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magpiemorality · 5 years

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Seeking: Family, Foster Twins 3

Homeward bound; to Patton’s house

Warnings: referenced child abuse, neglect, implied separation anxiety.

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***

So they were going home with Patton on trial. It was happening.

They'd debriefed in the morning about the process, talking it through with Remy, who was secretly a little sad to see them go. Packing never took long with kids at the halfway house, so rather than be sent to do that they were just told to hang out until Patton could pick them up after lunch.

Remus's head perked right up like an excited puppy when he heard the sound of a car door closing outside, squirming in place on the waiting room couch with Roman slouching by his side, hoodie firmly up. He was, apparently, making a Point or something, maybe a silent protest? Remus wasn't entirely sure, but he would support it anyway. But also Patton was there!

Parents gave Remus weird feelings mostly, but Patton had brought out something completely different. It was weird, and he was a little embarrassed, but he'd almost felt like he could even ask Patton for a hug during their very first and he would've been given one. Amazing. How could he not be instantly addicted to that euphoric, exciting new fluttering of hope in his chest?

If only Roman felt the same way.

"Hey kiddos!" Patton said when he got through the door, waving but (oh gosh Remus really liked him) not rushing over to crowd them. "I've left the car unlocked, why don't you go drop your bags in there and come say bye to Remy when I've signed everything?"

Remus felt the weight of Patton's eyes as he rushed to do as asked, dragging the sullen Roman along with him in his eagerness.

"He's not grading you on your performance Remus, jeez," Roman grumbled, dragging his heels deliberately. "I suppose you'll wanna sit up shotgun with him too, chat to your new bestie on the ride home…"

"Dad said it was polite not to make a driver feel like a taxi-"

Woops. Wrong thing to say. Roman rounded on him, throwing his bag to the ground, his metaphorical hackles up in less than a second despite the origin of the comment. "Dad said a lot of stupid things, Remus. We don't listen to them, remember?!"

"Yeah, sorry, I just-"

"Don't bring them up. It's our deal. Jeez, this guy really changed you already."

Remus wilted, hanging his head and pulling his back up higher on his shoulder as he stared at Roman's ratty sneakers. Silence was best, always best.

Above him, Roman sighed. "Shit, no. Remus I'm sorry, I overreacted again. Um, treaty?" He offered, holding his arm out. Remus shuffled under it quickly, hooking his chin over Roman's shoulder. "Sorry. I didn't mean to be like that to you."

"Sorry for talking about him," Remus responded, equally softly, glancing at his twin when he stepped back. "I'll try and cool it with Patton, until he really proves himself, okay? But it's hard."

"I know. You're-" Roman's face twisted briefly with uncertainty before hardening again with resolve. "You're doing real good, Remus. Yeah?"

His twin smiled bashfully at him. "Yeah. Now let's go, Remy is probably thinking we've done a runner!"

Remy had, funnily enough, not assumed they'd run away just yet. He looked up over his glasses when they came into the office, giving them both the usual nod and smile, and finishing up the papers with Patton.

"Hey guys, have a seat while we sort this stuff out, okay?" Patton loudly whispered to them, as though he was trying not to interrupt some sort of important proceedings, which of course these were not. Remus smothered the urge to giggle giddily, and they played a fierce words with friends battle for a few minutes until the adults stood up and shook hands over the table. "Okay boys, who's ready to go?"

"I hope to hear only good things from you both now," Remy warned, meeting them by the door and holding his hand out for them to shake one by one, something both twins managed to do so without much hesitation. "But no news is often good news too. Remember as always that you can contact me in emergencies, and we'll do your review at Patton's house in a week. You all set?"

He looked at Roman, hands shoved in his jacket and trying to look more cool and tough than he really was, and Remus, clinging to his brother's elbow and bouncing a little on his toes in excitement. Remus thought he saw fondness in his eyes as he nodded at them and opened the door to show the trio out.

"Bye now!" Patton called, steps light up the garden path to the car. He barely glanced at the two bags on the backseat, nor did he blink an eye when the two boys slid in side by side by their bags. "Don't forget to seatbelt up, kiddos. It's not too far but safety first!"

Their new carer chattered the whole way there, even though he struggled to engage even Remus in conversation this time round. Remus was more interested in sticking tight to Roman's side, watching Patton carefully in the rearview mirror while Roman stared moodily out of the window like the drama king he was at heart.

Neighbourhoods passed by, clean and perfectly average and very suburban, much like the house they stopped outside. Remus personally thought it looked like a slice of heaven, or a nineties kids' movie come to life, blue door and windows and flowerboxes and all.

There was even a picket fence, although it was just a plain wood rather than the traditional white paint. Roman still scoffed at it as they walked through and up to the house, reaching for his brother's hand with wide eyes so they could step through the door together.

Inside was almost as much of a paradise, and the two boys stayed close as they followed Patton through to the living room. He got them sat down and went to fetch some glasses of water, leaving them with a printed list of house rules and etiquette.

The mere sight of it made Roman's hands sweaty, and he shoved it towards Remus quickly, swallowing against the nausea that had abruptly risen. "You read it."

"It says... huh."

Roman's eyes shot his way but Remus didn't look bothered at all. "It says what?"

"Nothing much, really. Shoes off in the house, chores to be agreed on and split between all household on a weekly rota, no loud noises after ten because the neighbours have a baby, um, homework to be done... that kind of stuff. It's not- it's not rules, Ro. You're all good there."

Patton cleared his throat to interrupt them gently, handing the glasses over and sitting comfortably on a big floor cushion in front of the couch they'd carefully perched themselves on. "That's a list from when Thomas was living with me, actually. But it worked really well for the two of us so I wanted you to get an idea of what things are like around here. We'll start as we mean to go on, but it is Friday so we'll write the weekend off as a freebie to get used to the place."

Roman's hands felt drier already. That was... really reassuring actually.

"Where do we sleep?" Remus asked, sipping his water politely. Patton smiled and crossed his legs loosely, which made Roman wonder how old this guy was. He didn't act like the middle-aged stuffy couples they'd mostly had before, but he had apparently fostered a kid for a few years, and that hadn't been his first. Roman would have to snoop and find out somehow. It could be useful information.

Patton's reply broke his train of thought. "Well, we'll do a quick house tour once you've got comfortable, shoes off is non-negotiable I'm afraid guys, this floor doesn't clean itself! And then you can see what you think about sleeping arrangements. I've got two rooms but they're both pretty plain, so you can pick which one you guys prefer. Tomorrow we'll go shopping for some decor. Even if you end up deciding you don't want to stay, it's good to have spare bedding and things!"

Even if... Roman's thoughts spiralled again. Even if you end up deciding? As though it was going to be their choice and not the adult's. Hah! As if. But what if?

He filed that information away, and got up to toe his shoes off in the little hallway, potential plans forming quickly in his imagination. Just in case.

#writepie #creativitwins #ts patton #ts remus #ts roman #ts remy #ts writing #ts sanders sides #ts sanders sides aus #ts sanders sides fic #sanders sides #foster family au #tw child abuse

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monotonous-minutia · 4 years

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My super long autobiographical essay recounting the harrowing tale of my experience with my favorite opera

So I think it’s about time the world knows the story of my experience with Don Carlo, specifically, the Met 2010 production that will be streaming Thursday night. It’s a long story and some of it is ridiculous and half the time people don’t believe me when I tell them about it, but if you’re interested in my nerdy ramblings, read on.

On February 27th, 2010, my dad turned on the radio in the living room thinking noon would be a good time to hear the news. Instead of the NPR news anchors, however, we heard the sound of a tenor singing, a strong orchestral accompaniment, and the sounds of a live audience reacting.

“It’s an opera!” I said. (For curious parties, it was La Boheme.)

I was 14. I was a nerd. I was in love.

Up until that point I’d heard a few operas (Zauberflote, Barbiere, Carmen, Nozze) because my mom randomly brought them home from the library. From the moment I first heard the opening chords to the Zauberflote overture, I was madly, ridiculously, insufferably in love.

Tuning in at noon on Saturdays became my new favorite thing. “Live from the Met” broadcast a live performance each week of one of the Met’s shows. I loved not only hearing the operas, but the commentary as well. I learned so much about the genre, as well as history, music theory, literary criticism, acting, and the life of a singer. I dedicated an entire journal to writing notes on what I heard each week. Yes, I was that nerd.

I found out the hard way that operas have seasons. One sad day in May I tuned into NPR at noon and, tragically, the voices of news anchors met my ears.

I wasn’t always able to listen to the entire opera each week, because I had four cats and three annoying brothers to take care of. (Two of the brothers were older than me. Figure that.) I’d missed the announcement that the season was over.

So I waited all summer. I was still listening to operas, but I missed the hosts and the interviews. Plus, I didn’t have access to the Internet, so finding new operas on my own meant relying on my library’s tiny collection. Hearing them on the radio let me hear a new one every week.

After several boring months, I finally heard the news that the first opera of the broadcast season was going to be on December 18th. The opera? Don Carlo.

Two important facts to know right now. 1) There are many different versions of this opera. 2) The opera can be up to 4 hours long.

The one I heard on this day, December 18th, 2010, was the “five-act Italian version with the shortened first act.” About 3.5 hours long, it begins with an exhilarating fanfare that does a terrible job of telling us what the opera is going to be like. Listening to that music--the burst of horns and strings--I actually cried because I was so excited.

I told you. Nerd.

The story of Don Carlo is really complex, but if you’re taking the time to read this and have come this far you probably know at least a bit about it. Because I wasn’t able to sit and listen to the whole thing, just bits and pieces, the day ended with me knowing the following things.

1) Carlo is a prince who is in love with Elizabeth, who then gets betrothed to his father.

2) Carlo’s best friend (Rodrigo) is a baritone which automatically made him more interesting than the lead, and was also a revolutionary who was so firey he was in danger with someone called the Grand Inquisitor

3) Princess Eboli loves Carlo and is enraged when she finds out he’s in love with his mother and Rodrigo almost stabs her

4) Carlo tries to stop some Flemmish people from being burned at the stake but is stopped himself when Rodrigo takes his sword.

And that’s where I left off.

Again, no Internet access, so I wasn’t able to look up a summary and find the ending. So I waited around for days wondering what happened next. I was especially concerned about Carlo and Rodrigo’s relationship, which was (and still is) my favorite part of the opera.

On Christmas I got a book that was full of detailed summaries of famous operas. The good news: Don Carlo was considered famous. The bad news: I read that my favorite character died and spent the next hour or so locked in my room trying unsuccessfully not to cry.

