their problem.

In a sudden, rare…and even disgusting, work of companionship, Gilbert and I managed to find that downfall to create that tension and oh we will celebrate and try to make it last for what is needed.

“To be honest, I doubt you’ll get it,” Lovino told his brother as they reached the steps of the symbol church of the city, tall, charming, but not well placed or the majesty of the ones in Italy. In Lovino’s opinion. Sadly, Ludwig and Feliciano had decided that they will marry in Hamburg and the St. Michaelis church seemed the most appealing to do so in for now.

“It doesn’t hurt to try.” Feliciano was too confident, a wide smile and jumping steps as they entered.

“You’re too sensitive, anything hurts you,” Lovino had to remind, any other words halted in the wonder that fell on his eyes as he took the interior, beautiful despite its simplicity. Feliciano joined him in that contemplating as well, taking a small tour to gaze out further golden details and architectural forms, silent, the few who were there but tourists or perhaps devoted followers sitting in the banks.

“Are you sure you want to go through with the embarrassment though?” Lovino asked in his most silent whisper, pulling Feliciano to his side, keeping his hand on his arm. They were now turning back, nearing the office and for once, Feliciano held question in his expression, a slight slowing in his steps. But this was his wedding, this was his union to Ludwig, and he was determined to do whatever to make it the dream they had wanted.

“It won’t hurt to try,” Feliciano repeated.

“This is a protestant church,” Lovino reminded again.

“Why would it matter? As long as were united spiritually, the religion is of no importance to me.”

“I don’t know how nonno and mamma will feel about that,” Lovino warned.

“Can’t you help me by saying more positive things,” Feliciano exasperated, his hand having found reach of the door.

“You’re marrying Ludwig Beilschmidt. It’s really hard to find positives.”

Feliciano rolled his eyes and groaned, entering and ready to begin the process.

Ludwig liked the fresh air here, the comfort, relaxing, quiet, a wonderful view to a lake and the city in the distance.

“Wow…this place is actually pretty cool,” Gilbert admitted, spotting the couches in the terrace and taking instant sitting, letting out a deep sigh and pooling himself down in its comfort. “Definitely chose this one,” Gilbert seemed decided for Ludwig.

“It is really nice…I just…to be honest, would have preferred to celebrate at Antico.”

“At the restaurant?” Gilbert couldn’t believe, raising an eye as if with insult.

“Originally, it was supposed to be a small get together. Antico had just the right size. It’s familiar, meaningful, beautiful, and I know the Valenti would offer us the best service and food.”

“But we’ve already been there so many times! I think I had five birthdays there!” Gilbert groaned loudly, letting his head hang from the back of his chair.

“Exactly, it’s special.”

“Don’t you think kind of dull?”

“Of course not.”

“Do you really want to remember celebrating your wedding there?”

“I really would not mind. Usually when I dream of a wedding, it’s always dancing with Feliciano in the restaurant.”

“Oh god, that was sappiness I wasn’t expecting from you.” Gilbert had to sit up.

“Yes! It just proves my point that we should go with the restaurant.”

“No. None of the people we invited would fit there,” he had to remind, much to Ludwig’s distaste, grimacing at all the hated, uncaring, dull and criticizing guests they had recently added to the list. It didn’t make him as excited as he would have been. His thoughts went back to Feliciano, to how shinning, beautiful and happy he would surely be that day no matter, and it would be enough to get him to the task at hand.

“Plus, it would just be too much for them. It wouldn’t look fancy enough and maybe people will even forget they’re at a wedding reception,” Gilbert tried to find as many excuses as he could.

Ludwig sighed, “fine, I guess this is good. It’s better than some of the other places we’ve seen.” Despite everything, indeed it was beautiful, with space and profession.

“Great! Want me to call them so we can get to booking?” Before Ludwig kept thinking and changing his mind.

Feliciano rummaged the calendar, making all kinds of notes having to do with business, their coming move to Santo Domingo, how the season will react, keeping in mind length of preparations and just a time that can be comfortable. He was surprisingly silent, Ludwig sitting beside him, focused on his coffee and going over his last bank statements, trying to hide the grimaces of the toll his accounts will take with the new budget they had settled.

“Do we really need to use that much?” Ludwig had to say, had to try and fight it.

“I believe it’s what it’s normally used on a wedding,” Feliciano thought. If he minded, it was not shown to Ludwig.

“Are they really supposed to be that expensive?”

“I think so,” Feliciano sighed in disappointment.

Ludwig neared, letting one arm wrap around, pulling him closer. “If it’s for you…then I really shouldn’t mind the amount.”

“I think the same. I mean, Gilbert and Lovino were right, this is a day we want to remember, and we have to make it as special as we can, no matter what it costs,” it seemed like Feliciano was still trying to convince himself.

Ludwig nodded and sighed, pushing himself more to having to accept, putting his phone away, keeping his mind from his accounts. To be near Feliciano, having him, got his mind in beautiful clouds and colors.

“It’s rare that they agree on and actually work together to get us to do something,” Ludwig noticed.

Feliciano laughed, beautifully shaking in his arms. “You’re right! We really do have to take their advice then,” Feliciano smiled in true happiness, one that rubbed off on Ludwig.

“Perhaps this wedding planning could serve good for the both of them.”

“Yes, it’ll get them to get along! They’ll be able to talk to each other and we won’t have to worry about them fighting so much!”

“They could maybe even become friends.”

Feliciano gasped at a sudden idea, “or lovers!”

And Ludwig hurled in laughter, in a rare show of red and falling breathless. “Don’t get too carried away there.” He needed a moment to relax and breathe again. "For me it's enough that they can at least agree on something.”

“But wouldn’t it be beautiful if they could get together too,” Feliciano dreamed.

“It’ll be too weird really.”

“No! It won’t be! Nothing is weird about love when it’s made right!”

“I doubt they’ll love each other…that way.”

“Well, who knows,” Feliciano shrugged, leaning more into Ludwig’s chest, quite a blush and smile on his face that made Ludwig feel more fortunate of having him. “Maybe the old Beilschmidt-Valenti magic can work on them like it did on us.”

Ludwig hummed, “it’s quite a funny thing to put to mind.”

“They’ll still be really sweet together, I know it!”

Ludwig let him dream that idea as he let his hand traverse his hair, still not finding sense or chances of it actually occurring. “Don’t try to do anything.”

“I won’t.” That’s when Feliciano focused his attention on a singular date, perfect between all, in spring, with space, sure and he knew many would be able to come. “April 27?”

Ludwig took his own gaze at the calendar, smiling and agreeing along with him. “April 27.”

They had a wedding date.

< chapter 3 chapter 5 >

#on deutschland and italia by lovino valenti #prumano #prumano fanfiction #prumano fanfic #prumano fic

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euphoric-melancholyy · 5 years

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The Secrets We Keep

I’m on a personal vendetta against “May’s abusive boyfriend” trope so I thought it would be fun to give May a really awesome, loving boyfriend who’s just a little confused as to why she lets her teenage son stay out til 1 every night and sleep somewhere else every weekend. Also, he’s friends with Tony Stark? Chris - May’s new boyfriend - feels like he’s missing something here.

I’m posting this instead of a fic rec today

Also on Ao3 and Fanfiction.net

May Parker hadn’t planned on stepping back into the dating scene, but then again she hadn’t planned on most of the important life events that seemed to shape her. His name was Chris. He was handsome, tan with dark hair and scruff that couldn’t quite be called a beard yet, and hooded green eyes that all the hospital patients commented on. Chris worked alongside her at Queens Memorial, exchanging quips about 90s pop culture and recipes to actually cook for Peter. He cared for his patients with a rare sensitivity to their needs, always trying to brighten their day and learn a little bit about what makes them happy. Like her, he was a widower, having lost his wife eight years prior to cancer. And she hadn’t planned on him crashing her little bubble, being a balm for the isolation of raising a super-powered kid who seemed to attract danger like a magnet. Not that she could tell Chris that.

But even so, he soothed her worries when Peter was out on patrol and being with him felt like relearning how to breathe. It felt euphoric, and scary and soothing and exciting all at once. She wasn’t sure when she had last smiled as much as she did when Chris entered the picture. It didn’t go unnoticed by Peter either, her newfound giddiness after long days at work now more commonplace than exhaustion.

After three dates, she tells her nephew, nervously twirling spaghetti around her fork as she awaits his reaction.

His eyes brighten as she speaks and he puts down his fork, eagerly leaning forward as she tells him about the Italian dinner he made for them on their last date. “That’s great, May! As long as you’re happy, I’m happy. I know Ben would feel the same way, by the way."

Peter’s lips are pressed together in a soft smile and she’s not sure why she’d been so worried to tell him. Pride overwhelms her in that moment, of who he is and his kindness, his inability to let the little guy suffer when he knows he can help. She might not love that he’s risking his life as Spider-Man, but she can still be proud of him for it. It coils in her chest with the near constant ebb of fear, but it’s warm and inviting and she’s not sure how she got to raise the best kid in the universe.

"He’d be so proud of you, Pete.” She beams at him before eating a forkful of spaghetti. “Spider-kid.”

“It’s Spider-Man, May.” He protests. “You sound like Mr. Stark when you make those nicknames.”

“Oh, we can’t have me sounding like him, now can we?”

“You already tag team me like divorced parents who stay friends, so I don’t see why not.”

“It’s called co-parenting,” she responds and Peter rolls his eyes.

“So when can I meet this Chris?” Peter asks and she doesn’t even try to stifle her smile at his eagerness. She might not be able to help him with homework or any of his Spider-Man activities, but this - this she can handle.

-/-/-

They set ground rules. The first and most important rule is that Chris can’t know Peter’s Spider-Man, at least not for awhile. It means Peter can’t leave his suit lying around or continue crawling on the ceiling out of boredom or stress or whatever reason he decides it’s a better place to pace than the floor.

They also agree not to tell Chris that he spends half his week with the Tony Stark.

(“People at school already tease me about it being fake and I don’t care, but…it isn’t normal for a random teenager to just hang out with Mr. Stark. And what if he connects Spider-Man? Then that puts him in danger too and I just, I- I don’t want him to know yet May.”)

This is a secret May still thinks she can handle — at least, for a time. If asked, she says that Peter has an internship with Happy Hogan.

And, in some weird twist of fate he never wants to experience again, Peter finds himself giving the talk. He’s beat red the whole time, cheeks flushed as he stammers through his explanation.

(“May, I-I have enhanced senses and um, I can hear your heartbeat. And I can hear a - hear a conversation happening two blocks over right now. So like, if - if he’s gonna spend the night, or something, please for the love of my innocence, let me be at the Compound. Or- or just tell me. I need a heads-up.”

“If your hearing is actually that good, I’m sure you’ve heard worse.”

“Yeah, but not from you and I never want to.”)

-/-/-

The second rule is broken three weeks after Peter meets Chris. Though they get along famously, Peter usually isn’t around when Chris is at the apartment. It isn’t planned, he’s just busy and overcommitted. At this point, it’s only his third time being in the older man’s presence.

They’re all at the table together, eating lasagna that Chris had made when Tony knocks on the door and May answers.

“Ah, Ms. Parker, lovely to see you as always. Mind if I borrow Peter for a few days? It’s for,” he glances at Chris and gives a signature fake smile and nod, “Internship stuff.”

“Uh, Mr. Stark, what are you - what are you doing here?” Peter asks, his voice getting higher the more he talks. “I thought Happy was coming, not that it isn’t great to see you. It is I just - I-”

“Happy’s in the car, kid.” Tony says, smiling to himself at Peter’s nervous rambling.

