#gift baskets puerto rico

[miabellabaskets]

Is there a greater gift than a gourmet foods basket for the person you love!

[canonicallysoulmates]

Walker 3.05

I have a bone to pick with this episode. Cassie's family is celebrating the anniversary of the family restaurant, and they're throwing a party. Her heritage is Puerto Rican. As a Puerto Rican, I do find myself disappointed that the representation of my culture boiled down to just Puerto Rico flags everywhere. It's a party in a restaurant, food is a huge part of my culture yet none of our dishes got mentioned and I understand the party was not the focus but- when Cordell tells Cassie that they're going to take a detour so she can go to this family event she says "so...brisket?" even changing that brisket to lechón would have made me happy. I love seeing my flag, I'm glad he knows my island exists but they could have put in little details, we're more than just our love for our flag and dominoes.

That being said but sticking with Walker and Cassie, they have to transport evidence back to Austin but the evidence they're delivering has to do with the people who kidnapped Walker and Liam. When they are on their way the evidence box starts beeping so they decide to open it (they can't call for help cause they have no phone signal they're in the middle of a back road) and it turns out it was just one of the watches beeping but Cassie notices that in the box is also the files that the mercenaries had including the one they had on Walker which happens to be the most thorough, in-depth one. It seems Walker's troubles with this group are not over yet because why are they so obsessed with him? I mean I can't blame them but why are they so obsessed with him?

Trey is officially a Texas Ranger! 🥳 And Micki sent him a gift basket as a congratulations gift 🥺 But not everybody is happy, Trey's mom is struggling with his decision to become a Ranger. She supports her son but she needs time to accept his decision to change his career from safe and steady back into something dangerous. I'm glad they didn't just have her automatically being fine with it but instead they have her dealing with that realistic mix of emotions of being happy and proud and supportive of her son while also fearing for what this career choice will mean for the well being and safety of her child.

This episode did something surprising, it actually made me care about Stella. If you know me, you know I don't particularly care for the kid characters but this ep made me feel so bad for that poor child. I wanna wrap her up in a blanket and then turn around and smack Walker. Because this kid is just doing her thing, she's showing up for work, she's talking with Geri trying to figure out what she wants to do with her life, she's trying to be a good and understanding big sister even though August is being a jerk yet Walker snaps at her and makes her spend the night in jail for a party that she had nothing to do with!

August, who has decided to put the full blame on Stella for not being "cool" in school or getting enough attention at home (take it out on your father not your sister), took advantage of the fact the Side Step was going to be closed that night and threw a party letting his classmates go wild and get drunk. Then his dumbass got locked in the back so he had to text Stella for help, Stella being a decent sister shut down the party and got him out but right behind her were the cops who arrested them.

Understandably Walker was pissed but instead of asking what happened, he assumed it was Stella, placed all the blame on her, wouldn't give her the opportunity to defend herself, and left her crying in jail. I wanna smack him. Yes, Stella has done some stupid shit in her life, and Cordell could sometimes be a bit stricter as a parent, but she owns up to her dumbass mistakes, she did not deserve the way Cordell treated her at that moment. You know who did deserve that treatment? August. He better own up and tell his father the truth. And when he finds out the truth, Walker owes Stella a big apology.

[itgetsdarksometimes35]

Christmas Surprise

Warnings: Dub con, non con, 18+

Word Count: 5,405

Pairings: Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Reader meets Bucky at her Cafe on Christmas Eve. After he thinks she has no one to spend Christmas with, he follows her home where secrets are revealed. 

~ indicates a time change

Prompts: “But you said it would snow.”

This is for @capcountdownchristmas​ challenge. I am, again, so sorry for being so late. Not gonna lie, busted a huge nut while writing this last night. 

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The hours dragged on as the lines around the mall got bigger and bigger. Your eyes stung with exhaustion and you held back the urge to yawn for the 10th time in the last minute. You couldn’t wait to get home, it was Christmas Eve. You would expect people to be home, yet the mall was alive with procrastinators, scavenging to get their last minute gifts. Everything was starting to wind down as you looked to the clock, nearly 5pm. Usually the cafe you worked in closed with the mall, at 10, but your boss insisted you close early at 5. He promised to take his family to Puerto Rico to see family, he wasn’t expecting so many people to be here at 10. He was probably kicking himself, as more people flooded in, they looked like they needed coffee to keep them afloat. You were taken from your thoughts as another customer walked into your vision. He had long dark brown hair with the clearest blue eyes. You were stunned at his beauty but quickly caught your breath and found your best customer service voice yet again. 

“Good evening, sir, are you ready to order?” You smiled to the man. He looked like the man you onced loved. Maybe that’s why you found him so beautiful. You saw your ex husband in his eyes. 

The man looked into your eyes and then back to the menu over your head. He ran his hand down his nicely trimmed beard. “Yeah, I’ll just take a large, hot, black coffee.” You smiled brighter and nodded, his order was painfully easy thank God, then started typing his order’s price into the cash register. 

“Okay, that’ll be $5, sir. Would you like to donate to the children’s Christmas Drive? They need donations to ensure the kids have a nice christmas this year over at the hospital.” You looked back to the man still smiling. 

“Sure.” He reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet. He pulled out a 10 dollar bill and handed it to you. You broke the 10 into two 5’s and put one in the register and the other in the donation jar. 

“Okay, thank you sir. I’ll get started on your coffee.” You closed the register and smiled as you handed his receipt to the man. He mumbled a thank you as you turned to start his coffee. You were the only one working that night, which made the day go only slower. As you pulled out the coffee pot you saw no coffee left. You’d have to make more, which would take about 5 minutes. This would be a nightmare if there were a lot of people in line, but you turned to look and nobody was there except the man with the pretty eyes. 

Thank god you thought to yourself. You started putting the coffee grinds into the coffee maker before putting it on the eye. The sound of the coffee brewing filled the small area as you walked back to the counter where the man stood waiting for his order. 

“Excuse me sir, I apologize but there was no coffee left. I’m making more now, your order should be no more than 5 minutes.” You smiled again, hoping this wouldn’t make him irritated. He already didn’t seem happy with being here. An angry customer was always hard to deal with, especially today. 

“That’s fine. Thank you.”

You nodded and stepped from behind the counter and made your way to the door, flipping the sign to closed. The clock read 5:03. The ones inside the cafe started filtering out, soon it was only you and the man. 

“So, any plans for the holiday?” Your voice seemed to surprise him. He looked to you before replying. 

“Not really,” He stopped talking before jumping a little, standing a bit taller. “How about you?” 

You started cleaning the cafe up, this way you could get out after delivering the coffee, you still wanted to pick up a gift. You had been saving all year for this gift, working several jobs, and now all your hard work would be paid off. You could finally afford it. 

“Nothing. Just get off work and head over to one of these stores and pick up a last minute gift for someone. I’ve been working hard to get it all year, so glad I can finally afford it.”

His face seemed to fall at this. “Husband?”

Now it was your turn to have your face turn down. “No. He passed away 7 years ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright,” You cut him off, your smile returning. “Really. His death was hard on me at first, had to drop out of college and get a job to support myself. It’s led to me having 2 jobs at once, but both are really good to me. Been working at this cafe for 7 years,” You pointed to the donation jar. “A nurse’s aid has been my other job. I like it there a lot, with the kids. I wanted to be a pediatrician so it’s not too far off what I saw in my future. I’m not as rich as I thought,” You chuckled. “But it pays the bills and allows me to have some nice things, buy some things for other people, too.”

You stopped cleaning the table you were working at. You looked up to see the man staring at you intently, you had probably scared him. You hadn’t meant to tell this stranger your life story, but you did have the tendency to blab on. Plus you hadn’t had many to really talk to. “I’m sorry. You didn’t come for story time.” 

