#The Palms Supper Club

[wausaupilot]

Cocktail of the Week: Chocolate Banana Martini

Absolutely sensational!

Wausau Pilot & Review This week’s featured cocktail is a sweet delight, combining the smooth taste of banana cream with chocolate liqueur, complemented by a hint of graham crackers. think banana cream pie in a glass – it is that good! This is an original recipe from The Palms Supper Club, and was created by Penny Borchardt. Cocktail of the Week: Chocolate Banana Martini 3 oz. chocolate…

[nerd-fandom-drabbles]

Entanglements

Description: When Rook invites Lucanis for a nightcap, things do not go according to plan.

(Inspired by this wild VG247 article - contains some light spoilers)

1892 words

Characters: A very oblivious Lucanis, femme elven Rook

Pairings: Lucanis x Rook

Genre: Drama, Comedy, Romance

Content warnings: sexual themes, some cursing

WARNING: This contains some light spoilers for Veilguard pre-release gameplay footage and maybe The Wigmaker Job if you squint really hard.

Note: This is probably a very OOC version of Lucanis. But Mary Kirby said he was awkward and this is _very_ awkward. I thought it was funny, so here you go!

It was a quiet, ordinary evening at the Lighthouse, when Rook found Lucanis in the kitchen preparing supper for the team. She'd asked him to come find her for a nightcap after dinner; she had gotten a gift she thought he'd enjoy sharing. In response, he'd nodded his agreement and continued chopping vegetables.

After, they had chatted a bit longer, and she did that thing she often did where she stole his favorite coffee mug and took a few sips out of it. She said everything tasted better out of it, and even in his exasperation with her theft, he couldn't exactly deny it. It was a nice mug, and he had fantastic taste in coffee.

And so, that evening after the team had gobbled down two entire lasagna trays, one meat and one veggie, Lucanis went into the larder and spent around an hour pointedly ignoring Spite, who, as expected, eventually got bored and left him alone with his thoughts. In that time, he'd managed to read a few short chapters of the book assigned at this week's book club and prepared to meet with Rook. When he was satisfied, he made his way up the stairs, ignoring the restless feeling in his stomach.

He knocked on the door and within a moment or two Rook opened it. He was hit with a thick waft of sweet fragrance and warmth as she did, the smell of her soap mingling with the scented candles she had burning by her bedside. He looked down at her, and it seemed she had already dressed for bed. Odd. She wore a satin night-robe tied loosely over a satin chemise. It looked soft and comfortable, but perhaps a little chilly, given the way her nipples poked through the fabric.

“Luca?” she said, repeating the nickname she'd given him, “Luca! I'm glad you came! Do you like brandy? I received a really nice gift-bottle and thought you might share it with me?”

Lucanis suddenly saw himself and her as if from the outside looking in. Her big smile and tousled, curly hair let out of its usual braid. The tasteful bit of cleavage peeking from behind the lace trim of her chemise. The fire in the hearth behind her. The two crystal glasses and decanter set out on the coffee table. Her huge bed stacked with velvety pillows and blankets.

He looked at her, then back into the room, then back at her increasingly confused expression. A realization dawned on him.

“Wait...” Lucanis propped himself against the doorframe with squinted, suspicious eyes, “Are you trying to have sex with me?”

She stared at him dumbfounded for a moment, then straightened up a bit and shrugged.

“Uh, yeah,” She blinked, "Kinda."

“Why?”

What do you mean why? She fought to keep her palm from colliding with her face in exasperation, in the hopes the situation was still salvageable. She calmly explained, “Why do you think? Because I like you and find you attractive.”

To that, he merely stared at her a moment, frowned, and then wagged his finger at her, in blame, confusion and disbelief. He then stormed off, disappearing down the hall.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the door, Rook let out a deep breathy growl of frustration and fell face-first onto her bed. How, of all of the men she could have found herself having feelings for, did she manage to pick the most skittish one possible? Getting him to open up had been like pulling teeth, and now that she finally was getting more than half-smiles and three word answers out of him, this happens. After a moment, she heard heavy footsteps returning, and her large, pointed ears perked up in response.

His voice rang out from her room's threshold once more, “And you did not think to tell me this?” She rolled onto her back. “I'm really not sure how much more obvious I could have been.”

“Bah.”

She lifted her head just in time to see him throw his hands up and wander off again. She sighed and sat up to a sitting position facing the door.

“Lucanis, just come back. Can we talk this out? Like adults?”

Suddenly he was back in the doorway, scowling and tapping his foot impatiently, “I don't know. Can you tell me when you hatched this plan of yours?”

“What? There is no plan. Nothing hatched.” She scooted closer to the edge of the mattress, a subtle movement in his direction, “I just want to be closer to you. And tonight seemed... opportune.”

The field team had decided to take a day off tomorrow, which was why she had picked this evening. They wouldn't have to worry about an early rise the next day, and if things went well could have plenty of time together.

“Ah, right,” Then a lengthy pause. On the other side of the doorway, Lucanis' mind was moving a mile a minute, reliving the moments they had shared together leading up until this point and picking them apart for the cues that he had obviously missed. “So, when you suggested we read that book on wyverns for book club?”

“Illario told me you like them.”

“Do you like them?”

“Does it matter?” she pivoted. The fact was, she couldn't care less about wyverns, “I knew you'd find it interesting, so I made the suggestion. I wanted to make you happy.”

“So you could have sex with me!”

“Oh, for fuck's sake, Luca,” she groaned again, “Can you please explain to me what the problem is?”

“The problem is that I thought we were operating as a professional partnership.”

“We are a professional partnership!” She wanted to scream but didn't, “You're in the Veilguard.”

“And now I learn there has been this insidious secret thread woven through the whole thing,” he argued pointedly, not quite raising his voice, but his face already flushed with anger or maybe embarrassment, “If I had noticed earlier I would have- I could have-”

“What?” Now was her turn to throw her hands up in frustration.

“I could have left! I could have put another Crow in my place.”

“Why would you have done that?”

“Because of this!” He gestured wildly between them, more frenzied and emotionally charged than she'd ever seen him. “Entanglement!”

“Contrary to what the chantry preaches, being 'entangled' is not some horrible sin, Lucanis.”

“Oh but it is. Entanglements get you killed. Or they are used to manipulate you. Or they die. Or they are used to manipulate you and then you both die!” He stared at her with pleading eyes, “We can't... do... this! There's too much at stake!” He laughed bitterly, “And you should be the one saying this, by the way, not me.”

That's what this is about?

“You're afraid that something is going to happen to us because you care about me and I care about you,” She followed the thought to its natural conclusion, “Right? You also have feelings? For me?”

“Of course I do. What do you think I am, a moron?”

At that, she couldn't help but laugh, “I wasn't sure I was your type.”

“I'm a mess. Everyone is my type. But even if that were false, you'd be my type.” He was surprisingly self-aware for someone so utterly oblivious. “I just didn't think I actually had a chance what with the demon and the bloody hands and the disastrous social graces.”

“Well, you do, so I guess we're all doomed,” she joked wryly.

“I guess so!” He gave the doorframe a sad little kick and then slid to the floor, arms collapsing over his knees.

She watched him silently, gently kicking her feet back and forth against the bedskirt. Her heart ached to see him so distressed. But so much about this utterly uncharacteristic outburst made sense now; she'd clearly hit on something very raw and sensitive without meaning to. And she'd hit it so hard that the scared little boy from his childhood came out and took over.

She had known about the physically brutal nature of his training by Caterina's hand, but hadn't considered that it might have affected him emotionally. It seemed like everything he thought about romantic feelings, about love, was horribly tainted and warped by fear and anxiety. She wondered if he'd ever been able to accept love from another person. If he'd ever truly been offered it.

“We'll be vulnerable. We could be used against each other. Like my parents-”

Her heart dropped. She'd never heard the full story of what had happened to them, but had assumed it was terribly tragic. He didn't finish the thought, and she wouldn't dare ask him to when he was in this state, but it was obvious now that she had been correct.

He rubbed his face with his hands in a desperate attempt to self-soothe and leaned back against the doorframe. He counted their shared enemies on his fingertips, “The Venatori, the Qunari invasion, the Evanuris. How are we supposed to defeat them like this?”

“I don't know,” she slid to the floor and crawled over to him. He watched her approach for a moment, then shook his head, and sighed. When she got to him she slid in close and rested her chin on his shoulder. “But maybe we do it together?”

He glanced at her again, the worry and resistance clear in his face, and she kissed him on the cheek. She then looped her arm in his and nuzzled in.

He took a deep breath, and then grumbled, matter of factly, “That might have been the first thing Caterina ever taught me: when you're working a job, always keep emotions out of it. Always.” He punctuated his words by chopping his left hand with his right.

“Maybe she was wrong.”

“It wouldn't be fair if she was. It would be like being rewarded for greed.”

“And so instead you should be punished? For wanting connection?” For needing love?

“Everyone can't have everything.”

“Maybe,” she stroked his hand with her own, intertwining their fingers, “Maybe not.”

He was still upset, but the warm sensations of her hand on his and her hair tickling his neck were disarming him in a way he wasn't sure he was ready for. They sat like that for a while; her breath fluttering against his collarbone and her chest pressed against him. He felt like if he concentrated, they were close enough for him to feel her heartbeat. It was... nice.

“I'm sorry for blaming you. I know you are-”

“Not an evil temptress out to steal your soul?”

“Mierda. Is that how I sounded?” He thought for a moment, “Yeah. That's how I sounded.”

“Well, for the record, I still like you. And all is forgiven. As long as you stay,” she brought his hand to her mouth and set a gentle kiss on it, “And work through this with me.”

“I can do that.”

“Good.” He could feel her smiling into his shoulder, “We will find a way to keep each other safe. And we'll be happy. And it'll be fine.”

“Okay.” He sounded a tad unconvinced. He turned her hand over, and as she had done to his, kissed it. Then, with more resolve, he repeated himself, “Okay.”

“Now, can we please get up off the floor?”

“Yeah, I could use a sip of that brandy.”

“Me too.”

[campgender]

“Lullabye for a butch” by Melinda Goodman, published in The Persistent Desire: A Femme-Butch Reader ed. Joan Nestle (1992)

Saturday night November 1980

I am 23 driving a '68 Delta east on 4

to the George Washington Bridge

jockeying with other drivers

coming off routes 80 and 47

for a clear veer to the lane my lover

works, the 3-to-11 post-Thanksgiving shift

She grabs my hand as I fly

money green flags

in her direction

laughing over the moan of diesel brakes

her wool-gloved fingers pry then tangle

in my naked palm

Ignoring the blaring horns outside the booth,

our mutual radios pump the club

version of Grace's "Warm Leatherette"

as she steps out on exhausted concrete

to place an orange cone

between my bumper and the

bumper behind mine

I like her uniform:

fresh polyester dark blue

and bright white collar

topped with overcoat,

scarf and ski cap for the blizzard on the way.

If it snows the Port Authority

puts her up at a motel otherwise

she stays at my place but has to be back

by dawn or be counted AWOL

So she's up before five

folding her flowered pajamas

into the bottom drawer

of my colonial chest

with handles like rings

through a bull's snout

“You got my nose”

moaned the only teenaged woman

who ever loved me

and my tollbooth honey

reminds me of her

as I chain the door behind her

hearing steps down five flights

to the street, the bridge,

and the gunmetal morning

I always loved

gentlemanly attentive butches

even those who won't fuck

for the first five dates

'cause they “want to get to know you”

till you beg

and by that time

you're married

They want to make sure

all those free concerts

fish dinners

and stories about home

won't get thrown back

in their teeth

After all...

butches are vulnerable

It's the femmes that are fierce

with their long legs

and tight jeans

making you watch them

Butches are the sweet ones

with their clean shined shoes

and socks

and underwear

smelling of baby powder

and Camay

I loved

the way she wrote her name

in purple script

all over the top sheet

of my coloring pad

when supper was done and the dishes stacked

I wish I could kiss her now

slide my tongue through her teeth

erase the years I fell

for women as distant as Queens

is from the Bronx

Just hold this butch in my arms

make her know

It's not the 2 condominiums

she bought with rare pennies

collected on her job

but her

her strong back

and big hips

and corny sparkling eyes

when she walks around

to open the door

on my side of the car

in front of the skinny eyes

of the fat boy dealers

strutting in and out

of their customized vans

and the heads rolling in

from Jersey

She doesn't even see

the tooth-sucking teens

as she walks back around

in her ten-gallon brim

to slide behind the wheel

Doesn't tell me where we're

going till we're parked and walking

out of the lot

up the block

arms linked

to see Patti Labelle

live at the Savoy

and I'm on my heels

all night screaming

through till the last song

running my fingers up the back of her neck

till the walls come down, tables break in half,

everybody's glass explodes

ice cubes hailing the city for miles

as Patti rains on

somewhere

over the rainbow

way up high

there's a

land that I dreamed of

once in a lulla-

bye.

[ecodynetableware01]

Why Choose Ecodyne for Wholesale Disposable Palm Leaf Plates in Israel

In the present eco-cognizant world, dispensable silverware has developed from plastic and Styrofoam to normal, biodegradable choices that negligibly affect the climate. Among the top decisions are palm leaf plates solid, economical, and extraordinarily tasteful. In Israel, Ecodyne stands apart as a dependable supplier of top calibre, wholesale disposable palm leaf plates. Here's the reason Ecodyne is the go-to decision for organizations and occasion organizers hoping to have a constructive outcome while offering quality flatware.

Eco-Friendly and Biodegradable

One of the fundamental reasons Ecodyne's dispensable palm leaf plates are popular is their supportability. Produced using normally fallen palm leaves, these plates are completely biodegradable and compostable. Dissimilar to plastic or paper plates, which can require many years to decay, palm leaf plates separate normally inside a couple of months, leaving no poisonous build-up. This goes with them an optimal decision for eco-cognizant organizations in Israel that are focused on decreasing their natural impression.

High Quality and Aesthetic Appeal

Ecodyne's palm leaf plates are harmless to the ecosystem as well as have a remarkable, regular look that adds a rural style to any occasion. The collecting framework safeguards the ordinary instances of the palm leaves, ensuring that each plate has an unquestionable appearance. This makes them ideal for upscale events, weddings, and get-togethers where visual appeal is major. Their solid advancement similarly makes them significantly strong, allowing them to hold various types of food, from light canapés to profound essential courses.

Affordable Wholesale Pricing

For associations, bistros, and event coordinators expecting to buy in mass, Ecodyne offers relentless markdown assessing on their nonessential palm leaf plates. By mentioning clearly from Ecodyne, you can get a good deal on costs without choosing quality. Whether you're a little bistro or an enormous occasion arranging organization, mass buying guarantees you're constantly ready for request while remaining inside financial plan.