I got a few operas for Christmas as well, so when I decided I had to see or hear Don Carlo in its entirety, it got put at the bottom of the list, because I’m borderline OCD (seriously, my diagnosis is literally “borderline OCD”) and couldn’t mess up the order of things. Since I was also listening to the Saturday operas, as well as taking a lot of time to process each on my list as it came along, it was almost spring before I finally got to Don Carlo.

In the meantime, I couldn’t get the opera out of my head. For one thing, as anyone who’s seen it knows, it’s the kind of opera that just grabs you and won’t let you go. For another, in a bizarre series of events, it literally popped up almost everywhere I looked. Open to a random page in my opera book? See a reference to Don Carlo. Tune into the “Live from the Met” broadcasts? Somebody mentions Don Carlo. Grab the closest volume from a 7-book collection of Schiller plays? It’s the one that has Don Carlo. Find a random copy of the Met’s opera magazine on the free table at the library? It’s the issue that has the review for, and a dozen glorious pictures of, the Don Carlo performance I’d heard on the radio. I looked at those pictures a lot. Finally I had faces to match the voices of the singers I’d heard.

In a crazy coincidence, it was the first week in April of 2011 that the next event occurred. I engaged in some poor planning and finally checked out a CD recording of Don Carlo the day before our yearly family trip. I didn’t have any time to listen to it and I knew it was going to bother me the entire week.

We took the 13-hour drive to visit my grandparents, and at my mom’s parents’ house, somebody randomly turned on the TV. My grandparents watch a lot of PBS so that’s what was on. And what was on?

The Met’s 2010 production of Don Carlo.

I died about a million times.

It took me a while to figure out what it was; I hadn’t heard it all the way through yet, so the music wasn’t familiar to me. But after watching for a minute, I realized that the actors all looked familiar to me. I was watching Simon Keenlyside as Rodrigo hand Marina Poplavskaya’s Elizabetta a letter. When she opened it and read the name “Carlo,” my head exploded.

What are the odds that when someone randomly turned the TV on that the opera I’d been dying to see just happened to be on? And not only the same opera, but the exact same production I’d listened to live four months ago?

Of course I couldn’t watch the whole thing because we had family stuff to do, which was probably okay in the long run, because I can’t imagine people’s reactions if I started bawling watching Rodrigo die, which may very well (as in totally) would have happened.

Life goes on. I listened to the Don Carlo CD and cried, got a DVD of the Met’s 1986 Don Carlo and cried, looked at the pictures in my magazine and cried. The broadcast season of “Live from the Met” ended and I cried. I was a very emotional teen. (Keep in mind I was home-schooled by agoraphobic parents and literally had no friends. The radio was my friend.)

Two years later I was in college. Sophomore year I started spending breaks on campus to avoid my abusive family. I still didn’t have any friends, but I did finally have access to the Internet, in addition to listening to the Saturday operas whenever I didn’t have homework. I had also watched the Royal Opera House’s version of the same Don Carlo production, which someone had posted on YouTube. This was back when YouTube still had a time limit on videos that were posted, so the opera was broken into about forty pieces and none of them were listed in order. I probably spent more time piecing the thing together than actually watching it.

On a day during sophomore winter break, I was particularly bored. I decided to listen to the advice of the Met hosts and signed up for the 7-day free trial of Met Opera on Demand, their version of Netflix.

And of course the first opera that popped up on the screen was Don Carlo.

I died another million times.

I watched it twice in the span of 24 hours. I may have taken some screen shots. I felt like a criminal, but I also felt like I deserved it at this point. This whole thing was just bizarre and I couldn’t be happier that I was finally seeing the production of the opera that had been following me around for the past four years.

About a year later I took a study abroad trip to Germany. And because I was in Germany, I had to see an opera, of course. We had one free weekend during the month-long trip, and while my classmates were off getting high in Amsterdam, I took a train to Frankfurt to see the opera that just so happened to be playing at the house that Saturday.

Which opera, you ask?

I think you can guess by now.

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fantasiesxwritten · 5 years

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Sex to Impress

“Richard, please! Playing against you makes me look like the next Tiger Woods. You’re complete shit out on the golf course.” I teased as I delighted in a chuckle at his expense.

“Oh, fuck off Brown. Give a rookie a chance to step his game up. After all, it was my first time stepping foot out on the course.” he retorted in his defense.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll give you another chance to prove yourself. Me, you and the boys should go up to Cayman Course and play this weekend.” I said as I stared out the window from my office that stood on the 27th floor of the building I worked in.

Cars passed by quickly below as I awaited for my 2 o'clock appointment. Any of those people walking below could have been him or her, I wasn’t sure since my last had canceled last minute; the line-up was all jumbled up to me at this point. I was just looking forward to getting through the remainder of the day, so I could get home to my girlfriend who I’m sure would be just as excited to see me as I was to see her.

“Sounds good, gives me another chance to try and kick your ass.” Richard bragged without reason, sending me into a small laughing fit. He would need all the confidence he could gather if he thought he could outplay me.

“We’ll see about all of th—” I was cut off by the sudden knocking on my door. “Come in.” I responded as the door slowly opened revealing our floors mousy secretary.

“Mr. Brown?” she asked, sticking her head partially inside the door.

“Yes, Janette?” I cleared my throat, covering the speaker to the phone.

“Your 2 o'clock is here. May I send her in?” she asked timidly, pushing her glasses up from the brim of her nose.

“Yes, of course.” I replied, turning my attention back to Richard now on the phone. Removing my hand from the speaker, I whispered slightly, “I’ll call you back after this interview. Don’t try to flake on Saturday either!”

“Don’t you worry about that!” he chimed back.

I chuckled, placing the phone back down to hang it up. Quickly, I fixed my blazer and aligned my tie neatly, staring in the direction of the door for the next hopefully not helpless victim to walk through the door. In walked a woman with hair like a Goddess that cascaded down her back and sat gracefully around her shoulders, with orbs of the deepest green and a dazzling smile to match her already stunning appearance. Her Alexander McQueen jumpsuit with the matching blazer adorned her body perfectly, hugging her undeniable curves. I had to force seriousness in my demeanor and across my face as my tongue threatened to leak out of my mouth and pant like a famished dog.

Quickly reacting, I caught myself and greeted her properly, “Forgive me if I don’t have your name, the interview roster has been off due to missed appointments. Allow me to introduce myself first. Christopher Brown, but please call me Chris.” I spoke through a flirty smile.

She returned that same smile that read more than just glee as she responded, allowing me to hear her raspy, yet sexy voice.

“Kandace Smith, pleasure to meet you Mr. Brown.” she said as she took my extended hand into her own and firmly shook it.

“I told you to call me Chr–”

“I know. It’s this thing I have with formalities, something very BDSM about it to me.” she admitted, taking a seat as her smile turned into an obvious smirk.

My smile turned into a look of astonishment as I crossed over to sit opposite of her at my desk. My cock had heard what she said loud and clear but I don’t think my mind had registered that she might have just made an obvious pass at me in telling me what she was into. Clearing my mind of the thought and possibilities, I clasped my hands together before me as I let them rest against my oak wood desk, peering across at her.

“Did you bring a resume in with you today?” I asked.

“Of course.” she answered me cheerfully as she turned to reach inside her briefcase and retrieve her resume out, holding it out for me. “I always come prepared.”

“Good.” I mumbled as I took the resume from her and briefly skimmed over it. “So tell me why you feel qualified for this position.”

As she began to talk, I made sure to situate the paper just enough over my face, where I could peer over it from time to time, stealing glances at her buxom cleavage that was peeking over the top of her jumpsuit. I made sure to listen to her spiel, dropping a few mhm’s and ahh’s to appear to be listening wholly to what she was saying. I had already decided from the moment she entered my office looking like sex in heels, that the position was hers. Yet and still, I would make her work for it and show and prove why she deserved the job. After all, it was a standard interview and it was only fair that she played her part.

“So, that’s why I feel I’m more than qualified for the position.”

“Hmm. Very well. I also see here that you were an Exec Assistant for Henry over at Global Maynard for several years. How did that work out for you?”

I was buying more time for me to steal glances, while she enlightened me on her professional endeavors. She paused in the middle of her speech as she glanced up at me, our eyes locking for a second before I turned away, clearing my throat as a means to diffuse what I’d been caught doing.

“Mr. Brown, are you staring at my tidbits?” she asked so calmly, yet so full of confidence.

Her words reeked of sex and insinuations that I was more than happy to elaborate on and turn them into reality. Her tidbits should have been sprawled across my desk, with her ass poached up high as my dick slammed into her repeatedly. All while giving her the run down on what I needed to be done the very next day; her as soon as possible start date.

“Uhhh…” I quickly tried to vanish the thoughts, before my tongue slipped without my permission, “actually, I was.” I confessed, smirking along with it.

“Well, well.” she flirted with me, eying me slowly, and leaning back just a bit in her chair to make her bosoms pop out more.

“Damn, don’t do that.” I hissed out low, feeling a rising in my slacks begin to form.

“Or what?” Kandace challenged me, not seeming prepared to back down.

“Or I’ll just have to offer this position to the next suitable applicant.” I teased, letting my tongue graze my bottom lip.

“I doubt that. I’m prepared to physically show you why I deserve this job and now…”

With those words, she was up from her seat and on her knees, between my legs before I could blink my eyelids. Looking down at her as she looked back up at me, Kandace’s hands fiddled with my button and zipper until her hand was reaching inside of my boxers to relieve my growing hard on from inside. As soon as it hit the air, my back relaxed into the chair as I blew out a breath of relief along with it, hissing as soon as her tongue trailed from the bottom of my shaft and up to greet the head. Her greeting was swallowing it whole with her mouth, closing around it as she slowly sucked it, letting her tongue run devious circles around it.

“Ahhhh..” I released a sound as her mouth cascaded further down, her tongue outstretched as she did this, tickling it’s way down with the warmth of her mouth.

No hands while she performed to the best of her ability; all I saw was the top of her head as she bobbed it up and down, slowly at first before picking up speed. Kandace began moaning as her speed did increase, her jaws tightened around me as her lips did the same, sucking me to perfection. Up and down she sucked me in and out of her mouth, making sure to keep it nice and wet, planting her hands firmly on my thighs. Slurping sounds were now filling my office as I clenched my fists on and off, so tempted to grab her head and slam her mouth down on me; but I decided against it.

“Mmmm!” she hummed over my dick, sucking faster now; her soft and supple lips stroking my dick like small tightly gripped hands.

Leaning my head back, I began to thrust lightly upward towards her mouth, feeling my dick take a gander down her deep throat as she relaxed it and opened it up for me. She sat up some, positioning herself in a way to continue taking me down her throat comfortably, gagging only slightly before getting back on track.