May sighs and side steps, inviting him in while Peter gets a bag together. “If anything happens to my kid Stark, I will personally come and kill you. FRIDAY will let me in and you won’t even see it coming.” She keeps her face stern for a moment, then breaks into a wide grin. “Chris, meet Tony Stark. Tony meet Chris."

Chris is unsurprisingly starstruck and confused, stumbling over his words in a way that May finds to be the most adorable thing she’s ever seen. "Hi, uh, hi. You’re I-You’re here? And you’re Iron Man. And Peter?” he stops mid-ramble and extends his hand. Tony takes it. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Stark.”

“Likewise. Peter’s told me a lot about you. Speaking of, kid, hurry up. I don’t have all day."

Peter runs back into the common area, backpack in tow and wearing his suit, sans mask, under his clothes. The red spandex peaks out at his wrists. Tony cocks an eyebrow at his protege.

"What?” the teen asks.

“Nothing. Let’s go."

Peter kisses May on the cheek, promising to be safe and update her three times a day, before following his mentor out the door.

-/-/-

The next night, they’re curled up on the couch together with May’s head on Chris’s chest and legs intertwined. The news plays softly in the background but May isn’t really paying attention.

"So when were you gonna tell me that you’re BFFs with a billionaire? With Iron Man himself?” Chris asks, running his fingers through her hair. There isn’t anything accusatory in his tone and May cuddles closer to him.

“We’re not BFFs. He mentors Peter sometimes with… science stuff. It all goes over my head. Peter asked me not to mention it. He doesn’t like drawing attention to himself."

"And Iron Man just whisked Peter off to. . ?” he lets his question trail off.

“Some nerdy science conference in Italy.”

“Damn, that’s-” he pauses, looking at the TV and pointing. On the screen, there’s a breaking news alert about The Avengers fighting another alien army, because apparently normal villains went out of style in 2012. “Wait, that Italy?"

She sees Peter, Spider-Man, next to The Hulk, Iron Man flying above as they fight off their oppressors. Everyone’s there - Cap and Widow and Iron Patriot and Hawkeye, but they are pulled away to another part of the fight. They’ve been fighting for at least half an hour when she watches as Spider-Man is thrown into a building. The bricks break with the impact and it begins to cave and she swears she stops breathing for a moment. It’s another five minutes before she sees him again, red and blue swinging around and webbing up the aliens. Iron Man fires his repulsors at the last big baddie and Hulk smashes their foe’s head half a dozen times.

"Don’t worry. I’m sure Peter’s fine,” Chris offers, his voice low and serious. “He’s at a conference, not fighting these monsters."

"Yeah.” It’s barely above a whisper and she takes out her phone when she gets a message from Peter.

Don’t worry. I’m okay. It’s gonna take more than that to take me out. Tony is going all “dad mode” on me. It’s embarrassing.

May looks up to the TV to see Iron Man cradling an injured Spidey and flying them to their jet. She smiles and types out a response.

I can see that. You did great, Pete. Take an ice bath or something, that looked like it hurt. Love you.

“He’s fine,” she says, grabbing the remote and turning off the TV.

“Told you,” Chris quips, leaning in to kiss her. It’s soft and it calms her nerves in a way she can’t explain. “So, you know Iron Man, but who’s your favorite Avenger?”

“I’m partial to Spider-Man. He is Queens’ local vigilante after-all."

"May Parker, a Spider-Man fan,” he teases. She throws a pillow at him.

-/-/-

“Shouldn’t Peter be home by now?” Chris asks one night. May glances at the time on her phone. It reads 12:33 a.m.

“He has until 1 a.m.”

“Isn’t that kinda late? I mean he’s only sixteen - he could get seriously hurt out there. Or partying and drinking his weight in-”

“He’s fine, Chris. Peter’s a good kid. I trust him.” She looks towards his bedroom door. It’s shut so he can just silently swing in. The crime has been quieter lately - thank god. No alien attacks or evil mutant who has it out for her kid. “His curfew goes back to 11:30 once school starts up."

Chris looks skeptical, but he’s not about to tell her how to raise her nephew. "Whatever you say.”

-/-/-

Peter’s body aches, muscles throbbing with the all-enveloping pain of post battle. Blood trickles down from around his left eye, which is now swollen shut. He cries, a short high pitched wince as he comes back into consciousness, his body pressing against a pile of rubble.

A sharp pain erupts at his most definitely broken ribs and he bites down another cry. He could hear someone calling his name in the distance, their voice muffled as if they were screaming underwater.

“Peter! Spider-Man!"

Peter groans, opening his eye as he tries to recall where he is but there’s a glint of red and gold blocking his sight.

"T'ny?”

“Yeah, bud. You blacked out there for a few minutes and I thought I’d come get you.”

“I’m o-” His word is caught on a hiss of pain as Tony lifts him into his arms and Peter curls into himself. “Shit.”

“Maybe don’t become a ragdoll for steampunk Ursula next time, okay?”

“Wha?”

“Otto Octavious - madman with mechanical arms. I’ll explain it to you when you’re more coherent. Pretty sure you have a concussion.”

Peter wakes later in the dim light of the medbay. Mr. Stark sits in a recliner next to him, checking and promptly ignoring his emails. Peter’s head throbs, his left eye still swollen shut, his body aching, but it’s duller than before, the pull of drugs making his mind fuzzy. He’s been stripped of his suit and looks down to find he’s wearing an old MIT hoodie of Tony’s and…his Hello Kitty pajama pants, great.

“Four broken ribs, a concussion, a skull fracture, and of course there’s that eye - I’ll get you an eye patch and you can cosplay as Nick Fury.” Tony remarks, looking to the kid.

“Better that than these pajamas. Really, Mr. Stark?”

“Punishment for scaring the shit out of me,” he says with a smirk, but the rest of his face betrays his cool demeanor. There’s worry lines etched into his expression that furrow his brow and dark bags under his eyes. His hair is disheveled and Peter has the urge to reach out and fix it, but decides that would be weird. It’s strange to see his mentor like this, so unguarded and worried, and not TV ready. Tony isn’t even trying to hide it, which seems to be the worst part for Peter. He hates that he caused this.

“I’m sorry. Thanks, for - for saving me.” Peter says with a sheepish smile.

“Don’t mention it,” Tony says, reaching a hand out to ruffle his hair. Peter leans into the touch. “Actually do. Please mention it to your lovely Aunt. She gets off at two tonight so I’m gonna drive you back. Don’t worry, I’m sending some Captain America level narcotics with you for all that,” his hand makes a circle in the air, gesturing to Peter’s everything.

Peter gets home at 1:45, the hood of Tony’s sweatshirt pulled over his head in a sad attempt to hide his eye and some dry blood caked into his hairline. The smell of homemade pizza overwhelms his senses before he even walks in the apartment. It’s odd, May rarely cooks especially in the middle of the night.

“Hey hon,” Chris calls as Peter walks through the door. He’s standing in the kitchen, looking in the oven. “I thought I’d make you some dinner befo- oh my god Peter!”

Peter freezes, trying to stifle the panic that’s bubbling in his chest. Chris is already by his side less than a second later, hesitantly pushing the hood off Peter’s head and examining his eye with a concerned what the hell happened?

“Uhh…I was jumped? Yeah. Jumped. I was jumped.”

Chris considers him for a minute, soft gaze searching Peter’s in a way that makes him uncomfortable, like he’s learning something new. “C’mere,” Chris’s says, voice low and laced with so much concern that Peter doesn’t even protest as he follows him to the couch.

“I already went to the doctor. Mr. Stark took me. Really Chris, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

“Even if you already went, I’m worried and I’m a doctor, and I’d feel a lot better if you let me look. Please, Peter.”

The way he says Peter, it’s not unlike how Tony says his name sometimes, like a whispered prayer for him to be okay, and it breaks his resolve. Slowly, Peter lifts the hoodie over his head and tosses it to the floor. Chris gasps and it’s full of surprise and fear and all the emotions Peter wanted to avoid for at least a week, and Peter chances a look down. His torso is littered in bruises of varying shades and there’s a cut along his stomach. He can feel the medicine Dr. Cho gave him wearing off and it hurts.

“Pete,” the older man whispers, hands held in suspension above Peter’s ribs, like he wants to touch them but he’s terrified of causing anymore pain. “Your ribs…You-”

“They’ll be fine in a few days. I have a concussion too, so can I just,” Peter sighs, resting his head against the back of the couch. It’s soft and comforting and he’s just so ready for this day to be over. “Go to bed, please?”

The door opens in that moment and May walks in. She’s wearing blue scrubs and her hair is tied in a loose ponytail. Immediately she locks eyes with Peter, and her face crumbles as she rushes over. “Peter, baby! I- Tony said you were in a fight, but this…”

“I’m fine, May. Really. It really wasn’t a big deal. It’s not even worth worrying over.”

May shoos Chris to the side and sits down in between them. Her eyes run over Peter in a professional way, ending on his swollen eye. One of her hands goes to cup his cheek, “Okay, first off you cannot possibly say it’s not a big deal when you look like this. What did Dr. Cho say?” Her thumb brushes over his temple and a scowl replaces her worried look. As if wanting to prove her point, a gut-clenching pain shoots through him and he pulls his knees to his chest, sucking in air when his ribs protest painfully.

“A couple of broken ribs, skull fracture…” Peter whispers, wishing his metabolism didn’t work its way through all the painkillers in five minutes.

“And a concussion,” Chris reminds, his hand resting on May’s knee.

They look like a team, Peter thinks, and May’s presence had calmed Chris’s erratic heartbeat the moment she came home. The idea elicits pangs of guilt on top of everything - guilt at the lies he and May have concocted to keep his identity of Spider-Man safe. He wonders how hard it’s been on May and Chris’s relationship, how many white lies she’s had to tell, but he pushes the thought down and focuses on the throbbing in his head instead. At least that can be dealt with, he thinks, and asks May to get his medicine from his backpack. She hands it to him with a sad gleam in her eyes. It makes him want to crawl under the nearest blanket and hide from their sympathetic glances.

“Really May, it’s nothing I can’t handle. Just everyday stuff,” Peter tries to reassure her.

“Peter, you were jumped,” Chris says, his tone serious. “That’s not an everyday thing, or at least I hope not. It’s a big deal and it’s scary. Your ribs are broken for god’s sake. Your eye is swollen shut. I just-” Chris pauses, looking down at the cut along Peter’s ribs. May’s brows furrow in confusion at the mention of Peter being jumped, but she quickly schools her expression.

May sighs. “We’ll let you get some rest, okay superhero?” She offers her hand to help Peter get up. He takes it and stands. “Call if you need anything. We’ll be right here.”

“Thanks May. Thank you, Chris.”

He’s asleep not even ten minutes later, lulled by the concerned whispers of May and Chris from two rooms over. When he wakes the next morning, his body is sore, but his eye is almost back to normal.

-/-/-

Five months have passed when May wakes to the shrill of “Iron Man” by Black Sabbath playing from her phone at 3 a.m. Peter had thought it’d be funny to set it as her ringtone for when Tony called and she never got around to changing it back. Her bedroom is coated in darkness, save for the light from her phone and she squints at it. Chris is wrapped around her like a koala, arm slung over her stomach and lips pressed to the back of her shoulder.

