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4everoofing · 24 days

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shop-korea · 9 months

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MAIN - LIBRARY - HAS - HACKERS - ATTACKING

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LIKE - THAT - EXTENDED - MY - REGULAR BOOK

NICHOLAS SPARKS - ‘THE - NOTEBOOK’ - FROM

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RETURN - MY - LARGE - PRINT - EDITION - GOT

3 BOOKS - 4 - THANKSGIVING - WEEK - BUT DID

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albertasunrise · 3 years

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It's Yours - Chapter 1

Summary: You and Javier have been sleeping together for almost two years but after his name was leaked by the papers, he is sent home for investigation. You remain behind with Steve to catch Escobar but when he’s finally dead, you decide to go after the man you’ve fallen for. You don’t like what you find when you finally reunite with him.

Warnings: Angst, Smut, Unplanned Pregnancy 18+

Relationships: Javier Peña x Reader

Your nails dig into the strong muscles on his back as he thrusts his hips at a maddening pace, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he chases his release. It was your last night together and you weren’t going to let him go without feeling him one last time and he couldn’t leave without one final taste of you. Pulling his head back his dark, lust-blown, eyes lock with yours and he lets out a primal growl as he feels your walls start to tighten around him.

‘You going to cum for me?’ He asks, in a low tone as he angles his hips so that he’s hitting that toe-curling spot over and over.

‘Yes.’ You moan ‘Fuck.’

You cum hard, screaming his name as tears leak from the corner of your eyes and you pull him right along with you. He collapses beside you, chest heaving as he fights to catch his breath and you chuckle as you roll onto your side to look at him. You both remain silent for a short while, revelling in your post-sex bliss as the sounds of the city drift through the open window.

‘You need to quit smoking.’ You say as you place a loving kiss on his shoulder.

‘I think you may be right Hermosa.’ He replied with a breathy laugh as he turned his head to look at you 'But I don't need to start tonight.' He sniggers as he lights one and takes a long toke, blowing the smoke away from you.

‘What time is your flight tomorrow?’ You ask, smiling sadly at him.

‘A little after 12.’ He replies, turning his head back towards the textured ceiling.

‘Do you need a lift?’

‘Murphy’s driving me.’ He replies coldly, not looking at you as he speaks.

‘Right.’ You roll out of his bed and start to collect your clothes, grabbing his attention.

‘What are you doing?’ He asks, his stomach sinking at the sight of you getting ready to leave.

‘Getting dressed so I can go home.’ You state plainly as you scan the floor for your shirt ‘Isn’t that how it works? We fuck and then go our separate ways?’

‘Can you stay?’ He asks and you look at him in surprise ‘Just for tonight.’ He paused as he gave you a wounded expression ‘Please.'

‘Okay.’

You left early in the morning, taking one last glance at his sleeping form before turning to leave. You knew it was wrong of you to just go, but your heart was aching at the knowledge that he was leaving you and you had to stay behind to finish what he's started. He deserved to see this to the end. Sure he'd made mistakes but he made them for the right reasons. Sometimes you have to do bad things to catch bad people as he would say.

One month later…

Staring up at the departures board you see your flight listed just below Murphy’s and you glance at your partner who stood at your side, watching you curiously.

‘What Murphy?’ You grumble as you let out an exasperated huff.

‘You’re going to Texas?’

‘Yes.’

‘Because you felt like a change or because that’s where Javi is?’

‘I have family there. I have a ton of leave to take so decided to visit them.’ You lie, shrugging your shoulders ‘Since my parents died, my aunt and uncle are the only family I have left.’

Murphy looks away guiltily. You’ve fooled him. Good.

'What will you do when you get back to Miami?'

'Hold my wife and daughter.' He states as he smiles at the thought of them 'I've missed out on so much.'

'Connie loves you, Steve. She'll be overjoyed to have you back.' You say sweetly as you give him a genuine smile.

'I hope so.' He replies, giving you a slight nod.

You look at the departures board again and see that your flight's terminal is nowhere near your partners so you turn to Murphy and prepare to say goodbye.

‘It’s been a pleasure Stevo.’ You say with a smile as you hug him tightly.

‘Don’t be a stranger.’ He replies, giving your arm a friendly squeeze.

‘I won’t.’ You give him one last hug and then head your separate ways.

'Say hi to Javi for me.' He shouts over his shoulder and you can't help the smile that crosses your lips.

When you finally reach your gate, you take a seat on one of the thinly padded benches and pull out the address Javier had given you on your last night together.

‘This is where I’ll be.’ He’d told you ‘You know… If you wanted to come to see me.’

You’d chuckled at that and told him you'd consider it... Then you’d left early that morning before he’d even woken up because you hadn't wanted to face saying goodbye to him. You’d regretted that move but knew he wouldn’t have cared, you were just fucking after all.

The flight was long and you weren’t able to sleep a wink, your leg shaking nervously the entire time. They'd served the in-flight meal but you couldn't eat a bite, the smell making your stomach turn. When you heard the captain announce that you would be landing in Laredo airport you feel your pulse quicken, palms starting to sweat as your nerves got the better of you. It was late when you landed, gone 11 pm by the time you made it out of the airport and so you decide that you would find a motel for the night and drive to Javier’s father’s ranch in the morning. You rent a car at the airport and drive around the unfamiliar town until you find a semi-clean looking hotel, the vacancy sign flashing in the dim light of night.

‘That’ll be 100 dollars for the night with breakfast included.’ The lady at the desk states, passing you a key with a large wooden tag attached, 101 carved onto it.

‘Thank you.’ You reply as you give her a genuine smile ‘Is there anywhere around here that’s still open where I can get something to eat? Just had a long flight and the plane food made my stomach roll.’

‘There’s a bar down the street.’ She replies ‘Does the best nachos you’ll ever taste.’

‘Great. Thanks.’

You make your way to your room, dropping off your luggage before heading to the bar the girl had mentioned. It was painted a dark red, a neon sign flashing ‘Open’ hanging in the window and you push open the door and make your way inside. Taking a seat at the bar you raise your hand to grab the barman’s attention, smiling as he approaches you.

‘Not seen you here before.’ He says as he smiles at you and you can’t help but notice how attractive he is.

‘I’m visiting some family.’ You reply ‘I hear the Nachos here are the best around.’

‘You heard right. Can I get you an order of those?’

‘And a beer.’ You finish as you give him a genuine grin and he gives you a wink before going off to give the kitchen your order.

You let your eyes scan the bar. It’s fairly busy for a Wednesday night. Mainly men scattered around the various tables and booths, a few women in small groups giggling as they sip their cocktails and you suddenly feel lonely, but the feeling disappeared when your beer is placed down in front of you.

‘So, how come you’re here alone?’ He asks as he leans against the bar polishing a glass.

‘I only landed an hour or so ago.’ You reply as you sip at your beer ‘Noting it’s a favourite of yours yet you’re finding it bitter.’

‘And is there a boyfriend in the picture?’ He asks and you can’t help but blush.

‘There’s a guy.’ You reply, taking another sip of your bitter beer ‘But he’s not my boyfriend. Not sure what we are if I'm honest. We kinda had a -friends with benefits- situation going on but I fell for him. They never end well eh?’ You chuckle and he responds in kind.

‘Shame.’ He replies as he gives you a cheeky grin ‘Would love you take you out.’

Your nachos arrive and sure enough, they are the best you’ve ever had. You chat to the barman, learning all there is to know about Lurado. You talk for a few hours before you inevitably have to leave.

'If things with that guy don't work. Feel free to call me.' States the barman as he hands you a scrap of paper with his name and number on it.

'I will.' You reply as you suck on your bottom lip.

When you get back to your room for find yourself emptying your stomach. You put it down to being jet-lagged and decide that sleep will help but when you wake up in the morning you find yourself hugging the toilet again, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin as you lean against the tiled wall. You brush your teeth and head down for breakfast but every smell that greets you makes your stomach turn and you soon find yourself sprinting for the toilet again but all you can do is heave, your stomach completely empty now.

‘What the fuck is wrong with me?’ You asked yourself as you rinse your mouth and face with water.

Then your mind starts to go over the facts. Your tastes have changed, smells are making you sick.

‘I can't be… can I?’ You ask yourself as you count back the days since your last cycle and your breath hitches.

You're two weeks late.

You practically sprint out of the motel, remembering that you’d seen a pharmacy down the road. You buy a pack of tests and make your way back to the motel, taking it a little slower as the Texas sun beats down on you. You happen to peer into a diner as you approach it and your heart stops when you see who’s sat by the window, smiling at a woman sat opposite. You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart in your throat, stomach twisting in knots as you watch him laugh at something she says whilst he strokes his thumb over her knuckles and he looks at her the way he used to look at you. A server comes to speak to the woman he’s with and he looks up and out of the window, his eyes then locking with yours. You don’t realise your crying but he can see it and his brows furrow as he tilts his head slightly. You can’t look at him a moment longer. You have bigger things to worry about and so you will your legs to move, practically sprinting down the sidewalk to get away.

‘Hermosa?’

You stop dead in your tracks but you don’t turn to face him. You’re shoulders shake as your sobs wrack your exhausted body.

‘What are you doing here?’ He asks and this makes you turn to face him.

‘Seriously?’ You spit, eyes red with tears ‘You should get back to your date Javier.’

‘Hermosa wait.’

‘Don’t you dare call me that!’ You growl ‘You don’t get to call me that. Not now.’

'You left me.' He states and you feel your anger explode.

Without another work you storm towards the motel, stopping by the front desk and asking if you’re able to extend your stay another night. You pay her and sprint back up to the room, pulling out the tests and heading into the bathroom. You're angry because he's right. You did leave him but as you look down at the box of tests in your hands you decide that this is more important right now. You need to know. So you follow the instructions and you pee on two of them, deciding that it's better to be safe than sorry and you place them facing down beside the sink, watching the minutes tick away on the clock opposite the bathroom door. You wait the five minutes it states on the box and turn to look at them, your hands shaking as you close your eyes and flip them over. Taking a deep breath you crack your eyes open and let out a sob at what you see.

Both of them are positive.

A million and one thoughts go through your head. You’re panicking as you think about what to do. Do you tell him? It’s his after all. You’d not been with anyone since he’d left. You sit there and stare at the tests, allowing your mind to think about the future. You growing round with Javier’s baby and you feel a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. What if he doesn't want it? What if he's serious with that woman? You don't want to be a homewrecker. Do you want to keep it? Are you ready to be a mum? You ponder all of these things for a long while as you stare and the two sticks of plastic in your hands. Yes. Yes, you are ready.