Wide Range of Sizes and Styles

Ecodyne offers an assortment of palm leaf plates in various sizes and shapes to suit any culinary prerequisite. From little starter plates to enormous supper plates, there's an amazing open door for each need. The scope of choices improves on it to find the ideal flatware for any occasion, whether it's a pleasant party or a real festival. With a degree of round, square, and oval shapes, these plates correspondingly give adaptability in show, permitting you to dependably match the style of the occasion.

Ideal for Events and Catering Services

In Israel, catering administrations and occasion organizers are progressively deciding on economical flatware arrangements. Ecodyne's wholesale disposable palm leaf plates are an ideal decision for cooking since they are sturdy, a la mode, and harmless to the ecosystem. Since they are intended to endure both hot and cold food varieties, they're appropriate for a wide range of cooking. Besides, utilizing dispensable plates smoothest out post-occasion clean-up, making it more straightforward for providing food staff to keep a smooth activity.

Support for Eco-Friendly Initiatives

By picking Ecodyne's palm leaf plates, relationships in Israel are picking quality and supporting eco-obliging drives. Palm leaf flatware creation consolidates superfluous asset use and low energy use, adding to a cleaner and greener planet. Supporting affiliations like Ecodyne, which based on feasible practices, advance the shift towards eco-obliging things in the general market.

Convenient Delivery Across Israel

Ecodyne handles the necessities of its discount clients and guarantees lucky vehicles across Israel. With a solid vehicle affiliation, Ecodyne can supply affiliations, occasion facilitators, and clubs with the aggregates they need, right when they need them. The solace of mass mentioning and consistent movement simplifies it for clients to remain mindful of interest, especially during top seasons.

Conclusion

For Israeli organizations, occasion coordinators, and catering administrations, Ecodyne's wholesale disposable palm leaf plates offer a down-to-earth, eco-accommodating, and outwardly engaging arrangement. By picking Ecodyne, you're putting resources into silverware that lines up with the upsides of manageability while guaranteeing that your occasions are critical and earth-mindful. Do the change to palm leaf plates from Ecodyne and be essential for development towards a greener future.

[tulievephotographys]

Top 4 Palm Cove Wedding Venues Where You Can Say “I Do”

Everyone wants their wedding ceremony to be amazing. Taking your vows with your better half and beginning your lifelong journey together feels exotic and surreal. These below listed wedding venues in Palm Cove are incredibly elegant and attractive, and they have everything you need to have a royal celebration!

Pullman Palm Cove Sea Temple Resort & Spa:

At Pullman Palm Cove Sea Temple Resort & Spa, you can enjoy your beachfront wedding and make the best possible wedding memories. With the expansive coral sea in the background, the wedding décor is rustic and lovely. This location excels in hosting any event, whether it's a lavish wedding or a small, private gathering. The resort's reception hall, the Melaleuca Room, is the perfect place to entertain your guests for a magnificent supper buffet and beverage after the ceremonies and rituals have been completed in style.

Peppers Beach Club & Spa:

Peppers Beach Club & Spa is undoubtedly a popular and highly-regarded wedding venue in Palm Cove, offering stunning views of the Coral Sea, a tranquil and romantic ambiance, and a range of indoor and outdoor event spaces to accommodate weddings of different sizes and styles. Whether you're looking for an intimate ceremony on the beach or a grand reception in a ballroom, Peppers Beach Club & Spa can provide a range of options to suit your needs and preferences.

Alamanda Wedding Chapel:

Located on Palm Cove beach, the Alamanda Resort Wedding Chapel is a stunningly designed non-denominational wedding chapel. You have the option of relishing an open-air wedding with pleasant sea breezes and 180-degree views of the spectacular Coral Sea and Palm Cove Beach at this all-white wedding chapel.

Nu Nu Restaurant

Looking for a truly unforgettable beachfront wedding venue in Palm Cove? Look no further than Nu Nu Restaurant. Located right on the beachfront of Tropical North Queensland's most iconic beach, our restaurant provides the perfect setting for your special day. This venue is known for its beauty, intimacy, and outstanding service, making it a top choice for couples from all over Australia and the world.

Nu Nu is known for creating mouth-watering menus that showcase the unique local produce of the area. They are committed to providing your guests with an unforgettable dining experience, and they work hard to ensure that the food is always fresh, delicious, and beautifully presented. Their team of dedicated staff is always on hand to provide attentive service and ensure that every detail of your wedding day is taken care of.

The spectacular views of the beach and ocean are truly breathtaking, providing the perfect backdrop for your ceremony, reception, and wedding photographs. And with the experienced event staff on hand to help you plan every aspect of your wedding, you can relax and enjoy your special day without worrying about a thing.

Whether you're planning an intimate gathering or a grand celebration, Nu Nu Restaurant has everything you need to make your wedding day truly unforgettable.

Now that you have so many wedding venue options to choose from, its time to choose a reliable Wedding Photographer in Palm Cove. Your wedding day is a special day and you need a special person to detain the memories. Contact Tulieve Photography today to book a professional Wedding Photographer in Palm Cove.

Know more about our affordable and quality services stay social with us on: Facebook , Instagram & Pinterest

[awesomeforever]

Subscribe for full access to The Hollywood Reporter Subscribe for full access to The Hollywood Reporter Reservations in Beverly Hills are up 13 percent over 2019, as industry insiders say the power lunch scene is revitalized: "I think people are trying to make up for lost time." By Elycia Rubin With close to 365 days of flawless weather, outdoor dining is a year-round occurrence in Los Angeles, and even more so during a pandemic. And now that summer is officially here, there’s nothing like a lively patio, especially in the power-lunch centers of Beverly Hills and Century City, where the majority of talent agencies and entertainment law firms are perched. Industry regulars say that patios throughout Century City and Beverly Hills are bustling these days. “As Beyoncé declares in her new single, ‘Break My Soul,’ we are ‘back outside’,” says Patrik-Ian Polk, co-executive producer of Starz’s P-Valley. “As convenient as Zoom meetings are, nothing beats the in-person L.A. business lunch circuit. It’s a vital part of the entertainment industry social scene that was sorely missed.” UTA partner Darnell Strom tells THR that he feels it’s harder to get a reservation “last second” right now in the area. “People are really wanting to spend more time dining at restaurants,” he adds. “I think people are trying to make up for lost time.” blogherads.adq.push(function () blogherads .defineSlot( 'medrec', 'gpt-article-mid-article-uid0' ) .setTargeting( 'pos', ["mid-article1","mid-articleX","mid","mid-article"] ) .setSubAdUnitPath("ros/mid-article") .addSize([[300,250],[2,2],[300,251],[620,350],[2,4],[4,2]]) ; ); Related Stories Lifestyle Ryan Phillippe and Evan Ross Invest in New Beverly Hills Restaurant The Hideaway Lifestyle Fanny's Restaurant Debuts Supper Club Series Named After 'Funny Girl' "Hello, Gorgeous" Line Statistics from booking app OpenTable bear this out. From January to May, reservations at participating Beverly Hills restaurants that have an average check of $50 a person were up 30 percent over 2021 and 13 percent from 2019. There’s been a vibe shift in recent months, according to writer and documentary producer Irena Medavoy, compared with 2021, which saw a rash of high-profile crimes in the area. “Beverly Hills took a big hit with the smash-and-grabs and when that person got shot at Il Pastaio,” says Medavoy, referring to an attack on a jewelry dealer on the restaurant’s patio in March 2021. “I think it made everybody pause, but everyone is back now.” But film campaign consultant Terry Press, a regular at The Palm on Canon Drive, says she feels power-lunching hasn’t fully returned to pre-pandemic levels. “You know what took over the business lunch? All the delivery services,” she says. Even so, the area’s restaurant landscape is set to be more crowded this year when a new Jon & Vinny’s (on North Bedford) and Daniel Boulud’s first L.A. outing (at the Mandarin Oriental Residences on Wilshire Boulevard) are both slated to open. In the meantime, these five al fresco dining options (all opened since the pandemic began) can help seal a deal while enjoying atmospheric settings. blogherads.adq.push(function () blogherads .defineSlot( 'medrec', 'gpt-dsk-tab-mid-article2-uid1' ) .setTargeting( 'pos', ["mid","mid-article2","mid-articleX"] ) .setSubAdUnitPath("ros/mid-article2") .addSize([[300,250],[300,251],[620,350],[2,4],[4,2]])

; ); With its prime perch across from CAA, the iconic Fairmont Century Plaza reopened late last year after a five-year, $2.5 billion renovation. Boasting a rich history as a mecca for celebrities including The Beatles and Sonny & Cher and as President Ronald Reagan’s hotel of choice, the 400-room luxury property and residences hosted the Critics Choice Awards in March and is home to French restaurant Lumière. Furnished with antiques, the spot has a bistro-style menu with dishes such as a knockout chicken liver mousse with olive oil jam. The patio feels like a slice of Provence with an herb garden, fountain and lush lavender plantings. 2025 Avenue of the Stars, L.A. With views of Century City’s neighboring high-rises, Nerano’s swanky patio — opened in 2020 in a onetime parking lot — offers an oasis in the middle of the city. The cuisine, inspired by the Amalfi Coast, includes spaghetti with squash blossoms and the same Tuscan-style thin-crust pizzas served at sister restaurant Toscana in Brentwood. “It’s fantastic food with a great outdoor area, chef, maitre d’ and staff,” says CAA agent Ted Miller. 9960 S. Santa Monica Blvd., Beverly Hills Located inside The Crescent Hotel (near the offices of Live Nation and UTA), 1-year-old Nua feels like a Tel Aviv-style cafe that landed in Beverly Hills. Regulars, who include Columbia Records president Ron Perry, come for chef Yoav Schverd’s modern Mediterranean cuisine, including charred eggplant with tomato salsa and date syrup, and shakshuka featuring slow-cooked tomatoes and poached eggs on a perfectly chewy Jerusalem bagel. The small, intimate patio, hidden from the street, woos diners looking for a serene lunchtime escape. “Nua is a cozy, tucked-away spot with delicious food,” says Gersh partner Roy Ashton, “and the staff makes you feel like you’re at a friend’s house.” 403 N. Crescent Drive, Beverly Hills blogherads.adq.push(function () blogherads .defineSlot( 'medrec', 'gpt-thr-article-mid-articleX-uid2' ) .setTargeting( 'pos', ["btf","mid-articleX","mid"] ) .setSubAdUnitPath("ros/mid-articleX") .addSize([[300,250],[300,251],[620,350]]) .setLazyLoadMultiplier(2) ; ); Flanked by lemon trees, potted plants and white parasols adjacent to the Beverly Canon Gardens, the sun-drenched scene at The Terrace oozes Mediterranean elegance. Located at The Maybourne Beverly Hills hotel — sister property to Claridge’s in London — the restaurant features items such as decadent homemade corn agnolotti with black truffle and steak tartare with lemon crème fraîche. The hotel also recently enchanted guests with a quintessentially British afternoon tea courtesy of Claridge’s world-renowned midday ritual. While the crumpet-laden experience was a pop-up, the splendor will become a permanent fixture after the ongoing lobby renovation is complete. Until then, tea is offered at The Terrace every weekend from 2 to 5 p.m. “The food is great,” says Medavoy, who along with husband Mike recently lunched there with producer-director George Stevens Jr. and his wife, Elizabeth. Adds Strom: “The Terrace Restaurant at the Maybourne Hotel is my favorite place for a business lunch. The outdoor patio is spacious, the food is delicious, and if you squint for a second, you feel like you are dining outdoors in Europe.” 225 N. Canon Drive, Beverly Hills The well-connected manager at industry-beloved Craig’s for many years, Tommy Salvatore is the man behind Tommy’s. Located just across from The Terrace in the former location of Thomas Keller’s Bouchon, the restaurant serves up chef Vartan Abgaryan’s Italian fare, including antipasti platters, spicy meatballs and cacio e pepe pasta alongside such options as a burger and a mixed wild rice bowl.

Lunch and happy hour happen at the vine-covered patio at The Café on the ground floor, while the main restaurant upstairs serves dinner. Says Polk: “Tommy’s is the perfect power-lunch spot. The vibe is cozy, and the food is to die for. And Tommy himself walks around greeting tables, the nicest guy and an L.A. legend.” 235 N. Canon Drive, Beverly Hills This story first appeared in the July 15 issue of The Hollywood Reporter magazine. Click here to subscribe. blogherads.adq.push(function () blogherads .defineSlot( 'medrec', 'gpt-thr-article-mid-articleX-uid3' ) .setTargeting( 'pos', ["btf","mid-articleX","mid"] ) .setSubAdUnitPath("ros/mid-articleX") .addSize([[300,250],[300,251],[620,350]]) .setLazyLoadMultiplier(2) ; ); Sign up for THR news straight to your inbox every day Sign up for THR news straight to your inbox every day Subscribe for full access to The Hollywood Reporter Send us a tip using our anonymous form. source

[betweenandbeloved]

Garden of Gethsemane

At the bottom of the Palm Sunday Path and the Mount of Olives sits the Garden of Gethsemane. This is the place Jesus came after the Last Supper to sleep for the night with his disciples.

Then Jesus went with his disciples to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to them “Sit here while I go over there and pray.” He took Peter and the two sons of Zebedee along with him, and he began to be sorrowful and troubled. Then he said to them, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me.” - Matthew 26: 36-38

Pictured: olive trees in the Garden of Gethsemane

The garden is home to olive trees that are over 900 years old. The roots of these trees date to over 2,000 years old which means these olive trees are descended from trees that were around during Jesus’ time. This small grove of trees sits right outside the Church of All Nations but there is a larger grove across the street.

Pictured above: an olive tree with rocks spelling out the word “Peace”

Pictured below: the sanctuary in the Church of All Nations

The Church of All Nations, also known as the Church of Agony, is home to the place where it is believed Jesus went to pray in the Garden of Gethsemane. The church has purple stained glass windows that make it feel like night time in the sanctuary. It was a little crazy walking out of the church and remembering it was daytime because it really did feel like the middle of the night.

Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.” Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. “Couldn’t you keep watch with me for one hour?” He asked Peter. “Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” He went away a second time and prayed, “My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done.” When he came back, he again found them sleeping, because their eyes were heavy. So he left them and went away once more and prayed the third time, saying the same thing. Then he returned to the disciples and said to them, “Are you still sleeping and resting? Look, the hour has come, and the Son of Man is delivered into the hands of sinners. Rise! Let us go! Here comes by betrayer!” - Matthew 26: 39-46

Pictured above: the spot where Jesus went to pray in the Garden housed now in the Church of All Nations

Pictured below: a plaque in the garden near the Olive Trees with Matthew 26:39 written out and a prayer reading “O Jesus, in deepest night and agony, you spoke these words of trust and surrender to God the Father in Gethsemane. In love and gratitude I want to say in times of fear and distress, ‘My father, I do not understand you, but I trust you’”

While he was still speaking, suddenly a crowd came, and the one called Judas, one of the twelve, was leading them. He approached Jesus to kiss him, but Jesus said to him, “Judas, is it with a kiss that you are betraying the Son of Man?” When those who were around him saw what was coming, they asked, “Lord should we strike with the sword?” Then one of them struck the slave of the high priest and cut off his right ear. But Jesus said, “No more of this!” And he touched his ear and healed him. Then Jesus said to the chief priests, the officers of the temple police, an the elders who had come for him, “Have you come out with swords and clubs as though I were a rebel? When I was with you day after day in the temple, you did not lay hands on me. But this is your hour and the power of darkness!” Then they seized him and led him away, bringing him into the high priests’ house. - Luke 22:47-54

Through the trees in the garden you can see the Temple Mount with the golden Dome of the Rock. I can only imagine what it was like for Jesus to sleep and pray in this garden looking at the Temple Mount looming over him, knowing what was to come on his journey.

[equestrianempire]

Rodrigo Pessoa Received an International Award at the Induction Gala for the Show Jumping Hall of Fame

Lexington, Kentucky, USA – March 8, 2024&nbsp, – Francisco” Pancho” Lopez, &nbsp, lifelong house director for Katie Monahan Prudent and then Elise Haas, and&nbsp, Cedric, Laura Kraut’s gold medal Olympic support, were inducted into the&nbsp, Show Jumping Hall of Fame&nbsp, during the Hall of Fame’s Induction Gala in Wellington, Florida, on March 3. The Hall of Fame also honored Olympic, World and World Cup champion&nbsp, Rodrigo Pessoa&nbsp, ( BRA ) as recipient of the Hall ‘s&nbsp, International Award.

It was our biggest and best yet, according to Show Jumping Hall of Fame president Peter Doubleday, who also chairs the organization’s annual induction ceremony as part of a sit-down supper in Wellington. ” We sold out in advance and, unfortunately, had to turn away many people who wanted to be there. Our club’s history was on display with 15 Hall oƒ Famers and many more of our sport’s mythology in attendance. Once more, it was a fantastic day that we will remember fondly each year.

The Hall of Fame presented its International Award for just the second time prior to the formal induction of Lopez and&nbsp, Cedric, with Rodrigo Pessoa ( FRA ), one of the most successful riders in show jumping history, receiving the award. At the World Equestrian Games in 1998 and the Olympic Games in 2004, Pessoa ωon the personal Gold Medal. He also won the championship in 1998, 1999, and 2000, making him the only horse to ever triumph in the FEI World Cup Fiȵals three times in α row. &nbsp,

While ƫhe Hall of Fame is intended for Americans who have had a major influence on thȩ game, we are aware of some outstanding international users who have made a significant influence on display jumping įn tⱨis nation,” said Doubleday. ” With that in mind, we launched our International Award last year and presented the annual award to Canada’s Ian Millar. Rodrigo was an obvious çhoice when we considered applicants ƒor the prizȩ this year, and listening to his moving talk at the supper made it clear that we made the right choice.

The induction dinner, held at the Wanderers Club in Wellington, also recognized 15 others in attendance who have previously been inducted into the Hall of Fame including Olympic veterans Mary Chapot, Margie Engle, Leslie Howard, Anne Kursinski, Beezie Madden, Michael Matz, Melanie Smith Taylor and Katie Prudent ( 1980 Alternate Olympics ), as well as Linda Allen, Jane Forbes Clark, Anthony D’Ambrosio, David Distler, Peter Doubleday, Danny Marks and former Olympic rider and current U. Ș. chef d’equipe Robert Ridland. People in enrollment included Olympic soldiers McLain Ward, Lauren Hough, Will Simpson, Nick Skelton, Shane Sweetnam, and Mac Cone and Grand Prix users Georgina Bloomberg, Carly Anthony, Heather Caristo- Williams, Jimmy Torano, Kelli Cruciotti- Vanderveen, Schuyler Riley, and Coco Fath.

Robin Parsky, Beth Johnson, Charlie Jacobs, who sponsored the gathering’s presence oƒ all Hall of Famers, and the Wheeler Family, who sponsored the cocktaiI reception and empty table. Also sponsoring were the Hall of Fame’s corporate sponsors – Blenheim EquiSports, Charles Ancona, CMJ Sporthorse, Hampton Classic Horse Show, Kentucky Horse Park, LAURACEA, LEG Colorado Horse Shows, Markel Insurance, Palm Beach International Academy, Rood &amp, Riddle Equine Hospital, United States Hunter Jumper Association ( USHJA ), Washington International Horse Show, and Wellington International. Stand dσnors included John Madden Sales, Leslie Howard, Oliynyk Show Stables, Margaret Duprey and Laura Kraut.

Source: Press Release (edited ) from Show Jumping Hall of Fame

Photo: © SHOF / KindMedia

Related

Categories: Awards, English, Jumper News Brasil

Identified as: Honors, Equestrian, Horses, Jumper News, Jumper News USA, Rodrigo Pessoa, Show Jumping Hall of Fame, Show Jumping Hall of Fame Gala, Showjumping, The Wanderers Club, United States Equestrian Federation, US Equestrian, USEF, Wanderers Club

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: We’re starting Sam’s installment but this weekend I’ll probably only be catching up on my headcanons and drabbles because I’ve been a lazy bitch and I’m sorry to those who have been waiting.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: I've got a job, I explore

💀💀💀

The sleepy town of Birch was awake. 

In those last weeks, the arrival of outsiders had roused the attention of many once passive residents of the timeless territory. Those brick buildings unchanged by the tick of the clock inlaid into the old tower above the library that chimed every hour on the hour. They still stood with only chips in the mortar but the air tasted different. The frost was more bitter and the sky more grim. An omen of something no one could predict.

It was the perfect setting for a screenplay. The isolated town with its unsavoury secrets and the visitors who threatened to bring them to the surface. It was inspiring to you, to imagine what was hidden behind the stern wrinkled faces of the town elders and under the jackets of those men who wore the cut of the local club. The bikers ruled the town covertly but everyone knew that Bucky Barnes’ palm was lined with the map of Birch.

As a bystander, an unnoticed observer, just another ant in the hill, you watched from the side and amused yourself with the drama of others. It was like a soap opera or another HBO hype machine. Those things you aspired to when you could be free of this ho-hum town.

The snows added to the natural gloom of the place. The deep heaps smothered the noise and harkened back to those days of colonial settlement. Forgotten, desolate, fearful. 

You ventured down in your heavy boots that stretched to your knees and pushed your chin down into your scarf. As a child, you ran and jumped in those piles, now you were out of breath just trying to walk past them.

You stopped in the bakery that doubled as the only café, a place where the owner, Babs, tried to to intimidate the last caffeinated trends. She was always a few seasons behind but you didn’t mind so much. 

You ordered the salted caramel mocha and waited patiently as the quiet woman fought with the steaming machines. She was older than you but you’d work with her for one summer during high school, only five years ago. She had the eyes of a child still, but there was something worn in her. As if she’d been exposed to far too much in her three or so decades in that place. She was a harbinger of what you didn’t want to become.

You thanked her for your drink and set out once more into the billowing winds. Birch winters were never kind but this one was crueler than most. Your teeth chattered as you blew the steam away from the lid and hugged it with your mittened hands.

You stopped short as you heard the familiar ding of the diner door across the street. You recognised the mechanic who kept to herself and once growled at you in the grocery store. She stormed across the street, followed closely and quickly by a black-haired man you’d only seen once before. He was one of those outsiders who came to deal with the club men.

You sped up as you sensed chaos brewing and pulled out your phone as you balanced your paper cup in your other hand. You flicked your camera on just as you got to the front of the shop and the man grabbed the mechanic. You let out an ‘oop’ as she turned on him and you aimed the lens at the couple as they fell into the snow, the man’s shoes giving little traction to his steps. 

You moved closer, stunned by the scene, and kept your cell phone rolling as you found a better angle around the snowy walks. As she choked him on the ground he elbowed her and she coughed as she rolled away. She snarled as he clamoured to his feet, slipping and sliding as he marched away.

You killed the recording and watched the man cross the street again, nearly wiping out as he did and when you looked back to the mechanic, she was gone behind the clattering door. You chuckled to yourself and tucked away your cell. It was prime footage for TikTok; with a bit of editing, it would be comedy gold.

💀

You stomped up the steps of your grandmother’s house, this time through the front door as you heard her chair rocking in the front room. You usually took the stairs in the back as you paid her to live on the upper floor of the duplex. You checked in with her daily, she didn’t get out much more than the occasional trip to the grocery store when you couldn’t or you dragged her out to join you for a tea at Babs’.

“You’re late,” she grumbled as you set your cup down and unzipped your coat.

“For what?” you scoffed.

“It’s after noon and you don’t even come down to say hello? A ‘good morning, nan’,” she harrumphed.

You chuckled and hung your coat before shoving your boots over on the mat. You grabbed your mocha and leaned on the doorway as you watched her crocheting in her chair, reruns of some court show playing from the boxy television.

“I was working,” you said, “sent in some stuff for review. Hopefully not much work to be done.”

“I don’t know how you make money on that interweb,” she bemoaned, “I don’t trust it.”

“Maybe you’d trust it more if you used the Netflix subscription I got you,” you crossed your arms, “then you wouldn’t have to watch trash daytime TV.”

She shrugged and muttered under her breath. She could be crotchety but you liked her sense of humour. Your aunts and uncles never came around because they just took it as spite. You were the only one who knew how to handle the jaded old lady.

“Maybe you coulda looked out the window,” you snickered, “quite a show going on in town.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” she stilled her needles and reached for her tea stained cup.

“Just a fight. You wouldn’t believe it, that lady mechanic beat the shit--”

“Language,” she huffed.

“Anyway, she had this guy in a chokehold. It was awesome.”

“What guy?” she squinted at you over her glasses.

“I dunno. Some out of towner. Remember I told you about that burly dude hanging around the library?”

“There’s more?” she sucked on her teeth, “those bikers have never been good news and now they’re bringing in more.”

“Yeah, well, what’re you gonna do?” you sniffed as you took out your phone and rewatched the scuffle with the volume down. You shook your head and opened up your TikTok. 

“I don’t understand why you’re always on your dang phone,” your grandmother pestered.

“I’m not always on my phone,” you smiled at her smugly, “there are those time when I’m listening to you prattle on or you know, making you tea, oh, and cooking you dinner. What was it I did last week? Oh that’s right, I got Pippin out of the crawlspace.”

“I’m too old to be chasin’ that cat all around,” she huffed, “where is he anyway?”

“He’s your cat, I don’t know? Last time I saw him, I sent him back out the window for shredding my charger.”

“He knows you need to give it a rest,” she laughed to herself, “got your nose to that screen too much.”

“And what do you do, old lady? Crocheting doilies to put where exactly?”

She gave you that dry smile, the one that said watch it but carried a hint of humour still. You hit post and put your phone away as you waved off her irritation.

“Well, you know what, I sit all day at my computer, doing who knows what and you know what it got me?” you taunted, “a large mocha!” you sipped as you sat on the sofa and grabbed the remote, “and it’s paying my rent and putting bullet points on my resume.”

“Mhmm,” she scowled, “just remember, real life ain’t online. Those videos you’re always laughing at like hyena, that’s not reality. You forget it and it’ll come back and bit you. ‘Specially with those bikers.”

“Oh, nan, you know too well, don’t you? Didn’t you have a fling with one back in your hippie phase?”

“Two, actually,” she raised her brows, “I was young and stupid. Not like you, but still.”

“I love you too,” you chirped and sipped from your cup, flicking the station to Jerry Springer, “that’s more like it.”

💀

Your usual TikToks were sarcastic and dull complaints about your small town life. The response was less than pleasing but it gave you an outlet to vent. You liked to goof around and document the very specific type of weirdos that resided in Birch. But the video of the fight in the snow blew up your phone and made it difficult to ignore the buzzing as you went back up to your room to eke out the last of your captions for the ad agency.

When at last you could call your day hard-earned, you logged off and sent in your hours to the agency. Social media promotion was easy enough but the working gigs for a thousand different companies was tedious. You hoped you could build your portfolio enough to manage a single corporate page as you continued to chip away at your creative outlets.

You picked up your phone as you waited for Netflix to load on your tiny smart tv and flopped onto your bed, not two feet from your desk. You hit the icon in the upper panel of your phone and scrolled through the notifications, pausing to turn on another episode of the cable sitcom from ten years before. You snorted as you read each comment but the number under the video made your eyes round. The thing was bound to go viral.

As usual, you went down to help with supper. Pippin, the orange tabby, returned to cry at his dish and you fed him too. Your nan peered through her glasses at a crossword as she tasted the tangy pasta sauce. 

“More basil,” she snipped.

“Well, I asked if you wanted to help,” you muttered, “I think it’s good.”

“Hmmp, I need milk,” she jutted her chin out, “for my after-dinner tea.”

“You couldn’t say something like three hours ago?” you blinked.

“I could have but I didn’t,” she snickered. You rolled your eyes and she took another forkful of penne and filled in another line on her puzzle, “ah, no hurry, girlie, you know I’m patient.”

“Patient? You?” you chuckled as you took your plate and shoved it in the microwave to keep it warm. The ancient thing had a dial and the door stuck, “I’ll just go get it over with.”

“Don’t forget your mitts,” she called after you as you tramped into the front room, “it’s cold.”

You pulled on your knitted cap and matching mitts. You zipped up your parka and shoved your feet into the deep boots. You grabbed your wallet and buried it in the spacious pocket. You bounced out the front door and down the steps as the sky sent down another coat of powder for the night.

You went up White Forge Street and through the short path behind the diner that led to the main road. You glanced over at The Asp, the beacon of the dull town, and turned towards the grocer. Like anywhere in Birch, the store was outdated and stuffy. It felt like stepping into another time with the paper bags and chunky tills.

You went down the center aisle and stopped at the fridge to search through the frosted glass. Your nan only drank whole milk and the last time you carelessly grabbed skim, she whined that even Pippin wouldn’t drink it. She was particular but that was just her nature. You couldn’t say you were any less fussy in some instances.