He was about to reply when the coffee machine dinged, it was ready. You stood upright, bringing the rag with you to dispose of in the laundry basket, before making your way behind the counter. You silently grabbed a holiday cup before pouring the black substance inside. You popped a lid on and handed it to the customer, making sure to smile. 

“Thank you for waiting, hope you have a happy holiday.”

“Thanks, you too.” He started making his way to the door when he stopped. 

“Something wrong, sir?” You were shrugging on your coat and grabbing your purse and the keys to the cafe. You were ready to leave and get home. 

“Yeah, I forgot your tip.”

You smiled, he was really sweet. “No need sir, really. My tip can be the donation you gave.”

The man turned to you, scrunching up his face. He took out his wallet again, pulling out a bill. “Nonsense. That was a donation, this is a tip,” He walked over to you, handing you a 100 follar bill. “Consider it an early Christmas gift.” 

Your mouth was hitting the floor. $100?! You would never carry around that much money around, your parents taught you better than that. 

“I-I can’t accept this.” You stammered, eyes still wide staring at the money.

“Please, it’ll mean a lot to me.”

You looked up at the man and saw him smiling down at you. It made your heart clench. Your husband acted just like him, they’d be best friends. You smiled before taking the bill with shaking hands. “Thank you. So much.”

“You’re welcome. Get home safe,” He squinted at your name tag. “Y/N.”

You smiled even bigger. “I will, thanks, you too!”

And with that the generous man left you in the cafe. You grabbed the donation can and put it in your bag. You’d deliver it tomorrow on your shift. The hospital never closed, therefore you’d be there. You locked up the cafe, thankful you wouldn’t be coming back there for another 3 days, then made your way to the main area. You still had to get that gift. 

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

You clutched the gift tighter to your body. You didn’t live in a bad part of town, your 2 jobs barely ensured this, but you still didn’t trust someone wouldn’t steal the expensive box in your hands. You went up to your apartment, it was oddly quiet. You figured the person was still at the neighbors, you were home earlier than expected, so you decided to start wrapping the gift. Like every Christmases, the tree stood brightly decorated. Other years small gifts sat under the tree, they were all you could manage. Now, nothing was there. You had kept from spending so you could have this gift you were busy wrapping now. You were excited, they were going to be so excited. You looked outside your window and frowned. It still wasn’t snowing. The weather man said it would be by now. 

You were finishing the wrapping when the doorbell rang. They’re here! You quickly fix your hair and put the newly wrapped box under the tree before making your way to the door. You wished you could’ve changed, had a quick shower maybe. Oh well. 

You opened the door with a smile and was about to hug the person on the other side when you realized it wasn’t who you thought it was. Far from it even. 

“Hi, Y/N!”

It was the man from the cafe. How did he get here, why was he here? 

“I saw you come into the apartment. Would you believe I have family right down there?” 

You smiled and relaxed a bit. He wasn’t a crazy stalker. “Wow, that’s crazy! I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah...They’re about to head out to go caroling. Not really my thing, so I think I’m going to head home. Wanted to just pop in before I left though.” He seemed to be stalling in your doorway. Like he didn’t want to go.

“Oh, well would you like to come in? I was going to start making hot chocolate.”

His eyes brightened at the idea. “Yeah! Erh- I mean are you sure? Wouldn’t want to impose…” His voice trailed off, as if he were hinting at something. 

“No, not at all!” You pulled him inside before closing the door. 

“My name’s Bucky by the way. Sorry for not introducing myself earlier.”

You started walking toward the kitched before turning your head over your shoulder to look at him and smile. “Hey Bucky. I’m Y/N as you know,” You laughed with him as you took milk out of the fridge. “You can have a seat wherever. I know it’s not much, but we make do.”

Bucky nodded before taking a seat on the couch. The walls were bare, dark squares in their place. He frowned at them. “Were there pictures hanging here before?”

You poured the milk into a pot on the stove and turned the eye on then walked to where you could sit next to Bucky on the couch. “Yeah, they were of my husband. I took them down after he… I just couldn’t seem to move on with them there. I meant to put them up again one day, when I could handle it, but I still don’t think I can. Not even 7 years later. Now I’m not one for pictures, would rather live in the moment.” You stopped talking and turned to him. He was staring at you. It made you kind of uncomfortable. Why did he look at you like that? You shifted under his gaze before smiling again. “There I go again, talking your ears off.” 

Bucky shook his head, hair shifting around his shoulders perfectly. “No, I like it. Not had anyone to talk to in years, I like to listen more anyway.” You nodded. All you had done since your husband passed away was listen. Sure, you enjoyed it, but what you’d give to have someone hear you for once. 

“Your family not one for listening?”

“Not really. They’re often off in their world when I talk. My brother, Steve, is always trying to get me to talk, and he listens, but I can’t stand the look he gives me when I do talk, like I’m nothing but my problems. He says I can talk to him, and I can, but I can’t help but to feel judged by him. I know he’s trying his best, but I wish I could talk to someone new. Someone who didn’t know my past.”

You stared at him stunned. It was the most he had talked to you. Then again, he was a stranger. Which pricked at your nerves, you had let a stranger into your home. He could’ve been a killer, especially with this talk about “his past”. 

“Who did you say your family was? I know everyone in the building and I’ve lived here for about 10 years. I feel I should’ve seen you at a Thanksgiving or Christmas or something.”

In that moment the stove started making sizzling noises, your milk was flooding over. You jumped up to move it off the eye and turning the hot one off entirely. The milk starts to stop bubbling when taken off the eye and you turn to get the cocoa packets. Right then you’re met with the hard chest of Bucky. How long was he behind you?

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You tried to side-step him but he was quick to get in front of you again.

“Bucky?”

“You know, Y/N, I was really relieved that you didn’t recognise me. It took me a while to realize who you were in the coffee shop.I was hoping you weren’t married. You had been the first person to talk to be in a long time. Besides Steve, of course. I felt something, a connection. But when you mentioned a gift, I’ll admit, I was pissed. I wanted you to myself. A sweet, gorgeous girl like you is hard to come by now. When you mentioned your husband's death 7 years ago I finally remembered you. I wasn’t sure at first, but I’m pretty sure,” He looked around the walls again then back your terrified face and trembling body. Who was this guy? “You have no pictures up so you’ll have to correct me if I'm wrong. Was your husband an ex Shield agent by any chance?”

You relaxed a bit. Your husband was a Doctor, he passed away in a car accident on his way home from work. 

“No. He was a doctor,” You glanced to the door. You were angry at yourself for letting this clearly delusional man into your home. He had no family here, and he followed you home. Now he thought he knew you and your family. “Bucky, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to ask you to leave before I call the police.” Again you tried to step around him. 

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you close. “I don’t think I will, doll.” You looked up to Bucky with wide searching eyes. You looked around you, scouting out something to use as a weapon. Anything. Your eyes landed on the mugs and you reached out to them. 

“No you don’t.” You screamed as you were thrown over your shoulder. You thrashed in his hold, trying to wiggle free. 

“Bucky, stop! Let me go now!” You were settled back on the couch, Bucky reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out rope.

“Didn’t think I’d use these on you. Expecting to put them on that boyfriend of yours, but I suppose since he’s not here yet..” Boyfriend? 

He made quick work tying your hands together behind you before keeping a stern hand on you upper left arm and turning you to face him.

“Good. Better?”

“Fuck you.” You spat

Bucky smiled wider at you. “There’s the feisty woman I remember.”

“Remember? We’ve never met.”

“No, we haven’t. Not officially. I studied you from afar, back when my name was still the Winter Soldier,” The name seem to make him shiver. “I saw you and your husband, watched you for weeks. You were different then. A feisty young thing. No wiser to who your husband was.”