‘I’ll tell him.’ You say to the tiny being inside you ‘If he doesn’t want anything to do with you then that’s fine. We’ll be okay on our own.’ You pause as rest your hand on your stomach 'He's a good man your dad but he's complicated. Never one for settling down yet despite us not being an official couple he remained faithful to me for two years and I was to him.'

You shower and brush your teeth, needing to remove all evidence of your rough morning and head out a little after midday. Hopping into your rental car you pull the address out of your pocket, fingers brushing against the positive test you’d decided to bring and causing your heart to skip a beat. You sat there for a moment and imagined what they might look like. Would they have his expressive brown eyes and golden skin tone? Or would they have yours? Shaking your head you start up the car and pull out of the parking lot, following the signs for the area stated on the slip of paper on your lap. His father’s ranch is surprisingly easy to find. It sits a few miles outside of town and you feel your heart race as you make your way down the dusty drive. The house is a decent size. It's well kept with one large truck parked out front. To the left are some stables, two horses grazing in the field beside it and the nicker and whinny when they see you hop out of your car and head towards the house. You let out a shaky breath as pluck up the courage to knock on the door, your stomach doing somersaults as an older man answers and studies you for a moment before he speaks.

‘Can I help you?’ He asks, his accent much like Javier's Must be his father You think to yourself.

‘I’m looking for Javier Peña. Is her here?’ You asked, your voice shaking as you speak.

‘He’s up by the river mending fences.' The man states 'Follow that track up... You can't miss him.’ He states and you nod your thanks before getting back in your car.

'You're her aren't you?' He asks, stopping you dead 'He mentioned that he'd seen his partner from Columbia in town this morning. Also mentioned it wasn't a pleasant reunion.' You turn to look at him as he sizes you up 'He was broken when he left to fix those fences. You best not be going up there to break him more.'

'That's not my intention.' You state and he nods before heading back inside.

You get back into your car and make your way down the road you were told to follow and sure enough, you see Javier. He's adorning the same shirt he’d been wearing this morning, his signature yellow aviators tight jeans. He looks up when he hears the sound of tires on gravel and watches as you exit your car. His eyes follow you as you step towards him, gaze locked to his. He removes his shades as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing and you finally you come to a stop opposite him, your heart thundering so hard you’re sure he can hear it.

‘What are you doing here?’ He asks coldly with a stoic expression.

Your mouth moves but no words leave your lips. You think long and hard for a few moments about what to say to him but decide to cut straight to the chase. You need to get it out there.

‘I’m pregnant Javier.’ You state plainly as you pull out the positive test from your pocket ‘I'm pregnant and it’s yours.’

Chapter 2

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lem-20 · 4 years

Text

Frustrations

Summary: Frustrated that Ethan won't let their relationship develop, will MC find some time alone with Bryce too much of a temptation? Rewrite of Bk 1 Ch 11 Bryce scene.

Book/Pairing: Open Heart/Bryce x MC / Ethan x MC (Cecilia Gibson)

Category/Rating: Smut/Explicit

Word Count: 1.7k

Authors notes: I thought I'd try something a bit different for this fic. I had an idea in mind, but I'm not sure if it has come out as I'd hoped 🤣

I have included this weeks @wackydrabbles prompt Hold still

Also inspired by @choicesmonthlychallenge prompt Day 18: Waiting

Characters and some dialogue owned by pixelberry

Cecilia never meant to fall for Ethan Ramsey.

She had always admired his work and had been hugely inspired by him, but a romantic relationship wasn't something that had ever crossed her mind - she hadn't even known what he looked like before her first day at Edenbrook.

When she first met him his condescending behaviour had actually led her to think that he was a bit of an asshole - admittedly she didn't realise it was him at that point, but he definitely hadn't left a good first impression.

It didn't take long for her opinion of him to change though. Working together when Dolores came in and then trying to help Naveen had brought them much closer together than either of them could have imagined. What was blossoming between them certainly wasn't a normal attending/intern relationship.

When they finally kissed in Miami, she'd hoped that it would be the start of something between them. They had got so close to ending up in bed together—something she had been fantasising about for some time—but Ethan had stopped things going any further and she had been feeling frustrated ever since.

A few days after returning from Miami, she had questioned Ethan about what was happening between them.

"Be honest...about us," she said.

"I'm...not sure what you mean," he replied, avoiding her eyes.

"I think you know exactly what I mean."

He turned his back to her and she walked up close behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Please Cecilia, this is hard enough already."

"Then why keep fighting it? We both want this. We both feel this. It almost seems inevitable..."

He turned to her, his eyes filled with longing...and pain.

Reaching up, he gently stroked her cheek. "We're doctors, Cecilia. Fighting the inevitable is our job description."

Without another word he walked past her and out of the lab. She hung her head—her heart sinking—as the sound of his footsteps faded away.

She couldn't deny the hurt she felt. Even though part of her understood his reasoning, she couldn't just pretend there wasn't a connection between them.

---

Several nights later Cecilia was at home in her apartment researching Rhodes disease for Mrs Martinez. Her friends had volunteered to help and several hours had passed when her reading was interrupted by snoring. She looked up to see that everyone had fallen asleep, except for Bryce.

"And then there were two," he smiled before looking back down at his research. "Wait a second...Cecilia, come look at this."

"What'd you find?" she asked, taking a seat next to him.

"Wound up on a message board. Looks like a pissed off employee leaked some old R&D memos from Panacea Labs...Check it out. It says a drug used for Huntington's cured some test subjects of Rhodes disease."

"If they've found a cure...why isn't it on the market?"

"This is pretty recent...Human trails can take years before a new drug gets F.D.A approval."

"Bryce, you found the answer!" Overwhelmed with excitement, she threw her arms around him and he hugged her back tightly.

The hug lingered and she feel reluctant to let go of him...

"I dunno about you, but I feel like celebrating," he whispered.

She looked into his eager eyes, knowing exactly how he wanted to celebrate.

If she went along with this she knew she may end up regretting it. Her feelings for Ethan were undeniable and there was definitely more to it than just a sexual attraction. But their interactions over the past few weeks had left her so confused and sexually frustrated that she was seriously considering taking Bryce up on his offer. She didn't know if Ethan would even allow anything to happen between them in the future and she couldn't wait around for him forever.

It wasn't as though Bryce was a random stranger. He was a good guy...kind...sexy. They had already been physical with each other before—after her housewarming party—so she knew he could definitely help release some of her frustrations there and then.

She gave him a smirk as she made her decision.

She grabbed Bryce's hand and led him to the bathroom. They bumped hard into the door as she pulled him in for a passionate kiss.

"Shh, don't wake the others up."

"I'm not the one you're gonna have to worry about," he teased.

He pinned her against the closed bathroom door and kissed her, while she pulled off his shirt.

His strong hands roamed her body, gliding under her clothes, trying to feel every part of her.

"Pent up much?"

"I'm always pent up when I see you," he replied.

She could feel the blush reaching her cheeks.

"Before we go any further, you should know...we have to keep this casual."

She knew this probably didn't need to be said, Bryce was a casual sort of guy, but she didn't need any extra drama in her life right now.

"No strings...fine by me," he grinned, pulling her clothes over her head.

She kissed up his neck and across his smooth jawline as she undid his trousers and pushed them to the ground.

She snapped the band of his underwear with a cheeky smile before sliding her hands beneath the fabric.

"I really don't need to keep those on," he whispered.

She kissed his chest as she slid his underpants down, her fingers brushing against him.

"Agreed..."

The sight of him standing to attention for her was a massive turn on.

She kissed him again as she took hold of him, enjoying the way his breath stopped and started as she pumped his length.

"Who has magic hands now?"

"You're giving me a run for my money," he replied before pulling her bra down and kissing and licking his way across her breasts.

A moan was the only sound she could make as a shiver ran throughout her entire body.

"How 'bout we have some good clean fun," he said pushing her backwards, guiding her toward the shower.

She turned to step in.

"Wait, hold still, "he grabbed her hand to stop her. "Before we get in, I want to get a proper look at you."

He spun her back to face him, before looking her up and down—eyes filled with lust.

"You're gorgeous," he stated while flashing her a grin.

She couldn't help but giggle. "You're quite the charmer Lahela."

Continuing into the shower, Bryce gently pushed her against the shower wall, turning on the tap. Warm water poured down on them as he kissed her, his hands exploring her body.

She returned the favour, running her hands over his slippery muscles.

Bryce reached between her legs and began to move his fingers, slowly but surely. She let out a moan.

"I told you I wasn't the one you had to worry about making noise..."

"I don't think I care anymore..."

She leaned her head against the shower wall and sighed as Bryce's hands worked their magic, circling round her most sensitive part. His lips traced across her collarbone as he dipped a finger inside her.

Her breathing grew heavier as he added another finger.

"Bryce...I need more..."

He gripped her by the back of the thighs and lifted her, pinning her high against the cold tiles.

She sighed with pleasure as she wrapped her legs around his waist and he slid himself inside her.

A whisper of guilt flickered across her mind, but it was too late to take it back now, this was happening and she wanted to enjoy it. It felt too good not to.

She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing any doubts out of her head. Instead concentrating on the sensations, the pleasure.

Bryce moved his lips down her neck, softly sucking and kissing as he went.

For a brief moment her mind took her back to Miami where it was Ethan's lips on her neck, his stubble gently scratching her sensitive skin. She remembered the taste of wine on his tongue as his mouth crashed into hers.

She lifted a hand up and ran it through Bryce's hair, gripping tightly as her pleasure started to build.

He plunged himself deep inside her over and over again and she moved her hand down to his chest, feeling his heart thundering as she neared her climax. Her fingernails clawed into his back as she lost control.

"Yes Eth—, Bryce."

Fuck.

She clung on to him, breathing heavily as he thrust a few more times, until he got his own release.

As she came down from her high she cringed as she recalled the fact she had started calling out Ethan's name while having sex with someone else.

She slowly opened her eyes and looked at Bryce. He smiled at her and kissed her on the lips.

"That was amazing," he said.

"Yeah, it was," she replied through her heavy breathing.