You grabbed a jug and the door slapped closed against the worn rubber seal. You headed up the candy aisle and brushed your woolly thumb over your chin as you considered gummy bears or Reeses’ Pieces.

“Hard choice?” The deep voice jolted you.

You snatched the box of chocolate and looked over at the man in leather, his chin tucked down behind the collar as snow dusted his shoulders.

“Sure,” you said as you brushed past him.

The cut of the leather told you he was better not entertained. While you thought the men amusing, you weren’t stupid enough to engage with them. You rarely listened to your grandmother but she was wise in her own way. 

You knew a girl in highschool, she was fucking around with one of the club men in her junior year, she ended up with a baby and no support. You didn’t think he was into you that way but he could hardly have innocent intentions.

“How’s the old lady?” Clayton asked as he rung in your order at the end of the belt, you moved along with the groceries and pulled out your wallet.

“The usual, you know? She’s tryna quit again. Don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll keep a carton aside for her,” he kidded as you felt your phone vibing in your back pocket.

“Don’t encourage her,” you swiped your card and punched in your pin, “although I don’t know what’s worse; the smoke or her sucking on those mints all the time.”

“Oh, it’s not the bitchin’?” he laughed.

“That, too,” you scooped up the paper bag and put your wallet away, “have a good one.”

As you came to the end of the first counter, you were nearly cut off by the club member as he swept around from till two. His own purchase of a car magazine and jerky was tucked under his arm.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiled, a sparkling smile, almost charming.

“No worries,” you continued on and he followed close behind.

“Those mitts look real warm. ‘Specially in this weather,” he said as you pushed open the door.

“Uh huh,” you kept on as your boots crunched out into the snow.

“You know where I can get a pair. Leather isn’t exactly thermal, you know?”

“These? My nan made ‘em. I’m sure Clayton got some hung up back there,” you looked across the street as you stepped up onto the ledge of snow between the sidewalk and the road.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked.

You looked at him dumbly and almost laughed in his face. You glanced back across the street then down towards The Asp.

“Sorta,” you answered.

“Make you a deal. Leave ya alone for your name.”

You eyed him. He was older than you like many of the Commandos. At least a decade, likely more than that. You chewed on your hesitation and cradled the bag more firmly against your side. His eyes strayed as he tried to see through the thick layer of your coat.

“Nah, I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers,” you said and hopped off onto the road.

You heard him behind you as he struggled to follow and as you came up to the other side, he came parallel with you and kept stride with you easily.

“I know you’re young but you’re not a kid,” he intoned, “what’s the harm in a name?”

“It’s a small town,” you stopped short of the end of White Forge, “I think I know enough about you to avoid you.”

“Oh ho, is that it? Well, I’m Sam, I’m not a stranger now, am I?”

“Not interested, Sam. Sure there’s women your own age over at the bar,” you nodded behind him.

“You wanna come see? Maybe have a drink?” he gave a crooked grin.

“You don’t give up, do you?” you shook your head, put off by his forwardness.

“Well?”

“Not tonight, Sam,” you turned around and headed down White Forge.

“Then what night?” he asked but you didn’t answer and he didn’t follow.

You turned down onto your street and refused to look back in case. It would be best not to mention the run-in to your nan, she was paranoid enough as it was. Besides, you’d forget about it by the end of next week.

[all-might-can-smash-me]

Hogwarts AU Headcanons

Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead, Toshinori Yagi/All Might, Taishiro Toyomitsu/Fatgum, Mirai Sasaki/Sir Nighteye, Keigo Takami/Hawks

Masterlist

Slytherin 🐍

He was the odd ball though when it came to his own house since he hung out with a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor

Would every now and then find himself in some trouble alongside his friends with the professors

Especially for being late to class, his two friends goofing off around the grounds, and trying to sneak around late at night.

Was in possession of the Maurader’s map with his friends....but Filch took it...

Also was friends with you as well, ever since the first train ride to Hogwarts, but the two of you start to date in your 6th year.

He excelled with all his subjects and O.W.L.S. and graduated almost at the top of his class

The two of you married not too long upon graduating Hogwarts.

Became an Auror and was pretty great at his job, but with the offer of a position at Hogwarts recommended to him, he decided to give it a go

The two of you move to Hogsmeade to be closer to his work.

I picture him teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts

He’s a strict teacher, but only because he needs the students to know the ways to defend themselves and be knowledgeable of the dangers in the wizarding world.

He is also runs Wizarding Duel Club, which is actually quite popular despite him being so strict with his teaching methods

Enjoys roaming around Hogsmeade with you on the weekends he and over the holidays

Frequents the Three Broomsticks and Honeydukes with you (especially honeydukes when you fall pregnant during his 2nd year of teaching)

Students were SHOOK to see their professor at Madame Puddyfoot’s Tea Shop with a heavily pregnant you on Valentine’s Day

Students since then have introduced themselves to you and enjoy talking to you....despite Shouta wanting a student free weekend in Hogsmeade.

But he can’t help but like it when students request to feel your baby bump and you happily let them....the happy look on your face makes his heart flutter

Will invite you to eat at Hogwarts with the students and professors that stay for Christmas because he feels bad for the students who don’t go back to their families

Gryffindor 🦁

Was extremely popular in his Hogwarts years

Won the triwizard tournament his 7th year

His academics though? They weren’t out of this world, but they were pretty normal, he was better when it came to his extracurricular activities such as Wizarding Duel and Quidditch

He would secretly go to geek out about the muggle world with the Muggle Studies professor every now and then

Upon graduation he was a pretty popular quidditch player for the United Kingdom, but suffered a life changing injury

Decided live in the muggle world and study their way of life for a bit after the injury, he ended up composing a text book with all the basics he scrounged up together

It’s even used for the curriculum at Hogwarts

Though Hogwarts offered him a position as well as the Muggle Studies professor

Hell to the yes he went! He become head of Gryffindor house and helped give pointers to the quidditch team

Started a weekend club where students would meet in the great hall to observe Muggle Artifacts, it wasn’t really that popular, but it didn’t matter, the few students that joined was enough for him.

Met you shortly after beginning to teach at Hogwarts

You taught herbology and would sometimes listen in during his Muggle club in the great hall and would sometimes ask questions about the object he was talking about.

After that he would invite you out to Hogsmeade to get a butter beer and talk about muggle things since you showed an interest in wanting to know

The conversations soon turned into what would go on between two friends and it flowed so nicely, so after that he would ask you to meet up a few more times before going on a date.

The fact that two of you dated was no secret as your dates were of course held at Hogsmeade and the students could very well see the two of you chatting away.

So it wasn’t a surprise when the two of you got married and you fell pregnant during one year of teaching.

He totally invited the members of his muggles club to the wedding and totally didn’t get emotional when they gifted him a rubber duck (his absolute favorite muggle artifact)

Hufflepuff 🦡

Known as the gentle giant while in school

Supper nice and was friendly with absolutely everyone, so he was highly respected and adored by his peers

His academic life was pretty normal, excelling in the subjects he needed to become an Auror, he was also the announcer for the school’s quidditch matches.

Also liked to spend his time in the library to study....also snuck snacks in as well and would share with the other students that were studying

Met you on the train ride to Hogwarts his 7th year, he was trying to enter your train car since the others were full but he only managed to bang his head upon entering

You two were joined at the hip ever since then and started dating

The two of you married after graduation

You came into the ownership of honeydukes at Hogsmeade while Taishiro spent most of his time away for his job as an Auror

Quite his job though once the two of you had your 5th child to move to Hogsmeade to be with you and to help you run the candy shop.

The students love interacting with you and Taishiro, talking about their classes and their stuggles and asking for advice as they would purchase their chocolate frogs and other confectionary

Your older children, who all happen to be girls, love to go visit you and Tiashiro ok the weekends and sometimes hang out with their friends there.

Your younger girls would give advice to the students who are purchasing candy on which one is the best and will also look longingly to them because they wanted to be at Hogwarts already.

They would also brag that they had like five of the cards that a student would get from their chocolate frogs, but Taishiro would soon put them on blast and say they didn’t

Became instant BFFs with the Weasley family thanks to being able to relate on having big families, so holidays together are chaotic but fun

Is a huge advocate for house elves rights along with his daughters and you

Ravenclaw

Was a little quiet during school, a little mysterious

People either liked him or just really didn’t know him, mostly people from his own house liked him.

Excelled in academics and was at the top of his class and was viewed as the brightest wizard in his year, but sucked when it came to quidditch.

Really, really, really, really loved quidditch though and really wished he was good at it, but you can’t help some things.

Upon graduation he took up a position at the Ministry of Magic as the head of the Department of Mysteries

Worked extremely close with the Hall of Prophecy thanks to his gift of Divination (divination was his favorite course in Hogwarts)

Met you through work after becoming head of the Department of Mysteries

Your were the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement

You two had a meeting for damage control because a worker on the Hall of Prophecy managed to drop on of them and the even needed to be documented

You had a framed signature from a famous quidditch player on the wall that caught his attention after the meeting, which he pointed out and the two of you had a conversation about your shared love of quidditch

After that, he was hooked and asked you out on a date, which went well and the two of you were married a year or two later.

He would read your tea leaves or your palms about your future to impress you

It always impressed you and it will always impress you no matter how many times he would do it.

The two of you live in an apartment in London and will often go to the Leaky Couldron and Diagon Alley

The two of you would deck yourself out in your favorite teams for the quidditch World Cup, which includes painting your face

Gryffindor 🦁

EXTREMELY popular in his Hogwarts years

Literally all the girls loved and pined after him, all the boys wanted to be him, and all the teachers were always impressed with his work.

Was the best seeker for the Gryffindor quidditch team

All around perfect student and he always seemed to do everything with so much ease and stress free

Always managed to dodge the love potions girls would try to slip him.

He met you one day while messing around with his friends at the lake skipping rocks, you were under the shade of a tree studying.

His friends went to start messing with you, which he soon told them too all ‘fuck off’ when he could tell that you were visibly annoyed with them.

Always hung out with you since then, becoming almost like your gaurdian angel

Upon graduation he struck a job being an Auror, you the potions master at hogwarts.

He was pretty dang awesome in his job and honestly everyone knew the amazing work he did as Auror, so he was pretty popular amongst the Aurors as well

He quit his job though to begin teaching the flying lessons to the first years at Hogwarts because he really did enjoy quidditch and flying

Also was in charge of quidditch as a whole

And he also just really missed you

He finally asked you out on a date towards the end of his first year of teaching at Hogwarts and you said yes, then towards the beginning of the next year, the two of you got married

The students love Keigo, he treats them as equals, mostly because he’s honestly not that much older than them and was in their position not to long ago.

Girls swoon over him and are low key jealous that you are married to him.

He likes to pop his head in to bother you during, or before and after your classes

Plays quick games of quidditch on the quidditch field with the house team that are practicing for fun

Will tug you into the potion’s closet for a quick kiss, despite how unprofessional you think it is

[wausaupilot]

Cocktail of the Week: Chocolate Marshmallow Whiskey Manhattan

SO good. Thanks, Penny!

Wausau Pilot & Review The chocolate marshmallow whiskey Manhattan is a decadent twist on the classic cocktail, blending smooth whiskey with a hint of marshmallow sweetness. Garnished with a chocolate-filled marshmallow, it’s a cozy, indulgent drink perfect for cold evenings. This is an original recipe from The Palms Supper Club, and was created by Penny Borchardt. Cocktail of the Week:…

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Monday 16 September 1833

7 ¾

11 ¾

fine morning F63° at 9 at which hour breakfast - no! had my valet de place up for 20 minutes and then breakfast in 25 minutes - out at 10 20 - to the cathedral founded by Henry the Lion with the collar and cross-between the horns that he took when he shot the beautiful deer that Charles the great (Charlemagne?) adorned with such costly decorations on account of its great beauty and then turned loose ordering no one to shoot it – two finely carved dormitories (the little side chapels turned into private mausolea) by Quellinus who did the altar at St. Mary  - handsome carving about the chaire and a grille of very curious iron-work looking exactly like tar-band tied up in boughs, and given in 155, by some iron-company – In the chancel beautiful brass recumbent whole length figure of Henry Bockholt evêque de Lübeck, ob. 1530 – Napoleon wished to take this to Paris but not solid and would not bear moving – bullet-hole in it that the French made to try its solidity – the precious stone in each eye, and the large one in the left hand gone long since – the clock I noticed the other day, but did not observe that the female figures strikes the quarters, and Death with a club in his right hand (2 time-glasses in the left) the hours – the globe at the top shews the phases and ages of the moon – In the chapel de Greverode so called because given by him, is the famous picture finished in 1471 of the passion and death of J. Xst, by Jean Hemling, a disciple of Albert Durer – the tears on the virgins face very good – the worst part of the picture is the body of notre saviour when taken from the X – is too flexible – too little like death – then to St. Marys’ church (one of the handsomest I ever saw) to see the famous Danse macare or Danse des morts par Holbein, in the sacristy – singular picture – very good – each Death in a different attitude and one between each pair of people – In one of the side chapels, a descent from the cross and on the inside of the door that shuts before it? a St. Olaff [Olaf] (the 1st Xtian king of the north) between 2 other figures both by Perugino – (not by Holbein or Lucas de Leide as Reichard says in the book I bought at Hamburg) – very good – the altar very fine by Quellinus of Antwerp and given by Friedhagen the burgomaster in 1709 whose bust in white marble is on the right of the altar a little back – the last supper in white marble (taken from Leonard da Vinci) is beautifully sculptured – and the 4 large – as life figures Religion Hope etc, are good – on the right, too, of the altar stands a tall Gothic crocketed fonte (brass) of 1472, very beautiful – weighing 6000 lbs. – the French wished to have taken it to Paris – In the chapel behind the altar and and opposite the astronomical clock is a very good picture (the entrance of our saviour into Jerusalem) in the Rafael style given lately by Overbeck an artist of Lubeck and now living in Rome – the sycamore tree into which -------- climbed is represented as a palm – the head and neck of the ass admirable; but the feet (white!) are those of a horse – the clock struck at 12 and 7 apostles instead of 12 came out at one door and went in at another having turned and bowed ridiculously to the virgin and child in passing – the other 5 apostles lost or out of order -  then went up to the great bell (cloche) of St. Marys’ (265 steps) for the view – amply repaid – nothing gives one such a good idea of a place – It is the Wackenitz [Wakenitz] whence runs to Ratzeburg and the Steckenitz, a canal, which falls into the Elbe at Lanenburg [Laufenburg] and into the Trave 2 lieues from the Baltic a little south of Lübeck – good town – 3?main streets and the streets striking down from them and thro’ them to the river – the old brick porte de Holstein very handsome reminds me much of the porte noire à Trêves – the front towards the town in quite in that style and has 2 towers, too, but with pointed flêches springing from them – the porte de Travemünd[e] is an old brick square tower with 5 or 6 tiers of Gothic windows such as in the porte de Holstein – Looking down on the roof of the church saw it partly green – it is Swedish copper at 22 schellings a lb. – the plates about seem about 2ft. English by 1ft. and cost 3 ½ marks each, but are less heavy and costly and last better than lead – the green is verdigrease – caused by the moisture of the air – the guide (Ritter) assured me the cathedral was

vid. p. 214 line 18.