“ ‘Ello,” she yawns as she answers, her eyelids drooping and the remnants of sleep threatening to pull her back in.

“May,” Tony’s says, his voice serious and raw with emotion that she’s never heard from the billionaire and it scares her, wiping away all the tiredness and replacing it with fear. May shoots out of bed, trying to keep her breath even but it fails. “Peter’s alive, first off, so don’t worry about that. He’s okay, kind of, well, he will be. He’s - he was shot earlier on patrol - twice. The damn kid. And Happy is on his way to get you, he should be there in ten minutes, so-”

“Peter was shot?” she whisper-screams, the words knocking the air from her lungs. And she can’t help it, the way her mind immediately goes to Ben on that fateful night, Peter at the police station covered in her late husband’s blood, silent sobs racking his body. The edges of a panic attack seeps in at the memory and her heart is going to beat out of her chest and she can’t breathe, she can’t breathe, can’t breathe, can’t-

She hears someone call her name, but she isn’t sure where she is anymore, and her mind takes her back to that first night without him, an inconsolable Peter wrapped around her muttering apologies between broken sobs. Peter didn’t go to sleep until noon the next day. She’s at Ben’s funeral, and there’s flowers everywhere - bright and vibrant and sickening wisps of color among black suits and dresses and her husband’s cold body. Everyone comes up and shakes her hand, offering words of comfort and food, but she doesn’t want any of it. Peter’s at her side and she squeezes his hand, tries to reassure him (and herself) that it’ll be okay. Peter nods, his eyes red and his motions slow and robotic and Peter-

Peter. This is about Peter. Peter’s been shot.

Her world comes back into focus and she sees Chris kneeling in front of her, sleep mussed hair and wide green eyes full of concern. His thumb wipes at a tear on the apple of her cheek and she presses the phone to her ear. Tony is still talking, telling her to breathe and that Peter’s okay and Happy’s almost there.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out a sob. “Tony, I…”

“It’s okay. He’s gonna be okay. He has to be okay,” he pauses. “Do you want me to stay on the line?”

She leans her head on Chris and her eyes flutter closed. He wraps his arms around her and it’s grounding. Peter’s alive. Peter isn’t Ben. Peter’s alive. She repeats it over and over, a silent mantra and she realizes both Chris and Tony are waiting for a response. “I…” she speaks into her phone. “Chris is here. I- I’m okay,” May hangs up and turns her attention to Chris.

“Peter was shot. He - I have to go. I - Happy, he’s outside I gotta-”

“Let me go with you,” Chris says. And god, she wants him too. She wants to curl into his side in the car and tell him everything, but she knows she can’t do that to Peter. Not right now. He asked her to keep his identity safe, to keep Chris safe, and that’s the least she can do when her nephew is out saving the world every night.

“I need you to stay at the apartment, please I- I know you want to come, but I need you here. I’ll be back in a few days. I just - I’m sorry, I need to go.” She kisses him, soft and quick and rushes out the door before he can protest.

-/-/-

Unable to process the night’s frightening turn of events, Chris is left standing at the doorway. He had called multiple hospitals looking for Peter, but none of them seemed to have anyone that matched his description. It wasn’t until May called the next morning saying that Peter was okay and recovering at the Avengers Compound, that he figured out why.

Why is he at The Avengers Compound, May? That’s insane he had said, but she acted as if it was normal, saying that Tony preferred treating him there. When he asked about what happened, she said it was an unfortunate wrong place, wrong time, but that it didn’t matter now because he was okay.

Now, five days later, Peter and May were coming home. He waits inside the apartment for them, pacing the living room as he cleans the countertops for the seventh time in the few days they’ve been gone. He can hear laughter down the hall and it takes him a moment to realize it’s them. Peter is rambling excitedly about something - he can’t tell what - and he stops as the door opens. What he doesn’t expect is to see Tony Stark behind her, his arm around Peter’s shoulder, beaming at a perfectly healthy, energetic kid. It throws him for a loop how domestic they look.

Like a family.

And that’s when it hits him. The internship, the nights at the Compound, the easy banter, Stark taking care of him after he’s injured. Chris pauses his inner monologue, sweeping the group from head to toe with his gaze. “Wait…Is Peter Tony’s secret son or something?”

Fin

#irondad fic #spiderson fic #irondad and spiderson #iron dad and spider son #peter parker #tony stark #alex writes #my writing #let me know if you like this please #may parker #in this house we love and respect aunt may #irondad and spiderson fic #iron dad and spider-son

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urdbell18 · 5 years

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A Seed Hiddin in the Heart Chapter 14: The One Where Paris isn’t the City of Romance pt. 1 side A

AN:Okay so I decided to break this one chapter into multiple parts. I don't know how many but I do know that this chapter will have at least one other part and there will be a part completely focused on Mary and Vida, hence why there will be side A (Zelda) and side B (Mary and Vida).Also if anyone is interested to know me I did a music challenge and the link is right here if you want to view it. It's okay if you don't want to. Enjoy! https://urdbell18.tumblr.com/post/186279373166/playlist-shuffle-meme

By the time spring break rolled around Zelda’s relationship status with Mary was the last thing on anyone’s mind. It was still brought up every once in a while but when it became clear after a week of Zelda and Mary refusing to answer questions and there forth nothing new to talk about it all went away. Well, not completely. To every situation there is a good or a bad that come from it. The good that came out of their ‘outing’ was the security that students might feel to tell them something personal. Students like Susie… no, Theo.

One day during lunch Susie… Theo came into Zelda’s office and asked if he could talk to them about something. Mary and Zelda agreed and after five minutes of him trying to find his words Theo, formally Susie, came out about his gender change. And though Theo looked like he was in pain as he waited for their response Zelda and Mary didn’t bat an eye. They thanked Theo for telling them, Zelda even called him Mr. Putnam and it caused him to flush in happiness. At the end of the week Mary and the members of W.I.C.C.A. threw Theo a gender reveal party complete with blue balloons and a cake that said ‘it’s a boy!’

The bad was Hawthorne. One day he called them into his office after school ended for a quick discussion. They showed up but both Zelda and Mary showed their clear disdain for being there. They knew what Hawthorne wanted to discuss and they both frankly didn’t want to hear what he had to say. They weren’t doing anything wrong, and they didn’t want to hear his opinion on them and their relationship. As they sat there waiting for Hawthorne to join them, he was late and that just irked Zelda even more, Mary got a glint in her eye. Zelda, who knew that glint meant nothing but trouble, told Mary she wanted no part in whatever Mary was thinking. Mary just smirked and said to trust her and her brilliant evil plan. Zelda sighed and against her better judgment agreed. Mary asked for her hand and after thinking about it for fifteen seconds gave her left hand to Mary. Mary took Zelda’s hand into her own and just held it. That was it, Mary just cradle her hand in hers, lacing their fingers together and occasionally running her thumb against her palm. Zelda was shocked for only a second before she smiled and gave a slight squeeze to Mary’s hand. When Hawthorne finally joined them he looked at their linked hands, his face turned white and he sputtered saying he would have to talk to them at a later date. Zelda and Mary shared a raised eyebrow but didn’t waste time in leaving, hands still linked together.

As the weeks pass Hawthorne didn’t call them to reschedule their ‘discussion’. Zelda and Mary didn’t know why but they did agree that whenever they saw Hawthorne, even if it was for a second, that he looked distracted. They didn’t know what could be the cause but they both took it as a blessing and did whatever they could to make sure not to remind Hawthorne that he still hasn’t talked to them. However, that doesn’t mean they went into hiding. They still did the same things that they always did like spending the morning in one of their offices together, spending lunch together, and at the end of every day Mary would walk Zelda to her car. They weren’t being overly showy like kissing or touching excessively but they would when school wasn’t in session hold hands whenever they walked together. Before they knew it spring break was upon them and everyone was looking forward to the upcoming break. Because it was the last week leading up to a new quarter, the last one of the school year, they of course had a staff meeting. The staff meeting was straight forward; graduation, testing, and end of year plan was discussed without any big uproar. When the meeting was over Hawthorne called out to Zelda, asking her to hang back. Zelda agreed and sent Mary away, she knew that Mary would stay behind, lingering just outside the doorway, but Zelda said she was fine and go.

“What can I do for you Mr. Hawthorne?”

“Well, you see…” What he said made Zelda’s jaw drop.

_________________

“You’re going where!?” Sabrina was the first to say something. That night was a rare thing for them, they were able to have dinner together, all five of them. Hilda didn’t have to work that night so when Zelda and Vida came home she was already in the kitchen making dinner. Ambrose also decided to stay home, he came down from his room when they called dinner. With her whole family in the same room Zelda bit the bullet and told them what Hawthorne asked of her.

“I told you Sabrina Paris as in Paris France.”

“I know but… why?”

“I don’t know all the details myself but I know that Hawthorne is loaning me out to another school to act as a faculty chaperone for a trip that is taking place over spring break.”

“And you couldn’t say no?” Zelda just shot her niece a look that said it all. Sabrina nodded in understanding. “Right, it’s Hawthorne stupid question.” It fell silent and everyone returned to eating.

“Mommy can I have more spaghetti?” Vida pushed out her bowl and smiled at Zelda, her face was covered in tomato sauce. Zelda took her daughters bowl and put a little more pasta into it along with a single meatball.

“This is your last one I don’t want you getting sick.” Zelda wasn’t sure Vida heard her as she dove into her third bowl of spaghetti that evening. Zelda watched her daughter slightly concerned. Vida wasn’t a big eater, she was never overly fussy or picky but inhaling food like she was now, she’s never done that.

“Um Zelds?” Zelda pulled her attention from her daughter to her sister. Hilda wore a small tight smile that she only wore when she’s going to say something and she thinks Zelda is going to react badly. “We have a slight problem. Not a big problem but it’s still a problem and-”

“For god's sake Hilda spit it out.”

“I’m going on holiday with Dr. C while you are away.” Hilda jumped and gave a little squeak when Zelda without warning slammed her fork down onto her plate. She had completely forgotten about Hilda going away with Dr. C, it was only for three days but those three days fell right in the center of Zelda’s trip. It meant that there was no one to watch Vida. She was screwed.

___________________

When Zelda went to talk to Hawthorne the following day to ask if it was absolutely necessary for her to go to Paris Hawthorne went white, then red like he was choking on something. Zelda instantly regretted asking him then he made her mad by telling her that if she backed out of this trip she’d be doing this school a huge dishonor. But that’s not what made her mad, that was caused by him saying that by her doing this trip he would ignore her relationship with Mary but if she didn’t one of them would have to go. He didn’t say fire but that’s the message that Zelda got and she let the lissue go. Now she was back to square one with her being stuck on this trip and no one to watch Vida. She could take Vida with her but when she looked up the cost to get her daughter a passport and plane ticket, on a flight that she wasn’t even sure she was on, she paled. She didn’t have that kind of money.

“Something’s on your mind.” Mary came into her office, coffee mug in her hand and papers that needed marking under her arm.

“Hawthorne’s making me go to Paris.”

“Paris as in-”

“Yes Paris France.”

“Why?”

“Something about a school needing an extra faculty staff member and me apparently being the only one who’s qualified and available to go.”

“But that’s not what’s bothering you.”

“No. Hilda told me last night that she is going away with the vampire for three days in the middle of when I’m away so now there is no one that I feel comfortable leaving with Vida for long periods of time available.”

“What about me? You know I don’t mind watching her.”

“I know but… this isn’t over night. I would be asking you to watch her for three to four nights and it’s a lot. I couldn’t burden you with that kind of responsibility.”