“You have the wrong person. My husband was a doctor, not an agent.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at you. “Yeah, that’s what you said then. His nurse, Nancy? The one with short brown hair? Not really a nurse, doll, she was an agent. And so was he.” The girl did ring a bell. She always had a lingering touch on your husband, one you didn’t like. You had complained to him a lot about her, he always told you she had nothing on you. You believed him. 

Bucky’s hand reached into his pocket again. You watched him and realized he was wearing leather gloves. Strange for the weather. He took out a photo and showed you. It was a picture of you and your husband at a party at his work. The day before he died. They had thrown him a party, he had saved someone’s life through dire circumstances. The next day he was supposed to have off, but he had to go in for an emergency surgery. He never made it back home. 

“He had just killed a couple of people that worked for an organization called HYDRA. They weren’t happy, so they sent me to kill him. As always, I watched my target for weeks. I was waiting for the perfect moment,” He caressed your trembling face, you were close to tears. “The day after this photo was taken I shot him while in his car. False phone call and everything got him out of the house and away from you. Guess even with my brains in the blinder I had fallen for you. Didn’t want you seeing your husband's brains all over the floor. All these years later I see you in that cafe,” Bucky shook his head. “I couldn’t stand the fact that I had done that to you. If I had known I would’ve done this sooner.”

You shook your head. This didn’t make sense. The police ruled your husband’s death a terrible car accident. He had been driving at night and exhaustion behind the wheel caused him to crash into the wall. He wasn’t an agent. He hadn’t killed anyone. But this guy claimed he did, and that he had killed his husband. All the while being called the Winter Soldier. It made you uneasy. 

“You’re lying.” You started trying to move away from Bucky again, but he easily pulled you back using his grasp on you arm. 

“I wish I was. I was a monster, but so was your husband. Killing people, some of them innocent. Then he came home and lied to you. I’d never lie to you.” He was inching closer to you now, you could feel his body heat.

You whimpered when he pressed his lips to you, refusing to kiss back. He pulled away after a moment and looked into your eyes, his blown black with lust. “I’ve been wanting to do that for so long. And now, you’re mine. I don’t care who he is, he’s going to learn you’re mine now and I don’t plan on letting you go.” Who was he?

Before you could ask he brought his left hand to your left breast and squeezed. You whimpered again and tried to shove him away best way you could with your binded hands. 

“Bucky, no please.”

Bucky smiled again. “What’s wrong? You afraid your boyfriends going to show up?”

“N-no! Please, just don’t do this. Let me go.”

“No can do. I told you, you’re mine,” His hand traveled down your chest and below your stomach, stopping near your heat clad jeans. “Besides, I can’t let you spend Christmas alone.”

Just then Bucky made quick work unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them down. You jerked your hips trying to make the process harder for him, but alas your motives didn’t deter him. He slided them along with your panties down revealing your pussy to him. 

Bucky hummed in approval. He looked to your shirt and quickly grabbed it, ripping it from your body. 

“Bucky stop!”

He ignored you as he clipped off your strapless bra, leaving you completely nude to him. “You’re prettier than I imagined, dear.” He licked his lips looking you up and down. He removed his gloves and shrugged off his jacket. You gasped as his left arm shined in the light. It was metal. He removed his shirt before dropping his jeans, leaving him in his underwear. His member strained in the thin fabric, aching for freedom. He was huge. Bigger than anything you had ever taken. Bucky saw you watching and smirked down at you before palming himself. 

“I’ve been hard since the cafe,” He growled. “Never been the hard before. If I’m being honest, all I want for Christmas is you, doll.” He removed himself from his underwear and groaned. He kicked the fabric away and gripped his base before groaning again. He walked over to you again before getting to his knees in front of your heat. You hated to admit it, but you were growing wet. Years of nights spent alone with your toys, none filling you the way a man could, the way your husband did. Most of the time you went to sleep unsatisfied, and others you just ignored the urges entirely. Majority of the time you worked so there wasn’t much you could do anyway. 

Bucky brought himself forward and licked a line from your entrance to your bud. He moaned at the taste. 

“You taste like heaven, doll.” He brought his hand to either thigh, spreading you out more for him. He dove back in, feasting on your pussy like a final meal. Your stomach was doing flips at this old pleasure, something you hadn’t felt in years. You were biting back the noises you wanted nothing more than to let fly, and it took everything not to grind your hips into face, bringing your core more into his mouth. It wasn’t until he brought a finger to your hole that you couldn’t contain the moan that slipped. Bucky looked to you through lashes and smiled into your heat. He pumped the finger into you before adding another, you relished in the stretch your fingers could never bring. Your hips started on their own accord and you let them. Bucky moaned into your core and you shook from the vibrations. Your body was in control and you didn’t mind, too blissed to care at the moment. Finally, Bucky curled his fingers into you at the right spot that had you seeing stars. You moaned out loud in ecstasy and Bucky fought to keep your thighs from closing around his head as he continued to slurp you up. 

He stood up and removed his fingers from you, popping them into his mouth. His eyes rolled back as he sucked on them before removing them. 

“That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You were still catching your breath when Bucky sat down. Your mind was still cloudy with your orgasm as he lifted you onto his lap, his hot member pressing into your sensitive cunt. 

“B-Bucky, wait-”

You were cut off by Bucky pulling you all the way down on him. You gasped from the stretch and he hissed from your tight walls hugging him. He could stay like that all day. 

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” 

He held onto your hips and starting moving you up and down in a slow rhythm. You were growing accustomed to his length and the pleasure starting building yet again. The room started to grow hot, despite the freezing temperatures of New York City outside, and your bodies felt sticky. Bucky started picking up the pace, the sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the room. Your moans mixed with his.

“Shit, your pussy is so good, hugging me so good.” He slapped your ass, guiding you faster and faster on his cock. He looked down where your bodies met and moaned as he watched his cock disappear into you before reappearing wetter. “This feels good doesn’t it? You like it when I fuck you on your coach don’t you?” He reached down and found your bud again, making you cry out. “Tell me you like he.” He growled through gritted teeth, dark eyes boring into yours.

“I like it.” Your voice weak with pleasure.

Bucky hummed, working you harder against him. 

“You’re gonna make me come baby. I want you to cum first. Let go on my cock, I want you dripping all down my dick, doll. Can you do that? Can you cum on my cock like a good girl?” 

You nodded your head, you were close and wanted it so bad. He was fucking you so good it hurt. Your breath was getting faster and your eyes threatened to close. Bucky flicked your bud again before you exploded. You came loud, clenching his cock in a viper grip as your release shook your body and threaten to slide down his thick cock. Bucky didn’t stop, he was determined to finish as he rocked you harder, his eyes closed in intense pleasure. His hips rose to meet yours when he finally hit up into you one last time before screaming your name. You felt him cum deep in you, he ground his hips a little to work himself through it. 

As you both caught your breath he hugged you close to him. His breath fanned over your shoulder as your overworked body slumped beneath his chin. Your eyes were heavy with exhaustion. After a while Bucky removed you from him, settling you carefully on the couch, his sum drizzling out of you a bit. He got up and moved in the back while you sat still, still too dazed to think about the fact he had cum in you with no protection. You’d have to deal with it later. 

Bucky came back with a wet washcloth, a night shirt, and fresh underwear. He carefully cleaned your core before dressing you, then himself. He was just untying your wrist when a knock on the door sounded. You both looked to it in shock then to each other. Your eyes were wide on him and he just smiled again. You made to stand but he pushed you down. 

“I got it.” Was all he said while he stood up, his tall frame moving to the door. You rubbed your wrist, tears threatening to spill over; you knew who was at the door. 

Bucky pulled the door open. 

“Sorry we’re late, we went to the park and let time get ahead of us - Oh! Hello.” The old woman, Mrs. Kim, stood at your door talking with Bucky. He wasn’t looking at her, though, he was looking at Oliver. 

“That’s no problem, Mrs. Kim. Did he have a good time?” You screamed from your place on the couch. Mrs. Kim looked passed Bucky to you and smiled.