also roofed with copper – no wood outside – my eyes deceived me much (vid. Saturday 214 line 18) – then to Friedhagens’ house near St. Marys’ church (vid. last p. line 21) – a wine merchant now lives there – went thro’ the great entrance room to the room so beautifully carved in oak – Napoleon ordered an artist to take a model of it – or too difficult to move it – impossible – moving would destroy it – 10 good pictures round the top – for these and all the ciselure en bois an Englishman said my valet de place offered £10,000! a small poor box fixed to the door, for strangers to put something into – Off from there at 12 55 for Israeldorf [Israelsdorf] village and forest of, the Bois de Boulogne of the good people of Lübeck – pass thro’ the porte de Travemünde turn left to the rampart, now grassy pleasure ground where are buried the 20,000 French and Prussians that fell before the town in 1806 – Blucher commanded 40,000 Prussians so broken down by their retreat from Jena could hardly stand – the cavalry not able to make a charge – the people of Lubeck hate Blucher for entering their free town, and thus causing all the carnage and ruin – no rich person here ever since – the battle lasted 3 or 4 days – Blicher was sitting at table in the very house in the Breitenstrasse where I bought the Danse of death this morning when the French entered by the Travemünde gate – just went down to the ferry across the Trave, and then returned to the Travemund [Travemünde] road a fine avenue of good limes all the way and gardens or forest almost all the way to Israeldorf [Israelsdorf]a little distance to the left of the T- road – the Russian consul has a country house and garden there, for which gave 10,000 marks – from this house to porte de T- in Lübeck walked sharply in 42 minutes .:. think the distance about 2 ½ English miles – a farm house near the forest where people get their coffee warmed and then take it in the wood – seats and tables there – a round peristyle white painted wood temple just looking over the river and in another a straw-thatched shed for shelter – long allies (no carriages roads) and nice walks in the wood and all the people come out here in fine weather – my guide had the cholera last June or July – twice – 1st time 3 days – 3nd 6 – was seized at midnight with violent cramps in his legs (calves) and arms and in ½ hour could not stand straight – oppression at the chest – could scarce breathe – perpetual thirst – just about the tops of his nails blue but nowhere else – got out of bed – took hot thé de Tilleul directly – and, after the 3rd drink, a little rhum and sugar in it – at last this [?] him into a perspiration and did him good – the smell of the perspiration intolerable – like the worst putridity – in the morning put on dry linen, and got out of bed – thinks this saved him, this and not being afraid – but for 4 months after the pains returned every night at midnight when he was in bed – afraid to lie down – not so bad when up – but the pains were gradually less and less – when once recovered, felt lighter and better than he was before – did not eat anything for some time – and when he did begin to eat felt unwell after it at first – [?] with something soft (flannel) is the best thing – does not believe it infectious – it is the air – yet it was a stranger that was the 1st victim here – died in an hour – he seems to believe there are some cases of it in the town now – 1600 died of it here – all buried in the cemetery we passed a little way out of the town – cholera patients to be buried in 24 hours but to have a hand cut off 1st to see if dead – some of the dead blue, some not – knows nothing of the marble coldness of the tongue – but the corpse instead of being stiff as in common cases is quite mou (soft) – the eyes sunk (lost) in the head in the course of an hour – the smell of the clothes

SH:7/ML/E/16/0114

during the perspiration quite horrible – ditto the smell of the excrements but the moment after death the perspiration being stopt, the perspiration ceases – fright is generally fatal – went to a very good bookseller shop (near the top of the Breitenstrasse) – a poste map (large) of Europe published at Berlin, 23 marks, mounted on calico had not Reichard’s Itineraries complete - had nothing knew of nothing on Denmark or Norway - bought Willmans’ livre de poste de l’Europe - went about the steam packet chez M.D.G. Witte - very civil - gave me the 2 quittances for myself and Miss F- and to pay him and  send the passports this evening or in the morning - a Russian from Reval not far from St Petersburg - said I might go quite well by Stockholm and Lapland to St Petersburg, on traineau, in 9br. 10br. January or February - to go to St P- myself and maid and valet de Place for £20 - said I should like to go merely to Lapland - might do it in 6 weeks - should take a person who knew well the language and country the Laplanders sauvages but bons sauvages - said I had better arrange my plans at Stockholm where everybody would know what was best to be done - the Leipzig Paques fair would be in April I might come over for it - could not go to Norway till June – he could send anything for me to England - or do anything for me here – home at 6 – dinner at 6 ¼ in 35 minutes then till 10 10 wrote the whole of today – very fine day – F66° now at 1 10 pm on my writing desk close to the candle – but it was warm this afternoon

Before Napoleon came, Lubeck divided into 2 governments noble and bourgeois. the cathedral belonged to the former St. Marys’ was cathedral to the latter – there was sanctuary in the noble part for offenders in the bourgeois part of the town – Napoleon put an end to this – would not have 2 governments

[teiasviago]

une nouvelle vie, chapter 2

AO3 | @frogsmulder

Heedless of the rumors, the pair have Lily’s belongings transferred to Selden’s flat within the week; they reminisce over the dress she wore during the Brys’ tableaux and meld what little she owns with his. When all is said and done, he disappears for a day on “urgent business” with a chaste kiss accompanying his farewell. He returns at the end of the day with a small jeweler’s box in tow and presents its contents with an uncontainable grin. Selden slides the ring onto the appropriate finger, explaining how he has spent the last week searching for the perfect one and finally chose this particular engagement ring because the gem set within it is the same color as her eyes—a soft blue.

“We’ll invite Gerty and Carry Fisher, of course,” Lily says, her beauty incomparable due to her happiness as she gazes down at the ring. “We shall need their help to plan it.”

Selden laughs softly. “And here I was prepared to take you to the courthouse tomorrow,” he divulges. “We have more than enough for a dress, if you care to go looking with Mrs. Fisher.”

She presses a kiss to his lips and squeezes his hand. “I’ll write Carry now to see when she is available, but I believe Gerty should be the first to know. We should do her the honor of visiting her flat tomorrow to give her the news.”

He nods and lets her hand go, but seems to recall something and begins to dig inside his pockets, eventually procuring a key. “Here. This is your copy.” Selden takes one of her hands and sets the key on her palm, folding her fingers over it. “This is your home as much as mine, now.”

Lily softens her smile and nods before looping their arms together. “Have you eaten supper today in your rush to procure an engagement ring?”

Selden purses his lips in slight embarrassment. “I must confess, the thought slipped my mind.”

She shakes her head with a wry smile and leads him to the kitchen. “You’re in luck: your neighbor across the hall was kind enough to welcome me with a gift of food not three hours ago. I’ll warm it up for you.”

He smiles as he sheds his overclothes, leaving an acceptable layer on should anyone come by, despite the chances being slim. “You’re too perfect, my dearest.”

“I could say the same of you.”

—

Lily’s letter to Carry is vague enough so that her friend has no idea what the occasion for their meet-up is, but is sprinkled with clues and tidbits to whet Mrs. Fisher’s appetite. You must come to my townhouse at once! she writes back. I will arrive there within the week and there you shall spill all of your secrets to me. You do know how I love knowledge of people’s life developments.

Thus, a week later finds Lily at her friend’s sprawling house on the outskirts of the city. “Miss Bart!” Carry Fisher exclaims, looking as radiant as ever. She embraces Lily before leading her into her sitting room. “You simply must give me the news! I heard that you are no longer at the boarding house and that you were seen last with Mr. Selden!”

Lily cannot keep the grin from her face as she responds: “It is news of the greatest import and joy, my friend: I’m to be married!”

“Oh, Lily, that is wonderful! To whom? Mr. Rosedale? I would not have thought it in his repertoire of actions considering that h—”

Lily cuts her friend off by placing her own hands over Carry’s. “Not Rosedale, Carry. Selden.” And after a brief pause: “For love.”

Mrs. Fisher’s eyes grow wide preceding her leaning towards Miss Bart conspiratorially. “Lawrence Selden? For love? Goodness! Lily, if I had known of your reciprocated affections between you and Mr. Selden I would have proposed a match between the two of you as one to pick up on when all others soured. And from where I now sit, I see that had that occurred, much of your suffering could have been prevented. Do tell me how it could have taken you so long to act on your emotions! You have been close with Mr. Selden for so long now!”

Lily shakes her head, a small and demure smile playing across her lips. “My dearest Lawrence has helped me to see the life before me for what it is, and I have realized that I never would have been satisfied with a marriage without love. It would have been dismal, Carry! I may have had in my possession the finest of silks and the most ostentatious of jewelries but I would never have known what it is like to return home to the arms of the man one loves. There is nothing like it. I hope that you may find a happiness such as this one day, my friend.”

Carry smiles softly. “Today is centered around you! You very well could have written to me of the news; there must be something more you have to say to me.”

“There is: I cannot very well plan a wedding all on my own. I should like to enlist your help. I have already brought my dearest friend from my childhood, Gerty Farish, into this knowledge for the purpose of planning the event.”

As she had proposed to her fiancé, Lily visited her friend the next day and supplied her with the excellent news, at once bombarding Gerty with questions as to whether the women of her club might be interested in attending and if she would be so kind as to take care of the guest list, seeing as she has hardly anyone left who can be safely referred to as a friend. And Gerty had agreed, offering congratulations.

“I am happy that you have found peace, Lily,” she had said.

“And I am happy to be sharing it with you,” Lily had said back.

“Oh, Lily!” Carry exclaims at present, eyes alight with excitement at the prospect of planning her friend’s wedding. “Your marriage to Selden will be the most wondrous affair, and it will be the talk of the city! I will make sure of it so that the likes of the Trenors and the Gryces and the Van Osburghs shall all be jealous of yours and Selden’s happiness.”

“I do not want you to think that the affair need be ostentatious—we are inviting only a select few, after all.”

Mrs. Fisher tempers herself with concerted effort. “Of course, Lily! Ostentatious is nothing you need worry yourself with. I shall plan the perfect wedding. May I assume that you had guests in mind before you arrived?”

“You may.”

“Then I know what my role is to be!”

“Our first order of business is my dress, I should think,” Miss Bart suggests. “Lawrence conveyed that our finances can be dipped into for one.” Lily blushes and continues: “I should like to think that his jaw will drop when he sees me, Carry. I should like to feel beautiful for another day.”

“You have been beautiful every day of your existence, Lily, and continue that pattern. Do not be silly.”

The two women then plunge into their calendars and decide upon a date on which they will travel to Carry’s modiste to have Lily measured and discern which—if any—dresses are to her liking. Mrs. Fisher assures her friend that financing the wedding in part is the least she can do upon Lily worrying over the possible prices.

“I cannot thank you enough, Carry,” she says when the planning is done.

“Seeing you happy is thanks enough.”

—

In the whirlwind of the next two months, Lily and Selden’s wedding is planned. The venue is chosen, the dress is tailored, and the wedding party is formed; when the June date makes itself apparent on the week’s calendar, the bride and groom separate.

“I’ll miss you every moment you are gone,” Selden swears, holding Lily’s hand in his own.

“‘Tis only for a night, Lawrence,” she tells him, yet her lips are quirked in an affectionate smile.

“The invariable facts of time seem not to apply when faced against the incomparable magnitude of my love for you.” He brings her hand to his lips and lets her leave for Gerty’s flat.

Tomorrow will solidify Lily’s decision from several months ago to finally give in and marry Selden. And, not to her surprise, she feels no trepidation towards the act of becoming legally tied to Lawrence Selden. In fact, she looks forward to the prospect of being his wife and he her husband—quite possibly elated, even.

[yamithediaperdork]

My little Brothers revenge- Final

The next day at school time dragged by for Justin. while his teacher was tickled pink that he'd done so well on his extra credit work, Grizz's hadn't been met with the same gushing, and more of a "well at least you tried and I appreciate the effort you put in."

Needless to say this didn't help mend any fences between Grizz and Justin and come noon hour Rayne was even angrier. It had only been the fact that Rayne was one more suspension for fighting at school and he'd be expelled that saved Justin from a ass kicking.

With all the grades going to the same school and the lunch hours the same, Justin found himself hanging out with Alex's group ironically, and even then they only allowed it because Alex had let them in on what he had planned for Justin.

As it got closer and closer to 3 Justin toyed with trying to get himself detention so he'd have to stay after school and put off his upcoming humiliation but then pictured trying to explain it to his parents and that wasn't a fun mental picture either.

As the final bell rang and the loser's club met up to walk Justin home, claiming to be his honor guard to protect him, Justin mentally wondered what he had done to deserve all this.

Their dad worked 9 to five five days a week so he wasn't home as the boys arrived, and Mom had recently taken up a part time job working 12 to 5 herself.

She had waited till Justin was old enough to be trusted to look after Alex, though if she had known what was about to happen she might not of been as eager to start a job.

"Alright BABY brother..ready for your first of many, many diapers?" Alex asked as they got inside, practically bouncing he was so excited.

"Would it make a difference if I said no?" Justin groaned, though he had accepted this was happening.

"heh, not in the least bit! Max, would you be a pal and go and get ohhh.. i dunno, what do you guys think would be a good number of diapers for widdle Justin to wear?" Alex chuckled, looking at Max, Kyle and Lyle.

"Well we want him padded for awhile so I say one." Max said, nodding thoughtfully.

"Bull dooky on that!" Kyle giggled. "10!"

Justin paled at that and whined loudly.

"Uhhh I like the idea of that.. but I think we're gonna have to be more realistic." Lyle said, rubbing the back of his head. "3?"

"Heh, all good suggestions. Max, I know we want this to last awhile but i also want a waddle in his set. Kyle, I like how you think but maybe save that for when mom and dad aren't gonna be around. we don't want him busted in diapers right off the bat. I think we'll just go double diapers for now and see how that works." Alex said and nodded to Max.

With Max heading down into the basement to get the diapers from where they'd been stashed, Alex had the twins go and make sure doors were locked and curtains were pulled, then go down into the basement and pick out some baby toys for widdle Justin.