Somehow she seemed to have got away with her slip up. Either he was too wrapped up in the moment to notice or he had decided not to mention it. Either way, she was extremely relieved.

He lowered her back down to the ground and they held each other close for a moment before getting dressed.

Bryce looked at the time, it was 2am.

"I'd better head home if I'm going to get any sleep before work tomorrow."

She grabbed his arm.

"You don't have to go, you could sleep here tonight."

He gave her a little smirk. "I think if I stayed here, you would prove to be way too distracting for either of us to get any sleep."

They both laughed.

"Okay, I'll walk you to the door."

They threw their clothes back on before stepping out into the corridor, where they could talk without waking the others.

"Thank you for tonight Bryce. For the help with the research and the...other thing. I really needed that."

He smiled broadly at her.

"Anytime, Gibson. And I mean it. Any time you need a special release, I'm there. Supply closet, on call room, gym, shower, locker room, your place, my place..."

"Yeah, okay Bryce," she chuckled, playfully pushing him away. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight Sien—, I mean Cecilia."

She tilted her head quizzically and he winked at her before turning to leave. Her eyes widened suddenly with realisation that she hadn't got away with her slip up after all.

Although she felt her face burn with embarrassment, she couldn't help but giggle to herself as she watched him walk down the corridor, before disappearing out of sight.

***

Next part (What is this?)

***

Thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate everyone who takes the time to like, comment and reblog 🥰

***

I only tag those who ask, so please feel free to let me know if you would like to be added to my list 😃

#open heart fanfiction #ethan x mc #bryce lahela #bryce x mc #wacky drabbles #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week #ethan ramsey #choices monthly challenge #cecilia gibson

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hanawrites404 · 3 years

Text

Journey

@oc-growth-and-development

(trigger warning : smoking, mention of death)

Another day, another restorative morning, as if nothing else can motivate me enough to finally cut my laze and start the new day already.

I got off my bed and my eyes instinctively gazed out the window beside me at the wall. As usual, there wasn't much outside, just the same trees and lawns you would find in any other neighbourhood, yet I never seem to get tired of looking at them over and over every time I wake up. It was like a part of my everyday morning ritual which I definitely shouldn't miss, and honestly, I was fine with it. I was not the type of person to actively look for spices in my life after all, and even if I start to crave for it someday, I just wait for it to come to me.

Otherwise, everything just gotta be restful, that's all I want, to be honest.

The water was pleasantly chill to bathe in, too, and so was the dawn's sea breeze swishing through the balcony as soon as the curtains were tucked out and the windows were pulled open. If anything warm right now, it was the brisk sun and the brimming cup of steaming café au lait thawing my bare arms and fingers as I stepped out to lean onto the grill of my terrace. My feet were bare as well, touching the cool tiles beneath them as I felt the tingling sensation through my nerves.

I was still in my pyjamas, my hair up in a bun and it was still seven. Other than some elder citizens walking outside to get the minty air rushing and stray cats and dogs yawning and stretching, the scene in front of me was almost deserted.

It all felt quiet, but it wasn't prickly. The birds were still tweeting, the bulk of leaves rustled in a shimmer, and I could even hear my sigh as I blew the hot vapour from my cup, my lips slowly savouring the coffee bit by bit. It was very peaceful, I liked it.

But unfortunately, it wasn't real.

"미스......미스.....일어나 미스!"

I jolted up from the unfamiliar voice presumably calling out for me. So it was all a dream? I wasn't enjoying a utopian morning at my balcony back in Miami?? But it all felt so real....from the taste of coffee to the warmth I felt of the drink. So it was all my imagination? Wow huh....looks like the power of my mind is going to be a mystery to me for a while. I never knew that my brain could fool me into believing that I was relaxing at my home, and not dozing off in a Korean tourist bus.

"Ugghmm...Huh?" Still groggy from my sleep, I blinked twice before looking outside the window of the bus. By the look of it, I think we had come to the final stop. Before letting out anything else from my mouth, I silently turned my gaze onto the one who broke my slumber, namely the bus conductor.

He is looking right at me. Come on, say something....!!

"U-Ummm...." I stumbled, my index slowly moving to point at the complex the bus had stopped near at.

"역???" I cringed as I tried to pronounce the exotic word. Fuck. I didn't expect my voice to crack right in front of the bus conductor. And before anyone raises a question, no. I don't know Korean. I just happened to memorize only the important words I might need to communicate during my journey to Korea. But while I was still at home I felt pretty confident in myself, what happened to me now? It wasn't unusual of me, I am a human after all and I get nervous at times too. Yet it was.... surprising.

Hmm...it must be the anxiety of being in an alien country where everything is different from what I am aware of and what I have experienced so far. Different ambience, different language, and different people. Very strange and foreign, to be frank. But fresh and young, like a bite of a ripe green apple.

Nevertheless, the conductor just laughed at me and patted my shoulder very strongly. Ouch but Woah, now I could see why he was hired as the conductor. Strong arms, sharp eyes, along with a charm of his own to make people at ease. Even to a 'lost' newcomer like me.

"Yes yes! 역! Correct! Wanna come out??" With a grin twinkling on his bright face, he stepped away to let me through. I felt more relaxed than before as soon as I heard English from him, and it was pretty fluent too.

A small relieved smile broke on my lips too as I grab hold of my guitar case and my backpack and get up. My legs had gotten a bit numb inside my boots from not moving them much throughout the ride, and my jacket was almost off my shoulders.

"감사합니다" I quickly muttered before adjusting everything on me and stepping out of the bus. I didn't want to stammer again and, even if I wasn't in a hurry, I still wanted to make sure I reach where I was called to at an early hand.

"Have a safe journey!" The conductor waved at me, and I gladly turned around to return the gesture before entering the lobby. After I had made it inside, I left my belongings at a convenient place and went to the bathroom to fix my face and clothes.

I had been travelling for almost twenty hours; An eighteen-hour flight and a two-hour bus. It was back-to-back, and hardly I had the time to refresh myself properly and smoke a bit, but now was my chance to do so before I carry on to reach my destination.

With the help of the large mirror on the wall, I first removed my contact lenses and then washed my face and combed my hair. It had grown pretty long. But I wasn't planning on cutting them any sooner. I also dusted my jacket and jeans off and straightened my t-shirt inside.

After I was sure everything had been set, I put my lenses back on and vaguely looked around the room, and finding no one except me, I quickly stand near the ventilator above me and light my cigarette. What I was doing right now poses a threat to my health and is illegal, but this was a guilty pleasure of mine. I admit it shamelessly because why not. I have nothing to lose. We all are gonna die one day, so it's better we make the most of our lives and I was just doing that. Nothing more, nothing less.

Just because I said I don't seek adventure vigorously, does not mean I don't have any thrill in my life at all. I do have it. Everyone has it. You just gotta make it interesting in your way, and that's how you gotta roll, champ.

Anyways, after a couple of puffs, I got disposed of the cigar and shooed off the smoke around me. It was only after everything seemed clear that I washed my life hands and dried them, then left the restroom and grabbed my luggage back before I started to stride again, to the reception counter.

After all the formalities were taken care of, I finally breathed the outside air of Korean afternoon. The sun was luminous and overhead, but the heat wasn't as severe as back in Miami. The number of clouds here are much more than there, or was it just for this particular day? I had no idea.

I am not a tourist here. I came here for a business trip, you can say. A man from here, a freelancing musical artist, had personally requested and invited me for a musical collaboration. The deal itself sounded quite intriguing, also with the fact that I'm half-Korean thanks to my father's lineage, yet ironically I have neither ever seen Korea with my own eyes nor I have witnessed its culture. Until today, that is.

So here I am now, strolling in the middle of the bustling city surrounded by college students touring around, laughing and talking with their classmates and munching on unique dishes and snacks I had never seen before. And while I was busy observing them, someone bumped into me, breaking my contact.

"Oh! 실례합니다!" It was a young blond guy, wearing a light blue hoodie with a couple of smiley badges pinned to his chest. He quickly bowed after apologizing and for briefly taking a glance at my face, hastily trots in the opposite direction. I eyed him, judging by his clothes and the books he was carrying in his arms, he looked like a college student. Hmm...no wonder why he was in a hurry. He must be late to class or something.

But anyway, I continued walking. That musical man had told me to wait near the back alley of a coffee shop that was close to the station. Hmm, that would be easy to locate. The coffee shop was right in front of me! Hah, how easy.

And so, without wasting any time, I ambled towards the cafè. It was a cute little shop, in my opinion. The smell of roasted coffee beans and bubbling creamy milk was evident in the atmosphere, and the colour scheme of the shop had pallettes of vanilla and caramel. It was like I had entered not a shop but inside a nestling coffee cup! Pretty cool, especially for someone who loves coffee like me.

Also, a bunch of customers were inside too. This place was not lonely at all. Some couples were on a date, singles who just want peace of mind with a complimentary cup of coffee, and business workers too! To be honest, I liked one of the employee's suits too. It was of a short brunette woman with glasses. She was kind of cute too. And by how she was still typing away rapidly on her phone even while on her break, tells how much of a busy woman she must be. Damn, God forbid that I ever be this much busy in my career.

Working even at breaks. Scary, in my opinion.

Needless to say, that wasn't why I was here for. The city was new to me so naturally, I would be curious, but business comes first in such a case. And in this case, it's my case. So bringing myself back to schedule, I leave to the back alley, waiting for that man so we could finally meet after talking through emails and phone calls.

But......what was that man's name again?

Ah....Zen.....

Hmm, weird name. But as someone who prefers to be called CJ than Catherine Joseph, I am no one to say so. Or even judge so.

Zen......I wonder what kind of person he would be in flesh. Same friendly and confident as the impression of him in my mind? Or just some different personality I never saw coming? Well, only time will tell that. But right now, we wait.

#catjose #mystic messenger oc #mystic messenger cmc #mystic messenger mc #mysme cmc #mysme oc #mysme mc #mysme #mystic messenger #cmc #oc-tober

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saintveronica · 3 years

Video

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buckyscrystalqueen · 4 years

Text

Unlikely Parents: Part 1

Pairings: Negan x reader (Jane the Virgin AU), Hotel owner!Negan x Parolee!Reader

Warnings: Artificial insemination, Swearing, Angst

Word Count: 3,539

A/N: Yea, this took on a life of its own.... Not sorry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I understand what you’re going through.” It took a few moments for those six words to permeate the fog in your brain, but when it did, you looked up at the woman that destroyed your life.