“What if I want to be burden?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I love Vida and I’ve memorized her routen enough to take over for a few days. I’m ready to take on the challenge.” Zelda sat in her seat speechless. She and Mary have been together for the last few months and yet this emotion of Mary wanting to be more involved, to step up, it always got to Zelda.

“Okay.” Mary smiled and leaned over Zelda’s desk to give a quick kiss to Zelda’s lips. Zelda returned it but being aware of where they were broke apart and returned to their work.

______________

Zelda spent the week leading up to spring break getting ready for her trip. After almost badgering Hawthorne he finally sent her the details for the trip. She now knew what flight she was on, what time she was leaving and arriving back, how long she was going to be away, and where she was staying. This was all important information that she could give to her family, especially her daughter. This was the first time that Zelda was leaving for a long period of time where she wasn’t taking Vida and she was going out of the country. An ocean was going to seperate them and Zelda didn’t know how she felt being so far away from her baby. Vida appeared to be taking it better than she was, she understood how long Zelda was going to be away and for how long. She was excited to be staying with Mary and she helped Zelda pack the small suitcase that was for her stay with Mary. It sat in the parlor by the door along with Zelda’s luggage so it was ready to go.

In the midst of packing and preparing to go overseas one thing still nagged at Zelda. She was never given the name of the school that she was joining and Hawthorne wouldn’t tell her. It was… concerning but Zelda had other things to worry about. Zelda was scheduled to leave Friday, her flight was at five which meant she had time to go home, change, say goodbye to her family, and arrive at the airport a good hour before her flight. However, that week before spring break was quarterly testing which meant she had six period of tests to grade and enter into the computer before the deadline. That meant Zelda was kept longer at the school so she could finish her grading. Mary was the biggest of help, she graded the multiple choice part while Zelda graded the written answers. On Thursday she had a plan, she was going to submit the tests that she had finished grading, which was periods 2, 3, and 6, her Russian, Italian, and Chinese classes and the grading that she had finished for her other classes. That way on Friday all she had to do was focus on her first period French 3 classes essays and the remaining tests from periods 4 and 5 which were mostly multiple choice. She was organizing the final details when the phone in her office rang. Zelda groaned hoping it wasn’t Hawthorne wanting something but when she answered Mrs. Meeks said she had a message from her daughter's school. There’s been an incident.

_________________

Zelda arrived at her daughter’s school slightly out of breath. In a panic she forgoed her car and powered walked to the school thinking it would get her there faster. When she arrived her daughter’s teacher immediately ushered her to the nurse's office where Vida was. Zelda almost broke down when she saw her daughter. Vida was curled on one of the beds with Oso pressed close to her and her cheeks were red from crying. There was an ice pack on her daughter’s knee, the spot was red and pale the way a new bruise would come in. Vida looked up when she heard Zelda come in and it brought new tears to her eyes.

“Mommy!” In two quick strides Zelda was by her daughter scooping her up so Vida was crying into her shoulder. Zelda shh’d and rocked her daughter, rubbing a hand up and down her daughter’s back. After a few minutes Vida calmed down and Zelda gently pulled her away, not a lot just enough so her daughter’s face wasn’t being smothered in her shoulder.

“Vida what happened? Your teacher said someone hit you.” The first few times Vida tried to open her mouth nothing but hiccups cam out. The nurse handed Zelda a plastic cup with water and Zelda held it to coax her daughter into drinking. After a few sips Vida found her voice.

“Judas hit me with a chair!”

“What?!” Zelda looked to Vida’s teacher completely shocked and horrified that another child would harm hers.

“It was a hollow plastic chair and the nurse looked her over, she confirmed that nothing was broken. But we do need to know why Judas hit you Vida.”

“He took Oso!”

“Oso?”

“Her bear.”

“How did you know he took your bear?”

“Because I saw him! Just like I see him take my lunch every day.”

“What do you mean he takes your lunch everyday?” Vida gave a faint squeak and scotted slightly away from Zelda. She never liked it when her mother was mad. “Vida why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because! Judas pushed me when I told Ms. Green the first time. I just want him to leave me alone.” New tears stung Vida’s eyes and she buried her face into Zelda’s shoulder again. There was a pause and Zelda took the time to look after her daughter. Vida’s behavior last night now made sense. Hilda always made enough food to feed an army unlike Zelda who cooked just enough. With so much food it allowed Vida to compensate for not eating lunch. After a few minutes Zelda wonder if she should ask one of the other teachers if she could take her daughter home but that was when the nurse came by and told her that the principle and Vida’s teacher would like to speak to her in private. It took some prying but Zelda was able to detach herself from her daughter, promising she would be right back and that they would go home soon. Zelda didn’t have to go far, both the principle and Vida’s teacher were right outside the nurse’s office.

“Ms. Spellman.” The principal, Mrs. Mcguire, introduced herself and offered her hand for Zelda to shake, Zelda took it. “I talked to Judas when his mother finally arrived and by what Ms. Green has told me from what Vida has said and what she and her student teachers have observed I was able to piece together what has happened. Roughly when school started Judas started to take a part of Vida’s lunch, something about a ‘special treat’?”

“My sister Hilda must have been packing something extra in her lunch.”

“I see. Over time it escalated to Judas taking all of Vida’s lunch. When it happened the first time Vida did tell Ms. Green because the incident is dated in Judas’ file. The reason it wasn’t made a big deal of is because of the children's age they are prone to pushing and since Vida wasn’t seriously injured he was given the appropriate punishment by the school rules. Now today what happened was that when Judas attempted to take Vida’s lunch he didn’t find everything that he wanted which caused him to take the bear that was in Vida’s backpack. Because today was show-in-tell Judas showed the bear as his own and Vida in anger tried to take the bear back. From what Judas has told me Vida pushed him and then tried to run away with the bear which was when he hit her with the chair. When Judas tried to take the bear again Vida kicked him and that was when Ms. Green and one of the student teachers were able to seperate them and here we are.”

“So what now?”

“Our school has a no tolerance policy on physical violence however I recognize that Vida wasn’t the main aggressor. Because today is the second to last day before break I am suspending both Vida and Judas tomorrow, however Judas will remain suspended when we resume the following Tuesday and would not be able to return until the following week. The policy is actually ten days but given his age and being so close to the end of the school year I’m shortening the suspension slightly.”

“And what are you going to do to prevent something like this to happen again?”

“Had Vida brought more attention to the issue we would have moved either her or Judas to another class but with it being so late Ms. Green and I are going to work on a plan on how to keep the two of them separate. As for the lunch issue I’m going to work on a plan that would stop the food theft and that will go into effect when we reassume after spring break. Do you have any questions for either of us Ms. Spellman?”

“At the moment no but I will keep a close eye to make sure nothing else happens to my daughter.”

“I understand completely. When Vida is ready you can take her home and thank you for coming when you did Ms. Spellman.” Zelda and Ms. Mcguire shook hands one last time before she left. Ms. Green offered Zelda a small smile before walking away to return to her class. She probably thought Zelda was going to yell at her, and she wasn’t wrong, but Zelda was too focused on her daughter. Vida was more than eager to leave, she had her coat and backpack on before Zelda could step foot back into the nurse’s office. She still held Oso and Zelda didn’t really blame her. They started walking back to the high school, all of Zelda’s things were in her office, but half way up to the corner of the street Zelda heard someone call her name. It was Constance Blackwood, Zelda hasn’t seen her in years and trailing behind the other woman was a boy. Zelda paled, Vida’s bully was Faustus son.

“Constance. It's been a while.”

“It has. I just wanted to apologize for my son. I don’t know why he acted out the way he did. Apologize to Vida Judas.” Judas had a scowl on his face as he stepped out a bit more from behind his mother. Vida moved closer to Zelda clenching Oso even tighter to her, she didn’t want her bear taken again.

“Sorry.” Judas said in a huff. Vida just whimpered and hid her face in Zelda’s side. Zelda wasn’t going to force Vida to interact with Judas, she was scared and needed time to process away from Judas.

“We should go.” Zelda turned to walk away but Constance again stopped her.

“Zelda I also wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“Yes. My husband said you would be taking my place on the Paris trip. Like an idiot I promised my sister that I would visit her over the holiday. I was going to cancel but Faustus said he was able to get a replacement. I hope you have a good time.” Constance said goodbye and turn to leave, leaving Zelda in her frozen state of shock. She was going with Gehenna Academy, with Faustus overseas for almost a week. A hard cold feeling settled in the pit of her stomach and now she was even less keen on going to Paris.

___________________

Zelda spent the time leading up to leaving for the airport in a cold dread. She woke up that morning with a large jagged rock in her stomach that made eating anything impossible. She tried but everytime she brought anything up to her mouth her throat would tighten to a point that she felt like she couldn’t breath. She kept her feelings from her family, especially her daughter. Zelda wanted her leaving to be smooth, if she let on that something was wrong than Vida would worry, which would cause Zelda to worry and it would be a down whirl spiral from there.

Since she lost some valuable time on Thursday Zelda placed her suitcase and her carry on bag in the car when she left for work that day. She would now have to leave for the airport from the school so she stuffed a change of clothes in her purse that she would change into right before she was set to leave. Because of this shift she arranged it with Hilda to meet her at the school so that she could say goodbye to her family closer to when she was going to go. While the remainder of her classes completed their examinations she focused on her French 3 essays, they were the most difficult things to grade and the more she completed the more time she had to complete and then input the remainder of her grades. Her goal was to finish before three so she had enough time to change and get to the airport with enough time despite traffic. She would need a miracle to finish on time.

That morning Zelda texted Mary to not join her for lunch that day. She was going to skip lunch so she could finish her grading and have enough of it done so at the end of the day all she had to do was enter her grades and submit her tests with Mrs. Meeks. It would all go a lot faster if Mary wasn’t there. Mary was a distraction that she couldn’t have. As her second period was leaving she felt a buzz from her left pocket, it was her phone which she kept on her in case Hilda, who was watching Vida, needed something. It was Mary and it simply said ‘you didn’t see me note’. Zelda looked at the text with a look of confusion, eyebrows scrunched together and a slight frown. What does that mean? Zelda weighed that she couldn’t think about it, she needed to concentrate on her grading and switched out the movie for third period class. At lunch she went to her office to write down the grading that she had completed in her grade book. When she opened the upper right hand drawer she noticed a sticky note on top of one of the folders that held her test for one of her classes. She picked it up and after she read it smiled, now Mary’s text made sense. According to Mary’s note she figured something major happened if it caused her to leave without warning or tiding because she knew Zelda and Zelda couldn’t stand disorder. So she graded the scantrons like she was doing and with Zelda’s answer keys graded the fill in the blank parts of the test. It meant that two thirds of her grading was now done and Zelda couldn’t say how grateful she was. More ahead than she thought Zelda decided to join Mary for lunch.

Mary was in her office, she was at her desk where an empty lunch tray sat in the corner. Mary was leaned back in her chair, feet on her desk, her eyes scanned over a book that was in her lap and a pen cap was in her teeth while the pen twirled between her fingers. Zelda, after taking a minute just to admire Mary, knocked on the door frame. Mary looked up and after removing the pen cap from her lips smirked up at her.

“You finally got my note.” Mary stood up from her chair placing her book and pen on her desk.