"ah come on, playing with baby toy's in the living room?" Justin whined.

"I can always have you play in the front yard." Alex said with a smug grin.

"..Oh boy! playing in the living room! weeee!" Justin said quickly, sweat dropping.

"That's what I thought. Lose the pants and undies."

getting the diapers on Justin's big butt turned out to be a bit harder then Alex had figured, and he wasn't sure if he was gonna trust them for a stinky accident though he was positive they'd hold up to wet ones.

'eh, so i just make him a pants pisser. win some, lose some.' Alex thought with a grin.

He was currently using a role of light green masking tape and after using it to make sure the sides of the diapers were fixed on tight, he was running it around Justin's waist so they're would be no quick and easy getting out of the diapers and Alex would know if he had taken them off without permission.

Just to make sure he had each of the loser club sign they're named in pen on the waist band as Justin turned red as a cherry and had his hands to his face looking ready to cry.

"Now Little Justin.. I want you to TRY and be a big boy and use the potty for uh-oh's." Alex said as he finished signing his name.

"What!? After he made-" Lyle started up.

"-Us poop ourselves!?" Kyle finished, both twins filed with righteous anger.

"Justin would be too toxic to hide it, plus I'm not sure the diapers will take a load of back door fudge without leaking. anyone wanna clear that up?" Alex asked.

"heh, yeah guys, Alex has a point. sides, you two DID turn Judas on us so consider crapping yourself karma." max added.

"For the record, I am perfectly fine with crapping in the potty." Justin chimed in.

"That's good to know baby bro. though there's just onnnnne thing about that.." Alex said and flashed a impish grin.

"Why do I get the feeling this is gonna suck." Justin muttered, shifting and crinkling in his white and pink diapers.

"Because despite what your test scores say, your not stupid." Alex giggled. "Anyways, You have to get permission from one of us to go and use the potty for boom boom and one of us will be waiting by the door to make sure your in your diapies when you come out. or if you need help with your pampers after."

"Of freaking course.." Justin whined as the loser club laughed.

Sat on the soft blanket on the floor and in a t-shirt and diapers, Justin was made to put on a show for the younger boys using the stuffies that the twins had fished out of the basement for him.

they had been washed and dried before being stored in a plastic bag so no one was worried about Justin getting sick as he had a interesting epic war between 4 teddy bears and then a lion, tiger and bear stuffie. (And yes a 'oh my' comment had been dropped.)

The only reason Justin didn't have a paci in his mouth at the the moment was the fact that the loser's club wanted to heard EVERY single bit of the 'plot' of Justin's little show he was putting on for them, even though it was clear that he sucked at improv.

"S-So then uh.. the Lion decided that the four bears had disgraced the bear on his team too many times at.. gathering..honey! yeah honey and so-"

the losers just chuckled and encouraged Justin on, though he never once go into the being a big baby dork to their disappointment.

the story came to a sudden end however when Justin turned beet red and dropped the stuffies and his hands went to his crotch. he'd been on his knees at the point and hunched over.

"Alex..alex please..I gotta take a whiz so bad my back teeth are floating.." Justin whimpered.

"And? your WEARING your bathroom for piddles remember little guy?" Alex asked smugly.

"..O-Oh and I have to take a crap! so you better le-" Justin tried but Max snorted.

"Nice try dip shit. you must think we're as stupid as Rayne if we're gonna fall for that." Max said.

"But..But..I can't just wet myself like a baby!" Justin whimpered.

"Oh! I know what the problem is!" Lyle said, locking eyes with Kyle, who shared his brothers grin.

"Yeah, me too! don't worry Justin! we'll help you!" Kyle said.

Before Alex or Max or even Justin could ask what they meant, the twins had sprung up from their seats and tackled Justin to the floor though a combination of surprise and leverage, then they were on top of him and tickling his sides.

"ah! No Stopppp!" Justin cried out, actually being fairly ticklish though normally it wasn't a weakness Alex could take advantage of as Justin would just easily over power him.

the tickling made what little bit of self control Justin had left vanish in mere seconds and with a wail that made all of the losers club wince, and some dogs around the block howl, Justin flooded his pretty pink and white diapers.

If Justin had thought the low point of his day had been being made to wet himself, he soon found out just how much worse it would get as the heavy soaked padding sagged around his hips, and he was told how he'd have to earn a diapie change before their parents got home.

"Unless of course you wanna risk leaking during supper." Alex chuckled.

"...I hate you. SO much right now." Justin huffed, rubbing at his tear stained checks.

"Awww don't be like that, you'll hurt big brothers feelings" Alex scolded but couldn't stop grinning.

"You should be thankful we're giving you a way to earn a diaper change nice and quick anyways." Max added. "We could just wait half a hour and let you squish around in your soaked diapies."

"Yeah, I think you should tell Alex how much-" Kyle started

"-You love him and how he's the bestest big brother in the world." Lyle finished.

"..Your joking right? It's bad enough I gotta do the stupid diapie change song, now you want me t-" Justin started to rant, but was cut off.

"Say it or you can sing till your blue in the face, I won't change you till 3 minutes before mom and dad are due home." Alex interrupted.

"...I Love you Alex and you the best big brother in the world." Justin said, huffing and saying it in a flat tone.

"no no no, say it with some gusto!" Max snickered, bringing out his cell phone to record.

"Fuck my life.." Justin groaned and face palmed, then taking a deep breath and forcing a cheerful tone into his voice. "Gee golly big brother! I wove you sooo much! your the bestest big brother ever!"

between the goofy look on his face and the statement, the loser's club was roaring with laughter.

"Awww, I love you too. now let's get on with your little song~" Alex wheezed between laughs.

Set to the tune of tinkle tinkle little star, Justin started singing.

"Tinkle tinkle in my pants,

I just blew my last chance to wear big boy pants.

wetting my my diapers till their super soggy

It makes me sleepy and kinda groggy

Alex please change my diaper butt

then pat me on the head like I'm a mutt."

Needless to say Justin wished a hole would open up in the earth and swallow him whole, but the performance was deemed acceptable by the losers club who noted it wasn't like Justin wouldn't have time to perfect his act.

One soggy diaper change later, and after letting Justin sit on the potty for five minutes and try and go 'uh-oh', and Justin was in two of the blue and white diapers this time and was allowed to wear a baggy pair of shorts over them as Alex set him to work doing any chores that needed to be done while the loser's club did their homework.

with the chores done Justin mentioned that he was kinda thirsty and so much to his humiliation (and the losers club delight) he was given a sippy cup full of Kool-aid to drink, never having noticed that some pills had been slipped in and dissolved, just chalking the weird taste up to the sippy cup being old.

He was sipping away on pills that would make sure he was peeing like a race horse and having to stick around Alex all night long, as well as a mild sedative that would have him going night night much earlier then normal. (one of Alex's new goals was to have a later bedtime then his big brother naturally.)

After finishing his sippy cup Justin was supervised as he did his homework and the rest of the losers club took off since technically they weren't suppose to be over.

Ironically compared to all the other times Alex had attempted to tutor his big brother, somehow having him in double diapers had him paying more attention and picking up on what was going on faster then normal.

'huh, Maybe I SHOULD send him to school in diapers..at least on test days.' Alex wondered and giggled a little.

Justin looked up, wondering what the the giggling was about but Alex just put him back to work.

The rest of the night was mostly incident free except for a cute moment at the supper table when Justin had been in the middle of telling his parents how happy his teacher had been with the extra work he'd done AND was giving props to Alex for helping him when he just stopped, their parents giving him a weird look but Alex knew full well what was happened, baby Justin was making piddles.

"It's Ok Justin, you don't have to hide I helped you." Alex said, jumping in and playing it as if Justin was worried they'd be mad. "I didn't just give him the answers but helped him to find them on his own. we're gonna start doing stuff like that more often so Justin can keep his grades up for when he wants to join the football team next year."

"Heh. Well ok." Dad said super proud. "Justin, I don't mind if Alex is helping you, just as long as he's not giving you the quick and easy way out."

"Oh trust me, I don't make this easy on Justin. right bro?" Alex said and smirked, winking at Justin.

Only their mother seemed to pick up on the fact there was two different conversations going on, but being tired from work she left well enough alone.

And so after supper Alex changed Justin's diaper and let him sit on the potty for 10 minutes to see if he could made boom boom (and to Justin's humiliation, he was praised and told what a good boy he was when he DID manage it)

Re-diapered and lead to the bedroom, Justin found himself super wiped and ready for bed even though it wasn't even 8 pm yet, but just chalked it up to his stressful day.

"Hey squ- Big brother.." Justin mumbled, rubbing a eye as he headed for his bed.

"Yessss?" Alex asked, already knowing where this was going.

"Can you tell mom and dad I'm too sleepy and going to bed early?" He asked.

"of course I can' you don't mind if I stay up do you?" Alex asked, but Justin was laying in bed, eyes closed.

"What..whatever." he yawns and was snoring softly before Alex even left the room.

Day's turned into weeks, and before long Justin's once 11 pm on weekday's bedtime had been adjusted to a 8 pm one, with Alex's jumping from 9 pm to 11.

Ironically, 4 days into the diaper punishment from Alex, and Justin's padding had been found by they're mom, Forcing Alex to come up with a off the top of his head story about how Justin had started bed wetting too and begging mom not to tell dad because Justin didn't want dad thinking he was a wuss.

that was ALSO why Justin hadn't said anything and only asked Alex for his help.

their mom had bought the line hook line and sinker, but had also gone and tossed out the other diapers and still told their dad about it, before taking Justin out to pick out his own diapers.

Naturally Alex was giggling his butt off the whole time they were gone and telling his friends about it.

Grizz and Rayne never really forgave Justin and isolated him more and more and so it became more and more natural for Justin to hang out with Alex's friends and just be treated like everyone's kid brother, even as his accidents got worse and he started needed day time diapers as well.

Ironically the daytime wetting, at least during school hours WEREN'T something Alex was behind, but it only reinforced the perception of Justin being their little guy.

at the same time as Justin's accidents got worse Alex finally stopped wetting the bed and just kept his avengers diapers around for when he or the other loser's wear to make Justin who had turned into a cry baby feel better.

And so, a tale that began with one brother being a bully and a dick ends with the bed wetter now the big brother despite being smaller and younger, and a ex-bully now a 24/7 diaper dork. Don't you just love a happy ending?

[hawkinshellfire]

Right Where You Left Me

Chapter 1 - Willow

Wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark Show me the places where the others gave you scars

Leaning back in his chair, Hopper stretches his arms up over his head and peers to the far side of the classroom. Two rows behind him, on the left, one of his best friends, Joyce Horowitz, was scribbling down a note furiously, her brow furrowed as she focused on what their science teacher was explaining up at the blackboard.

He extends his left arm and hurls a wad of paper in her direction, smirking when it hits her in the side of the head and forces her to look at him. She brushes the note to the side of her desk and shakes her head, choosing to ignore him rather than give in to the childish game he loved to play in this class.

As expected, Hopper balls up another wad of paper and tosses it at Joyce; this time it hits her on the cheek before falling onto her notebook. Reluctantly, she looks over at him and cocks her head while she mouths, “cut it out.”

Hopper holds his hand to his ear and mouths back, “what was that?” Adding fuel to the fire, he lobs a third piece of paper at her.

“I said cut it out!” she exclaims far louder than intended. The rest of the class turns to stare and Mr. Benson stops speaking, folds his arms over his chest and marches over to her.

“Something you wanted to share with the class?” he asks.

“No sir,” she whispers, gaze locked on the notebook in front of her.

“Very well. Mr. Hopper, please leave Ms. Horowitz alone. Save your antics for when you’re outside my classroom.”

“Yes sir,” Hopper replies.

They sit through the rest of the class and listen to the biology lesson, but as soon as the class is dismissed Joyce runs up to Hopper and scolds him with a swift smack on the forearm.

“Why do you have to cause problems? Mr. Benson is going to think I don’t take his class seriously.”

She waits as he gathers up his books and trails behind him as they begin to make their way down the hall.

“Oh c’mon Joycie, you know I’m just teasing you. Loosen up, have a little fun,” he smirks down at her.

“I have plenty of fun,” she protests.

They walk down the hall side by side and Hopper tells Joyce his after school practice is cancelled and that he can drive her home. He’d been driving her home ever since he received his license and his parents gifted him a car, but football season often meant he had to stay late and Joyce had to either walk home or take the bus.

Hopper waves to a few people as they continue down the hall, and fistbumps a tall dark-haired senior that brushes past them. She’s telling him about the latest book she’s devoured and while she knows he’s listening to every word, she can’t help but notice that he has the attention of several of their peers and he could just as easily brush her off to greet them.

She and Hopper had been friends since they were kids. Having met on one of the first days of school, they formed a quick bond that had yet to be severed. Joyce didn't get along very well with many other girls and had a difficult time making friends due to her introverted nature, but something about Hopper drew on her extroverted instincts and she found herself comfortable and open with him.

Sometimes, she envied the way everything came so naturally for Hopper. He got decent grades without studying, was a member of the Hawkins High football team and constantly had a slew of girls desperate for his attention. In addition to that, he seemed to know just about everyone. While Joyce could count the number of friends she had on a single hand, Hopper was always saying hello to strangers and other students she’d never seen before, and she was sometimes left wondering if he knew them or if he was just being polite.

There are times when his popularity feels overwhelming to her. Moments at parties where he runs off to greet someone new and she’s left feeling insecure about not knowing many others, or moments like this when despite knowing he cares about what she’s telling him, she can’t help but notice others noticing him.

She always wondered how their classmates perceived their friendship. She wasn’t exactly the most popular member of the junior class while Hopper practically ruled the school and she knew that seeing them together must be odd. Sometimes she wondered if Hopper felt obligated to remain her friend, but that fear went away the moment she caught his eye while she spoke and she can tell he cares about what she has to say.

They reach the cafeteria and part ways, Hopper, to join some of his teammates, Joyce to a few of her friends from her photography club.

“See you after school?” he smiles.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” she smirks back.

He sits down with a group of boys at a table along the far wall and is immediately pulled into a conversation with the two students next to him while he unwraps his lunch. Joyce makes her way across the room and settles at her usual table, where Josie and Eli are already seated and eating. Each of them looks up and greets her with a smile, and Joyce plops herself down and pulls out a book and her lunch. She begins reading while she eats her peanut butter sandwich, enjoying the silence amongst her group. One of the things she liked most about this group was that there was no pressure to socialize. Sometimes they would spend the lunch hour having heated debates, sometimes they talked about their classes or latest projects, and some days, like today, they all sat in silence, immersed in their own little universes.