“You understand what I’m going through.” You repeated, interrupting the speech she had probably spent the past two weeks rehearsing instead of calling you to tell you about her mistake. “YOU UNDERSTAND?!”

“(Y/N), I’m so sorry.” Your OBGYN, Luisa said as she tried to take a step back away from you, but bumped in to the counter behind her instead.

“I fucking told you!” You screamed as you jumped off the exam table and grabbed your jeans. “I never wanted kid because of my past. And you fucking told me that you would do the fucking hysterectomy when I got out! So why the fuck, am I fucking pregnant Luisa?!”

“I made a mistake.” She said with tears in her eyes as you threw on your clothes.

“Yea, one big fucking mistake.” You huffed as you threw your gown at her. “And now, I’m fucking stuck with your mistake for the rest of my fucking life.” With a shake of your head, you grabbed your purse, and walked out the door with furious tears in your eyes.

——

Your one bedroom Miami apartment looked ten times more grungy than it normally did to you as you dropped your dollar store groceries on the permanently stained counter top in your pathetic excuse for a kitchen. The keys to your hunk of junk car got tossed in the bowl beside your probation officer’s business card, and all of the crap you had carted home with you from prison when you were released. You fished out a package of Ramen from the bag and grabbed one of the mismatched glass bowls from the drying rack on the counter, when someone knocked on the door behind you.

“’s’open!” You yelled before ripping open the bag and dumping it in the bowl. You fished out the flavor packet with a sigh and turned on the sink as you glanced over your shoulder at what you could see of the well dressed man that looked out of place when he stepped into your main room. “What, you my new PO or something?”

“No…” He said hesitantly. “I guess I’m the father of your child. My name is Negan.” You smirked as you pulled open the microwave and put the bowl in.

“Well, she’s just writing her fucking lawsuit for me, isn’t she?” You asked over the high pitched beeps.

“I had a private investigator find you. We need to talk…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll terminate if that’s why you’re here.” You interrupted as you grabbed your bags to put away your groceries. “Thing’s making me fucking nauseous anyways…”

“Yea, that’s not fucking happening.” You froze with a stack of Ramen packets in your hand and turned to look at the stranger in your living room for the first time since he had walked in. He shook his head and pulled a check book out of the inside pocket of his expensive looking jacket. “I will pay you five hundred thousand now, and five hundred thousand dollars upon delivery of a healthy child…”

“You what?!” You laughed as you set your food packets down on the counter and put your hand on your hip. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I’m the father of that child.” He said simply as he looked up at you with his heart on his sleeve. “And that child… it’s the only fucking chance I have at being a father. I had cancer five years ago, and that… sample… is the only one I have left. So what do you want, half a mil? A million? Two? What?” You shook your head as your stomach rolled, and ran past him toward the small bathroom off the kitchen. You threw up what little lunch you had in the permanently stained toilet, and fell back on the tile floor that was missing most of its tile. You could hear your pulse with each retch, and you really wished you had been able to eat more than just a dollar menu burger you had to pay for with dimes while you were out looking for a job.

“Oh, this is just disgusting.”

“Fuck off.” You groaned before getting sick again. “Fuck this.”

“Please, (Y/N)…” Negan begged as he held out a handkerchief. “Please. I’m literally begging you…”

“Fine.” You sighed. “Whatever. You want the thing? You can have it.” He let out a sigh of relief and nodded his head as you pushed yourself up off the floor to slip past him. “Don’t want your fucking money…”

“OK…”

“Fuck…” You groaned as you headed back out to grab your dinner. “I didn’t fucking want kids…”

“Well, thank you for being a surrogate for mine…”

“Yea, don’t worry about it.” You groaned as you ripped open the flavor packed with your teeth.

“Wait, is that what you’re eating?” You looked up at him through your lashes as you grabbed your only fork from the drying rack.

“What, my prison pallet not good enough for you?”

“It’s not good enough for any human being.” He said as he picked up his check book from the counter and put it back in his pocket. “Just like these living arrangements. I’m putting an end to this if you’re going to be growing my child…”

“What, you’re putting me up in the fucking Ritz?” You laughed as you took a bite of Ramen before the bowl was pulled from your hands.

“Nope. The Marbella.”

——

“Well these are some fancy digs.” You said as you walked around the expensive suite you were calling home for the next nine months. “Waste of a room on me though.”

“Not for you.” Negan grumbled as he watched your probation officer search the room to make sure it was appropriate for the criminal to live in.

“You got a job yet, (Y/L/N)?” Officer Dixon growled as he started pulling mini liquor bottles from the mini fridge, even though you were pregnant and wouldn’t be drinking them anyways.

“She’ll be working for me.” Negan said before you could respond, which made you stop at the open back door to look over at him with your eyebrow raised. “I need a cashier at the pool bar.”

“Whatever.” You huffed as you stepped through the curtain and out on to the balcony. You closed your eyes for a moment to feel the warmth, and looked out at the setting sun sky, something you missed desperately when you were behind bars. You had been out this time for only three weeks after a seven year stint, but this was the first moment you were able to stop and just exist.

“(Y/N)?” A woman asked softly behind you, making you turn away from the rail toward her. The shorter brunette, who was wearing a little black dress, high heels, and pearls smiled at you shyly and held up a small basket. “My name’s Lucille, I’m Negan’s wife. I brought you some things to make the pregnancy a little easier.” You nodded your head and took a step toward the basket she had set down on the table, and didn’t miss the way she took a step back from you at the same time.

“Thanks.” You said as you picked up the Parenting magazine from the top of the pile fanned out across the back. “I’m not going to be a parent. Won’t need this…”

“You’ll be a parent.” She said, slightly hesitantly. “You will just be making the ultimate sacrifice.”

“Yea, well this kid’s probably better off without me in its life. Thanks for this.” You said with a gesture as you ripped open a bag of ‘Preggie Pops’ and used your teeth to pull off the wrapper of one. “Nice meeting you.”

“Did you kill someone?” She asked abruptly as you turned back toward the rail to watch the waves crash along the shore line. Negan barked her name from inside the suite, but you simply rested your arms on the rail and used your tongue to move the lollypop to the other side of your mouth. “W-we saw the drug case from seven years ago, but your juvie record is sealed, and the man you were arrested with is serving life for murder… I just… I have to know…”

“Look, lady. You don’t have to know shit.” You responded as you pulled the sucker from your mouth and looked over your shoulder at her. “My juvie record is sealed for a reason. And trust me, I don’t want me around this kid anymore than you do. So let me do my next section of fucking time in peace, then I’ll be out of your fucking hair forever. ‘K?” She nodded her head and took another step back as you turned back toward the beach and put the lollypop back in your mouth once more. You heard Negan say something to her inside, but you didn’t really care to try to eavesdrop, as your PO stepped out onto the patio.

“You know the drill, (Y/L/N).” He said as he held out a clear plastic cup for you to pee in for a random drug test. With a roll of your eyes, you took the cup from him and headed inside to the bathroom. You didn’t expect Negan to wait around in the living room as you did your drug test, and you cocked your eyebrow at him after officer Dixon had you sign off the paperwork he needed for the drug test and for your new living arraignments.

“I didn’t kill anyone.” You told him as you sat down on the arm of one of the couches near him. “I was sixteen years old and was actually in the wrong place at the wrong time. Don’t expect you to believe me. No one ever does. But I didn’t kill anyone. I just knew the kid who did and gave him a ride to the grocery store he robbed.”

“But you are a fucking drug trafficker.”

“Never once denied that.” You said back as you moved the lollypop to the other cheek. “I moved those pills to try to make some money to get out of the ghetto to do something better with my life and to get away from the accessory to murder charge I caught as a teen. I know what I did and I pled guilty to it because being a felon is apparently all I’m going to be in life. And that’s why I know I can’t be a mother. I’ll never be able to get my feet under me to give a kid a better life, no matter how much I want it. So yea, I’ll have your kid… but being an incubator is all I can do because the cards are stacked against me and have been from the jump.” You looked up at him and shrugged your shoulders. “Thanks for the job. I’ll just work for my room and board…”

“What happened to your parents?” He asked as he sat down on the couch as you stood up to walk away. With a sigh, you turned back around, and sat down on the other couch facing him.

“Prison.” You sighed as you ran your fingers through your hair. “I think. Fuck if I know. Ain’t seen either of them since I was in juvie. When I got out at 21, they were gone, and the apartment you found me in was empty and trashed.” He sighed and nodded his head as he tried to figure out what to say next.

“Are you an addict?”

“No, just a trafficker.”

“Are you a threat to my child?”

“Depends.” You breathed as you bit the last part of the sucker and laid the stick on your knee. “With you unnecessarily paying my bills and giving me a job? No, I’m not threat. If I had been left out on the streets? Yea, most likely. I’m up against a wall with a baby I can’t afford to take care of properly. I’ll probably live off dollar store ramen and multivitamins I’ll end up having to steal. The system is rigged.” You groaned as you leaned back against the seat. “Which is why I didn’t want kids. They don’t deserve this fucking cursed life.” He didn’t say a word as he looked at your stomach. You waited a few moments, before clearing your throat, and standing up when your stomach growled. “Guess it’s room service time.”

“Yea, yea you’re probably right.” With a small nod, you took the menu from him as he got up. “If you need anything, call the desk, they’ll put you through to me. Head down to the pool tomorrow at 10am and we’ll get you started at work.”

“Thanks Negan.” He nodded his head but didn’t look back as he walked quickly out of your room and closed the door sharply behind him.

——

Ever since you were a child, you were never one to make friends. You were the welfare kid, that owned exactly one week’s worth of clothes, who spend most of her time in and out of foster homes because your parents couldn’t be bothered to raise a child neither of them wanted. Despite that, you were still a straight A student until you got arrested. But just like back then, you had absolutely zero intention of making friends at this job. Especially if you were being forced to wear some matching skank dress that Lucille had dropped off that morning, along with makeup, and enough hair products to blow a hole in the ozone.

“Fucking ridiculous.” You grumbled to yourself as you dropped the bags on the bathroom counter and grabbed a croissant from the breakfast tray that made you grateful beyond words that you were out of prison and eating actual food again. You begrudgingly threw on your work outfit and headed out of your room to head down to your new job- without a single product in your hair and only a single swoop of mascara per eye.