“I did and I can’t thank you enough.” Zelda quickly made her way over to Mary, stopping Mary before she could completely round the desk. Zelda kissed Mary soundly, Mary gave off either a gasp or a moan, Zelda couldn’t tell but the sound sent a nice soft buzz to her lips. Mary kissed her back just as passionately before pulling back with a smirk.

“That’s a thank you I can get used to.” Zelda just smiled and took a seat in one of Mary’s spare chairs. Mary didn’t return to her desk chair, instead she sat on the edge of her desk, close to Zelda so that their knees were touching. “Is everything okay?” Zelda contemplated for a minute what her response would be. She could say everything was fine, lie and say what took her away yesterday wasn’t an emergency but Mary knew her too well. And did she want to base their relationships on lies? No, she didn’t. Especially not about this.

“I don’t know.” Mary brought her hand to cover the one that Zelda had placed on her thigh. “I found out that not only does my daughter have a bully but said bully is Faustus’ son and I’ll be spending a week in Paris with him.” Mary was silent for a while. Behind her grey blue eyes Zelda saw flickers of light that meant thoughts were going through Mary’s head.

“Is Vida okay?”

“She’s fine. The boy hit her with a chair and she has a nasty bruise on her knee but physically she’s fine. Emotionally I don’t know. She had to deal with this boy who has been stealing her food for months try to take her bear on top of me leaving overseas for a week. I wish I could spend more time with her before I have to leave but I have to leave for the airport from here.”

“Vida aside do you think you would be okay with this Blackwood guy going?”

“I would have to be. I made a promise to myself that I would only move forward and any relationship with Faustus would only be going back.” Mary nodded but her eyes had a slight clouded look, she was worried about something but before Zelda could ask the bell rang ending lunch. Zelda got up and with a kiss on Mary cheek left.

Mary stayed where she was, deep in thought. She had to come up with something that would help both Zelda and Vida. Just as she was about to run out time she came up with a perfect plan. With one quick phone call the plan was placed into action.

________________

Spring was coming early to Greendale. Hilda looked at the weather and nodded in approval, very rarely would the conditions outside be so pleasant during this time of year. She takes what mother nature gave her and worked with it. Because it was so nice she decided to start working on her outdoor garden. It was protected for the winter but with the temperature mild and the ground workable she decided to start her spring preparations early. Plus it was a great distraction for Vida.

The poor dear was in a funk all morning, she barely touched her breakfast and Oso never left her side. Hild couldn’t tell if Vida was sad about her mom leaving or what happened with Judas. Extracting any kind of information from Vida was like pulling teeth and when she was hurt forget it, she was too much like her mother most days. Zelda told her everything and Hilda couldn’t help but think she had a hand in it. She all so felt a little stupid. She remembered a time months ago that Vida had asked her to pack her an extra ‘special treat’ in her lunch. Hilda thought she made a friend and without a second thought enthusiastically agreed. She realized now that Vida was trying to solve the issue by herself but when it didn’t work she stopped asking for the extra treat. In the back of her mind Hilda meant to mention it to Zelda or talk to Vida about it but the holidays hit and her attention was pulled elsewear. So to make it up to her niece Hilda brought her out to the garden where the dirt that she loved was and her need to help people took over. Dawning her rain boots and Oso safely in a basket off to the side Vida helped Hilda build rows and plot sections for her Aunts future harvest. When they came in for lunch (Hilda was pleased that Vida ate the whole thing) the phone rang.

“This is the Spellmans Hilda speaking.”

“Hilda it’s Mary. I don’t have much time I have to get to my next class but I need you to do something for me.”

“Okay?”

“How soon can you get to the school?”

“Well, Zelda has the car and by walking Baxter high is about half an hour away, forty five minutes with Vida. Why?”

“I was hoping you can come early so Zelda and Vida could spend as much time as they can also I need you to bring something without Zelda knowing.”

“Oh Mary I don’t know Zelda doesn’t like surprises.”

“I understand but in the off chance she doesn’t like it, which I doubt, I’ll take the heat. Now here’s what I need.” Hilda nodded along as she listened. She still wasn’t sure what Mary had planned but agreed to it and after letting Vida sleep for half an hour and changing her in clean clothes they set off to the school.

_________________

Zelda took a deep breath to try to relax herself. The final dismissal bell had just sounded and students who were eager to start their break left. With it now being a little after two it meant that Zelda had roughly two hours to finish her grading and submit her results into the computer. She could accomplish more if she wasn’t stressed hence why she was trying to relax herself as she made her way to her office. She had finished her French 3 essays so all that was left for them was to submit them into her book and with Mary finishing her scantron and fill in the blanks for Italian and Russian (not Chinese but Zelda didn’t blame her and she would double check Russian) she could hopefully finish before Hilda came with her daughter. Sabrina came by and Zelda let her enter the grades that she already completed. She had just finished her Spanish class test when there was a rhythmic knock on her door. In a panic she checked her watch but it was only two forty she had more time, Hilda was early but Zelda let her in.

“Hi! I know I’m early but I thought you might want to see this little one.” Vida ran out from behind Hilda and Zelda took her into her arms. Vida didn’t say anything and it concerned Zelda for a moment but she just brushed it off as Vida being tired. Zelda completed her grading a little after three, Mary did a really good job with the fill in the blank parts so there was little to re correct. Next was entering in the grades into the computer and since the computers were in the office she brought her test in a sealed envelope to the office. Vida had to stay in her office while she did it so she trusted her with Sabrina and Hilda.

It took a little over half an hour to submit all of her grades, a record for her, so she left the office a little proud of herself that she made all of her goals. She stopped dead in her tracks just outside the office when she saw Mary standing there with her purse in her hand. Zelda rose an eyebrow but Mary just lead her to one of the staff bathrooms and handed her purse so she could change. Zelda changed into the dark jeans and her Madeline t-shirt that she stuff in there, her sneakers were in the car and she would change into those later. As she was fixing her hair into a ponytail she saw out of the corner of her eye Mary as she gingerly leaned against a wall. Zelda didn’t give it much thought, this was Mary and Mary was known to lean against walls like she owned them. So she didn’t register that Mary had moved until she felt someone, felt Mary, press against her back trapping her against the basins of sinks. Zelda, not knowing what Mary was doing or why, was going to ask for an explanation but Mary’s lips on the base of her neck made whatever protest she was going to say die. Through the mirror Zelda saw Mary’s head as it moved from the base to the side of her neck, her lips never left her skin and it filled Zelda with a nice warm feeling. Zelda released a drowned out moan that could be mistaken for a sigh as she closed her eyes and leaned against Mary. The warm feeling was soothing and she was soaking it up until a sharp sting snapped her back into reality. She opened her eyes in time to see Mary’s teeth sink into her skin where her shoulder and her neck met. The spot was soothed by Mary’s tongue but when she moved away the area was flushed pink and Zelda had little doubt that a bruise would form. Meaning…

“You gave me a hickey!? What on earth possessed you to do such a thing!?”

“I want him to know. I want him to know what he gave up and that you moved on to someone who isn’t afraid to tell the world that you are their’s. That little bruise would speak louder than any words will and I’m sure you will find him squirming in jealousy entertaining and enjoyable.” Zelda, after she got over her anger about the hickey, thought about it and smiled. Mray was right and she couldn’t wait to see the look on Faustus’ face when he finds out that Zelda wasn’t only happy but she was thriving without him.

___________________

Zelda arriving at the airport was bitter sweet. Her whole family minus Ambrose came with her to send her off. Ambrose proadly gave up his spot in the car so Mary could go. Zelda hugged him goodbye and he sent them off with a wave and wishes of safe travel. She made it with plenty of time to spare and after checking in at the appropriate places she and her family made it to her gate. Though she had been away from the academy for a couple of years Zelda still recognized the staff and a few of the students who were waiting at the gate. At the head of the pack was Faustus, he scanned over the area to make sure that all his students and staff were there. When he saw her he just nodded and checked something on his list. After a while he started to say something and the students lined up in a line. Boarding had begun.

“I have to go.” That’s when Vida started to cry. It was out of the blue and muffled as she smothered her face into the back of Oso’s head. Zelda’s heart broke into a million pieces and after letting go of her carry on picked up her daughter. “It’s okay sweetie Mommy will be back before you know it. While I’m gone I want you to have fun with Mary and Sabrina and Ambrose and your Auntie Hilda. And when I get back I want you to tell me everything. Think you can do that for me baby?” Vida shook her head but Zelda knew she heard her and would do her best. After a few minutes of Zelda hugging her daughter and placing a kiss on her cheek she handed Vida to Mary. Zelda had to pry her daughter off and that just pained her even more. She hates that she was leaving her daughter. She hates that Hawthorne is making her do this. But she swallowed her sadness, hugged her family, and kissed Mary goodbye. At the edge of the hanger she looked over her shoulder and gave one last wave to her family.

“Bye Aunt Zelda!”

“See you soon!”

“Have a good trip!”

On the plane Zelda noted that the staff and students of the academy where all together which wasn’t surprising if the tickets were purchased together. There was one last seat, a window seat that was next to Faustus and his deputy head. Zelda half cringed but she placed her carry on in the overhead bin and took the seat.

“Zelda.”

“Faustus.” He handed her a folder which she took though confused.

“Your itinerary and list of students in your group.” She thanked him and placed the folder in the pouch in front of her seat, she can review it during the flight, when her focus wasn’t on her daughter. She decided to look out the window hoping something outside would distract her. Next to her Faustus stiffened and she looked at him to determine what caused him to sit in his seat as though he was a statue. That’s when she noticed his attention was on her neck and she fought the smirk that threatened to escape. He quickly looked away and pretended he wasn’t staring at her but the damage was already done. Mary was right it was satisfying.

__________________

After Zelda boarded her flight Hilda and Sabrina decided to head back to the car but Mary stayed. She took Vida to the large window and with a little coaxing she was able to get Vida to look out.

“Look Vida. The airplane is going to take your Mommy to Paris and we are going to send it off with as much love as we can so Mommy knows we love her. You can do that right?” Vida looked at her with her watery eyes. She still looked sad at the fact of losing her mom but a small part of her looked insulted that Mary would talk to her like a baby. It was her old self poking out and it made Mary smile. Regardless, Vida looked out the window and when the plane started to move to take off into the darkened sky she waved goodbye and said she loved her mom. Mary did the same and when they could no longer see the plane they left.

“Mary?”

“Yes baby?”

“Mommy will come back right?”

“Of course. Nothing could keep her away from you. Come hell or high water she’ll come back.”

“Sabrina’s parents didn’t come back. I don’t want what happened to them to happen to Mommy.” The realization stopped Mary cold. This was why Vida was so upset. Yes, a part of it might be because she was being separated from her mother for longer than she was used to but that didn’t even compared to the real fear. Vida feared losing her mother like Sabrina lost her parents, it was any childs greatest fear just like it was the parents.

“Vida, what happened to Sabrina’s parents was a tragedy yes but it’s a tragedy that a lot of people try to prevent. I’m not going to lie and say it can’t happen but I have faith that Zelda will come back. So as long as you remember that it’s going to be okay. Okay?” Vida looked down as she thought, clenching Oso tight to her body. After a while Vida whispered ‘okay’ and they continued on.

When they made it to the car Vida buried her face in Oso’s furry head and she took in the subtle smell of her mother’s perfume. It made her sad again, she already missed her mom, but she remembered what Mary and her mom had said. She will have faith that her mom will come back and she will do her best to be happy and make good memories to tell her mother. She can do it! Oso agreed as well and Vida had her mission for the next week.