In Joyce’s case, that universe was contained within a 256-page paperback. Turning the page, she glances across the room and catches Hopper’s eye. He smiles at her and nods before returning to the rowdy group of boys bustling around the table.

.

.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re insanely short,” Hopper smirks as he approaches his car. Joyce is leaning against the passenger side door, leather-clad arms folded over her chest.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re insanely tall?” she fires back.

“At least once a day,” he remarks with a shit-eating grin.

“Are you going to unlock the car or are we just going to stand out here and chit-chat?”

“You hate my company so much, huh? ” he grins as he teases her and rounds the car. Once he opens the driver's side door, he lunges across the cabin of the car and flips the lock open on her door. Joyce tosses her book bag onto the floor and climbs in, fastening her seatbelt at the same time as she pulls the door shut.

“You really should just fix the locks,” she complains.

“Do you have a spare few hundred dollars lying around?”

“You don’t know that I don’t.”

“Yes I do,” he remarks. He puts the keys in the ignition and they listen as the car roars to life. “You’re forgetting I know everything about you, Joycie.”

And he did. He knew just about everything there was to know about her.

“I hate that nickname,” she reminds him.

“That’s why I use it.”

“How would you like it if I started calling you Jimmy?” she teases, rolling down her window and allowing her armrest in the vacancy as he backs out of the parking lot.

“You’d sound like my mom. Please don’t.”

“Hmmm, I don’t know, it has kind of a nice ring to it.”

“Do you have any plans later?” he asks, changing the subject.

“Just some homework, why?”

“Are we still on for tonight?”

“Only if I can call you Jimmy,” she beams. Joyce loved teasing Hopper. He did this thing where he scrunched his eyebrows and his cheeks turned a bright pink shade that made doing it all the more fun, and so she often pushed until he got flustered. She wasn’t single-handedly to blame for the teasing that occurred in their friendship, Hopper enjoyed pushing her buttons right back and as a result, most of their conversations began as quick-witted jabs and teasing remarks.

“You’re not going to drop that anytime soon, are you?”

“Absolutely not. You’re cute when you’re bothered.”

“I’m not cute , Joyce.” His cheeks darken and he does his best to stay focused on the road signs ahead.

She knew he hated being called cute so she called him cute often.

“Right, sorry. You’re very manly.” Her response is mocking and said with a chuckle but it seems to relax him all the same and she shakes her head. “Speaking of manly things, why was practice cancelled today?”

“The coach is out. Something about his son being sick. We’ll be back tomorrow.”

“So what are your plans for the evening? You can come over to study if you want?”

“Can’t. I told Benny we could work out at his place before grabbing something to eat. Want me to bring you anything?”

“I’m alright. We’re supposed to be having pasta.”

Hopper grimaces but does his best not to outwardly show his reaction. He can’t remember the last time Joyce’s mom actually provided dinner for her daughter. The few times he’d stayed for supper, he and Joyce were the ones to prepare the meal from the limited supplies in the pantry. It wasn’t that her mother couldn’t cook, she was just hardly ever home. Joyce’s father, a character if Jim had ever seen one, tended to take out his anger in unconventional ways and as a result, Joyce’s mother often offered to work extra hours, leaving Joyce to fend for herself.

“You sure? I could grab a burger.”

“It’s fine Hop.” She places her palm on his wrist and gives it a gentle squeeze, something she’d done since they were kids when she was trying to reassure him that she really was alright.

They reach her house and Hopper pulls the car into the driveway before she unbuckles and reaches for her bag.

“Thanks for the ride, see you later?”

“See you later.”

He waits until she’s inside before backing out of the driveway and heading to Bennys.

.

.

“28… 29… 30.”

It’s a chant he does over and over again in his head as he pumps his arms up and down, hosting his body weight from the cool hard pavement lining Benny’s garage. The two boys were nearing the end of their workout but Hopper refused to slow down. He needed to be in his prime for the upcoming home game if he wanted to impress the coach and be made the quarterback in his senior year.

After wrapping up with the weights and rinsing off, Hopper and Benny head to the local diner, a favourite hangout among their friends and meet up with a few more teammates for burgers.

“Hey, Hopper, who are you taking to prom?” The question is directed at him from across the table by one of the junior linebackers named Mitchell and it catches him off guard.

“I hadn’t thought about it,” he shrugs. He bites into his burger and continues to speak with his mouth full, “someone hot .”

The group erupts in a chorus of hollers and begins talking about one of the seniors who’d recently been caught with a student from a rival school beneath the school bleachers. Not one for dramatic gossip, Hopper finishes his burger and flags down the waitress to place an order to go. Once the takeout container is ready, he stands and slips into his letterman jacket.

“Where are you going so early, you got a hot date or something?” one of the boys calls at Hopper.

“Sorry guys, I’ve got plans,” he says. He grabs the food and slips his keys from his pocket, weaving through the crowded diner towards the exit. He can hear his teammates calling out after him, vague things about using protection on his “date” but he tunes them out. He balances the food on the roof of his car while he fumbles to unlock it, the dimly lit parking lot only covered by the faint neon lights lining the diner window after sunset. He knows he may be early, but there’s only so much team bonding he can handle and tonight, all he wants to do is unwind with his best friend.

As he approaches Joyce’s house he knows that he’s early. The porch light is still on, illuminating the driveway so he lingers near the cul de sac across the way and wishes he ordered himself a shake while he waited.

They had this routine, he and Joyce. Her parents insisted on Joyce having an early curfew, so he’d begun coming by after her father turned off the porch lights, indicating that he’d gone to bed. Hopper would usually wait a few minutes before pulling into the driveway and flashing the headlights. Joyce’s bedroom was the only one at the front of the house, therefore she was the only one who would see Hopper’s headlights.

Once she knew he was parked outside, she would pop the screen off her window and shimmy out onto the roof over the porch, where she climbed down the trellis at the side of the house and down to his car.

They’d been safely sneaking Joyce in and out for months, but each time they did it part of Hopper panicked that her dad would catch them and he’s certain the metallic taste that takes over his tongue will never go away as long as she was sneaking out of her father’s home. She always insisted that things would be fine and they wouldn’t be caught, but his pulse raced every single time they did this.

Tonight, he waits five minutes after the porch light is switched off before he pulls into the vacant driveway and flashes his headlights. While waiting for Joyce, he drums his fingers on the steering wheel and hums to himself. When she finally appears in the window, she’s wearing an oversized hoodie and a pair of baggy pants, her hair swept into a messy ponytail, situated on the top of her head. He watches with bated breath as she maneuvers down the side of the house and reaches over to unlock her door before she gets to the car.

“Where to?” she asks.

“Let’s go to the lake.”

“How was dinner?” he asks as they back out of her driveway.

“She ended up staying at work late.”

“Joyce.”

“It’s fine Hop, I made some scrambled eggs for us.” He knows the “us” she’s referring to is her and her father and he cringes at her grouping them together in the same term.

“Reach behind you,” he instructs. “I got you something.”

She does as she’s told and reaches around the seat, where her hand finds a white doggy bag. She grabs it and places it in her lap while turning to give him a look.

“Before you yell at me, it’s your favourite.”

Joyce debates lecturing him on how she can handle things on her own and doesn’t need his help, but the smell wafting out of the bag demands her attention and she resigns and decides it’s best to say thank you and enjoy the food.

“With the extra sauce?” she asks slowly.

“Exactly how you like it,” he nods.

She reaches into the bag and pulls out a foil-wrapped burger that she immediately begins to unwrap and snack on. She didn’t need Hopper to look out for her, but who was she to say no to one of her favourite snacks on a late-night drive? She would yell at him for trying to be a hero, tomorrow.

.

.

When they arrive at the lake, Hopper pulls into his usual spot on the lawn just in front of where the shallow water meets the shore. He cuts the engine and flips the headlights on, allowing the fog to dance among the white shadows that lead a dim path to the lake.

It’s a clear evening, but the warm mist rising off the lake creates a haze that makes the area feel like it’s secluded from the rest of the town. Hopper reaches into the back seat and fishes out a blanket that he lays down in front of the car and motions for Joyce to join him. She does, sitting opposite him on the small plaid square with her legs crossed, the dewy droplets from the fog illuminating her face in a way he would describe as perfect in the headlights. He wasn’t blind to the fact that his best friend was beautiful, but he wasn’t vocal about it either.

“It’s so peaceful here.” It’s an observation she makes every time they come out to the lake, but her relaxed facial features and dropped shoulders are one of the reasons he so often selected the lake as their late night drive destination. It was rare to see Joyce so relaxed and he would do just about anything to allow her to be in a comfortable state of mind like this all the time.

“How was your workout with Benny?” she asks.

“Good. Not at good as a real practice would have been but I think it did the trick. How was homework?”

“Oh you know, an English essay can only be so thrilling.”

“You love writing essays,” he reminds her. “You used to help me with mine, remember.”

“I remember,” she smiles softly. She goes quiet for a moment, lost in a memory; a large oak desk and pre-teen Hopper anxiously chewing on the end of his pencil while she worked on outlining his history essay. They were in his family office after school. It was one of the first times she’d been invited over to his house, as they usually hung out outside. She remembers thinking their friendship wouldn’t last. Hopper had recently taken a huge interest in sports, hence her helping with his essay, and he was bound to outgrow their friendship in the coming years.

He never did, and now here they were years later, sprawled out on a picnic blanket beside Lovers Lake, still best friends.

Joyce watches as Hopper shifts himself closer to her and mirrors her stance by folding one leg beneath the other. The light from the vehicle reflects in his eyes and for a brief moment, she’s lost in a sea of blue and emerald. She knew he was attractive. Hell, there was a reason half the senior girls were after him. But in small moments like this, she found it was easy to forget that she told herself her childhood crush on Hopper was long gone. She would never tell him this, but in the quietest of moments, while he sat and listened to her speak, she found herself drawn to him in a magnetic sense that made her question her own feelings.

Tonight, she swallows that thought and forces herself to focus on the moon's reflection across the still water.

She couldn’t have feelings for her best friend. It would complicate and ruin everything.

“Hand,��� he demands. His voice grounds Joyce and she forgets about her wild train of thoughts and focuses on the boy in front of her.

She extends her palm to him and angles her body so that her torso is perpendicular to his.

He hooks his thumb, much rougher from the years of helping his father cut wood, around hers and joins their hands. This was a “game” they’d been playing together for years and Joyce was no stranger to how it worked. It was another die-hard habit they’d picked up as kids. When one of them had had a long day, they would sit down in the grass on Hopper’s lawn and link their thumbs, fiddling them back and forth like a relaxed thumb restless match while they asked each other questions designed to distract them from the real world.

“Current favourite song?” she asks.

“Lame, you know the answer.”

He moves his thumb to the left of hers, then back to the right.

“It changes every five seconds!”

“Fine, it’s Back in the USA.”

“I knew it,” she boasts.

“Favourite sentence from your essay?” he asks.

“Ou,” she takes a moment to think it over.  “Alright, I’ve got it. ‘Though men may have a predetermined fate, we can not, by any means, move through life as if our actions are so predetermined that they do not matter’.”

“You wrote that?”

“I did,” she says proudly. “I liked the essay topic.”

“What would you want your last meal to be?”

“A nice steak,” he nods.

“Tell me your biggest fear,” he says softly, thumb narrowly avoiding hers as they continue the pointless thumb wrestling match between them.

“That’s a loaded question. I asked you what you would want your last meal to be, those two things aren’t even on the same playing field.”

“You could’ve asked something harder.”

“Being alone,” she admits quietly.

He locks eyes with her and instead of moving his thumb in the usual to and fro pattern, he hooks it around her hand and presses down.

“Joyce.”

A silent conversation passes. She’ll always have him. He’s told her thousands of times. She believes him, for the most part. Though, her deepest fear is that after school he’ll move on to a bigger and better life and she’ll be left on her own to fight against the scariest thing she knew, life.

“I know,” she smiles.

Hopper was the only person she let herself be vulnerable like this with. At school, she came off as tough and uncaring. She liked it that way. She liked that she wasn’t perceived as someone who needed anyone .

Hopper releases her hand and lays back on the blanket to look up at the sky. It’s cloud-filled and unclear, but something about the darkness calms him.

“The guys asked who I’m planning on taking to prom,” he tells her.

“And? What did you tell them?”

“That I wasn’t going.”

“Yeah. Right, ” she smirks and rolls over to face him. “Jim Hopper, one of the most popular kids in school isn’t going to prom. I think the world would end.”

“You’re so dramatic,” he groans, pulling himself up so that he’s seated with his back to the lake. He wraps an arm around his knees and drops his head in her direction. “Besides, I didn’t really tell them that, I told them I was taking you.”

A smirk breaks out across his face at her initial panic but she recovers quickly and begins to laugh. “Get out of here, you know I wouldn’t be caught dead at prom.”

“Not even with me?”

There’s a serious undertone in his voice that makes her wonder if he’s still joking around, but she quickly forces herself to dismiss the thought and smiles at him. “Not even with you, Jim Hopper.”

“What if I asked you in some ridiculous way? You’d have to agree to go with me.”

“I wouldn’t go to prom if you paid me,” she reassures him.

“You’re telling me that if I did something crazy, say,” he scampers to his feet and steps towards the parked car, “climbed up on the hood of the car…” He’s standing on the hood of his car now, arms outstretched while she watches with an amused expression.

“And yelled, ‘Joyce, will you go to prom with me?’ that you’d turn me down.”

“I’d turn you down before you even had a chance to hop up on the car. Now get down before you hurt yourself and your coach wants to kill me.”

She reaches up and takes his hand while he effortlessly jumps down and rejoins her on the blanket.

“You’re a heartbreaker, you know that Horowitz?”

“And you’re insane.”

“You should come to prom,” he says.

“Why? It’s not like I’ll know anyone there besides you and I’m sure you’ll have your hands full with your date.”

“It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“I don’t think so Hop, maybe next year.”

“At least think about coming? For me? It’ll be so much more fun with you there.”

“I’ll think about it, but I’m not making any promises.”

Eventually, the cold begins to seep through Joyce’s jacket and Hopper offers to drive her home. She watches as he packs up the blanket, rolling it together and tossing it into the back seat of his car, and she thinks about what he said about prom.

She hadn’t any interest in going. It wasn’t like she had many friends and the few she did have wouldn’t be caught dead at a school dance. Even though she knows he was joking, she finds herself wondering what it would be like to go with Hopper. People would stare, probably whisper and she’s sure she would hate it. What she wouldn’t hate, she dares to let herself think, is being in his arms while they shared a dance. She’s quick to rain-in and dismiss the thought, but it still popped into her mind and a vision of them, wearing ridiculous outfits while they danced to a jazz band version of a trashy song, doesn’t displease her.