“You must be (Y/N).” A young woman said as you walked up to the counter toward her. “I’m Beth, you’re going to be shadowing me for a couple days.” You startled the slightest bit when she stepped into your personal space, and it took you everything in your being not to yank her backwards by her blonde ponytail to get her away from you. “Lucille told me all about you. Don’t worry, my daddy was in jail for a DUI, too. It’s OK, I won’t tell anyone.”

“That’s nice.” You said with a nod as she finally stepped out of your bubble.

“OK so this is like… super simple. Everything is automatic. All you have to do is pull up the category of what kind of food it is and then find the name on the tablet and add it to the order. Then you add the numbers of one of the little flags, and you’re all done. Then you just have to pour drinks for the food runners…”

“OK, you fucking get that I’ve spent seven years in prison, right?” You asked as you looked at the tablet she was talking about.

“OK. That’s OK.” She said with an even bigger smile. “So let’s actually look at it, OK?” You sighed loudly in annoyance as she gently pushed you in front of the register. No matter how much she annoyed you, Beth was surprisingly very helpful in quickly catching up on technology you obviously missed, and patiently teaching you the job despite the fact that lunch was pretty busy by the pool. At 2:30, you were finally rescued by someone you didn’t know, who simply told you you needed to head up to the 17th floor.

“Oh, wait!” Beth said as she grabbed the money from the tip jar beside the register you had been out. She quickly counted it out and handed you half with a giant smile. “I work a double so I’ll tip out the kitchen out of my part tonight. See you tomorrow.” You nodded slowly and reached out to take the money from her. You huffed and folded the bills up as you turned in your flats and followed the person to the elevator and up to the 17th floor.

“You must be (Y/N).” A woman behind a desk said as you stepped out of the elevator. “Mr. Solano is expecting you.”

“Ooo…K?” You said hesitantly as you put your tips in your shallow pocket and followed her into the office behind her desk. Your new boss and baby daddy looked up from his computer and gestured you forward.

“So I’ve spoken to your probation officer.” Negan said as he stood up and grabbed some papers off his printer and set them down on the table between you. “And since you’re carrying my child, I’ve taken it upon myself to become your… like fucking sponsor or some shit.”

“My what?” You laughed as you scooted forward in your chair. “And who the fuck…”

“I’m the fucking father of that child!” He yelled, and you quickly sat back in your chair in shock. “And for the next nine fucking months, you will do as I fucking say so that my child is not born in a fucking prison, do I make myself fucking clear?” You nodded your head as he spread out the pages in front of you and grabbed a pen. “Now, your probation mandates you pay fifty dollars a month for fees, and twelve hundred in restitution and fines. So I’ll pay you twelve an hour, and give you 40 hours a week down stairs. While you are pregnant, I will cover your housing finances so I know my child has a roof over its head, and your food bills so I know it is being fed properly and thrice daily.”

“Why?”

“Your paychecks.” He continued over you as he pointed to the next paper. “Will go to pay off your fines. The rest I will be putting into a savings for you so you can get a place when you give birth…”

“Wait, what do you mean you…”

“Again, looking after my fucking child.” He interrupted. “You will make all of your appointments, with your doctor and with your probation officer. You will make every shift you have at work until a doctor tells you you are no longer able to. You will not leave the hotel without an escort. If you do, I will sue you.”

“You’ll sue me?!”

“You’re carrying precious cargo.” He said as he searched your eyes. “My… precious cargo. And unfortunately, you’re a felon. A felon that I neither know nor trust. How do I know you’re not gunna fucking take off and sell my son or daughter on the black market…”

“OK, hold the fuck on!” You snapped as you leapt to your feet. “Bro, I sold drugs, not fucking babies!”

“You will submit to weekly drug tests outside of the ones mandated by your probation officer…”

“OK, no. Fuck this.” You said as you stepped back away from the desk with tears in your eyes. “No, I want out. I’m not looking to be some prisoner here…”

“You don’t have a choice!” Negan tried as you turned toward the door, but you shook your head and whipped back around.

“Oh, I do have a fucking choice! See, I don’t mind finishing my time in fucking prison. No fucking skin off my back. I know that life a lot better than I know life out here. I’d get three meals a day and a bitch named Betty to suck my clit when I need it. I could also walk out this door and get a fucking abortion at the Planned Parenthood down the road. But I won’t fucking do that. Surprisingly, I’m a halfway decent person despite my shitty upbringing. So please, just because I’m a fucking piece of shit, doesn’t give you the fucking right to treat me as such.” You shook your head and huffed as you looked at the man you didn’t know that was trying to control your life.

“Don’t worry about me. Just slip a work schedule under my door every week, and I’ll let you know when my probation appointments and doctor visits are unless you’re the one wanting that fucking responsibility too. I don’t really give a shit. I’ve been in prison for seven years and you’re paying for me to live in a hotel with cable I don’t have to share with 20 other bitches, and room service. Don’t want me to leave? That was never a concern. But don’t you think I should have a fucking say in my life, even if I don’t have a say with my reproductive organs right now?” Negan sat a little shocked as you turned toward the door to leave.

“(Y/N)…”

“Don’t fucking bother.” You barked as you ripped open the office door. “Just put my work schedule under my door.”

Part 2

#negan x reader #Unlikely Parents #Negan's thirst squad #Negan thirst squad

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snowlessknitter · 4 years

Text

Things The Golden Girls Got Wrong About Florida

Now, we all know how much I absolutely love The Golden Girls. While the show is set in Miami, Florida, the show itself was produced in Los Angeles and created and run by Hollywood people. And of course, there are some things that the show does get wrong about Florida culture as a result. Here are a few of them.

Floridians, in general, do not use the term “lanai”. The term “lanai” is actually of Hawaiian origin and refers to a covered/roofed porch or veranda. (Which means that Blanche’s lanai isn’t even a lanai in the original sense of the word, since Blanche’s lanai is open-air and does not have a roof over it.) “Lanai” is kind of seen as a term used by rich people or people wanting to appear fancy, and the majority of Floridians aren’t rich or fancy. The term that Floridians usually use is either a “porch” (which would be a raised area) or a “patio” (a concrete or tiled area resting right on the ground); Blanche’s lanai is more properly a patio.

There is no such thing as the Sunshine Cadets. Florida has Girl Scout troops just like everywhere else. And we do love our share of Girl Scout cookies as well. (My personal favorites are the Thin Mints, Samoas, Peanut Butter Patties, and S’mores.)

As far as I know, there is no such town as Appalachichobee (although we do have some city names that come from Native American terms), and trains in Florida usually do leave on time. The town featured in the episode “Bedtime Stories” is fictional, and the name is a combination of “Appalachian” and “Okeechobee”. And while Lake Okeechobee is very prominent in Florida’s geography, the Appalachian Mountains come nowhere near Florida. In fact, Florida’s highest point is Britton Hill, which has an elevation of just 345 feet above sea level. (Florida’s terrain is classified as coastal plains, and thus most of our land is flat. The lowest elevation in the state is sea level.) As for the trains...as far as I know, there is no place in Florida where trains regularly leave early. As for the ticket vendor’s accent...he sounds more like he’s from Georgia or the Carolinas than from Florida. Most white Floridians speak in what’s called a “Florida Cracker” accent that sounds more like a southern drawl than the lilt associated with southern gentry/“southern belles”.

Most Floridians say “vayse”, not “vahse”. The pronunciation of “vase” with a short A is seen as unnecessarily fancy, and being that most Floridians aren’t rich or they live in the more rural areas, we typically say “vase” with a long A like most other people.

The baseball game that Dorothy, Sophia, and Stan attend in the episode “Bang the Drum, Stanley” is definitely not a Major League Baseball game. Although the Dodgers are mentioned in the episode, Florida did not have its own Major League Baseball team until the Florida Marlins began play in 1993 (the then-Tampa Bay Devil Rays, now the Tampa Bay Rays, began play in 1997). At the time the episode aired in 1988, Miami had one minor league baseball team, the Miami Marlins of the Florida State League (named in honor of a previous minor league team that had relocated to Puerto Rico after the 1960 season), and was renamed the Miami Miracle the following year. That team relocated to Fort Myers in 1992 and became the Fort Myers Miracle, the name they would play under until 2019. This year, the club changed its name to the Fort Myers Mighty Mussels. It has been the Single A-Advanced affiliate of the Minnesota Twins since 1992. The Major League club, the Florida Marlins, changed its name to the Miami Marlins in 2012. As for the Dodgers, the closest Dodgers minor league affiliate at the time of the episode’s original air date was the Vero Beach Dodgers (and Vero Beach is up in Indian River County, about 130 miles and a two-hour drive north of Miami). The Vero Beach Dodgers have since relocated to Port Charlotte, Florida and now play as the Charlotte Stone Crabs. The Stone Crabs are currently the Single A-Advanced affiliate of the Tampa Bay Rays.

Any other Floridians out there who can point out things that The Golden Girls may have gotten wrong about Florida?

#the golden girls #florida

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haddonfieldproject · 4 years

Text

<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

CHAPTER TWO: ALL SAINTS DAY

1.2.1 WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 29th, 6:04pm PT‬

Woodsboro, California

‪

“Okay, let's see what we have here,” Ophelia Tate said, pulling a plastic clipboard from the little cubby beside the door and looking at the chart that was affixed to it. She skimmed over it and then looked up at her young patient. On the hospital bed, sitting atop the clean white paper, was a short and skinny little brunette girl, with big square glasses and a red beanie cap that made her look a lot like Velma from Scooby Doo. Just under the cap on her left eyebrow she was holding an ice pack, wrapped in a towel soaked in blood.

“It says here you fell and hit your head on a water heater?” Ophelia asked her, pulling the little rolling stool out from under the cabinets on the far side of the room and seating herself upon it.

“Yeah,” the girl sighed, showing a row of silver braces. “I know...I'm such a klutz”.

Ophelia looked again at the clipboard. “Yasmin? Did I say it right.” Ophelia made sure she pronounced the “Y” like a “J”, the girl did look Hispanic.

Yasmin smiled, “First one today.”

Ophelia tossed the clipboard on the bed next to her patient and pulled some latex gloves out of her smock. “Excellent. Let's have a look!”

The young girl withdrew the towel containing the ice pack and a spurt of blood shot out passed Ophelia's face, sprinkling the tile behind her.

“Whoa!” Ophelia gasped and reached over and grabbed the girl's hand with the towel in hers and pressed it back onto her eye. “Let's keep that on there shall we!”