 “Oh yes! He couldn’t stop talking about a train set Kid’s Kompany just released. It sounds awesome.” She looked down at the little boy who smiled up at her. Your heart leapt in your chest and you looked to the gift under the tree. He did nothing but talk about the set since he first saw it on tv, you were so glad you were able to get it. 

“Thanks again Mrs. Kim.”

“No problem, honey. Oliver is such a joy, have a good night,” she looked to you then Oliver then back to Bucky. “It was nice meeting you, dear.” She held out her hand to Bucky, to which he shook still eyeing Oliver. Mrs. Kim winked at you and walked away, back to her apartment. She was a nice old woman, her and her husband always agreeing to help with Oliver. She always said you needed to move on from your husband. I guess she thought Bucky was the next prince charming. She was sort of right. 

Oliver looked at Bucky curiously with his big blue eyes, they fancied his dad’s and Bucky’s you thought, before sidestepping him into the apartment. He wanted to know who Bucky was, but you raised him to not be rude. He’d more than likely ask later if he wasn’t introduced. He looked to you and smiled wide before running over with his arms spread out out, ready for a hug.

“Mommy!”

You smiled at your son as he ran into your arms. You hugged him close to you, kissing his dark locks. 

Bucky shut the door before turning to you entirely. 

“Mommy, it’s not snowing.” Your son said with a pout.

You smiled sadly at him, you knew he was disappointed. “I know, honey”

“But you said it would snow.”

“I know I did, the weatherman said it would.”

“It still might.” You and your son looked to Bucky. He was smiling at your son while leaning on the wall, arms crossed. 

“Really?” His blue eyes filled with excitement and he ran to Bucky before you could stop him. Your eyes rounded with fear. 

“That’s right. In fact, when it does we’re going to go sledding.”

Oliver turned to you, his excitement growing. He turned back to Bucky. “Sledding? I’ve never been.”

“You’ve never been sledding before? Well, its awesome, you’re gonna love it, Oliver.”

Your son’s name sounded like venom on Bucky’s lips. How dare he volunteer to take your son somewhere? You’d raise Hell before you allowed that to happen. 

Oliver’s curiosity burst and he asked, “Who are you?”

Bucky acted stunned and looked between you and Oliver. You shot daggers at him, what was he doing?

“Did mommy not tell you, bud? I’m your dad.”

Now you were furious. Oliver had never met his dad or seen photos. You were just 2 months pregnant with him when his father died. He hadn’t even known, you planned to tell him the night he died. You had said you had no photos of him when he asked. You planned to show him, but one drunk sad night you threw them away. You had missed his father deeply, surely he wouldn’t need photos. It was a stupid move on your part; a sad, stupid move. 

Oliver looked stunned but quickly jumped with joy and hugged Bucky tight. Bucky returned the hug. Oliver was close to tears looking at his “dad”. 

“Where have you been dad? I missed you so much, mommy said you died before I was born.”

“I know buddy I’m sorry. I had to trick mommy because I was scared to meet you. But now I’m here, and I will never leave you guys again. Mommy won’t have to work anymore and we’re going to move in together. How does that sound?”

Oliver nodded his head yes. “It sounds good, daddy!”

You looked on stunned. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. 

Bucky picked up Oliver and moved to where you sat on the couch. He sat him in your lap and moved to the tree. He picked up the present and walked back. He handed the present to Oliver who looked at Bucky surprised. “For me?”

“Yeah, buddy. That’s from mommy, she worked so hard to get that for you.”

Oliver turned to you and hugged you again. “Thanks mommy!”

You hugged Oliver back and smiled at him. “You’re welcome baby.”

Oliver ripped passed the green reindeer wrapping paper to reveal the train set. He squealed with delight and hugged you again, chanting thank yous over and over. Bucky pulled you closer so that you all looked like a family hugging. “My present is going to be sledding. I’m sorry I don’t have anything else, I wasn’t expecting to be coming this Christmas. But next year, I promise it’s going to be amazing,” Bucky said to Oliver. Oliver nodded, his hair bouncing everywhere. He smiled at you and then Bucky. Bucky’s hand traveled down to your stomach. “We have another surprise, buddy. This one’s from us both, so in total you have 3 presents. This time next year, you’re going to have a little brother or sister.” 

Your heart stopped at that. Oliver gasped and looked to you again. “Really? Yay! Best Christmas ever!” He had always wanted a little sibling, you were convinced it’d never happen. Bucky rubbed your stomach, a silent promise played in his actions. You felt sick and your face contorted into fear yet again.

Bucky smiled at you. “Consider it a Christmas surprise.” 

[hurricanerin]

Not Just One of Your Many Toys 1: Don’t Tell Me What to Do

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale/OFC

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: MAJOR SPOILERS, loss of virginity, power imbalance, general dickishness

Summary: Ransom and Olivia have been thorns in each other’s sides for fifteen years.  They’ve tolerated one another, coaxed each other through major milestones, and trampled on one another’s hearts.  After years spent healing from one of Ransom’s toxic outburst, Olivia finds herself subpoenaed by the Drysdale family as a character witness for his criminal trial.  Their son is out of control, and the one person with the best chance of getting through to him wants absolutely nothing to do with the man.   

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Steamier things are coming, my friends.

Listen. Or kick it retro. You won’t regret it.)

Boston, 2005

 There has never been a moment in my life that I haven’t known exactly who Ransom Drysdale is.  We met in the fall of 2005, right after my dad was promoted with General Electric and my family had moved to Boston from Puerto Rico for his new job. I was 13 and Ransom was 19, and I could’ve told you within 5 minutes of enduring his company that he was a playboy and a Grade A narcissist.  

My parents and his mom, the legendary Linda Drysdale, had closed on our new house the week before.  When my papá had mentioned to our realtor that he had 6 engineer brothers and sisters in PR also looking to move to the Boston area, Linda immediately swooped in and took over the sale.  We had moved into the new house for two days when who showed up on our doorstep with a giant Harry and David gift basket on his mother’s behalf? Ransom.  I’ve never seen my mom so taken with a man so quickly.  It was absolutely nauseating.  

My mom and I had been sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast with my little brother when Ransom waltzed in, ruining our meal.  While he charmed my mom, I shooed Gian from the table, stuffed him into his coat and boots and shoved his toast into his hand.  

“You’re gonna miss your bus, vete,” I said with an affectionate push.

He waved me off, but I could see his smile as he scrambled out the door towards his friends.  When I turned around, Mamá was on the phone, distractedly scribbling on a notepad at the center island.  Ransom had seated himself at our table and was examining the gift basket. After retrieving a pear, he rearranged the treats so it looked as if nothing were missing.  Catching my eye, he shot me a grin, took a bite of the fruit and flaunted it in front of me.

“Want some?”

My mom’s groan of frustration cut off my retort as she hung up.  Without missing a beat, Ransom hid the pear behind his leg.

Clipping her beeper to the waist of her skirt, she motioned at my backpack.  “Ol, you need to get your school stuff and hop in the car, I have to go to the hospital early.  I need to drive you; school is on the way.  A patient needs to go into surgery now.”

I scowled and put my hands on my hips. “I’m taking the bus with my friends. You said at this school I could!”

Already gathering her coat and keys, she shook her head.  “I’m sorry, mija.  Not today.  Come on, we need to go.  I can’t leave you alone at home for that long.”

My nose started to sting.  I didn’t want to sit at school alone for an hour and have to explain to my new friends why I wasn’t on the bus like everyone else.

Carefully watching the interaction, Ransom cleared his throat.  “Mrs. Santos, I would be happy to stay with her until her bus comes.  I’m home on break from Yale for the week and would love nothing more than to get to know your daughter,” he offered, radiating charisma.

“Oh Ransom, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Honestly, our house is only a few streets away, so we’re practically neighbors.  It would be no problem.”