I continued to resist using my hands to guide her at the pace I wanted, just as I thought it, her head game began to get ferocious. Catching me by surprise as it seemed she was trying to suck the skin off, I bit my bottom lip and grunted low as a response. She then looked up at me, watching me seductively as my dick entered and left her mouth, from the base to the tip. Watching this was making my dick swell in her mouth and I was desperate to feel the inside of her walls, after all – I wanted to test out the entire product, not just certain aspects of it.

“Wait, wait.. get up.” I instructed, watching as she slowly slid my dick from her mouth and used my thighs to help lift herself up from the floor. Once she was on her feet again, her legs spread before me as my hands automatically reached out to travel up from her thick thighs around to her ass, squeezing it firmly in my hands. I pulled her closer to me, looking up at her.

“Get out of that shit. Now!” I forced out through gritted teeth, more than ready for what I knew she could put on me. “First order of action as this is just a trial period. Prove to me.”

She smirked as her tongue traced her lips, before biting them hard. She slowly slipped out of her blazer, letting it hit the floor beside her feet as she let her jumpsuit follow suit. Standing in front of me, she wore a cherry red lace bra and thong set that was just pleading with me to free her from it.

“Goddamn… your body… is unreal.” I complimented her to look up and see her blushing behind it.

I wasn’t lying though, she was like a stallion, as her curves were wild enough to cause a crash and leave the scene as a hit and run. In this particular case, that’s just what I wanted. She reached around as if she could read my mind and slowly unhooked her bra, pulling each arm out as she watched me, watching her. Letting it fall at our feet, she started to remove her thong, before I stopped her.

“No, no. Leave it on.” she grinned upon hearing my words.

“How do you want me then, Mr. Brown?” Kandace asked in the most submissive tone ever, making my dick throb.

“Turn around.” I suggested.

She did as she was told, her ass in my face, as I pushed down on the middle of her back, making her touch her toes. I kissed her right ass cheek first before moving over to the left, smacking the opposite cheek as I did. It jiggled before my face, as I ran two fingers down her slit, over her pussy; the heat emanating off of her. She moaned lightly as I slid her thong over some, pushing those same fingers inside her wet opening as they slid in easily.

“Fuck!” she moaned a little louder, gripping her ankles tighter.

“So fucking wet…” I told her as I slid my fingers in and out of her slowly, running my thumb lightly over her clit, teasing her a bit.

Moans flowed from her lips as I picked up the speed just enough to illicit more of a response from her.

“Fuck me already..” she begged, pushing back on me, making her ass clap for me a little.

“Mmm. Sit on this dick.” I groaned as I grabbed her hip and rolled my chair back some.

My dick stood straight up in the air, erect as fuck, as she released her ankles and allowed me to pull her back at my desired speed. Gripping my dick with my other hand, I held it upright, letting the head tease between her legs, making sure her thong remained out of the way. I let the tip tease her a little longer before pulling her slowly down onto me, listening to the sounds she made as each inch of my thick cock filled her up. When Kandace sat completely in my lap, she wiggled around a little before she began lifting herself up and down on me, slowly.

“Shiiiit.” I grunted, feeling her tightening herself around my dick already as she pulled.

“You like that, Mr. Brown?” she asked in a low tone, followed by the sexiest moan I’ve ever heard.

“Mhmmm.” I spoke out, clenching my teeth together, gripping the side of my desk with one of my hands.

“Good. Ima ride the shit out of this dick!” she promised as she held onto the sides of my chair, gripping the arms tightly.

Kandace began with slow and steady strides and before long, she was clapping her ass down on me hard. She leaned forward as she rolled her hips, while still bouncing hard on my dick that was filling her up nicely and she was taking it all. Turning around slowly, she watched me enjoying her from over her shoulder, bouncing faster and harder, still rolling her hips.

I groaned out again; she was handling this and I didn’t need to do anything. I had to admit that she was really working hard for the position that as far as I had been concerned, already had her name all over it. Much like the way my dick was all up and through her pussy. Unable to not handle controlling at all, I began to thrust upward inside of her; roughly. Her moans turned into minor screams as I poked her insides deeply, over and over again. She repaid me by forcing herself down onto me, grinding even harder.

It felt as if we were having a match against the other now, to see who could fuck who harder. I guarantee that was one fight she would lose if she really wanted to take it there with me. Grabbing her hips on either side now, I began to pull her down onto me as I shoved me deeper inside of her.

“FUUUUCK!” she squealed out as I thrust hard into her while she was pushing back down.

Grinning evilly, I continued to tear up her insides as she screamed so loud, I thought my secretary might come knocking on the door just to make sure I hadn’t committed murder in here. I threw my hand over her mouth and she immediately bit into my fingers, making me groan as she kept pushing down onto me. Rocking against me, we both went opposite of each others strokes, her ass clapping harder against me.

Her muffled moans could still be heard well enough as her walls tightened around my dick, suffocating him almost; my dick throbbing in reaction. I could feel that sensation welling up inside of me as she rolled her hips in a circular motion in my lap, slamming down onto me as I roughly pushed myself up inside of her. My teeth imprints were being left on my lips from biting them so hard as my other hand reached around between her legs from the front. Sneaking past her thong, I let my fingers glide up and down her clit roughly and slow.

Kandace’s moans quickly picked up as well as her movements, thrusting her pussy wildly against me. I was seconds away from exploding deep inside of her, when I realized we didn’t use a condom. My dick was telling me who the fuck cares at the moment as this load that was on edge was about to give way for her. Kandace’s rough and labored breathing picked up, as I tightened my hand over her mouth, feeling her pussy contracting around me; knowing she was close to cumming as well.

“Yes.. yes… YES!!!” she screamed behind my hand, as I let my other tease her clit faster.

She rode my dick with a mission now, taking us both there as we came simultaneously. I monitored my own grunts and groans as I shot my load inside of her and felt her walls squeeze over me repeatedly, begging me to keep cumming inside of her.

“Fuckkkkk! Ah, ah, ahhhh.” I grunted, thrusting upward in spurts, as I released all of me.

Kandace bounced slower now as she began to calm down from the crazy orgasm she’d just had all over me. I removed my hand from her panties now, as she grabbed that same hand quickly and shoved my fingers inside of her mouth. Sucking them clean and dry before she turned around to face me, while still holding my dick tightly inside of her, her pussy still pulsating.

“Don’t worry about the condom thing, I’ll take that as a condition that the job is guaranteed to me now.” she said with a smirk, a wink and the ultimate air of confidence.

Grinning in return, I shifted, signaling I would like for her to move now. She took heed to my hint and slowly lifted herself up to fix herself and put her clothes back on as I stuffed my slightly still erect dick back inside my boxers; zipping and buttoning my pants back up.

“Can I be frank here?” I asked, adjusting myself inside my pants.

“Of course,” she spoke as she got situated into her jumpsuit again, leaning down to grab her blazer up from the floor.

“You had the job before your mouth graced my dick. Although I still appreciate the hard work and dedication. The decision is definite now.”

Kandace’s face read shock at first before she smiled sweetly. “That’s fine, Mr. Brown. And I now expect 10% more than my starting pay for this position.”

“Bu-but..” I stammered over my own words.

Grabbing her bag from where she had it sitting before she moved to between my legs, she winked at me. “Sexual harassment lawsuits are a bitch! What time shall I be here tomorrow?”

Stunned and almost speechless, I mustered out a weak reply. “8:30 sharp.”

“Perfect. See you then, boss!” she said in a chipper tone as she took off to the door and pulled it open, seeing herself out.

I was left dumb founded and partially irritated with a slight tinge of arousal from it all. Had I really just been swindled by a woman, and coerced into a pay raise before she’d even started work? My fist connected with the desk as the realization of how true this was had set in.

Reaching over to the phone, there was only one person to call who would believe me, besides I promised him a call back anyway. Dialing his number, I listened to it ring repeatedly. When he finally picked up, I was still in partial shock, the only words I could find to say were….

“Richard, man. You’re never going to believe what just happened…”

Author | Kierra Posted | September 2012

#fantasiesxwritten #original story #chris brown #chris brown fanfic #chris brown fanfiction #kierra #smut #chris brown smut #chris brown x reader

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parf-fan · 5 years

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2019 shows have been posted!

Queen's Court

The town gathers to officially welcome Her Majesty as she makes her first visit to the Shire of Mt. Hope. Her glorious court will be introduced, and the Queen herself shall pass judgement on petitions submitted by the townsfolk. 'Twill be a merry gathering that sets the tone for the rest of the festival day!

The Irish Revels

The O'Sullivan Quintuplets, a touring sibling band from the Emerald Isle, who have just lost their lead musician to a new position in her Majesty's court, are now down to four. Join this misfit family as they pull themselves up by their bootstraps with their impressive music chops and delightful chaotic energy. [I’m so bloody pleased this group is still a thing.]

Boarshead Brawl

Mistress Quickly is hoping for a smooth grand opening to her new establishment: the Boarshead Inn. But as two feuding local families encounter each other, the tension threatens to boil over into a violent fray. Watch as Mistress Quickly defends her tavern against brawlers, swordmasters, and worst of all…playwrights. [THE BOARSHEAD BRAWL IS BACK YOU GUYS YASSSSSS! Don’t get me wrong, I adored the Melee, but the Brawl was the first in-house show I ever saw at the Faire, and it holds a very special place in my heart. Also, the stage was (and presumably now will be once more) cool as heck.]

The Sirens

Four pirate captains, members of The Order of The Relentless Contessa (Heave Ho!), have land-sailed far inland to hammer out the details for a new accord. Join these fearsome females for many sea shanties and a healthy dose of filthy pirate humor. [OH MY GODS THAT’S WHAT ORC STANDS FOR HOLY FUCKING SHIT look, you don’t understand, okay, when I saw that I squeed at such a high frequency that I’m surprised the windows didn’t break, and I couldn’t stop hand-flapping for like a solid ten minutes. I’ve never been happier.]

Trunk Shows

The citizens of our shire have been tasked with providing family-friendly entertainment for our guests! Witness the Story of the Boy Who Cried Wolf like you've never seen it before, learn the tale of Doctor Faustus, and witness one of England's oldest tales: The Legend of Black Shuck! Join us at the Discovery Stage for some entertainment that everyone, young and old, can enjoy!

The Boy who Cried Wolf Sheriff Perry has apprehended one of the shire's most devious ne'er-do-wells and as his community service, the good Sheriff is making him do the hardest task possible: entertain nipperkins with a morality fable!