#Madam Satan #madam spellman #Zelda Spellman

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ramajmedia · 5 years

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10 Best Cookbooks To Own Based On Popular TV Shows & Movies

Fans enjoy certain shows and films for a variety of reasons. There is probably an entertaining story. There may be lovable characters. There could be thrills, mysteries or jokes. And there is a chance that the piece is filled with yummy eats and treats, too!

These must-own cookbooks, which are all based on popular TV series and movies, allow people to take their interests a step further. They allow people to feel like they are part of the story. And they allow people to enjoy some amazing and some one-of-a-kind recipes, so keep these in mind when shopping for gifts!

10 The One with All the Recipes: An Unofficial Cookbook for Fans of Friends

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Could these recipes BE any more delicious? This Friends cookbook is full of drinks, entrees, desserts and more, all of which are inspired by this celebrated show from the 1990s. The Not-So-Fine Margaritas could be made when someone is moving to Yemen (or when someone is pretending to be). The Fried Stuff with Cheese could be served at a Friendsgiving meal.

The Engagement Ring Lasagna could be eaten after someone gets a ring from their Rachel or their Ross. There are so many fans of this classic series, so there are so many people who would love receiving this gift!

9 Eat Like a Gilmore: The Unofficial Cookbook for Fans of Gilmore Girls

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Lorelai and Rory Gilmore can eat like no one else, so a book of recipes, inspired by this mother-daughter duo and their television series, makes sense. Sometimes, the two grab breakfast (and coffee...always lots and lots of coffee) at Luke’s.

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8 A Feast of Ice and Fire: The Official Game of Thrones Companion Cookbook

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Game of Thrones is one of the most-watched series that has ever been on television, and with this cookbook, fans can make over 100 dishes inspired by the Seven Kingdoms and beyond. The easy-to-follow recipes can be completed in modern-day kitchens, but adventurous souls can try to replicate these foods using medieval attempts! Plus, there are suggested substitutions, since not everyone may be able to find some of these fantastical ingredients.

So get ready for Mulled Wine, Beef and Bacon Pie, Almond Crusted Trout, Stuffed Grape Leaves, Honey-Spiced Locusts and other exciting eats that characters like Daenerys Targaryen, Tyrion Lannister, Jon Snow and Sansa Stark enjoyed.

7 The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Pizza Cookbook

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Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello and Michelangelo are known for many things...like their love of pizza. That being said, a cookbook based around these Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles exists, and, of course, it is full of different types of pizzas; breakfast pizzas, mini pizzas, dessert pizzas and traditional pizzas can all be created and eaten up with this unique gift!

There are 65 recipes in this book, such as New York Style Pepperoni, Shredder's Revenge and Lean, Mean, and Green, and many of them would be great for after-school snacks, for dinner on the weekend or for watch parties where fans come together to watch these classic characters.

6 The Bob's Burgers Burger Book: Real Recipes for Joke Burgers

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Some other popular cartoon characters are seen on the animated series Bob’s Burgers; in this show, Bob Belcher owns a burger joint, and there is always a Burger of the Day. With this zany cookbook, 75 different burger recipes can be enjoyed at home, such as Bleu is the Warmest Cheese Burger, Bruschetta-Bout-It Burger, Shoot-Out at the OK-ra Corral Burger, Sweaty Palms Burger and I Know Why the Cajun Burger Sings Burger!

There is also art that has never been seen, which is done in the colorful style of this TV show and which is another reason to get this for any fans out there.

5 Star Wars: Galaxy's Edge: The Official Black Spire Outpost Cookbook

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Walt Disney World and Disneyland have new rides, lands, shops and restaurants that are themed around Star Wars: Galaxy’s Edge. These out-of-this-world eats and treats, found at the Black Spire Outpost on the planet Batuu, can be replicated at home by fans when this cookbook is given and received.

The entire thing is engaging and informative, and the recipes (which are, of course, the main attraction here) from a galaxy far, far away are sure to please so many people out there, since the Star Wars franchise is a huge one, with a huge following.

4 The Unofficial Harry Potter Cookbook

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Another well-known franchise that exists is Harry Potter, as these flicks have been watched by fans all over the world. The magic, the battle of good versus evil, the relationships and the settings are all quite appealing, but there are also some yummy foods and drinks within this magical universe.

This unofficial cookbook is filled with over 150 recipes that witches, wizards and even Muggles will like, such as Treacle Tart (Harry's favorite dessert), Molly's Meat Pies (which Mrs. Weasley makes quite often) and Pumpkin Pasties (a popular sweet treat). Plus, no magic is even required to whip any of this up!

3 The Burn Cookbook: An Unofficial Unauthorized Cookbook for Mean Girls Fans

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In Mean Girls, actor Jonathan Bennett plays Aaron Samuels, and in this cookbook, he offers up some recipes inspired by this film and from his childhood. Fetch-uccine Alfredo, Just Stab Caesar Salad, Bennett’s mom's famous stuffed shells and You Go, Glenn (Hot) Cocoa are just a few of the awesome things that can be cooked and served by fans of this story.

Obviously, these foods and these drinks can happen at any time, but they probably taste even better while wearing pink on Wednesdays and/or while watching this movie for the 7,000th time.

2 The Walking Dead: The Official Cookbook and Survival Guide

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Ever dreamed of eating pudding with Carl, snacking on the cookies that Carol baked or dining on Hershel’s spaghetti? Well, all of that and so much more can be enjoyed with this official cookbook and survival guide, which is inspired by the hit show The Walking Dead. The recipes are based on actual foods from the series or are inspired by certain characters and locations. They are accompanied by expert information on foraging, hunting and outdoor cooking, as well, in case fans actually find themselves in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. This is another must-own gift idea to consider!

1 Binging with Babish: 100 Recipes Recreated from Your Favorite Movies and TV Shows

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Binging with Babish is a popular YouTube channel that features Andrew Rea teaching recipes based on television series and movies. The babka from Seinfeld, the beef bourguignon from Julie & Julia, the Timpano from Big Night, the chocolate lava cake from Chef and Bubba's shrimp from Forrest Gump are just a few of the dishes that fans can try and eat at home.

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NEXT: Star Wars: 10 Dark Side Gifts For The Sith In Your Life

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fanfic-phoenix · 7 years

Text

Have you been wicked Mr Holmes? Part 3

Hello! This is the cutesiest one so far, but still has a smut warning so... what can I say? I have lost all my moral high ground over my beta (the ever awesome @ebdaydreamer who, of course, fixed my grammar for this part too) for this story! Enjoy!

Sherlock grimaced dramatically as decorations began to encompass his living room. The tree, the tinsel (why must they pick the one that shed all over the place?), the general air was sickening. The urge to divulge sentimental thoughts seemed to overwhelm the entire populace at this time, and even the criminal population seemed to succumb to the spirit of goodwill. He turned to Watson, sighing as he saw the latest mistake.

“Yet again you fail to connect actions to their consequences, Watson. You must understand that to me the world is an open book, and if you - as your mind is still undeveloped - wish to do well you should listen to what I say. Now, for the last time,” He picked up the plush Santa and handed it back to Rosamund Mary Watson, “If you wish to keep the toy, do not throw the toy.” He ended the sentence with a fond smile, a fond smile that dropped as the plush Santa connected with his face. He sighed and placed it beside her.

Rosie was, despite his protestations to the contrary, the only good thing in Baker Street at the moment. With John and Mary insisting on decorating (Oh God, was that… mistletoe?) and Irene away (goodness knew where, it was business, apparently. And no, he was not in the least jealous, thank you very much, John), he was relying on the bright eyes and smiling face of the new Watson to raise his spirits. She was immensely curious already, very keen on experimenting on how far she could pull Sherlock’s curls before he was unable to hold the forced smile, and equally fond of drooling over herself and requiring changing. Whenever John and Mary fell asleep on the couch (basically half an hour into any visit) the duty fell to him and he, as the doting godfather, was obliged.

The moan of Irene Adler sounded tinnily from the phone on the side table. He jumped up, ignored the glare of the new parents (“That is not a noise for children, Sherlock!”), and grabbed the phone in record time.

Hang in there, Mr Holmes. I’ll be home soon. We can have dinner.

-IA

He smiled, perhaps Christmas wouldn’t be a complete waste.

I look forward to it, Miss Adler. Baker Street isn’t as lively with your absence.

-SH

Sherlock picked up Rosie, hoping to stop her wails waking her parents. It had been an hour at last since Irene’s text. With a sigh, he looked quizzically at her.

“What is the problem, Watson?”

He was thankful as ever for the power of deduction. She wasn’t hungry, nor was she tired, nor was her nappy full. Which meant…

“You just want attention, don’t you?”

He shook his head, holding her carefully and rocking her slightly.

“Would you like a story, Watson?”

She made no reply, as babies were known to do, but he took the end of the cries as a positive.

“Once upon a time lived a pirate, the most fearsome pirate on the whole seven seas. His name was Captain William, and he travelled with a retired knight who was his First Mate Hamish. First Mate Hamish was never without the beautiful Princess Mary and the even prettier fairy Rosie.”

John and Mary woke at the sound of their baby's cries through the crackling monitor. But they also heard them stop, and the deep voice of the detective beginning his story. They smiled blissfully at each other, eyes still blurry with sleep, and settled down for Sherlock’s story time.

“First Mate Hamish and Princess Mary were very much in love, so much that poor old Captain William had to watch them kissing all the time! Blech!” Sherlock smiled at Rosie, watching her relax and giggle at his newly animated face. “But one day, Princess Mary went missing, and the pirates knew she was in danger. Well, they weren't about to let Princess Mary get hurt, not when the Fairy Rosie needed her (as did they, not that they'd ever admit it) so they went to the Apple Tower to save her.”

Mary and John looked at each other. This was Sherlock telling Rosie about Appledore. Surely they shouldn't let it happen. And yet, there was something in his voice, something soft, and they knew it'd be fine.

“The Apple Tower was a thousand feet high and guarded by a fearsome dragon with a nasty habit of licking people and taking them prisoner. And there, in his power, was Princess Mary.” Sherlock paused, tickling Rosie softly on her stomach and letting his deep laugh mingle with her giggle. “Captain William didn't know what to do, which, mind you, was a very rare thing. He and First Mate Hamish were stuck, but the Fairy Rosie hovering by encouraged them. Still, the dragon was winning, and they didn't know how to slay him.”

John and Mary listened to the silence for a moment. Clearly, Sherlock hadn't figured out how to baby proof this part quite yet. They entered the room silently, John chuckling as Sherlock jumped at Mary's voice.

“Of course,” she said, “Princess Mary was more resourceful than anyone thought. She too was a retired knight, and when the silly pirates got captured, she slayed the evil dragon herself with Captain William's cutlas. Then she picked the lock and she, William, Hamish and Rosie all lived happily ever after, especially when, not long after, William got his own princess, a woman called Irene.”

Sherlock handed the sleepy John his baby.

“How much did you hear?” He asked.

“All of your story.” John smirked, “First Mate Hamish?”

“John isn't a very pirate-y name,” came the haughty reply. It didn't take long for all to laugh.

Rosie was placed in her cot, newly exhausted by the action, and the adults adjourned to the living room.

“You're better with kids than I'd have thought,” John admitted. He had assumed Sherlock would think babies boring, or perhaps show them crime scenes as he has Archie. And yet he was fine, telling fairy stories and rocking her to sleep, and he has definitely caught him blowing a raspberry on her stomach when she was fussing, letting her get away with tugging his hair and biting his hands.