She hesitated, glancing from Ransom to her watch. Back home, we didn’t have babysitters. Family played that role.  I couldn’t imagine leaving her 13 year-old home alone with a strange man was high on her list of things to do in the US.

Ransom read the situation well.  “Mrs. Santos, my girlfriend is just at my parents’.  Why don’t I give her a call and the three of us can clean up the kitchen until…,” he motioned at me.

“Olivia,” I snipped.

He didn’t flinch.  “Until Olivia’s bus comes,” he finished with a smile.

“I suppose… that would be alright,” Mamá agreed.  “Your family is so kind!”  Sighing in relief, she snagged me for a kiss goodbye and scurried towards the door.  “Behave, Ol! I’ll see you at dinner,” she shouted over her shoulder.

I listened to the garage door close and turned to find him thumbing through the Harry and David catalogue while dabbing pear juice from his lips with a napkin.  I glared at him for a minute.

“You and your mom are just being nice to my parents because I have a lot of aunts and uncles moving here,” I accused.

He looked up, laughing in surprise.  Nodding his head to the side, he shrugged a shoulder, “You’re not wrong.  Did they tell you that?”

“No, but I can tell.”

A soft ping sounded and he patted his pockets, pulling out a phone from his jacket.  He continued nibbling at the pear until all that was left was the core, then absently dumped it on my abandoned breakfast plate.  I walked closer and peered at the screen in his hands while he typed furiously.

“Do you have any games on your phone?” I asked.

“This isn’t a phone, it’s a Blackberry.”

“Do you have any games on your Blackberry?  Like Snake?  My mom’s phone has Snake.”

“No, it doesn’t have Snake,” he snapped as he pulled a headset from his jacket pocket and plugged it into the headphone jack. Almost immediately it rang and he slipped the earpiece on, pushing me.

“Jackson?”  He sighed at me in irritation and turned away.  “Yeah, come up this weekend.  They’re two Norwegian bitches, semi-professional skiers or something. Super hot.  They’re in the US to train but stopping to vacation in New England or whatever.”  He ran his finger along the wicker of the gift basket while he listened to his friend respond.  With an exasperated sigh, he shook his head.  “No, no, we don’t need to take them sailing for them to put out.”

I stared at him, my jaw dropping.  I knew it was rude to both stare and eavesdrop, but I had never met anyone who was so blatantly awful.

“They’ll fuck us because I’m crazy rich, bro, don’t worry,” Ransom chuckled.  He leaned back against the table and rolled his eyes as his friend prattled on, until his gaze landed on me.  His eyes widened.

“Shit,” he muttered.  “Jax, I’m not alone.  I gotta go.”

He yanked the earpiece off and tossed it on the table, leaning towards me with his elbows on his knees.  

I scowled.  “You don’t really have a girlfriend who’s coming over.”

“Olivia,” he said with a practiced smile that actually reached his beaming eyes.  Ignoring my statement, he took me in for a moment, cataloguing my appearance as his gaze came to rest on my neck.

“That’s such a pretty necklace you’re wearing, did you pick it out yourself?”

My insides tingled a little.  I didn’t like-him-like-him or anything, but he did look like a prince and he had complemented the starfish necklace my parents had given me for my birthday last summer.  It was my favorite.

“It was a present from my mom and dad, from when I turned 13 last year.”

“Christ,” he muttered under his breath.  Something about me being a kid.  I didn’t know what that meant, because he made an angry face. But that quickly went away and then his prince face was back.

“That was my friend Jackson on the phone,” he motioned at his Blackberry with his thumb, “We go to college together.  We joke around a lot,” he chuckled, rubbing my shoulder. “You do that with your friends, too, right?  Tell jokes, mess around?”

Confused and skeptical, I nodded.

“And you don’t always tell those jokes to your parents, because they don’t understand them.  You keep them between you and your friends.”

I raised my brow, trying to look formidable.  “You don’t want me to tell my mom what you were talking about.”

The friendliness in his expression melted away, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards instead.  “Exactly.”

 To this day, I wish I could say I stuck up for myself; that I told my mom how much of a jerk he was.  How he was a deceptive, womanizing liar who didn’t deserve an ounce of our time.  But, I didn’t.  Instead, I stooped to Ransom’s level.

My family had money; my mom was a physician and my dad a senior engineer for GE.  We lived very comfortably.  We had spent several months in the US in an apartment before finding the house, during which they had been earning American salaries and making more than ever.  But, both of my parents came from humble means, sent a lot of money back home to their own parents and grandparents, and did not appreciate the materialism I faced every day at the private school they sent me to.

And Ransom had… a lot of money.  He had made that clear over the phone.  I’m not proud to admit that I requested the Tiffany heart tag bracelet I had seen other girls wearing at school in exchange for my silence.  I’m even less proud that, after scoffing at my proposal, Ransom walked me right past the Tiffany & Co. on Newbury Street and in to Cartier and had me pick out a bracelet there instead.  He said he hadn’t bought Tiffany for a girl since he was my age and that he wasn’t lowering himself.  I still have the bracelet buried in my jewelry box, though I never put it on.  Considering its origins, it feels dirty to wear, but I can’t bear to part with it.

 Boston, 2007

 In 2007, we found out my dad had a mistress.  He had paid for her to move over from PR and had been supporting her in Boston for two years.  That would’ve flown in PR, but in the US, my mom’s friends wouldn’t stand for it. (Especially the female divorce lawyer next door.)  That was more or less the end of my dad’s presence in my life.  There’s a chance he might walk me down the aisle one day, but that’s only if Mamá insists on a super Catholic wedding.  

My dad leaving didn’t affect me like it did my mom and Gian. I had my friends and tennis, but Gian was younger and quieter; he and my dad spent a lot of time with little robot projects and those LEGO sets and I could tell he missed him.  Mamá was lonely at home, too; she and my dad had been together since high school.  She had spent a lot of time taking care of him, despite her working 60 hour weeks.

A few of my dad’s sisters hung around as moral support, but Papá eventually pressured them until they stopped coming to see us.  However, there was an additional isolated party within our vicinity who also needed a group of humans to latch onto; someone with the capacity to fill the role of both quasi-paternal figure (figure, not role model), and platonic spouse.

I’d seen Ransom with Mrs. Drysdale; at best, she spoiled her son.  At worst, she placated him with money, demeaned and dismissed him.  Even I didn’t appreciate how she treated him and most days I didn’t like him.  After graduating last in his class from Yale, Ransom took the year off to get away from her. Not a normal “take the year off” where you travel to learn about yourself, or work, or anything like that. Instead, Ransom bought property in the Maldives and imported $500,000 worth of Dom Perignon—the Rose Gold kind—, and flew in ballerinas from Moscow while telling his mom he was joining the Peace Corps for a girl.  When there was fraud on his black AmEx and he had to phone home for help, there was hell to pay when the call came from not Mongolia.  Linda cut him off and kicked him out.

For six months, but still.  This was Ransom.

My mother, bless her heart, would have absorbed all children needing a home if she could.  And, though he was 21, Ransom definitely qualified as such a child.  I honestly think Ransom needed the mothering, too. Growing up with a nanny paid to give you care is not a replication of a mother’s love, which he never had in the first place.

Ransom always showered Mamá with attention, asking how she was with utter sincerity while maintaining direct eye contact, thanking her for the work she did as a cardiac surgeon, and other general sycophantic niceties.  I was terrified that would change for the worst after he moved in, despite their generous age gap.  A freshly divorced woman could’ve been new prey for him.  It wasn’t that she didn’t know who and what he was—she was under no illusions.  But she had a soft spot for the broken bad boy with mommy issues and indulged him.