Faustus Christopher Marlowe has entrusted some of our shire's citizenry with producing his most famous play: Dr. Faustus. Unfortunately it is REALLY long. It's up to young William Shakespeare and his friends to condense the tale on the spot. Is the young glover a good enough writer to pull off such a feat?

The Legend of Black Shuck England's most haunting creature has never felt sillier. Learn of the demon dog that prowls England's countryside, and decide for yourself if he is really a bad dog, or just a misunderstood puppy.

The Rakish Rogues

Sterling Armstrong leads this band of terrifying and dangerous highwaymen...or at least that is how they think they appear in their heads. Join this merry band of misfits in celebrating a successful sting with song, filthy humor and a touch of bumbling charm. [I’m still shocked that it took us this long to think of highwaymen for the Rogues, because it’s friggin’ perfect.]

Trial and Dunke

One thing Sheriff Jacob Perry loves about festival days: they make a great excuse to execute mob justice. He's acquired a brand new dunke tank and has assembled some of the shire's most devious criminals so that he may deliver their punishment. So what if they insist that they are innocent? That's what they all say! Come and see cold wet justice served. [There, all ye patrons who do nothing but gripe about changes, here’s one of the old shows back.]

Midday Revels

The Queen and her court are offered the best music and talents the Shire has to offer! Join her Majesty in the entertaining merriment! [From what I understand, it’s like Music With Her/Their Majesty(s), except it’s just the invasions by other groups. A bit variety-show ish.]

Human Chess

A dispute between two Mt. Hope families shall be resolved in traditional fashion: with a game of Human Chess! Witness the clash of steel and the thrill of melee combat as the citizen of Mt. Hope fight for their respective sides before the watching eyes of Her Majesty and all her court.

The Rogues and Sirens

These two groupings of highwaymen and pirates have joined their thieving forces to perform filthy pub songs for the good people of The Shire. Buy an ale and spend some time singing along with these delightful criminals. [Y’all, this is gonna be hecking rad.]

Disasterpiece Theater

Young master William Shakespeare has a day away from the glove shop, and he's been dying to try his hand at playwrighting. He has assembled the best performers the shire has to offer (and that he can afford with his meager budget of beer and the mysterious currency "exposure"). Presenting a different modern story with a 16th century twist every weekend of the Faire, only one thing is for certain: it is sure to be a Disasterpiece! [One: YESSSS IT’S BACK IT’S BACK IT’S BAAAAAAACK!!!! Two: having young William host this is a stroke of genius. Three: exposure tho, I’m gonna shit myself.]

Ultimate Joust

Knights both good and evil gather to joust for honor, glory, and the entertainment of all the people of Mt. Hope. Elizabeth hopes for naught but a bit of rousing sport, but some of the villainous knights may have other ideas…An epic conclusion to a thrilling festival day that is not to be missed!

Finale in Song

The time hath come for Her Majesty's royal coronation before her court and all the good people of Mt. Hope. But though 'tis a sacred ceremony, Elizabeth sees no reason why it cannot be accompanied by song, dance, and celebration! Become a part of the village of Mt. Hope, and end your festival day with merry music, and joyous laughter.

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Also, Friday Knight Improv is here still, and though it’s not listed, I presume that Tournament Joust is still a thing.

It appears that Bloody Best is no more, though, which does sadden me, for I enjoyed the heck out of that show, but believe it or not, the Faire’s still gonna be great.

I’m so excited. This is gonna be fantastic.

#y'know what else i'm excited about?#this was actually copyedited!#i only had to correct like two things #parf news #parf in-house-shows #parf 2019 #parf #pa ren faire #pa renn faire #pa renaissance faire #pennsylvania renaissance faire #renaissance faire #renn faire #ren faire #faire #renfest #ren fest #renaissance festival

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lifeinahole27 · 6 years

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CS ff: “On the Two” (Chapter 5/9) (au)

Summary: He’s one bad trip from ending up in AA, and she’s one performance away from a solid job and moving closer to home. Their paths were unlikely to cross until Camp Hope brought them together. How and why they meet and intertwine is against the odds, and definitely against the rules, but will that really stand in their way? A Dirty Dancing inspired modern au.

Rating: E

Content Warnings: Borderline alcoholism, very brief mentions of past relationships, mentions of the loss of a limb - this fic is primarily tame but I’ll do my best to tag anything that might need tags.

Chapter Specific Warnings: None! Sadly, back to business this chapter. Well... there’s the loss of something very specific. But I cannot spoil the surprise. Be warned, and don’t hate me!!

A/N: I’m supposed to be grading. And honestly, I’m not even sorry for editing and posting instead. This is another chapter I am extremely excited to share, since it’s getting closer to the actual dance. Also, it has one of my absolute favorite scenes that y’all are gonna throw shit at me because of. Onward!

Catch it on FFN & Ao3! Or find the previous chapters here on Tumblr!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

Emma doesn’t waste time when she gets back to her cabin, stripping and going directly to her shower, turning the knobs to cold, and stepping underneath as soon as she can. It’s a mistake, even though it feels like heaven, because the sound she makes when her breath hitches, the way the air backs up right into her lungs again, makes her think of the way Killian had looked at her while she was cleaning the mirror. His eyes had darkened in a way she can only think was arousal, and he had sighed something like want and regret at the same time and she imagines she pictured the same possibilities he did at that exact moment.

After only a brief second, she adjusts the temperature until it’s tepid. She diligently showers off the sweat and exertion, only staying in long enough to wash herself so her mind doesn’t stray to things less innocent and definitely not clean.

Slicking back her hair, she wrings out the extra water before wrapping it in a towel, drying herself with another one before slipping on her robe. Thankfully, her cabin’s AC is just fine and she’s surprised she hasn’t done something dumb like suggesting they practice in her cabin, in her bed… horizontally.

With another noise of irritation at herself, she storms out of the bathroom, and is immediately proud of herself for not screaming when Ruby greets her from the same bed she was just imagining defiling.

“What are you doing here?”

“Came to see my dance buddy. I was finally cleared for moving as long as I don’t overdo it,” Ruby responds brightly, pointing at the air cast around her ankle. “Now, what the hell are you up to?” It’s not just an inquiry; there’s accusation in the words, like she knows what Emma was thinking before she walked back into the room.

“What do you mean?” Emma’s voice is all nonchalant innocence, and she ducks into her closet to change into shorts and a tank top since her idea of lounging around in her robe is now out of the question. “I’m teaching – twice as many lessons and classes, I’d like to add – and trying to get ready for this performance.” She pokes her head out to give her friend a pointed look at this.

Ruby hums in response, shifting to lean back on Emma’s bed. “And how’s that going? You came to see me once right after I hurt my ankle to ask which dance was better and you’ve been shut up in the studio ever since.”

“I’m not a shut in,” she says, disappearing back into her closet.

“You haven’t gone to staff dances for the last two weekends.”

“So? I haven’t been in the mood.”

“Which is totally like you, and I would buy it, if it weren’t for Mulan saying the studio was lit up like the Fourth of July last Friday night with music. What are you hiding, Emma Swan?”

She takes her time coming back out, waffling between telling the truth and trying to lie through her teeth. This way, Ruby doesn’t see the war going across Emma’s face while she wrings her hands. Taking one last deep breath, she walks out and tries her best to not fidget as she starts to explain.

“Okay, so I did find a partner for the Mills Regency trial run thing.”

“Really? But that’s great news! Why wouldn’t that be…” She trails off, her head cocking to one side as she considers Emma again. “Who is it?”

“It’s a man named Killian.”

“And where did you meet Killian? Because I know for sure he’s not in any of our shared social circles.” When Emma still refuses to spit out the fact that he’s a guest at the camp, Ruby finally must surmise it on her own. “Emma Middle Name Swan!” Emma snorts, because she doesn’t have a middle name so this is how Ruby has always taken to yelling at her, but then she remembers that Ruby is yelling at her and she cringes as her friend continues. “Tell me he’s not a guest. Please, I am begging you, tell me this partner is not paying to be here.”

Emma groans by way of answer, dropping onto the bed dramatically, face down, continuing to groan as she does. “That’s not the worst of it,” she says, though it’s muffled by the mattress and blankets beneath her. She’s already gone this far; she might as well tell Ruby everything at this point. With a deep breath in as soon as she lifts her head, she continues. “I kissed him.”

Ruby’s screeching answer is totally deserved, and Emma listens to approximately thirty seconds of her friend berating her before she shifts again to sit up on the bed. “Okay, okay. I deserve all of that. But Red, wait ‘til you see him. You’ll understand everything after that, I’m pretty sure.”

“Oh, now I’m gonna see him? After you’ve made bad decisions?”

“You have to. I’ve just decided that you need to sit in on our practices and help me coach him. It’s not like you’re doing anything else.”

“I’ve taken up pottery, thank you very much. But I’ll agree that you need a chaperone to be alone with this man if you’re going to jeopardize everything with dumb actions like kissing him.” Ruby emphasizes the last two words by smacking Emma’s arm with each syllable. “So you’re going with Mambo?”

“We’re going with Mambo,” Emma responds. With a noise, she pulls out her phone and opens her pictures. Internet and cell connections out at camp are spotty at best, but she made sure to save a bunch of pictures of her ideas for what Killian should wear for the performance. “You need to help me get some costumes for him.”

Ruby makes grabby hands at Emma’s phone, flicking through the choices with glee. “Do you have shoes for him yet?”

“I had Graham overnight a pair after we first started. He’s been breaking them in for about two days now.”

“When is the next time you’re practicing?”

“Tonight. He’s coming back after dinner and we’re gonna run through what he’s learned. You up for a visit later?”

The smile Ruby gives is one Emma knows well, full of power and teeth, and that special Ruby glint in her eyes. “I can’t wait.”

If Killian is bothered by Ruby being in the studio with them, he doesn’t show it. In fact, Emma might even say he looks a little calmer. Maybe the fact that they’re not alone is a good thing for his mind, too. Whatever the case, the two of them start working on getting Killian into better shape. With her friend’s directions, Killian is improving faster, which is also beneficial since they don’t have to run the same steps over and over again.

Ruby’s not always able to come to the practices, but she tries to be there as much as possible. When she starts some light physical therapy on her ankle to strengthen it, she mostly schedules her appointments for right before or after Emma’s lessons with Killian so she can stop on her way to and from the small medical building.

Killian adjusts quickly to the two of them instructing him. Ruby calls out tips and reminders as they move through the different sections of the routine, which builds his muscle memory stronger than it was developing before.

She stops them at one point, readjusting in her chair next to the stereo to fix them both with her gaze. “Okay, it’s good. But it needs to be better. Regina will expect this to set the room on fire. I want the audience to look at either one of you and be jealous of the other. So, while I know Emma is fine with turning up the heat, let’s focus on you, Killian.”