“I've always been fond of children.”

Perhaps that was a slight lie. He'd hated them when he was one. He was different to them and it was clearly visible, so they avoided him. But now, children were fascinating. They were curious and unspoilt, not having quite learned to stop asking questions. He adored that; the curious people always learnt most. And even babies who couldn't talk to ask were agreeable. They weren't particularly noisy if you kept them happy, and they were perfectly good company in silence or if one required a monologue.

Mary and John left at six, promising to be back at eleven in Christmas day, ready for the blasted party Mrs Hudson insisted upon. Sherlock prayed Irene would be back for it, he wasn't sure how he'd survive the festivities without her.

He smiled to himself, thinking of Mary's contribution. Princess Irene. She was certainly regal enough, and definitely able to dance as one would at court. He stretched out on the couch as he remembered dancing with her the last day before her trip, the feeling of flying and total contentment he'd never known before. He remembered it, the way he'd decided to do the traditional thing, just this once.

Sherlock tugged awkwardly at his tie. He'd always loathed them, but he'd YouTubed how one should dress for a date and it specifically mentioned the tie, so he was stuck. He checked his watch. The reservation was hours away, so they had time for the other things he'd planned, thank God. He'd been irrationally nervous when asking Irene to go on a… date… with him, considering their already intimate relationship, but she had laughed and agreed. She'd dress up for him, like a real date, and then he'd escort her wherever.

The dress was… completely her. Tight fit, short hemline and dipping neck, the black and white material showed off her best parts, the belt emphasising her thin waist. He tugged slightly at his jacket and offered her his arm, leading her to the car had hired. He didn't want to waste time hailing a cab, not on their last night together till who knew when. They chatted gaily the whole journey, but he never let on where they were going.

“Oh! Sherlock…”

Irene had been lost for words when she saw where they were. She kissed him square on the lips, a short chaste kiss of gratitude and excitement, before looking again with shining eyes. She'd told him months ago about this, about how she'd wanted to come, and he’d actually remembered. He handed her the tickets. First rate seats for Gypsy at Savoy Theatre.

The show was lovely. Both of them enjoyed it, the music flowing over them and enchanting them. They left the building with reluctance, even before they saw the rain that was falling. Sherlock had cursed quietly, before taking off his jacket to hold over Irene.

“Such the gentleman, Mr Holmes,” she'd said as they reached the car.

“But of course, Miss Adler,” he'd replied.

They were right on time for the reservation at Angelo's, walking in to be greeted by the man himself.

“A candle for you and your date, Mr Holmes? More romantic,” had come the joke.

“If you'd be so kind,” he'd replied, deadly serious.

The man seemed disappointed it wasn't John.

He pulled out the chair for her and tucked her in, handing her the menu. He even consented to order something more substantial than a starter, though he didn't eat more than a quarter. Spaghetti for both, and ice cream for the Woman's afters. Payment was waved off, as usual. He received a twenty pound tip without noticing, as usual.

Back at Baker Street, sat together on the couch. They were close, each with a glass of wine (the Woman's insistence) and the bottle between them. They'd had more than a glass, he knew that, as they were both laughing more freely and louder than often. The radio played random songs on a random station - they'd turned it on when they came in, not bothering to change channel. A slow song came on, Sherlock didn't know the name, and without noticing his own actions he had offered Irene his hand.

“May I have this dance, Miss Adler?”

They swayed together, spun round the room together, her hands behind his neck and his one her waist. They didn't notice when Mrs Hudson popped her head in just in time to see them rest their foreheads together and smile at each other, neither needing to say the words that hung in the air around them. She pressed a kiss to his lips, both of them smiling in it.

“Thank you, Sherlock.” She'd whispered.

“You're welcome, Irene.”

She'd taken the lead then, placing his hand on her zip and telling him to pull it down whilst she'd tugged him into a deep kiss by that ridiculous tie of his. She'd taken it off him, mercifully (he really hated the damned thing), and it was terrific aim in her part that had it hook on the horn of the headphone wearing skull. Both hastily defrocked they'd tumbled into bed together, equals in the game.

They gave each other as good as they got, both marking each other as their own, returning every move with their own. They extracted moans and begs from each other and held them like prizes. They relished in making the other writhe in pleasure and gasp at their next attack. Their hot skin pressed together and limbs tangled as they worked at each other, finding each other's weak spots and exploiting them mercilessly. They fought for the handcuffs, sucking on each other's neck to try and deter them, trying to reach behind the other as they straddled them. Sherlock finally took them, having found that entering her was an extremely good distraction.

When she surrendered he connected her to the bed, not quite sure what to do but knowing instinct would kick in as he experimented, stroking here and pressing kisses there, finding out how to make her to weak. She still fought back, taking advantage of any lapse in concentration to strike. She recorded the moan he gave out as her trophy, set it as her text tone one handed, but didn't let him notice. He recorded her, too even though the last one was still quite new. The sweet sounds she made were too good to waste, especially when he got her in just the right place and she clawed at his back with her free hand, begging him to carry on, to give her everything and more.

He was a gentleman, he always gave the lady what she wanted.

Eleven in the morning on Christmas Day came quicker than expected, and soon enough Baker Street was packed full of excitable visitors. Molly was there, chatting to Mrs Hudson in the kitchen. Gavin? Gary? Greg! Greg was by the tree talking to someone he couldn't see. John and Mary spoke to the neighbours, Mrs Turner's married ones, and their pained look suggested they were full as dishwater. Sherlock sat in his chair, watching Rosie play with her new blocks, forced to wear his new ear hat. He'd sent his present to Irene with her, in case she hasn't got back in time for Christmas. A necklace, a thin golden chain with a bright ruby rose hanging from it. She'd not made any reference to anything, so he waited to see if it would be given when she returned or by text.

The party fell silent at the orgasmic sigh of Miss Adler (different to the one they'd heard last time) coming from Sherlock's phone. They'd watched him snatch the phone in an instant before composing himself, realising he’d been perhaps slightly too eager. He cleared his throat slightly, made a show of reading his emails before the text, even though everyone could see he was counting the moments before he could look and keep his reputation (a little bit) intact.

Chimney. It's too big for the mantlepiece.

-IA

He moved in silence to the fireplace, aware of the eyes following him, reaching an arm inside. His hand soon brushed against the wrapping. Taking it out, he looked at the paper. The same colour as her lipstick, just like the phone’s wrapping had been. Perfectly neat and near impossible to deduce, blast her. He opened it, the room still silent and watching.

He looked at the gift, turning it in his hand, chuckling slightly at the anti-climax. An envelope. Trust her to double wrap. It smelt of her perfume, the one she wore on their date. He opened that and took out the paper.

He froze, staring at it. He had dropped the envelope, clutching the picture with two shaking hands, slightly pale but clearly happy. John could only remember one similar incident - when asked to be best man.

“Sherlock, mate, are you alright?”

Still silence. John sighed, telling the room to give him a minute, he was just buffering.

“Well well,” came a silky voice, “I expected more of a welcome home, Sherlock.”

Irene Adler stood in the doorway, her face breaking into a smile at Sherlock’s shocked face. Ah, how she’d treasure that look, the fact that she’d shocked Sherlock Holmes. It wasn’t an easy thing to do. He reached her in three strides at a speed no one else could ever hope to match, lifting her off her feet to twirl her round and kiss her.

“That good enough?” His voice was ringed with amusement, but he still held the look of disbelief. His hand trembled slightly as he reached forward, placing it hesitantly on her stomach, where he knew their child was growing.

At this, the room finally caught up and exploded into a cacophony of congratulations and other sentimental things, Mrs Hudson smiling tearfully and Mrs Turner consoling her. John clapped him on the back and Mary embraced Irene, promising all the good tips. The father-to-be cursed as he thought of the phone calls he would have to endure with Mycroft and Mummy, earning a tap on the arm from the expectant. They looked blissfully happy, happier than they had ever looked. They didn't mention that their baby wasn't exactly planned, they didn't care.

Happy Christmas indeed.

Boxing day. The day where their guests were no doubt regretting their alcohol consumption from the night before and the day Sherlock had decided to tell his family of the newest Holmes. Mother and Father would be too exhausted to talk for long, and Mycroft too busy to lecture him on sentiment and it's dangers. Still, he wouldn't do it quite yet. He'd prefer to stay wrapped up with Irene, one arm draped protectively round her shoulders and one resting atop the hand she lay on her stomach, smiling slightly as she slept, waiting for her to wake.

Midday had come and gone before he decided to call Mycroft.

“Is this a social call, Brother Mine?”

“That would depend on what you considered social, Mycroft.”

Sherlock knew that his brother would detect the slight nerves and excitement in his voice and go through the options in his head. He estimated twenty seconds for the realisation.

“Sherlock! What have you done now?”

Twenty eight. He was getting slow.

“I believe I have provided Mother with that grandchild she wanted so. A congratulations would suffice, Brother Mine, but I really can't chat. I haven't told mother yet, and-”

“She dragged me to Scotland, Sherlock. I put you on speaker as soon as I realised the truth.” He could almost see Mycroft’s smug smile. “Happy Christmas, Sherlock, and congratulations.”

He debated hanging up before Mummy took the phone. He looked to Irene for advice and only saw her laughing at his sullen face. It was too late to hang up by the time he'd quit pouting.

“Hello, Mummy.”

He held the phone away from his ear as she alternated between joyous exclamations and annoyance that he'd called Mycroft before her. Still, the happiness won out and he endured five minutes of her rambling before his father took pity and took the phone. Nothing overly emotional there, a quick congratulations and chat and they were done. He was free, finally.

He joined Irene on the couch.

“So…”

He couldn't find the words.

“Agreed.”

“I didn't say anything.”

“You didn't need to. I can read you like a book, Mr Holmes. You don't need to speak for me to know you're both excited and terrified of this.”

He nodded slightly.

“Mostly excited.” He pointed out. She nodded. He grinned.

“Any ideas for a name?”

#Adlock #smut #Sherlock #Irene #Christmas #Happy at the end #and all of it

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laceycain535-blog · 7 years

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itravelonmystomach · 7 years

Text

I wasn’t looking for an adventure. I wasn’t even looking for a good story. I just didn’t want to go home that summer from college. My mother had remarried and our blended family came together in a food processor. Family ‘blending’ was brand new in the 70s and since Oprah was still in college the healthy way for me to deal with all that change was to run for the hills – or in my case the ocean.

My uncle knew a guy whose brother owned an Italian restaurant named Petrillo’s on Route 9 in Cape Cod. It was a family restaurant located several miles from the water. He could get me in as a summer waitress. I guess they owed him a favor. Minimum wage plus pooled tips that the staff divided at the end of the shift. The usual.

I believe that people are either mountain people or ocean people. And that depends on where you spent your summers as a child. I spent my summers riding the waves at Jones Beach or on the calmer Long Island Sound. And so, the ocean is my happy place. That summer, I wanted to feel,-if not really be,-independent. Independent was code for taking care of myself the only way I knew how; which was to get out. And, like I said I love the ocean. My boyfriend was going to Yellowstone Park to work and I certainly did not want him to think that he had cornered the cool college summer job market. You know-make him a little nervous.