She shivers, the overwhelming sensation that normal people didn’t daydream about their best friend rippling through her tiny body.

“Cold?” he asks, noticing her quivering next to the passenger side door.

“Yeah,” she replies automatically. Cursing at herself for getting carried away with an unrealistic, absurd fantasy, she climbs into the car and folds her arms across her chest.

As Hopper begins to drive back to her place, she finds herself fascinated by the way the moonlight paints him in a faint shade of yellow. He catches her staring and smiles. “What?”

“Huh?” she replies, tearing her gaze away as quickly as possible.

“You’re staring.”

“Oh nothing,” she sighs, “just tired.”

“Does that mean you don’t want to drive around some more?”

“I never said that.”

They drive around for another hour, talking about everything and nothing. On a particular stretch of abandoned road that lies between the edge of the town and the woods, Hopper even lets Joyce drive his car. He’d taught her to drive years prior, but she hated to when other cars were on the road and so she reserved practice for late nights like this, with Hopper in the passenger seat and the moon being the only other light aside from the headlights.

When Joyce begins to yawn, Hopper drives her home. She lingers in the warm cabin of the car, laughing at a story he’s telling about Benny. Her hand falls to his arm as she laughs, and rests there until the cold evening air crashes through the open car door and she announces that she should get going.

She waves from the porch before climbing the trellis and back towards the window she escaped from hours prior.

Hopper smiles to himself, watching as she moves silently against the night sky and waits until she’s safe inside before he begins his own journey back home.

I'm begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans

[sylvanfreckles]

Broken Bones (FebuWhump 16)

Fandom: The Witcher Summary: Having freed Jaskier from the inn's cellar, Geralt takes him to safety to rest and recover. Danger is on their heels, however, and Geralt still might be too late to save his friend.

(Sequel to Imprisoned)

* * *

The main room of the inn was practically aglow with the midday sun compared to the darkness of its cellar, though Geralt's eyes had no trouble adjusting. He paused at the top of the steps while Jaskier squinted into the light, however, to let the bard adjust to both the brightness of the day outside and the release from his imprisonment.

They'd been supposed to meet at this inn—though Geralt hadn't realized it was so disreputable—a few days before, but Geralt had been detained thanks to an injury on a hunt. He'd arrived to find the innkeeper and his thuggish companion had beaten Jaskier and locked him in the cellar, and mostly likely robbed him as well.

The thug was nowhere to be seen. He'd tried to get in between Geralt and the cellar and Geralt had caught him by the wrist and simply kept twisting until he heard a satisfying crack. The innkeeper, however, was still behind the counter, looking like he couldn't decide between swinging a club at Geralt, pissing himself, or making a break for it.

Geralt gently escorted Jaskier over to one of the long wooden benches near the hearth and sat him down, giving the bard's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Jaskier caught his sleeve. “I don't want to stay here,” he pleaded. Geralt couldn't blame him—the man had been left to go cold and hungry, bound to a rack of kegs, waiting for whatever uncertain fate the innkeeper had in store for him.

“We won't,” Geralt replied, keeping his voice low and his eyes on the innkeeper. “What did he take from you?”

“I don't care about the money, let's just go.”

“Jaskier.”

The bard heaved a weary sigh. “Eight crowns? Maybe a little more? My room...I don't know what they did with my lute.”

Geralt grunted. He squeezed Jaskier's shoulder again and gently extricated his sleeve from his friend's grasp. Then he schooled his features into what Jaskier always called his “Witcher Face” and stalked over to the innkeeper, the fury he was barely keeping in check alive in every muscle.

“S-sir,” the innkeeper stammered. “We was just...he couldn't pay his bill, a-and the alderman-”

“No.” Geralt slammed his hand on the counter, hard enough that the inkwell toppled over and the innkeeper took a few frightened steps back. By the sudden scent of ammonia in the air, it looked like he'd chosen to piss himself instead of run or fight. Good. “I've seen your little game before. The other man that was here, the scarred one. He had a tattoo,” Geralt drew a line with his finger over his right eye. “You work for the press-gangs.”

It was a nasty business. The press-gangs got around some of the laws against slavery by claiming their indentured workers were there to work off a debt. It sounded good on the surface—a man who'd gambled too much or taken a loss on his property could work a few years in a mine or on the road works to pay back his creditors—but like so many things it had gotten twisted. Most of what Geralt had seen were men and women, and even children, forced into heavy labor for exaggerated or nonexistent debts.

“Give me his money,” Geralt demanded.

The innkeeper was shaking his head. “S-sir, he was our guest for five days, w-we deserve some-”

Geralt slammed his hand against the counter again. This time the scarred wood gave an alarming groan, like one more blow would crack it. The innkeeper swallowed, then rummaged around beneath the counter and shakily counted out five Redanian crowns.

“All of it,” Geralt growled. Another swallow. The odor pouring off the innkeeper shifted a bit, as though he'd soiled himself as well. Then shaking hands laid five more crowns on the counter.

Geralt swept the coins into his pocket. “His belongings?”

“Th-the stable,” the innkeeper jerked his head toward the door. “We've no one to sell to until Pas...until the peddler comes through. Check the barrels.”

Turning on his heel, Geralt walked back over to his friend's side. “Can you walk?” Much as Jaskier—and Geralt—wanted to be out of this place, he wouldn't endanger his friend's safety. When the bard nodded he slowly guided him back to his feet and wrapped one of Jaskier's arms around his shoulder.

“I'm sorry I was late,” Geralt said when they'd made the relative safety of the stable. He left Jaskier leaning against the feedbox while he went about preparing Roach for travel and searching the barrels for his friend's belongings. There were only a few things—his lute, some clothing, a few toiletry items—and he carefully packed those in his own saddlebags.

“You beat Pascar here,” Jaskier replied, wearily. “That's most important.”

“Pascar?”

“They said,” Jaskier waved his hand toward the inn, winced, and rested it against his side while he fought to catch his breath. “He was supposed to be here in a day or so. Collecting workers for the salt mines.”

Geralt had the sudden urge to go back in and run the innkeeper through, but he ignored that in favor of adjusting Roach's saddle and brushing a soothing hand down her shoulder. She was agitated because he was agitated, and all three of them would feel a lot better leaving this town behind them. He gestured to Jaskier and the bard shuffled over to them to be hoisted up into the saddle. Geralt climbed up in front of him and clicked his tongue at Roach to start her moving.

Jaskier groaned a little at the jolt and leaned forward to rest his body against Geralt's. The witcher didn't mind—Jaskier was a tactile creature, and if a little physical closeness would help drive away the demons of the last few days then Geralt would be happy to offer it.

During his recovery from his own injury, Geralt had sheltered in a ruined barn about half a day's ride from this thrice-damned inn. That would suit them enough for a day or two, until Jaskier was recovered enough for a longer trip.

The bard gave another moan and huddled closer, and when Geralt risked a glance he could just see his friend's head resting against his shoulder. Geralt reached back and patted Jaskier's knee. “Just don't fall off, all right?”

* * *

It was well past dusk when they reached the barn. Geralt had left a stash of kindling behind for the next traveler who needed shelter, so he easily built a fire while Jaskier tried to make himself comfortable against the half-rotted timbers.

He didn't have the heart to complain about the dirt on his clothes or the ratty blanket Geralt tried to tuck around him. Between the throbbing in his side and the ache in his belly, he was altogether miserable.

They hadn't stopped for a meal, but Geralt had forced a few field rations into him. They weren't the easiest things to digest after over a day without food, but it was better than waiting for a hot meal back at that inn.

Jaskier shivered, tucking his arms more closely around himself. If there had been some reason—if he'd insulted someone, or dallied with the wrong woman, or actually left his bill unpaid, he might have understood the attack. But to be assaulted, beaten, tied in a cellar, left to rot until the mine's foreman came around to collect, all at someone's whim?

If Geralt had been even a day later....

There was a hand on his knee. Jaskier shook himself out of his thoughts and tried to muster a smile as he looked up. “Geralt?”

The witcher's face was pinched with concern. “We need more firewood for the night,” he explained. “There are plenty of rabbits here, too, I thought I might snare a few for supper.”

Jaskier's heart clenched. He was being ridiculous—they were miles away from the town by now, and no one would have followed an angry witcher. He had no reason to be afraid of being left alone here. “I'm all right,” he tried to reassure his friend.

Geralt frowned, but he gave Jaskier's knee a gentle squeeze and rose to his feet. “I won't be far. Give a shout if you need me.”

To his horror, tears prickled behind Jaskier's eyes. He wasn't an infant, dammit! He had been terrified, yes, but he was safe now. He nodded and ducked his head, pretending to adjust the blanket around him.  That cellar had been far too cold, and even now he could feel the chill in his bones.

His hand brushed over his side and he sucked in a breath, flinching back. Geralt had poked and prodded and declared it nothing worse than a few bruises and scrapes—deep bruises, to be sure, but nothing broken, thank the gods.

The leaves rustled and the timbers around him creaked. Jaskier shivered and tried to scoot closer to the flames, fighting down the unease he felt at being alone. He hadn't originally planned on traveling with Geralt for long, but now he hoped the witcher wouldn't mind his company for a bit more time.

There was movement at the edge of the firelight. Jaskier squinted and shadowed his eyes with his hand, trying to compensate for the glare in his face. “Geralt?”

A shadowy figure drew closer, though it wasn't shaped right to be Geralt. Then a branch in the fire cracked, sending a shower of sparks upward, and for one, heart-stopping second the all-too-familiar face of the scarred man from the inn was visible.

Jaskier's breath caught in his chest, then he was struggling out of the blanket as the man rushed at him. He started to call for help but a heavy weight slammed into him and a meaty palm was clapped over his mouth.

“This must be my lucky day,” the scarred man snarled. “Your little friend broke my arm, so I'm gonna break every bone in your scrawny little body.”

The bard tried to thrash himself free, aiming a blow at the scarred man's injured arm, which he had strapped against his chest. Fingers tightened around his jaw and his head was slammed against the ground.

Stars exploded in his vision and his limbs went slack. Jaskier tried to roll away from the scarred man, but a cruel hand caught his wrist and twisted it up behind his back. “Scream for him,” the scarred man whispered, one foot heavy on Jaskier's back.

Jaskier whimpered through his teeth as the scarred man's weight forced the air out of his lungs. He couldn't have screamed if he'd wanted to, as the position put too much pressure on his bruised ribs for him to draw in a breath.

Then the scarred man gave another savage twist and something in Jaskier's forearm gave with a snap and he suddenly had the breath to scream.

* * *

Geralt didn't hesitate. When he heard Jaskier scream he dropped the armful of wood he'd gathered and charged into the barn, drawing his sword as he did. He pulled up short, eyeing the scarred man who stood with one foot on Jaskier's back, the bard's arm bent back at an awkward angle.

“I knew I should have killed you,” Geralt growled. The man's eyes had a feverish light, no doubt whatever potions he'd taken to combat the pain of his broken arm were affecting his mind.

“You broke something of mine,” the scarred man snarled. He shifted so that his foot was on Jaskier's shoulder and moved his hand up to grab the bard's index finger. “Now I break something of yours.”

“Don't-” Geralt took a step forward, but the scarred man gave a wrench and twisted his body one way, his foot the other, and Jaskier screamed again as his finger gave under the pressure.

The scarred man was panting, fumbling for Jaskier's middle finger next. “Do you know how many bones there are in the human body?” he asked. “I've never heard of anyone breaking them all, but I'm willing to be the first.”

“If you harm him further,” Geralt warned, but the scarred man's eyes were alight with madness and he twisted again. Jaskier's screams gave way to ragged sobs, his body going limp beneath his captor.

Geralt steadied his grip on his sword. “You're dead,” he told the scarred man.

The man actually laughed, dropping Jaskier's arm to aim a savage stomp at his back, where his ribs connected to his spine. “I can't even feel my arm,” he chortled, slapping himself on his wounded limb. “What could you possibly do to me?”

He was across the floor of the barn in one, fluid motion, the point of his sword driving easily into the scarred man's chest. The man gave a small hiccup of surprise and stared blankly down at the hilt protruding from his ribs.

“I don't...feel it,” he muttered before his eyes rolled back in his head and he started to collapse. Geralt kicked the corpse away before it could land on Jaskier and dropped to his knees to gently roll his friend over. Jaskier immediately curled around his injured arm and hand, his breath coming out in little pained moans.

“Let me see it, Jaskier,” Geralt urged gently. “The sooner we set it the less it will hurt. Let me see.” It took some coaxing, but Jaskier uncurled enough to let Geralt prod at the wound.

“Your fingers are just dislocated,” Geralt said, after a careful inspection. “But this is a break, here, above your wrist.”

During the examination, Jaskier had pushed himself up to lean against Geralt, as though to soak up warmth and strength from his friend. Geralt wrapped one arm behind the bard's back and gently ran his hand up a down his spine, pausing over the sharp swellings that indicated damage to his ribs. “I think your arm is the worst,” he finally said. “These feel like fractures.”

Two dislocated fingers, a broken arm, and three fractured ribs. It could have been so much worse...but it was bad enough.

Jaskier didn't reply, merely turning his face into Geralt's shoulder as the witcher gently grasped his wrist and elbow to tug the break in his arm back into alignment. “Stay here, I need to make a splint.”

He gently pushed the bad away from him and waited until Jaskier met his eyes and nodded, then hurried to his saddlebags to retrieve the bandages and salve he carried for his less serious wounds.

His fingers needed to be straightened and realigned, then splinted together. They would heal easily enough, and Jaskier wouldn't lose any mobility, thankfully. Then another, sturdier splint for the break in his arm, which Geralt then strapped across his chest for stability.

“Jaskier,” Geralt cupped the bard's face in both hands, waiting until weary blue eyes focused on him. “I'm going to drag the body out of sight and get the firewood I dropped, then I'll be back. We'll leave at first light; the inn at the ferry landing isn't too far.” He could send one of the soldiers from the landing back for the scarred man's body, it would keep for a day or two.

He waited until Jaskier nodded, then pushed to his feet. “I'll be back in a moment,” he reassured his friend. If Roach hadn't needed the rest he would have struck out even in the dark, relying on his own senses to guide them safely.

And if, when he returned from his tasks, he let the bard curl against his side for a few hours fitful sleep, what did that matter. He'd been too late too many times already...he wouldn't risk leaving his friend in danger again.

* * *

Yes, I hurt Jaskier again, but as promised in the “Imprisoned” entry I also gave him some Geralt-snuggles.