His eyebrows climb up his forehead at Ruby’s words and Emma has to stop herself from chuckling. She remembers this method, and Ruby is probably enjoying herself way too much. But she also wants to see how Killian handles this.

“What do you mean, lass?”

“To really sell a dance, I need to want to be up there dancing with you. So make me want you. Make me jealous that it’s Emma there in your arms instead of me. Sell it.” She emphasizes the last two words, turning them from a simple direction to a challenge, and Killian is the kind of guy that enjoys a challenge, if Emma were to guess.

His whole visage is blank, but he seems to be considering the words and how to go about following directions. When the music starts again, Killian’s hold feels different. It feels… incredible, and somewhere between tender and possessive. It’s somewhere in the second section of steps that Emma sees that uptick of his lips, the flirty little smile that sends a pang into her stomach and beyond that makes her want to stop the dance altogether and kiss him until she’s breathless.

She’s unable to stop the soft noise escaping her lips when they finish, their foreheads pressed tightly together and his lips so close it would take barely a movement to touch. Killian’s eyes widen a bit, his own breath sucking into his lungs as his hand tightens on her waist.

They’re both pulled from the moment by Ruby clapping her hands and a sound of glee calling to them. “Excellent! Yes! That is the kind of spirit you want to take with you.”

When her eyes meet Ruby’s again, there’s a knowing glint in them – the look says everything she’s feeling isn’t as hidden as she hoped it would be. She’s going to kill her roommate, of that she is certain. With an indulgent sigh, she walks over to Ruby and snatches the remote out of her hand. Instead of the comment Emma is expecting, though, Ruby tugs her close.

“You were right about all this. He’s damn good.”

Emma smiles then, a quiet “I know” her only response before she reaches for her towel and blots along her neck. “One more time,” she says to the room at large, catching the barest hint of a smug expression on Killian’s face that lets her know he heard the compliment. Good. Maybe he’s finally letting go of the insecurity they’ve been working to eradicate this whole time, then.

As far as the practices where they’re alone, the time is much better utilized and it’s all business. Because of that, she’s spending less time with him, even if the way he holds her is starting to feel more intimate than a lover’s tocuh, more so than the way they kissed each other, and so it’s definitely a case of one step forward, two steps back… pun not intended.

Whatever the case, Killian is the very image of professional when they’re together. He does his best to keep eye contact (which he’s passed with flying colors since their first trust exercise) and not look at his feet. It’s all vast improvement, but they’re still not quite to the level of quality that Emma wants to present at the Mills Regency.

The date of the performance is starting to loom in the near-distant future, and Emma realizes, quite startlingly, that she’s more nervous about this performance than she thought she would be.

A week before their performance date, she gets a text from Granny that a large parcel is waiting for her at the diner, and Emma immediately leaves to go pick it up. She knows the studio is empty the rest of the afternoon due to Tink moving her yoga class to the main lawn thanks to a break in the weather, so Emma takes time to hang all the costumes that Graham sent to her. Killian can run the whole number with minimal problems now, so she doesn’t mind taking an afternoon to play dress-up instead. It’ll certainly be an interesting change from their normal schedule.

-x-

When Killian shows up, Emma is all alone. This isn’t uncommon, as her friend Ruby isn’t always in attendance (and wasn’t that a surprise the first time she was there, sitting in a chair with her ankle propped up on the stereo casing with a slow, nearly-feral grin spreading across her lips as she beckoned him over to introduce herself), but then, Emma also seems to be nervously fussing with the partition screen that’s usually in the corner hiding all the yoga gear.

Today, it’s dragged to the opposite corner that doesn’t have any windows behind it, and Emma is just finishing hooking a hanger onto the top of it on the side facing the corner.

“So, Ruby has physical therapy and can’t be here, but since we’ve just about gotten the dance down, next comes making you look like a dancer in appearance. I’m very lucky to have a friend in the city willing to overnight male costumes to Granny’s, so we just need to find which one works best for you.” She turns as she finishes speaking, a smile on her face that looks half-predatory – much like a smile he’d expect on Ruby’s face instead of Emma’s.

“Excellent,” is all he can really respond, because Emma’s still giving him that look and he doesn’t know what else to say.

He doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary with the costumes, except that they look a little tighter than what he’d normally choose to wear. That is, however, until he slides on a pair of the trousers. He’s admiring the elastic waist and the satin band at the top of it when he turns to grab the shirt and stops in his tracks.

“Emma?”

“Yes?” She draws out the word, like she’s been waiting for his question since he walked behind the partition. He grabs the hanger with his prosthetic and moves around the screen.

“You seem to have forgotten to explain the order in which my clothing should go on.”

“Yeah, about that.” She reaches out and grabs the sides of the fabric, bringing the bottom portion of the costume into better view. “All of the shirts have these attached so your shirt doesn’t come untucked as you’re dancing. It’s really stretchy. You won’t even notice it!”

Skepticism is an understatement for how he feels. He still tries them on over his boxer-briefs, unsure of etiquette procedures when trying on things that will be intimately touching him if he’s not even going to be wearing some of them. And it’s just as well, since it takes until the third one for Emma to nod approvingly at the option. The first two, as she claimed, just didn’t match her vision.

While she likes the third one, she still urges him back to try on the last one so they’re sure. Before he’s even finished putting it on, he likes it better than the others. There’s a zipper down the front of it that ends at his sternum, and he has to be exceedingly careful while pulling it into place so as not to catch any of his chest hair in it.

He doesn’t feel exposed until Emma is walking around him in a circle, looking at the fit and humming in thought. The arms are made of solid material, but the fabric along his sides and down his back is blocked in a way that thin strips of his bare skin are visible from every angle through the nearly-mesh material. The big positive he can pull from this choice is the fact that the sleeves come down far enough on his wrists that it covers the hardware for his prosthetic. It definitely makes him feel slightly more confident than he was the day Emma kissed him.

“We have a problem,” Emma says suddenly, and Killian looks at her in alarm.

“Don’t tell me I have to lose the trousers or something because I’ve got to draw the line somewhere.”

“No, no. Nothing like that. It’s just that,” she starts, pausing to move forward and touch the very hair he was afraid of getting caught in the zipper. “We’ve got a bit of a hairy situation going on here.”

He looks down at his chest, and back to Emma, and back down to where her index finger is still resting on his breastbone. “You don’t mean…”

The grim line her lips make answers the question for him.

“I have to…shave it?”

“It might be easier to go to the spa and have them wax it.”

“Pardon?” If his face was the picture of alarm before, he’s not sure what level his expression and his voice pitch would indicate now.

“There’s a great salon in Storybrooke. We can pop out around lunch time in a couple days when no one will notice and have them do it. For now, we practice!” She pushes the screen against the wall again, leaving everything else as is and handing him his shoes. “It’ll help to know how you feel wearing this, so we’ll just do one quick run-through with the costume.”

Emma is wearing the same leggings she normally does, but there’s a sheer skirt swishing around over top of them, and the shoes she’s wearing are in much better condition than the ones she’s been wearing as they’ve been training. He wonders if her nicer shoes are because he’s getting better.

“New shoes?” he asks as he ties his own.

“Nah, performance shoes. I figured now that you’re not stepping on my toes that we can put these ones into rotation.”

“And the skirt?”

“So you can get used to the way my dress will move the day we perform. Ready?”

She doesn’t really wait for his answer, instead grabbing the remote and moving into position as soon as she’s done talking. He’s not the only one that came to the studio extra caffeinated today, it seems.

He wanders around the campgrounds while Emma teaches classes during the late morning a few days later, waving to Liam without even hiding his bemusement as his brother follows a group, all of them carrying kayaks by the ones and twos as they go. They disappear down the beach while Killian wonders if there are any activities that Liam hasn’t tried since they got here, but it certainly seems like the summer away is more beneficial than Killian initially gave it credit for. That goes for both of them.

Checking his watch, he starts to make his way up towards the dance studio so he can meet up with Emma. She’s just coming around the side of the building, her keys in one hand as she slips on a pair of sunglasses.

The yellow car he leads her to gives him pause, however.

“Couldn’t drive anything less obvious?”

“It’s so common to see me around town during the summer that it would be more suspicious if I was driving anything else.”

“And this thing will get us there?”

“Are you insulting my car?” she asked, a raise of her eyebrow and a smile on her lips.

“I wouldn’t dare. This is quite the vessel you captain, Swan.”

“That’s what I thought,” she responded, her tone matter-of-fact as she released the emergency brake and shifted the car into reverse.

And it is quite the car, filled with quirks he’d expect from an old model Volkswagen, but it’s more the way Emma drives it, like she was born to drive nothing else. With the route in her capable hands, Killian leans back and enjoys the scenery, content to watch it pass by like he did on his initial drive in.

After so long of being at the camp, Killian had sort of forgotten that there was a world outside the wooded grounds. Sure, he’d found a new second home in the studio and discovered that there was life outside his rum and cabin, and he’d had the ultimate experience of going with Emma to the staff’s lodge after hours, but things like streetlights, on streets, and storefronts are damn near alien to him at this point. It’s been almost two months since they drove through Storybrooke on their way in, and already his life feels totally different than when they ate lunch at Granny’s.

Since he lost his hand, this is the biggest shift he’s had in his life, and he’s loathe to find any problems with it. As an apprentice in building boats, he dedicated his whole being to crafting the perfect vessel for the customer.

Similarly, learning to dance is just learning a new form of art. He’s aware of every bead of sweat that gathers along his forehead. He’s in tune with every guiding gesture Emma gives him, and the way her breathing always seems to stay even while they’re dancing. He reflects on all of this, trying to acclimate this idea of “new” to his mind and body before they actually arrive.

Currently, he notices the way his heartbeat races just a little bit faster when Emma parks her car along the main stretch of the small town that felt so comfortable and homey to him. She beams at him, instructing him out of the car as she swings open her door.

“I grew up here after David’s mom adopted me,” Emma offers up as she looks up and down the street. “If anyone asks, you’re new staff at the camp.”

He doesn’t mention that he’s already been here, but it hardly seems relevant as she’s leading him down a walkway in the opposite direction of the diner. Her arm loops easily through his, and Killian feels his heart turn over painfully in his chest with the realization of what he’s feeling. It’s attraction. He’s attracted to her. And it’s beyond the idea of physical gratification. The kiss was eye-opening, but this easy affection and compatibility is the real thing.