Yasmin swooned.

“Breathe,” Ophelia said looking at her. “You look pale...are you gonna pass out?”

“I don't know,” Yasmin stuttered, “Maybe.”

“Well don't,” Ophelia smiled, “It's my last night of work here in this place and I don't want to be spending it picking you back up off the floor.”

Yasmin smiled. “I'm okay...I think.”

“I'll get you a cup of water and Jennifer, our nurse, is gonna come in here and butterfly that. Then we'll wait and see if it can close a little bit. Then we'll decide it we have to use stitches or glue.”

“Oh please glue! I don't want stitches.” Yasmin cried.

Ophelia grabbed the clipboard and began writing. “Well, I'll tell you this,” she said while she scrawled, “Glue is much easier, but it doesn't heal as well. Sometimes...a lot of times...the scar ends up jagged where the glue held better in some parts than others.” She looked up, “And where it is on your eyebrow...it might make your eyebrow look crooked. If you let us stitch it, it can heal up in a few months and you'll probably not even be able to tell it was ever there.”

Yasmin's shoulders dropped. “Then stitches.”

Ophelia folded the clipboard in her arms, hugging it to her chest. “Are you sure?”

“Hell yeah,” Yasmin exclaimed, “I have senior pictures next year. A crooked eyebrow on a guy is cute...a crooked eyebrow on a girl is the difference between a rich husband who takes you on a honeymoon to Barbados, and Joe MBA who takes you to Miami.”

Ophelia frowned, “I like Miami.”

Yasmin gave her a look and they both laughed.

“My question is how the hell you smacked your head on the water-heater?” Ophelia asked.

Yasmin rolled her eyes, “On Wednesday nights I ride the school-bus to my church for youth group after school. We basically just hang out and play games down in the church basement and...well, this guy Juan Menendez..we were...I don't know...chasing each other or something and I tripped over the leg of the ping-pong table and fell...right in to the water heater.”

Ophelia grimaced, “Ouch...right in front of him?”

Yasmin grimaced back, “Yeah....I know...so embarrassing”

“What did Juan do?” Ophelia asked.

Yasmin smiled and closed her eyes dreamily. “He got me this towel...and this ice...and he picked me up off the floor and put me on the ping pong table.”

“Is he the cute guy in the waiting room with the blue shirt and white shorts and the gold necklace?” Ophelia asked.

“No way, he's here?!” Yasmin dropped the rag, sending another spurt of blood that just missed Ophelia's smock.

“Whoa! Keep that on there,” Ophelia said laughing. “I'll go tell Jennifer you want the stitches.”

“Aren't you going to do it? I like you,” Yasmin said pleadingly.

“Sorry kid. My time at Woodsboro Family Medical Center has come to an end. Actually ten minutes ago. I'm transferring to a new hospital in Illinois and I got to get out of here and get on the road.”

“Illinois? What's in Illinois?” Yasmin grimaced again.

Ophelia plopped the clipboard back in it's spot. “Lots of corn I hear.” She snapped off her gloves and stomped the pedal on the stainless steel trashcan by the door and dropped them in.

She headed down the hall and turned to the left toward the break room. The annex area there was empty, which was odd because usually there was at least one nurse at the nurses station. She had her purse in her locker to get and she knew she had at least one frozen meal in the staff room freezer to throw away. She hated when people left their food behind and she didn't want to be one of those people. To her surprise, there wasn't anything in the staff room freezer, so she shrugged, pulled her purse out of her locker and turned to walk out the door, feeling strange that there was no one around to say bye to or have wish her luck. Just then, Dr. Holmes, a young Chinese girl who had been Dr. Yang a month ago before she married a nice plastic surgeon from Cloverdale, popped into the door, making Ophelia jump.

“Oh...sorry Dr. Tate,” she said.

“Jesus Yang you scared the shit out of me,” Ophelia still hadn't gotten used to calling her Homes. Usually Holmes corrected her...and everyone else who made the mistake, but this time she didn't.

“Dr. Shaw wants to see you in the conference room, he has some forms you need to sign before you leave.”

Ophelia groaned, “Really?! I have to get out on the road.”

Holmes shrugged.

Ophelia followed the young Dr. Holmes out of the break-room, passed a pair of restrooms and a supply closet to the conference room. The door was shut, which was odd, and even odder was the fact that Dr. Homes stepped out of the way to allow Ophelia to open the door. Ophelia frowned and pushed the handle.

“SURPRISE!!!”

The room was full of doctors and nurses, as well as balloons and streamers. On the giant mahogany conference table was a large cake, upon which was written: GOOD LUCK DR. TATE! There were also various fruit and vegetable trays and a pitcher of what looked like pink lemonade. Her husband stood there too in one of his ridiculous sweater vests that Ophelia had asked him over and over again not to wear, smiling at her from ear to ear. In the corner, sprawled out on a couple of chairs was their son Damon, but he was wrapped up in his smartphone and didn't look up. In front of him was the small TV on which there was a baseball game.

“Oh my gosh,” Ophelia put her hands to her cheeks, “You really got me..I never expected this.”

Dr. Shaw was an older gentlemen, and he was standing next to Ophelia's husband Jack. He came around the table and embraced her, kissing her cheek, “Well you should have my dear. You've been part of the team for so long, you don't think we would send you away without some kind of celebration?”

Ophelia's husband Jack approached her next and and leaned in to kiss her. Ophelia turned her head and offered him her cheek. “Surprise,” he said quietly.

“You know I hate surprises,” she said under her breath through her teeth.

“Smile and fake it,” he answered.

“That's what I'm doing,” she replied, “I thought we had to get on the road.”

“I budgeted time for this,” he answered.

Dr. Holmes/Yang came up next and hugged her. “I was convincing?” She asked.

“Yes,” Ophelia smiled, “You were very convincing.”

Ophelia's best workmate Tonya, a big beautiful black woman in pink scrubs came up next. She squealed like a middle school girl at a slumber party and hugged Ophelia's neck. “Oooooohhh gurl...I am gonna miss yooooouuu!”

Ophelia laughed and said, “I know girl...I came out of 7 and looked at the nurses station and was like, 'Where the hell is everybody?'.”

“That should have been your first clue,” said Dr. Thomas. He was a tall, sexy, black doctor who had only been working at Woodsboro Family Medical long enough to make Jack Tate insanely jealous. The young doctor stuck out his very large hand, Ophelia took it.

“Where are you going exactly?” He asked.

“I have position waiting for me as the Chief of Medicine for a small town hospital in Illinois.” Ophelia replied, moving around the table and grabbing one of the small plates on the table. She held it up to Tonya. It read: HAPPY BIRTHDAY

Tonya waved her hand and laughed, “They was the only ones we had gurl!”

Ophelia smiled and grabbed the cake cutter, carving a wedge in between the last T and the E in her last name on the face of the cake.

“Really,” Thomas said, “I grew up in Springfield, what part of Illinois?”

“It's called Haddonfield,” Ophelia said plopping the cake on her plate.

“Never heard of it,” Thomas said.

“Where is the damn remote for this TV, we need the sound on.” Dr. Shaw grumbled.

“It's right here,” Damon held it up without looking up from his phone.

“Un-mute it son,” his father said.

“Isn't this Game Six?” Thomas asked.

“Yeah,” Shaw said, “It's been a hell of a series...as a doctor I've been very thankful for my DVR.”

They all laughed.

🎃

1.2.2 PRESENTLY—SATURDAY NOVEMBER 1st 2:04 AM

Interstate 70 near Booneville, Missouri

‪

Ophelia sat up straight in her seat and looked out of the windshield. She couldn't see anything but rain. She looked over at Jack who was sitting straight up in his seat also, squinting hard, his head leaning so far over the steering wheel as he drove that his forehead was mere centimeters away from the glass.

Ophelia stretched, “Where the hell are we now?” She asked.

“Somewhere in the middle of Missouri,” he said, not taking his eyes off the road.

“God it's raining hard,” she exclaimed. She pulled her phone out from the center console and disconnected the charger cord. She looked at the time. “When are we supposed to be there.”

“I expected to be close by now,” he said, “but with this damn storm, I can't go anymore than 40. It will be closer to sunrise now.”

“How long has it been storming?” Ophelia asked, pulling up her weather app.

“Since we got into Oklahoma,” he said.

Her radar was completely red, and there was scrolling banner on the top of the screen. “Says this area is under a tornado watch,” she said.

“This is the worst storm I've ever seen,” Jack grouched.

“You've lived in California your whole life,” Ophelia laughed and opened up her social media page. There were no notifications, everyone she knew was either at work or asleep right now. She looked at the dashboard. “I can't believe this old piece of junk made it!” She said.

“This baby will never die!” Jack exclaimed, for the first time taking his eyes off the road and smiling at his wife.

“Not if we keep dumping all of our money into it,” Ophelia rolled her eyes. “I'm going to miss my Mazda,” she pouted.

“I told you,” Jack replied, “As soon as we get our feet wet in Haddonfield, we'll buy you a new car.”

“I think you should trade this in,” Ophelia grumbled, putting down her phone, “You're not going to need a car sitting at home writing a book.”

“Never!” Jack said smiling, holding up a clenched fist.

Ophelia looked in the backseat. Damon was sleeping, his bluetooth earbuds still in his ears.

Jack saw that she was looking at him and looked at her. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Ophelia waved, “watch the road.”

She looked at their son a little longer and then finally turned back around and closed her eyes. “I just hope we're doing the right thing.” She said quietly.

“Of course we are,” he said, “trust me, this is going to be a great plan.”

“Yeah yeah,” Ophelia yawned, “You have a plan for everything.”

Jack ignored her snide comment, “I'm thinking about stopping off at a truck stop to take showers before we get in to the town. The sun will probably be up by the time we get there if this rain holds up and we might be able to check out the hospital. Then we can just sleep the rest of the day before we unpack everything on Sunday.”

Ophelia nodded, “If it's all part of the plan...” she said sarcastically.

“Oh shit!” Jack breathed as the car hit a puddle and hydroplaned for a second or two.

“Please don't kill us,” Ophelia said quietly, without opening her eyes. It was better that way.

NEXT>>

#halloween #halloween franchise #michael myers #horror #horror writing #80s horror #spooky #fan writing #fan fiction

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restaurantescapes · 5 years

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Chef Marcus Samuelsson brings his soulful brand of comfort food and culture to Miami.