This came together pretty quickly, and, although I had the job I didn’t have a place to stay. My aunt and uncle drove me from Long Island to South Yarmouth. On the car radio we heard Billy Joel’s Street Life Serenade three times-‘working hard for wages, need no vast arrangements”. I checked in to a motel near the restaurant. It wasn’t seedy, but, it did include the musty smell and plastic shower walls at no extra cost. I was nervous and full of bravado. The independent thing is not all it’s cracked up to be when you’re alone in a motel with a pizza box and a bottle of Blue Nun. But, I’m getting ahead of myself. I felt confident that this was temporary. I’d make friends at the restaurant and get a spot in a fun summerhouse. Temporary was key because although the motel was cheap it would eat up all my earnings.

Another upside was that waitressing paid well for a college student so I anticipated making decent money that summer. The summer of 1975 – it was the summer of the energy crisis and Bruce Springsteen’s Born to Run. “Tramps like us, baby, we were born to run…” My boyfriend and I thought he was singing directly to us. I had met him at a college party and we’d been together for a year. We weren’t quite opposites attracting, but, I hung with the drama crowd at a jock college. He loved sports and hung with more of a pot smoking crowd. He was from New Jersey and took me to see Bruce when he was still playing at the Stone Pony on the Jersey Shore.

Back to the energy crisis in my terms – nobody was taking road trips because gas was so expensive. However, the Canadians still came. Canadians always visited the Cape no matter what – and were lousy tippers if they tipped at all.

I didn’t have to buy gas because I didn’t have a car. But, I had a bicycle. This was vital given that I didn’t know anybody so I couldn’t bum rides. Which sounds kind of sad, but, let’s bear in mind that I was an English major so sad translates to romantic.

Like most shops and restaurants Petrillo’s was located on Rte. 6 It is the main drag that snakes from one end of the Cape to the other. There was a sameness to it that was hypnotic. But the streets on either side of the route led to the water. No one really came to the Cape for the food. And certainly not the families. They looked for a place to grab something at the end of a beach day, so no one had to cook at the rental or the motel room efficiency kitchen. Petrillo’s was a popular family style restaurant with decent, inexpensive food. I still make their Bolognese sauce.

On Day One it became crystal clear that my status as an out-of-towner was a problem with the restaurant staff. I was not a townie. Now, where I went to college being a townie was social death. But not here. Townie Karma Cape Cod style began with “Where are you from?” followed by “How did you get this job?” I gave the wrong answers “New York” and “My uncle knows the owner.” There is a love/hate relationship in Cape Cod between those that live there and the summer people. The Natives need the income from the summer people but deeply resent them being there. I was given the lowest of the low job of peeling garlic cloves. I would spend two hours before the shift peeling cloves. My hands smelled like, well, a hundred cloves of garlic had exploded in them because they had. The only thing that got rid of the smell was washing them in lemon juice.

There were a couple of cooks working the line who you submitted your orders. For instance, let’s say you are waiting on a family of four and they all order a version of spaghetti. You place your order like this in the kitchen: “ I NEED 4 SPAGHETTIS –2 meatball 2 sausage” As part of the terror campaign, the cooks wouldn’t fill my order unless I yelled it to them in a Boston accent. Today it would be called bullying but then it was just nasty, and pretty funny. And so my fantasy of making friends and finding a place to live through work remained for a time just that – a fantasy.

An ad in the newspaper advertised a room for rent in a boarding house about five miles from the restaurant. It’s truly amazing that to this day I like to bike ride and eat Italian food. The boarding house was a block from the ocean so I couldn’t see the water but I could smell it. On the way back from the restaurant at night , I would bicycle down the street and hear the waves before my tires hit the sand. If there was moonlight, it was a movie moment. I have a visceral memory of the sight, sound and smell of the ocean.

My room came with a roommate. She was a 32 year old middle school teacher from the Midwest working the summer season at the Cape Cod Playhouse . She told me that she was hoping ‘to meet someone and have some fun”. As a 19 year old it really blew my mind to hear an adult -and a teacher no less- sound so lost and lonely. I assumed that at her age I’d be long past that and have my romantic act together.

On my breaks at work , I would sit outside at the back of the restaurant and read. I love to read and this also gave the appearance that I didn’t notice that no one took breaks with me. One afternoon between the lunch and dinner shifts I went out back and one of the newly arrived cooks was out there smoking a cigarette. I heard some of the staff saying that he was working on a Doctorate in Boston. He was a little older, which at my age meant he was in his late 20’s, tall with a red beard. I named him Dr. Cook.

“What are you reading?” he asked. “Gatsby” I answered. “I teach English at a school in Boston” he told me,. “I have Senior Honors and always teach it”. I hesitated to start a conversation. What if this was a come on (I was head over heels about my boyfriend) or what if this was a lead in to more New York hate talk. New York – the city people love to hate. “High school students always want to focus on the love story” he said. “It can be tough to lead them to the real theme.”

“Yeah, I thought it was about the love story in high school” I said. “I thought it was OK – and now on this reading I really like it. It feels like a different book to me.’

“You have some life experience now”. Wait till you read it when you’re a little older – it’ll blow your mind.” He put out his cigarette and went back inside.

That conversation changed things for me. Unlike the other cooks, Dr. Cook would take my order without demanding I use a Boston accent. We continued our running commentary about Gatsby. I would pick up the lasagna order and yell over the shelf to him “I think Nick and Gatsby were the only ones who cared about each other.” “You got that right he said – and not really as simple as liked – they had a respect. Even better.” He’d been working summers there for a number of years so no one gave him a hard time because he didn’t haze me.

His goal was to move to California and teach at UCLA. He wanted a change from the Northeast but it had to be near the water. In common with Gatsby, I think that he and I believed that we had a need to recreate ourselves. And we all shared a love of the ocean.

Think of a world long ago and far away. Imagine no cell phones. Try. My boyfriend and I would set times to phone each other. This meant figuring out the time difference between Yellowstone and Cape Cod, getting enough change to feed a phone booth and being disconnected when I ran out of change. We even wrote letters that I still have. I’m not being sentimental when I say that I believe that this is far more romantic than sexting On one call he said that he missed me so much that he was thinking of hitching to the Cape and finding a job.

Meanwhile back at the boarding house, teacher Sally was still trying to ‘meet someone’. “Wish I needed those” she would say to me when she saw my birth control pills on the bureau. This made me really uncomfortable and led to an emergence of an evil passive-aggressive twin. I would make it a point to leave them out on my bureau in a bitchy competitive I’ve got it all going on and you don’t sort of way. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll need some soon” I’d say. My interior dialogue read more like “Fat chance. You’re over thirty and live in Kansas.” She came home disappointed most nights. One night she didn’t come home. But when she did the next day she wasn’t happy. Which made me change my tune and wish for her a nice Calculus teacher starting school in the fall that would change her life. I was, after all a college student, with all the appropriate naivety and optimism in place.

“I used to think that Daisy was a great character. But now I think that she’s basically an airhead. A rich, pretty airhead. Just what she wants her daughter to be. Nick is right when he says Gatsby is worth the whole bunch of them put together. Gatsby deserves better,” I remarked.

“I think so too. Notice how Fitzgerald describes the bunch of them as careless – in their own lives and how they treat people.” Dr. Cook said as he wiped down the stoves at the end of the night. I was setting the tables for the next day. In the background from the kitchen radio John Denver sang “Thank God I’m a Country Boy”. We went out for a beer and kept the conversation going. We compared Tom Buchanan and Gatsby and talked about what a fish out of water Nick Carroway was. We both understood Gatsby’s idealized American optimism that he could recreate himself and gain the prize he sought.

I figured these intimate conversations might be over after tonight since my boyfriend was hitchiking straight through from Yellowstone. He’d be here the next day. He arrived and we rode the hormonal wave with abandon. The sheer romantic high and heightened emotions made us feel like stars of our own movie. It was that heady. THAT Catherine and Heathcliff. That much sand between our toes.

The townie karma peaked when someone (read-the waitress who had a crush on Dr. Cook and thought that there was something going on between us) accused me of not dividing the tips evenly one night and shorting her. I saw a group of them huddled near the walk- in refrigerator doing math on a piece of paper – this was before smartphone calculators. I tried to steer clear and then they surrounded me. I took out the piece of paper with my calculations and handed it over. Mean Girls before Mean Girls.

“You shorted us $10. Each.” She said. “Let’s see how much you took.” I took out my money and it was the right amount. Dr. Cook came over “What’s going on?” he said to this mean girls reunion. “We think she stiffed us.” “Doubt it” he said. “Give me the write up.” He took it and cleared me. It was then that I realized my initiation hadn’t let up not just because I was an out of towner but also because I was seen as competition. Her being exposed as trying to sabotage me put a pin in the balloon and the air seeped out of the sport of attacking me. I had developed a talent for bucking up.

My boyfriend and I fell into a routine once he found work with a lawn service and a room to rent. We spent our day off each week going to Martha’s Vineyard and exploring the beaches and each other. The summer finally found its groove.

A couple of times we went for a beer with Dr. Cook but it wasn’t the same. We talked about concerts or movies or just hung out, but no book talk. We formed a triangle with me at the point. Dr. Cook and I talked on breaks but the electricity between us changed. I felt confused about how much I missed spending time with him. Our conversations fed me.

People from the restaurant included us in after work parties. A group of us went to see “Jaws” and then went to the beach where it was filmed the summer before. They even said things like “Hey next summer lets all go to the Vineyard on our day off.” We included Sally in the Petrillo’s pasta parties, too. She always had fun, and, although she didn’t meet anyone she was relaxed. Hazing is not for sissies but I did get to the other side of it.

It was mid August when Sally left for home. We had fried clam rolls before she left for the airport and exchanged addresses – I knew I wouldn’t hear from her, but, also that I wouldn’t forget her. We had nothing in common except the bureau we shared and some memories of the Cape.

Dr. Cook went back and forth to Boston for a week setting up his teaching schedule and doctoral studies. The days he was back I would come to work early so we could catch up. My boyfriend took me home to Long Island and he went on to his home in New Jersey.

Two weeks later we were back at school. Two weeks after that he dropped me. My tan faded. I was so heartbroken that I cut my hair. Even with my flair for the dramatic I knew this wasn’t a gesture of independence but one of depression.

I have often described this boy from New Jersey as my first love. I don’t know. I know that I can barely recall a conversation we had. I remember nearly everything that passed between Dr. Cook and me. It would take me a long time to trust my instincts and to understand that respect is the better part of love. But I can recall the books that sustained me that summer, the bolognese and the person who had my back.

BOLOGNESE RECIPE

3 TBS chopped yellow onion

3 TBS olive oil

3 TBS butter

2 TBS chopped celery

2 TBS chopped carrot

1 LB ground beef (chuck)

Salt

1 C dry white wine

½ C of whole milk

2 C Canned Italian tomatoes with the juice

Use a large, heavy casserole pan. Put in the oil and butter and sauté onion until it is tender. Add the celery and carrot and cook gently for 2-3 minutes.

Add the ground beef and crumble it up with a fork. Add 1 tsp. salt and cook until the meat is no longer pink.

Add the wine, turn up the heat, cook and stir until the wine is almost evaporated.

Turn the heat down to medium and add the milk and cook and stir until the milk has evaporated. Keep stirring!

Add the tomatoes and keep stirring. When they start to bubble, turn the heat down to a simmer. Cook (uncovered) for 3 hours (at least) and stir whenever you walk by it. Correct for salt.

I never regret doubling this recipe and freezing half of it for future deliciousness.

CAPE COD SUMMER SCHOOL I wasn’t looking for an adventure. I wasn’t even looking for a good story. I just didn’t want to go home that summer from college.

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