The kiss can be explained away as a heat-of-the-moment event where the humidity overwhelmed them, the long hours tricked them into an impulsive moment of passion. But as they’ve spent time together and he’s become so harmonious with her movements, he’s also noticed the itch to hold her in his arms. There was no thought behind the kiss, but he’s done plenty of thinking about doing it again.

Even with all the agitation his early foibles caused during her lessons, she would regroup and find patience, and in no time at all he had her laughing at his jokes and smiling at his own special blend of self-deprecation. She’d shake her head and roll her eyes and get them back on track. He also understands that it’s not because she agrees with whatever he claims about himself, but because she can see past whatever he sees in the mirror when he looks at himself. Plus, there’s no pity, even though she now knows much more of his sad backstory than he meant to let on.

She’s never treated him with kid-gloves.

The jingling of a bell over the door Emma opens brings him back to the present, and he relaxes when he discovers they’re just in an ice cream parlor.

“Hi Ingrid,” Emma greets, a wide smile crinkling her eyes as she greets the woman behind the counter. “One rocky road and one rum raisin, please.”

As the older woman scoops the requested flavors, they catch up in a series of quick back-and-forth statements, clearly a ritual honed with time and experience, with Killian’s introduction thrown in there somewhere. Ingrid spends plenty of time shifting her focus between the two of them, but if she has anything to comment about the way Emma is standing close to him, she doesn’t say so.

With cones in hand, Emma motions him back outside and calls out a farewell on her way.

“Let’s call this a preemptive apology for what’s about to happen. But no dancer, no professional one – which is what we’re trying to pass you off as – would have this much chest hair.”

“So this is bribery ice cream,” he clarifies as they stand outside of an innocent looking spa.

“Sure.”

“How’d you know I’d like rum raisin?”

“I had a hunch and hoped for the best,” she admits, smiling between bites of her cone.

With a warm breeze ruffling her hair and her sunglasses perched on her nose, Killian takes a moment to pretend that this isn’t what it is, that it’s something closer to a first date, where they’d take a walk to the docks he can just see in the distance and their fingers would link together. The swooping of his stomach lets him know exactly how he’d feel about such an event, so he releases it from his thoughts to dance away on the summer air. It’s just as well, as he takes the last few bites of his cone and accepts the napkin she hands him. Once they determine there’s no ice cream on either of their faces, she pulls open the door and gestures for him to enter.

“Emma! It’s been too long!” the blonde behind the counter greets Emma much like Ingrid did – with familiarity and years of encounters such as these. The girl, only introduced as Goldie, shakes his hand when they walk up to the counter. “Hot date?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows at both of them in turn.

Emma laughs, accepting the form and pen that Goldie gives her and starts filling it out. “Yeah, because all good first dates include an appointment at a salon to have chest hair waxed off.”

“Sounds better than some dates I’ve been on,” he comments, raising his eyebrows and looking away again as he looks over the spa options. “Admit it Swan, it’s just further reason to have me shirtless in front of you.”

She squints hard at him, trying to suss out something from what he’s said. “You flirt harder when you’re nervous. You know that?”

He has no response to that, especially when Goldie comes back to the counter and directs them back to a room with a padded table. There’s a chair set up next to it, and a counter displaying a wide variety of products he has no knowledge of.

“Emma, why don’t we wait out in the hallway while Killian undresses?” Emma smirks and nods, heading back out the door while Goldie explains that he needs to get fully naked. “There’s a sheet over there. Just drape that over your waist and I’ll be back in a moment.”

Following directions, he folds his clothes and places them on the chair, hopping up onto the table and spreading the sheet over his waist and legs. He’s comfortable in the knowledge that at least there will be no wax below the belt. Lifting the sheet briefly, he purses his lips. No, no wax. But it could stand to see a set of trimmers. Just as he settles it back down, there’s a soft knock before Goldie edges the door open.

“All set in here?”

“Aye, as I’ll ever be.”

She starts to laugh, but when she enters and gets a look at him it abruptly cuts off. “You were not joking,” she says to Emma as the other woman enters.

“Told you so.” Emma moves his clothes to her lap as she takes a seat, scooting as close to the side of the table as she can. “I’m here for emotional support as long as you need me to be. I’m going to prop my elbow right here, so if you need to hold my hand, it’s there for you. Remember to relax as much as you can, and keep breathing.”

“You’re not helping, love.”

“Yeah,” she says, flashing him a wide grin. “I know. But it’s fun to watch you squirm.”

Goldie surprises him by taking a stick and swiping on a long stripe of what she explains is a hard wax. “We have to let this set up so I’m going to do a couple spaced out swatches and we’ll go from there. How are you at handling pain?”

Lifting his left arm, he raises an eyebrow at her. “I’ve lost a hand, lass. I think I’ll be fine.”

For the record, he’s not fine. It hurts. And even after the wax is ripped from his skin, the pain has him reaching out without realizing it and grabbing Emma’s hand. She’s trying so hard not to laugh that she’s almost turning as blue as the wax Goldie is applying to his skin again.

“So glad one of us is enjoying this,” he whimpers out, gritting his teeth as another section of wax is deemed dry enough and Goldie unsticks an edge to get a grip on it.

“You’re doing great,” Emma says, ruffling her free hand through his hair.

He doesn’t notice the next three strips come off because he and Emma have both realized exactly how close they are, how little distance there is between their faces. Her hand pauses in his hair and her other hand relaxes at the same time his does, moving from a gesture of support to one of… is this affection?

The moment is broken when Goldie announces she needs to grab a bottle of lotion from the front room and leaves them alone. He’s so tempted to pull her closer, to taste her lips once more. But he can tell by the rigidity her stance takes on that she’s not on the same page right now. And even if she is, she’s too scared or holding back or hiding from it.

“This alone should be repayment for throwing up on you the day we met,” he says to break the tension. When Emma laughs, he sort of melts on the table. He grins in response, turning to look down at his chest and he makes a noise of disbelief. It’s all gone. “Bloody hell.”

“Wow. Shit you’re pale. Oh god we’re gonna have to tan your chest. Why didn’t I think of that?” She stands, placing his clothes back on the chair to take her place. “I need to make another stop in town. You okay to finish up here? They’ll do clean-up services on your facial hair, too, if you’d like. Just tell Goldie what you want and she’ll take care of it.”

With barely another glance back at him, Emma nearly sprints from the room. He can hear her say something to Goldie and then her voice disappears from range and the door is pushed back open as Goldie enters. “Emma said she’d be back in about a half hour. Want anything else taken care of while you’re here?”

Thinking for a minute, Killian scrunches his nose. It’s not ideal. He’d rather be at home in the privacy of his own bathroom for such things, but he still nods. “I can think of a few things.” Reaching for his shorts, he grabs his wallet and hands over his credit card. “Put the total on there,” he says, grabbing the services sheet from Goldie when she hands it over and tallying up what he’d like.

It’s a while before he slides into his own clothes again, but even when he does he ends up in another chair to get his hair trimmed and his beard clipped. He didn’t realize quite how much all his hair had grown since they got to camp. By the time he’s all done, everything feels clean and crisp, and he’s just starting to get used to the way his shirt feels without the barrier of hair that usually comes between his skin and the fabric.

“Now, apply this lotion again later on. No sweating or swimming for the next twenty-four hours, and come back again in three to six weeks. Okay?”

As far as the “three to six weeks” portion goes, Killian scoffs. His skin is burning in so many places he can’t keep track anymore, but he feels neat and well-kempt and about a stone lighter than when he walked in. He keeps all of the swear words that want to escape to himself though, and just signs the charge slip that Goldie prints and hands to him.

He knocks his sunglasses back onto his nose as he exits the spa, calling out a farewell as he goes, only to nearly collide with Emma.

“Oh! All done?”

“Yep, all taken care of,” he tells her. If his voice is a little tighter than it was when they got to the spa, he’s sure she won’t take it personally. He did just rip off all his chest hair for her.

“I grabbed some food at Granny’s for the ride home. Goldie said you wouldn’t be able to run through the number again today, and I figured you deserve something more than camp food for once.”

“We had food from her on our way in. Best lunch I’ve had in ages.”

“I’m not surprised. Granny’s is basically a rite of passage on the way to camp, even if you’ve never heard of it. Probably has something to do with the fact that she’s the only casual dining place for miles.”

He takes the food from her, setting it on the floor by his feet for the drive back. When he goes to take the small shopping bag from her, however, she quickly throws it into the back seat.

“I’ll give you what you need from that when we get back,” is all she tells him.

They amble their way back through the grounds once they return, with Emma finishing the last of her onion rings and Killian still working through his French fries. She has two plastic bags looped over her wrist, and he waits patiently while she separates the items and hands him one after she’s finished her food.

“Will you need help with the self-tanner?”

“No, I should be able to manage all right,” he says, instilling himself with false-confidence over this matter. It’s not like he’s ever used tanning lotion before. But he’s just as stubborn as she is in many ways, so he decides he’ll figure it out on his own.

“Well, you can take the rest of the day off,” Emma says once they get to a point where she’ll go left for the studio and he’ll go right. She hesitates for a moment, shuffling her feet for just a second before she speaks up again. “My… my cabin is right behind the studio. It’s a little hidden by the trees but if you walk to the back and follow the stone path, you’ll find it. If you need anything and I’m not at the studio, that’s where I’ll usually be. Okay?”

“Aye. Thanks, love.” They stand there in silence for a minute more, not moving closer, not moving away, until voices on the path send them both turning and scurrying away.

The next day, there’s an undercurrent of stress running through both of them. He spends much less time trying to look at the mirror than he thought he would at this point, and looking at his feet is the furthest thought in his mind. He knows from muscle memory when he’s not doing something correctly, but now he doesn’t derail the whole number just because he did one small thing wrong. Instead, he makes a mental note to fix it on the next run-through.

“Stop looking like someone is going to beat you up if you don’t dance the right way,” Emma murmurs as they work through the steps.

“You mean you won’t?”

She snorts, fighting to keep moving with him after that comment if her suddenly jerky turn is anything to go by, but she saves it and they move into the next turn smoothly. “But seriously, just play off my facial expressions so you look like you’re enjoying yourself. Think of what Ruby said.”

The next time they run through, he does his best to smile when she does. He listens when she tells him to relax and have fun, to pretend they aren’t getting ready for a possibly life-altering dance, and he flirts with her through the number, through their movements. It earns him more than one delighted smile and laughter.

When the choreography ends this time, they’re both breathless and smiling.

“Good. You’re good. You got it. I’m not pushing any more today. But I need to ask, how’s the tanning going?”

Killian grimaces. He’s supposed to be putting the lotion on his chest, hand, wrist, neck, and face. Mostly everything is already tanned, so it doesn’t need much. His chest, on the other hand, where all the hair came off is so close to his horrifying winter white.