I watched him like a hawk when he was around her, but he never made a move.  He certainly let her wait on him; she cooked him food from scratch and listened to him talk while she cleaned up the kitchen, but he was never salacious.  I still give him props for that.  It would have been an entertaining game for him, one he would’ve easily won.  

It helped that he was gone half the time.  He still had his car, keys to the Hamptons house and access to his friends’ jets and properties.   I’m pretty sure Richard was also slipping him $50k a month because Ransom rebuilt his wardrobe pretty quickly.

I will admit I was slightly… antagonistic towards him during the beginning of his time with us.  I may have picked a few fights.  He wanted to watch Sin City because of Jessica Alba; I wanted to watch the Corpse Bride.  He left questionable-looking hair trimmings in the shower drain and you can bet I was pounding on his door.  He gave me that look when I thought I had dressed nicely, and I may or may not have launched myself at him.  But, near the middle of his stay, we learned to co-exist, and even had some decent conversations.  I chilled out when I saw how he was with Gian.  

I’m not sure Mamá ever officially asked Ransom to step up while he was living with us, I think the only conditions she had was that he tip the cleaning people an extra $150 for how bad his room was, not have his douchey friends over past 10pm, and no sleepovers with the opposite sex.  But, it was obvious to everyone under our roof that Gian looked to Ransom for companionship.  And, to my utter surprise, Ransom kind of delivered.  He took Gian to the U.S. Open and up to Lake Champlain to golf a few times, and they’d hang out at the house when Ransom was home.  

Then, one day I heard him call Gian his charity project to his friends as they sat out on the porch.  The second he came inside I punched him in the arm over that.  The weirdest part about Ransom and his awful behavior is that he only kinds of means it.  I mean, the idea was there, he had had the thought that Gian was less fortunate than him and needed his help.  But I also know he genuinely loved my little brother and was making spending time with him out to be a bigger deal than it really was.

Six months to the day, Ransom had a moving company at our doorstep at 8am sharp.  He only had a few hanging wardrobes worth of clothes to move into his new apartment; all of the furniture was being delivered by the dealer, but the man couldn’t lower himself to drive his own U-Haul.  By that time, I had developed an appreciation for Ransom.  It was kind of nice to have someone older to talk to, even though he had no conception of what real life was like.  He was okay.  I didn’t miss sharing a dwelling space with him, but I did kind of miss him.

 Boston, Fall 2009

 That fall, I was 18 and a senior at the Winsor School and Ransom was 25 and bullshitting his way through his Master’s of Science in Business Analytics at Princeton.  I preferred not to ask questions regarding his attendance or grades.  I figured the less I knew, the less I could be implicated in some scandal involving the university and bribery.

High school wasn’t a great time in my life. The kids at Winsor were spoiled and came from generations of overachievers.  You could say there were a lot of Ransoms, I suppose; self-serving, arrogant, brutal, conceited, rich kids.  I’m not saying I didn’t share some of those traits, I knew I was fortunate, but I liked to think I was a decent person.  As a result, I was relatively lonely.  I had the varsity tennis team, and that fit my basic  need for socialization.  But not once did I ever entertain the thought of a boyfriend.

As the years progressed, I waited for the mutual attraction for my peers to arrive.  It never did. At that age, even if boys had adopted the air of sophistication they had seen modeled at home and had the ability to charm, they severely lacked in a different department, like intelligence or maturity.  I shut down every advance without a second thought and didn’t look back.

Until, that is, my Senior year.  As leaving home was becoming a reality, I decided I didn’t want to go to college a virgin.  I just didn’t.  Things happen in college, things you don’t always have control over, and I liked control.  I liked control very much.  And I wanted to have control over when and how I gave it up.  And I wasn’t giving it up to some 18 year old I had dated for a three months who couldn’t kiss and also didn’t have the experience to help me enjoy the process.

But I knew someone who did.

I smirked as a key sounded in the lock, Ransom had never given his back from a few years ago.

“Ol?” his voice echoed up the stairs.

“In the kitchen!”

The old stairs creaked as he ascended, heading straight for the refrigerator without even looking at me.

“Hey,” he nodded in greeting.

“Hey.”  For the first time in my life, I was nervous talking to him.  I’d texted him, asking if he could stop by, which wasn’t out of character.  He usually popped in at least once a month to return a book, pick up a sweater he forgot that my mom had washed or have dinner with us.  He lingered, even after moving out.  The flight from Princeton to Boston was only an hour, and it meant a lot to Gian, to all of us, really, that Ransom still visited.

While Ransom dug through the fridge, pulling out some leftover chorizo, I set about throwing together some protein smoothies for us.  He had left a container of ridiculously expensive something something collagen protein at our house the last time he was there and it was expiring soon, so I split the remainder between us.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw him fuss with the microwave.

I raised a brow.  “You know how to use kitchen appliances?”

He took an exaggerated bite of a sausage slice. “Selectively,” he winked.

I bit my cheek to keep from laughing.  Ransom’s “selective” helplessness didn’t need encouragement.

I think what we worked in was companionable silence, but I’m not positive.  I was pretty geared up, so it was hard to tell.  Settling at the table, I laid plates out for both of us, chewing my lip.

“I have a favor to ask.”

“I can’t get you into Yale early decision, but I can get you in,” he said as he reached for his smoothie.

I rolled my eyes.  “I’ve already gotten into Brown on my own, which was my first choice, thank you. What I need is… different.”

“What is it?  I’ve got cash with me.”

“Ransom!  Listen to me. Just let me ask my question.”

“Okay!” he chuckled, his eyes gleaming as he swirled his glass.

“Okay,” I repeated, my heart pounding in my chest. I made myself look him in the eye. All of a sudden I wanted to cry? What if he said no?  What if he laughed?  What if he never talked to me again?

“Ol, you’re getting pale.  You look like you’re about to ask me to skin a cat.”

“Shut up,” I grumbled, seconds away from losing my nerve. I inhaled deeply, folding my hands on the table in front of me and sitting up straight.

“Ransom,” I began.

“Olivia,” he countered, his face comically serious.

“I want you to take my virginity.  Now that I’m 18—.”

“Hah—You what?  No you don’t, Olivia, you don’t—.”

“I do.”

“Ehhhh,” he made a pained face and shook his head.  “I mean, what do you mean by virginy? What have you done before?”

“Nothing.”

“But you’ve given head though, right?”

I tried to mask my embarrassment with a look of disdain.

When Ransom gaped in surprise, I kicked him under the table.

“A handjob?”

“I said nothing,” I bit out.

The corner of his mouth pulled upward and he tilted his head, his eyes narrowing.  “What about like… getting off with each other?”

I shook my head.  

“Sexting?”

“There’s no one I want to sext.”

He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“But like…”

“I’ve never touched or been touched, Ransom.  I’ve never seen a man naked, okay?”

He sighed.  “I don’t do virgins.  It’s a personal policy.  Especially someone like you who has absolutely no experience.”

That stung, but I kept trying.  “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No—.”

“Are you dating anyone?”

“Ol, I don’t date—.”

“Ransom, this is exactly the type of arrangement you want!” I hissed.

“This should be something you do with a boyfriend, someone your age who you care about and who cares about you.”

I groaned and stormed into the living room, plopping into an easy chair.  

“I don’t want a boyfriend.  I’m going to Brown in the fall, so dating someone now would be pointless. And in Providence, between Chi Omega, studying, volunteering, and AMSA, I just won’t have time for a relationship.”

Ransom couldn’t suppress a laugh as he tailed after me.  “You’re as heartless as I am.”

“I’m not heartless,” I argued.  “I’m practical.”

He gave me a patronizing smile.  “You’ve never done this before, you don’t know how you’ll feel afterwards.  It’s sex. Girls get attached.  I just can’t do that, babe.”