Created along with developers Michael Simkins and Grove Bay Hospitality Group, Red Rooster Overtown includes defining features like interior fresco murals by London-based artist Grahame Menage and original commissioned artwork. Here, the private dining room.

Gastronomes, history buffs and culture mavens, take note: Your tastes are about to be sated in inspiring new ways now that Red Rooster has come to town. Debuting this month in a reimagined pool hall in historic Overtown, the new restaurant is the latest manifestation of a growing coterie of eateries launched around the world by the ubercreative chef Marcus Samuelsson and promises to bring fresh culinary dimension—and a lot of multicultural spark—to an emerging cultural and entertainment district near the heart of Miami.

As in Samuelsson’s original Red Rooster restaurant in Harlem, the James Beard Award-winning chef will serve up his unique take on elevated American cuisine with dishes inspired by his roots in Sweden and Ethiopia. Here, however, the menu features not only his versions of Southern classics, like Hot Honey Yardbird and Obama’s Short Ribs, but also a new selection of bright ceviches and grilled local fish dishes that draw on the Haitian and Caribbean culinary influences, such as soupe joumou, deep- fried paté korde, griot and accra fritters, that enrich the cuisine of this colorful Miami neighborhood. Also in keeping with its Harlem-and London-based sister restaurants, the accent at Red Rooster Overtown is not only on inventive food but also on music and art, especially works inspired by the diverse strands of the African diaspora.

Developed by Samuelsson and his business partner, Derek Fleming, who worked with Saladino Design Studio to create the restaurant’s design, the new Red Rooster Overtown aims to revive what Fleming calls “a spirit of celebration.” So the new 13,000-square-foot setting was crafted as a multifaceted gathering space offering a variety of experiences that reference both the history of the building—a former neighborhood hangout known as Clyde Killen’s Pool Hall—as well as the surrounding neighborhood. “In the 1950s and ’60s, Clyde’s pool hall was a notable hot spot, where people like Ella Fitzgerald, Aretha Franklin, B.B. King and Sam Cooke would come after performing in local venues in Miami or the beach,” says Fleming, noting the atmosphere of the new restaurant aims to echo the vibe of the venue during that lively era.

The outdoor dining space at Red Rooster Overtown

As such, the two-story structure’s interiors and outdoor areas brim with a multiplicity of eclectic influences— tropical colors, modern murals, handmade Moroccan tiles, cheetah prints and an abundance of art and sculpture, including pieces co-curated by PAMM Director Franklin Sirmans— in a joyful melange that redefines the neighborhood’s Caribbean roots with a fresh twist. The designers also worked with Samuelsson and Fleming to expand the experience beyond the expected “with approachable elements for people of every walk of life,” says designer Sean Saladino. So, in addition to the 209-seat main dining room and a speakeasy-inspired, horseshoe-shaped bar, private dining spaces, rooftop terraces, an upstairs lounge and a pergola-covered outdoor space known as the “Coop” offer a variety of spaces in which to gather and dine, sip handcrafted cocktails and listen to a mix of gospel, R&B, Afrobeats, soul and jazz performed or played by local musicians and DJs.

At the same time, extra components, including a bakery and creamery, provide accessible touchpoints for local kids and families to regularly stop by for an ice- cream cone after school or freshly baked bread after church.

“The new Rooster is a feast for the senses where soulful art, music and food live together, tell a story about the past and take us forward from where our forefathers left off,” says Fleming. “A restaurant is a place to feel restored, to be welcomed and to enjoy life,” adds Samuelsson. “That’s the spirit of what we’ve built at Red Rooster Overtown.” And just as it did in Harlem, that welcoming Red Rooster spirit is poised to transform the landscape of fine dining—and catalyze the powerhouse potential of an up-and-coming neighborhood—in Miami.

#Restaurant Escapes #Miami

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lazyfox411 · 5 years

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Spiderman: Afraid of Water (ft. Irondad)

im back from the dead yall with a fic i promised @spiderling-the-meme a long time ago and never ended up finishing until now.

Length: 1904 words (a short boi)

Prompt: i honestly dont even remember what the actual prompt was my dude i just know you asked for peter being afraid of water after his experience of being dumped in a lake by the vulture and tony accidentally triggering that fear while theyre on vacation with irondad and spiderson feels so….thats basically what this is lol

Peter used to enjoy long showers. A relaxing flow of warm water, clouds of steam, and the fresh scent of soaps and shampoos. It was all enjoyable. Key word being was.

Now, stepping under that warm stream meant reliving. This water was warm, but not all water was warm. This water didn’t surround him like a dark wall of nothingness, but some water had. He could still breath under the shower water, didn’t sink into what seemed like an endless abyss, but that wasn’t true for all water.

Being in the water meant reliving. Reliving the night he’d been dumped in a lake and left to die, the glow of the Vulture’s eyes still refracting through the ripples. He hadn’t given it a second thought at first, but then he’d notice hid heart rate going up, the hairs on his arms raising, his breath getting short. He’d pinned it on the spidey-senses, some sort of danger near by, only he couldn’t seem to find anything wrong. It only dawned on him when he looked at all the places it reoccurred: the beach, the rain, the shower. He was afraid of the water.

So now, Peter took shorter showers. Just to get clean, not to relax. When Aunt May offered to take him to the beach, or the pool, he politely passed. He didn’t go out in the rain unless he had to, and never without an umbrella. And no one questioned it.

Today there were no clouds looming over the city, so Peter decide he would be safe without an umbrella. If anything, it would be snowing today; with winter temperatures blowing in earlier than usual.

Peter stared out the window whenever he could at school that day, not to watch the weather, but rather to avoid watching the whiteboard at the front of the class. School seemed so boring now that he was Spiderman, but he had promised Aunt May and Mr. Stark that grades would come first. He might have had his fingers crossed when the subject of precalculus came up.

“Mr. Parker,” droned the precal teacher, Mrs. Traff, a middle-aged woman with wrinkled hands and massive red glasses, “since you’re not paying attention, I can only assume you already know the material?” Her voice didn’t waver, but her sharp eyes pierced through him.

“Absolutely,” Peter lied, hoping his voice didn’t squeak.

“Then perhaps you’d like to provide an answer for question number two?”

Peter nodded, slowly, as if buying time would help him in the slightest. He saw Ned waving at him from the corner of his eye, mouthing something that looked like ‘five’.

“Five,” he answered.

A collective wave of muffled laughter passed over the other students. Peter’s face heated.

“Five?” Mrs. Traff repeated incredulously. “Mr. Parker, you are telling me that you believe there are currently five states in our country?”

No one bothered to hide their laughs this time. Where just a moment ago he was beet red, Peter knew now he looked like a sheet. He looked around the room, only really seeing it now. “This…this isn’t precalculus,” he said stupidly. He was in a history room. Mrs. Traff was his history teacher. Ned was trying to say ‘fifty’.

Fridays usually carried good vibes, but the day did not get any better after that. Between taunts of ‘Penis Parker’, Ned accidentally blurting that Peter still had a nightlight in his room (really though, Peter had to wonder, what was so wrong with that?), and a freezing cold walk home, Peter was downright miserable upon returning home.

“What’s the matter, Spider-man?” May ruffled his hair.

Peter liked when she called him that. When it came from May, it wasn’t a superhero name. It was just a nickname, like squirt or sport, holding only love and affection, and not the weight of the fate of the city. May was supporting him. After laying some ground rules—a lot of ground rules—and a lot of yelling at Mr. Stark, May was supporting him as Spider-man.

“I’m okay, Aunt May,” Peter said.

May tsked and smoothed his hair back down. “I know what’ll cheer you up.”

Peter raised an eyebrow.

“Tony Stark called today, asking for you.”

“Me?” Peter asked, like she would be referring to anyone else. “Like, me, as in Peter Parker? Personally?”

“Yup,” May said, popping the ‘p’.

“What did he want?”

“He asked if you’d like to accompany him to an expo this weekend. In Miami.”

Peter’s eyes widened to saucers. From what he’d seen in the media, Mr. Stark’s expos were nothing short of amazing. A whole variety of guests, from college students sporting backpacks and sweaters to millionaires in extravagant suits sipping fancy drinks, a big inspirational speech from Mr. Stark, and all the newest ground-breaking technology that SI was funding.

“I can go?” Peter asked.

May pretended to think about it. “I suppose. If you promise to be good. No taking on supervillains. Or staying up past bedtime.”

Peter was already bounding to his room to start packing. “I’ll be good, Aunt May, promise! I’ll be so good! The best!”

May chuckled. “You already are, Spider-man.”

A sleek black car pulled up outside Peter’s apartment early the next morning. He couldn’t see through the tinted windows, but there was no doubt in his mind that this was one of Mr. Stark’s cars.

A quick goodbye to May later, Peter was getting in the car. Part of him had been expecting Happy to jump out and open the door for him, but the window rolled down and over the purr of the engine and blaring AC/DC came Mr. Stark’s voice from the driver’s seat, “Come on, kid, we can’t afford to be late.”

“Happy isn’t taking us?” Peter asked. He’d never admit it, and he knew Happy wouldn’t either, but he was pretty sure they were actually getting along really well.

Tony smiled, a different kind of smile, like he wasn’t quite sure of himself. “I figured we could go it just the two of us,” he said. “If that’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Peter grinned. “That’s cool.”

It was really cool. Mr. Stark had sort of become like a father to Peter. A rich, famous, awkward, bad-at-feelings, superhero father, but a father nonetheless. And if Tony wanted to spend time with Peter? Maybe Peter had become like a son.

The thought made him glow.

They talked about Peter’s school, and Miami, and how great it would be to escape the ever-dropping temperatures, and listened to music too loud and bought ice cream and got a parking ticket (“I’m so sorry Mr. Stark I’ll pay for it I swear!” “Kid. Seriously?”), and while it wasn’t a regular road trip, Peter didn’t think he’d ever had a better one.

Tony handed the car over to the hotel valet and their luggage to the bellhop. Peter had never been in a fancy hotel before. He wondered if they were all like this, or if he was just getting special treatment because he was with Tony Stark. Either way, it was pretty cool.

“Expo isn’t until tomorrow,” Tony explained while Peter gawked at the luxurious sweet they would be staying in, “so tonight’s for doing whatever you want, kiddo. I mean…Pete. Peter.”