“It’s… It’s going poorly,” he admits. He purposely left his shirt on for the whole practice for this very reason.

“What? Why?”

He mumbles his response, turning away and probably making it harder for her to hear, but that’s kind of the problem. He doesn’t want her to hear how much he’s struggled with the self-tanning lotion.

“Killian?”

“I can’t apply it alone,” he finally spits out, staring hard at his prosthetic as his fingers pick at the flesh-colored attachment.

“Oh,” she responds, clearly putting the pieces together and then, “oh. Okay. Well, um. Bring it with you. Ruby will be here later on and she and I can help. Nothing we haven’t done before, you know.”

And it’s fine when it’s Ruby, even if she’s leering the whole time she’s buffing the lotion across his chest. He rolls his eyes, avoiding eye contact with her the whole time while Emma calls out commentary reminding her to get some of the other parts to even out the color.

When he’d shown up with the bottle of lotion, they had a whole area prepped for the tanning experience, including buffers and gloves, sponges and a sheet to spread on the ground just in case. It was more than he was expecting, and he’s not quite sure how Emma trusted when he said he would do it on his own if it took all of this for them to do it for him.

The next day, when it’s Emma applying the lotion, neither of them speak the whole time, nor make eye contact. She fixates on the work she’s doing while Killian stares at the ceiling, pretending that it’s Liam doing the work to stop his body from reacting.

He’s never been as relieved as when Emma declares on the third day that he’s as even as he’s going to get, and that if he wants to add a little more to his chest on his own, it should be much easier.

“Just apply it before you go to bed tonight, and you should be good,” she tells him, handing over a bag with the mitt and lotion inside. “Remember to blend it upwards into your neck, like we’ve been doing.”

“Aye, I think I’ve got it.” He raises an eyebrow and tries to reassure her the best he can with just that look because as the week has gone on, she’s gotten more and more outwardly nervous. He can relate. It’s a big deal, and it’s unlike anything he’s ever done before, but all he wants is to put her mind at ease that they’ve covered everything they possibly can.

“I can always even it out with makeup tomorrow when we get there,” she tells him, apparently still running through worst case scenarios.

“Emma, love, it’ll be fine. The least of our worries is my sad tan,” he says, smiling and flipping her ponytail back over her shoulder to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. Okay. I’ll see you in the morning for another run-through.”

Before he can understand that time has moved so quickly, it’s the day of the performance. Emma meets him after lunch to check that everything with his costume fits well and to do a final run through. She’s still in her practice skirt, and she tells him she’s waiting until they get to the Mills Regency to change into her dress so it doesn’t wrinkle on the drive over.

“You can wear this when we leave or you can change when we get there. Your choice.”

“I’ll leave the outfit in your capable hands and change there.”

He rolls his shoulders, marveling at how different the costume feels without his chest hair. The fabric is silky smooth, as everything has been recently, and he zips and unzips the shirt a few times without fear of injury, grinning as he does so.

“Oh, for the love of… You’re acting like you’ve never used a zipper until today.”

“Swan, I’ve not seen this much of my chest since puberty. Let a man have his fun.”

She mutters something, wandering over to the stereo to grab her remote before coming back to stand in front of him. “Okay, your fun has been had. Let’s run it once.”

It’s odd to run the dance in the costume as he’s meant to be wearing for it. Last time he still had on his boxers. Now, the fabric sticks close to his body, not moving like his t-shirts or button-downs do, not moving like his shorts do. There’s something sleek about it, making him feel like this is a real thing. When he looks in the mirror, he doesn’t see Killian Jones: lost and broken man with baggage dragging behind him as he moves. He sees a version of himself he thought he had lost. This is Killian Jones: determined and ready to pass as a professional dancer.

He’s almost loathe to take it off, but there’s still time until they even perform and he can’t exactly wear it around camp. He changes back into his clothes and helps Emma hang the dance outfit, slipping the garment bag over the whole thing with his shoes in the bottom so it’s all ready to go.

“I’ll see you back here right after dinner?” she asks.

“Aye. I’m sure Liam is so caught up in whatever he’s doing that he won’t even notice I’m gone.”

She nods, cleaning the space in what he now recognizes as a nervous gesture. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Ruby’s going to oversee a couple that’s been learning together. She’s not allowed to dance, but she can coach them from the sidelines just this once. They’ve taken enough classes by now.”

“Good, then I’ll see you later,” he says, giving her a reassuring smile and moving towards the door before he can do something affectionate again, like hug her to expel all her nerves and fears. He has no idea how he’ll handle his emotions when it’s all over, but he’s already dreading the end of this adventure.

Chapter 6

#cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan ff #cs multichap #sarah writes ff #dirty dancing au

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liesandarbor · 6 years

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it’s been a month, and I still haven’t done my Ice and Fire Con 2018 wrapup post. soooo... here goes!

This year’s Ice and Fire Con was the best year yet. It was also my busiest year, since I went from a Volunteer in 2017 to a member of the Small Council (the Master of Whispers, to be exact) for 2018.

Seriously, I was everywhere. Consistently. I don’t think I got to sit through a whole panel even!

Despite running around like a chicken with my head cut off, I made some fantastic memories that I’ll throw out under the cut:

Thursday Thursday was Day Zero of the Con this year. I started my day by having lunch with @charliechasessnitches, @poorquentyn, @kavalden and two more friends at my favorite place in Columbus before we headed to the lodge - TENSUKE!

we grabbed some groceries from the marketplace and then we all separated to make our trek down to Deer Creek Lodge, which, by the way, is stunning? Seriously. Just stunning.

While Thursday was technically day zero, we decided to throw in some programming anyway - just because. and, not to get too excited, but Drunk ASOIAF and Drinking GoT BK were the first ASOIAF/GOT programming of IAF!

It was sooo cool! AAAH. Haley Bowery (of Manimals and DGBK fame) and I did a panel called “GoTs7: The Good, the Bad, and Rhaegar’s Wig”. We basically went over our top 5 and bottom five moments of Game of Thrones season seven, while staying true to the nature of our podcasts and drinkin’. We also dressed up like skeletons, because the big Thurs party joke is always the “thirst of the first men” and everyone...... wears Skelly costumes, like the skelly tequila.

the panel was a blast, and super well received. it was just really silly fun, including a montage of Rhaegar’s wig at the end that ... had people laughing pretty hard.

Post that, there was a ~~~super secret Ice and Fire Con Musical Rehearsal~~~, albeit brief, and then lots of partying with good friends.

Friday

Friday was busy from start to end.

I woke up, I ran registration for a bit, and then got to run my favorite event of all (after watching my boyfriend get his face licked by a wolf, actually, may I add): THE SNARKS AND GRUMPKIN HUNT.

This was my second year of running Snarks, which is a photo scavenger hunt built with sabotages, bribes, and mostly just silly stuff. I heard from a weeee little bird that it’s going to evolve next year (I’m the bird) into a bigger event, and I can’t wait.

after Snarks, I had to change and get into my musical getup - but first I snagged a few minutes of the Salty Dornish panel with @ageeksaga, @poorquentyn and Moe. It was fabulous, and I was so bummed to have to sneak out to go get ready, but the musical called!

THE MUSICAL. For those that haven’t been following, @iceandfirecon did a PARODY MUSICAL of Hamilton this year, and I got to be Sansa Stark. I had two big songs, and a minor role in one - I got to sing Wait for it and That Would Be Enough.

All of those songs can be found at https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCN9QlVpUoJYeWHy-mhngc7g

Right after the musical, I ran karaoke for an hour with @charliechasessnitches and that was a god damn silly blast. I sang a rendition of hit me with your best shot that shooketh the room, and me, @charliechasessnitches and our friend Lydia did a reallllllly buzzed version of Schuyler sisters that had us in stitches

Post that, we all retired to the cabin parties and spent time with friends and caught up how we could, until giving in for the night.

Saturday

Saturday was, once more, a rise up, registration for a bit, and then get to work day. It was the big cosplay day for me, as I kinda kept it calm the other days - my best buddy Queued Up Cosplay and me and her partner worked on our costumes the month before super hard, and they did it as a *friendship gift* to me. they let me finally have a full house Reed cosplay.

Literally. Even my boyfriend did it.

We got a bunch of wonderful photos at the lake side, and then we went on to watch the tourney until it was so cold I had to retire indoors (the downside of Lake effect in the spring of course). Our friend Zack had me cracking up the entire time though - he entered the tourney saying he was Lommy of Ib, and would battle cry FOR IIIIIBBBBBBBB when he was in the joust. It was too good.

I got to watch Emmett do his thing with Lovecraft for a bit before running back to my room to prepare for the Performance Contest, and theeeeeeeeen came the performance contest.

I wrote a filk song, a parody of Tom Petty’s Free Fallin’ about Lyanna Stark and the Rebellion. You can find it here:

youtube

My voice was shot, I forgot half the words, but god damn, everyone gave me such a nice reaction that I almost cried! it was very good and very sweet of them.

After that, I had to go... prepare for the mock trial and get into my evening getup for the dance.

There are barely any photos of me in that outfit, but I wore a blinged out QUEEN necklace and had a corset and leggings and boots and an axe and went as ASHA QUEEN for the night, which was a blast. I even got this meme of me “droppin’ the axe” in the panel (which, may I add, I got to portray a criminal defense lawyer, and had to defend HBO/D&D/GOT........... oh god, that sucked)

After that, I kind of realized all of the exhaustion and stress of the weekend was getting to me, and I ended up being the worst and staying in for most of the night. I just couldn’t do more, I had pushed myself to the limit unfortunately, but it was still the best weekend, even with missing out on that Saturday.

Shouts to @buskerlenny - getting to spend quality time with her was amazing. And shouts to @sanrixian, who wouldn’t let me spend the money I wanted to spend at her vendor booth, but got the coolest con swag out of in general! To @wendynerdwrites, of course, getting to see her was lovely, and of course a shout to the majestic, lovely @nobodysuspectsthebutterfly, because we actually got to chat a bit here and there this year, and her WEIRWOOD COSTUME WAS SO AMAZING!!!!

AND A SPECIAL SPECIAL SHOUT to my girls in advertising that helped me all year - Bekah, Meghan, Kat, the best <3

another amazing year, and I can’t possibly wait until next year.

#asoiaf #ice and fire con #asoiaf cosplay #ice and fire con 2018 #game of thrones #i'm sure i missed people i'm sorry i didn't mean to it was such a crazy weekend i love you all

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paws-on-contact · 7 years

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Do whatever makes you happy And screw everything else if you ask me, hey yeah ‘Cause life is short and we only got one shot So let’s go balls-out, give it everything we got

Don’t let those losers take your magic, baby, yeah!