"You can!  Ransom, you can.  I won’t get attached.  I’ll leave you alone after.  I won’t text you for a month.  Please? I—,” my cheeks flamed as I looked down at my hands.  Bickering and bantering with Ransom was easy.  Acting like I disliked him was easy.  But being vulnerable with him?  That was terrifying.  “I want it to be you,” I whispered.  “I don’t trust anyone else.”

With a sigh, he perched on the arm of my chair.

“I’m going back to Princeton on Sunday.  Even if we did it tonight, we wouldn’t have 48 hours together.”

“I don’t care!” I slapped the seat of the chair. “What if—what if I get roofied and lose it to some guy and don’t even remember it?  Or—or someone, you know… one in every four women faces sexual assault in college…”

That perpetual, devious gleam in Ransom’s eyes disappeared.  Something brutal and vicious replaced it.

  “I’d kill him.  I’d kill anyone who touched you like that.”

My chest tightened.  I’d never seen him that serious before, not even when he argued with his mom.  It was a little terrifying.  But, I had carried pepper spray on me for years since moving to the city and I already knew my parents were sending me to college with a SipChip, not that I’d be going to parties anyway.  I tried another angle.

  “I know I’m not the girls you normally sleep with—blonde, white, with yachts and horses and trust funds—

Darkness cast over his face.

“Olivia,” he interrupted.  Brow creasing, Ransom lifted his hand near my face, then hesitated. With a growl, he cupped my jaw. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, brushing the knuckle of the opposite hand against my cheek.  “And trust funds are so mundane.”

I rose from the chair and leaned against his leg. “Then why don’t you want me?”  It took everything in me to keep my voice from breaking.

Ransom shifted uneasily, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Ol, I’ve known you since you were a kid.  I can’t—I just don’t see you that way.”

“You still see me as a child?”

“I guess, yeah.”

Butterflies flapped madly in my belly, but I held my breath and stepped forward between his legs until our chests were pressed together, trapping my hand between us at his groin.  Praying that I applied what I had read correctly, I timidly felt for his cock. He grunted when I wrapped my hand around the outline of its shape and followed it with a shy stroke.

“I am not a child,” I husked in my best seductress voice.

“You said you’d never touched or been touched,” he accused through clenched teeth.

Both proud and embarrassed, I ducked my head. “I don’t like entering a situation unprepared.  I read a lot and watched some videos.”  Realizing the implications of my statement, I turned beet red.  “For research, I mean!”

That earned me a genuine smile.  Sliding one hand around my waist he pulled me closer, then used the other to firmly guide my palm over his half erect cock, rubbing it back and forth.  I blushed as I felt him harden under my fingers.

“What else did you research?”

"Stuff,” I mumbled.

Rubbing his thumb along my hipbone, his gaze fell to his lap, watching my hand work over his erection.  Then his eyes deviated to my front, trailing up my belly to my chest, which was, admittedly, heaving, and slowly made their way to my face. Looking someone in the eye had never made me clench down there before.  It was unexpected, but not unappreciated.

I could see Ransom thinking, his eyes flicking back and forth between mine as he reasoned with himself.

“You need to think this over, you need to really consider what you’re asking me and decide that’s what you want,” he murmured, his voice rough.

My pussy throbbed at the sound, and it took extra concentration not to let my eyes close.

“When have I ever made a rash decision about something this important?  I started thinking about this a year ago.”

He exhaled a laugh, shaking his head.  “Of course you did.”

When his hips gave an involuntary thrust against my palm, he gently pulled my wrist away.

“That’s enough for now.”

Tears pricked at the corner of my eyes.  “Did I do it wrong?  Is that a no?”

He massaged his closed eyelids with his index finger and thumb, exhaling shakily.  “It should be a no.  A good man would say no.”  

Drawing me against him once more, I whimpered as he ground his cock against my belly.  “But I’ve never been a good man, have I, Olivia?”

He didn’t give me an opportunity to respond. The kiss was firm, but delicate. No tongues or biting or slipping or sliding, just lips pressed together, gently massaging.  When he sucked at my lower lip I surprised both of us with a soft moan, causing him to bury his hand in my hair and tilt my head for better access.

I completely lost track of everything, because the next moment of consciousness I had was gasping for air as he pulled away. My fingers were tangled in his hair, my hand clutching his sweater like it was a lifeline, and his thigh was situated between both of mine, applying pressure to my clit that was making me see stars.  Now my mouth was wet, but I didn’t care.

Once I could see straight, I dove for his mouth again, but he stopped me with an unyielding grip on my chin.

“Change,” he rumbled.  “We’ll go to dinner at Menton, I’ll pull some strings and get us a table.  Then back to my apartment.”

I squinted, still reeling from the kiss. “We’re not going to Menton first, that makes it sound like a date.  This isn’t a date, we have one mission to accompli—.”

He gaze grew cold.  “If we do this, we’re doing it my way.  You’re going to listen to me.  I’m in charge.”

My eyes flicked back and forth between his as my entire face and neck glowed pink.  

“Okay,” I whispered.

“Say ‘Yes, sir,’” he corrected me.

“Yes, sir,” I repeated softly.

The pleased smile that spread across his lips gave me a warm feeling in my belly.

“Tonight, I’m going to destroy your pussy,” he whispered against my ear, sucking at my lobe, “I’m going to make you come like a whore.”  Moving to my other side, he spoke softly again, his warm breath against my cheek making me shiver.  “Your future husband will resent me for the rest of your lives, because I’m going to ruin you for any other man.”  Nuzzling my nose with the tip of his, he kissed the corner of my mouth.  “And you’re going to love it.”

I couldn’t help myself.  I was throbbing, there was pressure building in my belly and the man had barely laid a hand on me.  With a high pitched whimper, I sought his mouth again, but he wrapped his huge hand around my throat and shook his head as he held me back.

“Go.  Pick out something nice to wear.  Something you feel pretty in.”

Mouth dry, I nodded.  He caught my arm as I went to leave.

“And Olivia?  Not a scrap of clothing underneath.”

[sassy-santa-baby]

I can finally post this now that I know my bf's giftee received their gift. I handmade this lil frog (I tried to make a coqui) with a leaf bread basket. His giftee said he's from Puerto Rico & is a bread baker, so I thought this was a cute nod to the info he gave.

[memescomicswriting]

In the Pursuit of Happiness Ch. 7

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Reader x Bucky, Reader x Steve

Warnings/genre: Very Angsty Chapter, a few bad words

Summary: Singer!Avenger. Raised by Sheild since the age of ten, Y/N grew up without everyday examples. She only saw how to be an agent. Though as a grown woman she has surpassed that mindset, she still faces challenges from her upbringing- like how to handle feelings, unrequited love, and interpersonal challenges. Set after similar plot points in Civil War, Y/N must face returning home after leaving during an uncomfortable time in her life and facing the consequences

A/N: This is my first series in the Marvel fandom. I hope you enjoy it. I always welcome feedback. It is appreciated. This story does not follow the traditional Marvel timeline. I mess with it to make the story work, so roll with me.

This may be my favorite chapter so far. It certainly was the easiest to write. 

Story Masterlist

A month passed since Steve left. Things continued as they always had. You and the team trained and acted when needed. Peter was heading back to school soon and you were trying to enjoy as much leisurely time with him as you could. You'd have some weekends with him and you would go to visit, but you couldn't take him on trips with his friends to water parks or the beach, trips to Quebec, and long movie marathons with the team. Somehow, wherever you took Peter beyond the compound, Bucky decided he needed to get out as well. You appreciated it. Though you loved Peter and his friends, being all alone with a gang of teenagers could grow draining. Wanda would join you on occasion, but she was indifferent to outings with large crowds of people. Despite Bucky's unease with crowds and a large amount of time in society, he took to the teens, the city, and other places you traveled well. He was fun in the purest sense. He'd make jokes with you while Peter and his friends were distracted. He'd intercede when someone recognized you and refused to leave. He thought ahead and brought you coffee when you seemed tired or a snack you eyed. It reminded you of the old days with Steve; long before you believed he developed feelings for you. You enjoyed having an adult compatriot again.