“Cool,” Peter said absentmindedly. He didn’t notice Tony’s little slip; he was too enraptured with exploring the bathroom he was pretty sure was bigger than his entire apartment. “I mean, uh, yeah,” he cleared his throat, “cool.”

“I think there’s an arcade downstairs,” Tony suggests. “Or we could go find the pool.”

Peter has remembered to pick his jaw up off the floor now, but is still staring, wide-eyed, at the art pieces that adorn the walls of the hotel room, and not really hearing a thing that’s being said.

“That sounds good,” Peter says, still distracted.

He only realizes what he’s agreed to once he’s standing on the small tiles of the pool’s edge, clad in a pair of swim trunks May must have packed in his bag, and being suffocated by the strong scent of chlorine.

They’re the only people here, and Tony has already dived into the water, and he looks very happy, instead of being terrified and looking for the nearest exit like one other particular person in the room.

“Come on, Pete!” he calls. “The water is nice!”

Peter’s throat tightens. “Um, I- uh,” he stammers, trying to think up some sort of excuse, but Mr. Stark is waiting for him, eyes twinkling and water dripping from his dark hair, and Peter doesn’t want to disappoint him so he makes his way forward on shaking legs.

He crouches by the very edge of the pool, despite the thousand alarms going off in his head, and Tony swims over to him.

“Come on,” Tony says again, reaching out for Peter’s arm. Peter freezes when water droplets make contact with his bare skin.

Tony, still smiling, unaware of how close to hyperventilating Peter is, takes a gentle hold of his arm, and tugs. It’s meant to be gentle, an attempt to coax him, and it is, really, except that Peter isn’t very focused right now and it’s enough to send him over the ledge into the water.

The temperature is uneven, a swirl of cold and warm, separate, but still mixed, and the water is wet and it’s everywhere and it’s heavy, why is does it feel heavy, and why is there no air, why can’t he breathe, he’s thrashing, sinking, why won’t his body swim, the breath leaves him in a stream of bubbles, where’s the air, he can’t breathe—

A strong pair of hands pulls him back up to the surface.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter manages between coughing up water and sucking in air, “I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s okay,” Tony says, and in true Tony Stark fashion starts rambling, “it’s okay, Pete, just breathe. I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, I shouldn’t have pulled you into the water like that, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you couldn’t swim—”

“No,” Peter interrupts, “it’s not that. It’s not that, it’s…ever since that one time, with the Vulture, he dropped me into that lake, and I thought I was gonna die, Mr. Stark, and I would have if you didn’t come and save me, and ever since then, the water just…scares me.”

And just like that, Tony is scooping him up like he’s a little kid, and carrying him out of the pool room. He gives Peter a towel to dry off, and looks at him, with his hands on Peter’s shoulders.

“How come you never told me?” Tony asks.

Peter can breathe better now that he’s away from the water, and he is silently glad Tony knew what he needed to make him feel better. He’s not glad about the guilty look that paint’s Mr. Stark’s face, Mr. Stark isn’t—Tony isn’t supposed to like that.

Peter shrugs. “It’s not your fault, Mr. Stark. I guess it just never really came up.”

“Will you tell me next time? If there’s ever something bothering you, I want to help.”

A nod.

“Well,” Tony says, straightening and moving to stand, “that’s certainly enough swimming for tonight. Or forever. What do you say we go back up to the room and watch a movie instead? I think we can probably pay-per-view Star Wars or something.”

“That sounds great,” Peter grins. He means it this time.

#irondad and spiderson #peter parker #tony stark #iron man #spiderman #hurt/comfort #angst #kinda i guess lol #references to drowning #aunt may #prompt fill #can yall let me know if theres any tags you think i should add??#thanks!!!#also lmk if yall see any glaring errors lol im tired and my proofreading skills want me to sleep #also I apologize if it formatted weird lol idk tumblr is weird

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realestatemarketingtips8-blog · 6 years

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shop-korea · 10 months

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aonecleaninglasvegas · 3 years

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architectnews · 3 years

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Villa Pamphili Hotel Rome, Italy

Villa Pamphili Hotel Rome Refurbishment, Italian Capital Accommodation Building, Italy Interior Photos

Villa Pamphili Hotel Rome Renovation

15 July 2021

Villa Pamphili Hotel Rome Renewal

Architects: Dexter Moren Associates

Location: Roma, Italy

Dexter Moren Associates unveils wellness-oriented approach at Villa Pamphili Hotel in Rome

After three years, an investment of over 25 million euros and a complete renovation, Villa Pamphili Hotel in Rome has reopened its doors on 1st July. Surrounded by a flourishing urban park in the Valle dei Casali, the interior redesign for Villa Pamphili was devised and delivered by international hospitality design expert Dexter Moren Associates’ (DMA) interiors team and positions the hotel as a reference point for an international clientele looking for the comfort of a resort just a few steps from the centre of Rome.

Villa Pamphili Hotel is owned by Antirion SGR through the Antirion Global Comparto Hotel fund, and is managed by Aries Group, a hotel management company specialising in the management of real estate assets with a tourist vocation.

The four-star hotel showcases more than 230 entirely redesigned rooms, offering a reinterpretation of the Italian style with a biophysical spatial approach, a swimming pool and a spa. The hotel also comprises an innovative 1600sq m conference centre, with 15 meeting rooms and a capacity of over 500 seats. To complete the offer, the hotel opens up to the city with its Terrazza Pamphili restaurant, located on the panoramic rooftop on the fifth floor of the structure.

DMA’s design for the scheme is inspired by the location and its villas, the local seventies architecture and the legendary Italian designer Gio Ponti. Lindsey Bean-Pearce, Partner, DMA Interiors, explains: “The concept for the hotel was directed by DMA’s ethos of developing a ‘neighbourhood story’ unique to the site – in this case, the location, the Mediterranean vibe and the existing seventies period architecture provided the inspiration for a ‘Miami beach’ feel.

This complemented the iconic Italian aesthetic; merging a city hotel (Urban) with a resort (Villa) to create a venue for local and international leisure and business guests to experience Rome’s abundant and multi-layered history while enjoying all the comforts of a wellness-oriented environment.” To create a strong connection with the outdoor landscape, DMA relocated the hotel’s existing bar to one end of the hotel’s ground floor, into a prominent location with a dedicated entrance, making the bar more accessible not only to guests but also to occasional visitors.

The warm peach ambience of the bar merges into a lobby lounge wrapping around to the terrace at the rear with views of the surrounding park. The rigidity of the existing travertine column grid is softened by the insertion of joinery pieces and benches to create cosy pockets of seating, while bookshelves help to screen the grand bold green staircase that leads to the lower ground restaurant.

Rich earthy terracotta shades, inspired by the local architecture and landscape, and timber finishes bring warmth and authenticity to the à la carte restaurant. The biophilic atmosphere of this F&B space is enhanced by the use of outdoor bistro chairs and planting to echo and connect to the rich foliage of the garden.

Bold stripes and contrasting Klein blue ceilings work together to ground the volumes of the main spaces, while handmade tiles frame the show kitchen where experienced chefs will complete the unique dining experience.

The standard guestrooms, influenced by the modern Italian design heritage, are composed of mint green and taupe colour blocking to the walls, punctuated by geometric painted artworks. The rectilinear lines of the slatted headboards contrast the curved joinery, itself topped with burgundy glass and accentuated with brass detailing, whilst bathrooms are transformed to provide a resort-style wellness experience.

The top floor suites are surrounded by balconies furnished with sun loungers and dining sets, enabling guests to enjoy the Mediterranean sunsets and the inspiring landscape. The space has been opened to make the most of the view through the floor-to-ceiling glazed windows, amplified by the use of full-height mirrors.

Unexpected geometric murals are the background of the bedroom spaces, utilising soft curved headboards and joinery to create a meandering journey. The curvilinear design sits in contrast with the diagonal stripes used in the bathrooms and walk-in closets, creating a harmonic balance of shapes and colours. These bathrooms feature walk-in showers and bath pods to allow the guests to enjoy views of the outdoors while inside. The pink tones of the textured tiles perfectly match the façade terracotta tones while timber framed vanities and shelving echo the biophilic context of the resort.

Ofer Arbib, CEO of Antirion SGR, comments: “The reopening of the Villa Pamphili Hotel is a particularly significant moment for our company, but also for the city of Rome, which will certainly see the return of a flow of international tourists in the second half of the year. We are proud of the result we have achieved thanks to the collaboration with highly professional and competent stakeholders, and we are also proud to undertake this new adventure with a manager like Aries – a reliable and experienced partner.”

Dexter Moren Associates

Dexter Moren Associates is an award-winning practice of 70 architecture and interior design specialists, working right across the hospitality spectrum. Over the past 29 years in business we have established a world-renowned reputation as leaders in hospitality design, based on our ability to deliver intelligent, creative and bespoke solutions which meld both developer and operator requirements.

With a design-led ethos of ‘creating places people want to stay’, we have taken our hospitality experience into other sectors including resorts, serviced apartments, build-to-rent, co-living and co-working. We are passionate, commercially astute and committed to producing beautiful buildings and interiors that respond to location and context.

Antirion SGR

Antirion is an independent Asset Management Company (SGR in Italian – “Società di Gestione del Risparmio”), focused on the establishment and management of real estate alternative investment mutual funds, that are closed-end type and reserved to institutional investors. Antirion operates with a broad vision based on the differentiation of investments, both in terms of geography and asset class, and with a deep experience which is able to satisfy the needs of each individual shareholder.

Aries Group

Aries Group is a hotel management company specialized in the management of real estate assets with tourist vocation, such as hotels and residences, in the main Italian destinations. The experience gained by the founding partners in the hospitality sector allows them to enhance the value of properties, maintaining a high profitability in their sector. The current portfolio of the group consists of 4 hotels located in the major Italian cities, with a total of 1,640 rooms. The development of a hotel hospitality project, which is made in Italy and chooses the customer centrality, the Italian gastronomy, the organizational platform, and the work team as distinctive elements, is guided by the founding values of the Group, which are solidity, reputation, flexibility, innovation, care, and hospitality.

Villa Pamphili Hotel Rome Building Renovation images / information received 150721 from Architects Dexter Moren Associates

Location: Roma, Italy

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Comments for the Villa Pamphili Hotel Rome Building Renovation design by Dexter Moren Associates Architects, UK, page welcome

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