- Kesha, Let ‘Em Talk (x)

2017 has been an absolutely fantastic year for us. I can’t even begin to describe how proud I am of Baylee. She has gone from barely beginning CPE Level 2 at the start of 2017….to rocketing almost completely into Level 5 by the end of it! During the course of 2017, Baylee and I earned a grand total of 91 Qualifying Scores!!!! PLUS we’re only 20 Q’s away from Baylee’s C-ATCH (CPE Championship)!!!

This is absolutely amazing to think about because 2016 was our first year of trialing and it was really hard for us. We were a very green and very dysfunctional team, comprised of me - a newbie handler - and Baylee - my first agility dog and a reactive overstimulated hot mess. We only managed 20 Q’s in 2016 and stayed in Level 1 for most of that year.

Baylee was amazing in class and we were constantly improving. But she would almost completely shut down at trials (super dog reactive - especially in her crate, zoomies around the ring, constantly visiting the judge/bar-setters, zero recall recognition) and, as a result, our performance suffered. It was super disheartening at first. I remember considering giving up several times. But several wonderful people that I looked up to at trials, my trainer included, told me to keep going. At my trainer’s urgency, we kept training and kept trialing (for socialization/desensitization) with the hope of one day improving our success rate.

At a trial in January 2017, I remember some friends talking about how they were trying to get their dogs qualified for the 2018 CPE Nationals. I asked them about Nationals and how to attend. They said we would need 48 Q’s for the year and needed to complete all of Level 3 in order to become eligible. It seemed like a lofty goal at the time. I wasn’t sure if we could do it, but I was willing to give it a shot.

So with the help of my trainer, Baylee and I worked our asses off from then on out. Blood, sweat, and tears went into trying to reach this goal. My trainer constantly pushed me, showing me how to improve my handling and how to push Baylee and ask more of her. As I began to raise the criteria, Baylee eagerly rose to meet it.

After many awesome breakthrough moments, fabulous runs, not-so-fabulous runs, goofy handling (my bad, lmao), and 2 perfect (10/10 Q) weekends, Baylee qualified for the 2018 CPE Nationals by the end of July. That same weekend, she also started a couple Level 5 games, which marked the beginning of our journey toward her C-ATCH. Now, she only needs a few more Q’s until she gets her Championship! 12 Standard Q’s and 8 Q’s from a couple of the other games! It’s going to be a huge celebration once we finally get it! I’m so proud and excited!

It really is amazing how far Baylee and I have come this year alone. She constantly challenges me but she also continues to grow with me. I love this dog so much. She’s the greatest teammate I could ever ask for.

With CPE Nationals and our first C-ATCH on the horizon, I can’t wait to see what 2018 brings! So many fun adventures in store! It’s going to be a blast!!!!

#Baylee #dog agility #dog agility stuff #cpe agility #Baylee's agility stuff #a year in review #2017 agility #road to C-ATCH Baylee #road to CPE Nationals 2018 #C-ATCH Baylee 2018 #i'll be making a video with all our 2017 agility runs to that song too <3

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nelliievance · 3 years

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Learn to Soar With Christine Van Loo

“If you want to fly, you have to give up the shit that weighs you down.”-Toni Morrison

Christine Van Loo, Aerialist, Speaker, and Coach (http://www.christinevanloo.com/about.html)

Christine Van Loo is an elite athlete that started out as an acrobatic gymnast, a sport in which she was a 7-time consecutive US National Champion, female Olympic athlete of the year, and athlete of the decade. After retiring from competition in that sport, she married and settled into a new life that seemed complete, but something also seemed missing.

Christine performing acrobatic gymnastics

She went through a period of depression before coming up with a new challenge and reinventing herself as an aerialist. She has much to teach about pursuing our dreams and becoming all we can be, and now in addition to being an internationally acclaimed performer as an aerialist, she has a set of teaching dvds for aspiring aerialists, and also coaches the champion’s mindset. She uses the acronym S.O.A.R to summarize her philosophy:

Shape your success.

Overcome obstacles.

Architect a satisfaction plan.

Reap the rewards.

I was fortunate enough to be able to interview Christine, an amazing athlete and human being.

I think a crucial part of your story is when you had retired from competition as an acro-gymnast, and were finding yourself not totally fulfilled. Then you came up with a second career as an aerialist. How did you come up with this idea, and how did you motivate yourself to pursue it?

After I retired from acrobatic-gymnastics I married my first boyfriend and we moved to Italy where I became a Navy officer’s wife and a housewife, roles I struggled to fill authentically.

When we returned to the United States I worked as an instructor. I taught gymnastics to children, dance to gymnasts, stretch classes to an aerobics national champion, acrobatics skills to world champion ballroom dancers and fitness classes to the general public. But no matter how well I did as an instructor, I felt like I was waiting for my real life to begin. One day, I went to watch a friend of mine audition for Cirque du Soleil at Brown’s Gymnastics, one of the places where I taught. I sat alone on the bleachers as dozens of dancers and gymnasts signed their names to a list before warming up on the gymnastics mat. Suddenly my hands started shaking uncontrollably. As I gripped the bleachers to steady them my body started swaying back and forth. I clenched the bleacher so tightly my knuckles turned white, but I could not still my body. That moment was an epiphany, an aha. A realization I was watching my real life from the outside. Those strangers were my family. This art form was my home. Without thinking, my body stood up. My feet walked to the table. My hand signed my name onto the audition sheet.

During the seven hour audition we danced, tumbled, balanced in handstands, stretched, acted and were interviewed. I had no expectation they would choose me. It had been five years since that old life as a competitive acrobat. But a few days later a woman with a French-Canadian accent, Nicolette, called to offer you a two-year contract to tour the world with Cirque du Soleil’s ‘Quidam’.” My breath caught in my throat. My words went AWOL. My mind exploded with images of acrobats flying through the air. Of stages, lighting, costumes, music; of performing, traveling to exotic places, and stretching my creative limits. She was offering my perfect dream. Then my husband stepped into the doorframe and the dream shattered. “Who is that?” he mouthed. I found myself between two colliding worlds. The “real” world, in which I was a wife and an instructor with newly registered students, and an apartment renter with a newly signed lease. And the dream world of running away and joining the circus.

“I’m sorry Nicolette,” I said, “I can’t accept the offer. Thank you for asking me.” “I don’t understand, Christine. You should continue to perform. Performing is inside you.” I knew she was right, but I hung up the phone and watched my dream disappear like a train pulling from the station without me. Months passed. They seemed like years. I put myself on automatic pilot to make it through the days. It was not that my life was bad. I had no reason to complain. That only made things harder, so I accepted this was who I was. It wasn’t who I dreamed I could be, though, and that broke my heart.

Then a friend told me about a show in which I could perform at corporate events on the weekends then go home during the weekdays. I sent this company a video of me competing and they hired me to do a show two weeks later. I was only working as a background cast member but it was through this show that I discovered aerial artistry. When I watched aerial artistry it reminded me of when I discovered acrobatic gymnastics as a child. Both times I felt this excitement in my chest so large I thought I would burst into a supernova. I knew that this too was my calling too. It was never a thought of how to motivate myself to become an aerialist; I simply had to do it.

You were self-coached while learning to be an aerialist, so how did you teach yourself?

The first three skills I learned from a former teammate of mine who just retired from Cirque du Soleil. The majority of the rest I learned mainly through exploration and trial and error, which amounted to lots of torn skin, bruises, and even setting the back of my pant leg on fire doing a slack drop on the wrong kind of fabric. Even with a competitive acro gymnastics background, learning an aerial act on my own was extremely difficult. It also took a very long time.

How do you motivate yourself to go through the day-to-day discipline of training?

Our route to our dreams are paved and discomfort. It’s not comfortable getting up at five in the morning to train or to ask that special someone out for dinner and face rejection or to ask for a raise. When aiming toward success we are bound to face fear, stress, frustration, anger, disappointment and a whole host of other uncomfortable feelings. Believe me. I know. I have a PhD in discomfort.

Think of these uncomfortable feelings as cross roads. Discomfort is a dream killer. Discomfort can kill your dreams. The moment you quit in order to feel better is the moment your dream may die.

Toni Morrison wrote, “If you want to fly, you have to give up the shit that weighs you down.”

If you want to be successful and to reach your dreams then make space for discomfort. Instead of judging discomfort like an enemy, simply accept and embrace it as part of the journey. In fact, train yourself to associate the discomfort of your challenges with an outcome of success.

Don’t wait to feel comfortable to take action. Get up in the morning and do whatever it is you need to do no matter how you feel. This will make you stronger. Instead of running away from discomfort, choose your dream instead.

Can you go into more detail about the champion mindset and elite athlete habits you teach in your coaching? I assume these apply to all of us, regardless of our talents, we should still strive to be the best versions of ourselves.

I teach a host of champion mindset techniques such as creating your own launch team, emulating excellence, and simplifying your success, among others.

Regarding simplifying your success, most people don’t dream big enough. You know you’ve dreamed big enough when your dream seems impossible. But have you ever dreamed an impossible-sounding dream and then felt overwhelmed at the magnitude of how to accomplish it?

I wanted to be an aerialist more than anything, but I didn’t feel like an aerialist and I had trouble believing that I might achieve such a feat.

So I came up with a plan. I figured, if I can’t believe this ambitious dream of becoming a professional aerialist, what if I reprogram my thinking to just believe in the next step? So I converted my dream into mini-steps – and I just focused on one at a time.

I didn’t have to believe in becoming an aerialist, I just had to rent a place to train.

I didn’t have to believe in becoming an aerialist, I just had to buy two yards of costume fabric.

I didn’t have to believe in becoming an aerialist. I just had to believe in climbing the next climb up the rope.

By breaking my dream down into mini steps, I created a momentum of confidence through incremental wins.

My point is this – whether you’re climbing a circus rope or a corporate ladder, the rules are the same. You learn to believe not by taking a huge leap, but by believing in one step after another.

Good news is confidence is learnable, and as you learn, that crucial belief takes root and spreads into all parts of your life.

If you’re intrigued and inspired by Christine’s story, or if you want to see some amazing videos of her in action as an aerialist, please check out her website. In addition to performing, she does speaking engagements, and coaches (teaching the champion’s mindset and coaching aerialists). Her book Falling to the Top is coming soon (check here for updates).

Do you have something unfulfilled inside that makes you feel like you might “burst into a supernova“? Maybe Christine’s coaching can help take the next step.

Learn to Soar With Christine Van Loo published first on https://steroidsca.tumblr.com/

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