While Peter shopped for school supplies with Tony, on Tony's insistence, you were left on your own in the compound. There was a nook on the terrace, around a corner no one thought to look past. There, you kept many plants- flowers, herbs, vegetables, and some fruit bushes. It was peaceful and shaded enough to lounge during the summer months. There you often read books- F. Scott Fitzgerald, Orwell, Agatha Christe, and more. Today, you were engrossed with a modern commentary on "A Midsummer's Night Dream." Bucky cleared his throat off to the side of you, making himself known. Slowly, you closed your book after marking your page. "I was wondering where you got off to. Now I know." He eased his way off where he lounged against the concrete wall. There were three other seats open at the patio table, and he sat in chair nearest to you. He brought a journal and glass of iced tea with him. "And what got you wondering?" You inquired. Your book pushed further across the table and you crossed your legs over each other as you leaned back. "Some of the others are going to the tower for a press statement. Do you think you'll go?" He took a sip of his drink and offered you some. You took the drink and plucked some mint from beside you and put it in the drink. Bucky gave you a look, but you continued. "I have a short tour in a week. I'll save the public appearances for those not always in the public eye." You easily shrugged. "I may be able to change my appearance while facing the world as an avenger, but it's draining all the same." Bucky nodded in agreement. You returned his improved drink and settled into some silence for a moment. "Of course you're welcome to accompany me on any tour stop you like. Peter, Tony, Wanda. Vision, Sam, and sometimes the others join in." Steve's name was unmentioned. He often joined you in the past, but now he was a sore spot for Bucky and yourself. If Steve was here now, you're sure you'd still be friends with Bucky but not on the level you were now. You'd both lost your person in Steve's leaving. "Maybe I will in Florida. After years of the cold, I enjoy my tropical missions. I think Miami'd be fun. Maybe your Puerto Rico benefit." He ran a hand through his hair. You could see the wheels behind his eyes turning in thought. Could he handle himself that far away? You reached your hand out and took his. You smiled as warm as the sun when you gave him a gentle squeeze. "Only if you feel comfortable enough to go. I'll always be there to help but I'd never push you beyond what I knew you could handle." His smile grew nearly as bright as yours. The appreciation obvious, with no need for a declaration. "It sounds nice." --- Another month came and went. You thought it would grow easier with time, but this month started darker than the first. Bucky never made it to Miami or Puerto Rico. The night before his flight out he had a relapse. Sam informed you about the incident over the phone. "He just woke up one night with no memories. He wasn't the soldier, but he was confused and cornered like a wild animal. It took two hours and all of Wanda's mental determination to put him down. We aren't sure what triggered the lapse, but the doctors are saying it was his PTSD acting as a protection mechanism. He's traveling to Wakanda for a week and then he'll undergo recoupment here." You felt guilt. Perhaps if you had been there you could have reversed it sooner, without the fight. Maybe it wouldn't have happened at all. "Steve," It was another message to his answering machine. Then tenth so far. You sent one every week. "I don't know if you listen to these, let alone receive them but it helps me to send them all the same." You paused, trying not to lose the composure in your voice. "It's Bucky. He had another lapse. A bad one. Maybe the others informed you, gotten to you. Maybe not. But I think it would help if you returned, for him." You tossed your phone on the overly plush hotel bed. You were defeated. You canceled the rest of your tour following Puerto Rico. On the island, you represented yourself as a celebrity and your views as a hero. You used the Stark relief fund to rebuild the countless homes, businesses, and structures that hadn't received aid. You tossed tour money at any genuine organization, political or otherwise, determined to help the island. You sponsored lawyers. You used your powers to protect protestors from the poorly ordered police. They didn't want to hurt their countrymen, but they had orders to follow so they kept their jobs. When the chaos subsided, and you accomplished what the federal and island government failed at, you returned home. --- "Woah," Clint called out, reeling you back. You were still in your uniform and decked out in the face you presented as an avenger. You were near Thor's build, but slimmer and more feminine. "Hold it there Florence Nightengale. Don't rush him. He needs his sleep. You can see him in the morning. You could easily startle him if you burst in." "Clint," You pulled away and continued down the hall. "I'm not going to startle him. I'm just going to check up on him. See if he needs anything." "You have a tendency," Clint was hesitant to finish. "To overstep respectable bounds Y/N. He's not Steve and you don't have the control like Wanda. Leave him be." You froze in your tracks. Tears were threatening to pool down your face. No, we were here because you caused Steve to leave. Bucky was doing just fine while Steve was around. He relapsed because his person left. This was your fault. Bucky wasn't Steve. Steve who you pushed and pushed until he finally gave in to your demands and explored modern society. Steve, who's demons were further embedded but easier to ward away. You weren't Wanda. She possessed a level of control you dreamed of. She knew her powers and their bounds. Once you thought you had your gifts all figured out, they surprised you again. Ashamed, you focused your blurry vision on your shoes. "I know I'm not Wanda and I'll never be as amazing as her, but I have different talents than her. Some of them may help him heal faster. He's not Steve, but he needs my help." You pushed yourself forward. Clint didn't follow. You were sure he'd return to the common area and have FRIDAY monitor you for him. You slid into the darkened room with ease. It was pitch black in the common area. You slipped with no noise. However, opening Bucky's bedroom door frightened you more than the time you snuck into Sheild headquarters at sixteen after a date. Hopefully, you wouldn't be horrifically caught like that time. The moonlight shown through open blinds so the room was littered with shadows. In the middle of the bed, Bucky slept in a dysfunctional spread but calm. He looked at peace so you wouldn't disturb him. There was a loveseat close to the door. You took up residence there. Figuring you'd make sure he got a peaceful nights sleep, you'd safeguard him until he naturally awoke. However, you were tired from your hasty journey to the compound. You brought yourself home without a plane. Jet lag took a whole new meaning when you were the jet. Your eyes slipped shut even though you tried your best to keep them open. Waking up startled you. It was still night, but a different hour. It was closer to morning. The faintest murmur stirred your intense hearing and you shot up alarmed. "Steve?" The voice was gravelly and distant. It was Bucky from his bed. You looked over your shadow and then yourself. Still in uniform and morphed into a giant, it was easy to confuse you in the dark. "No," Your voice took a hushed approach. Thinking on the spot, you grabbed one of Bucky's clean and folded t-shirts from the laundry basket. Throwing it on, it became as large as a dress as you shrank back to your standard size. You slipped your uniform off from underneath his shirt. "It's me Y/N." Once recognition shown through his moonlit eyes you approached the foot of the bed. "Oh, Y/N." Sleep was retreating form his voice, but you didn't want to stir him so soon. "Go back to sleep. I'll just sit on the loveseat and read or something. I just wanted to make sure you were okay tonight." You ran a hand through your hair and it fell out of your tight bun. Fidgeting with it, you twisted it into a low and loose ponytail. "Y/N come here. You can't stay on that small couch the entire night." He declared and you were inclined to do whatever he said tonight. His body shifted to your left and the right-hand side of the bed remained. "Just come here and talk me back to sleep. You're good at talking." You resisted the urge to smack his chest as you took your place. Even half-asleep Bucky could be the wittiest man you ever met. Settling into the bed should have felt strange, but instead, it was natural. You frequently climbed into the beds of your teammates to talk. Steve's the most often. Maybe it was the familiarity. Peace incircled the bed. "You missed the tour." You faced the ceiling as he did, but the comment was directed at him and not the walls of the room. "Sorry." He muttered with his lips sticking together from the sleep he was just in. "I encountered some complications getting there." You quickly replied. "You should have called me. I would have made certain you got there and enjoyed yourself." "I-I didn't, didn't wanna be a bother." The tiredness in his voice was overpowered by nervousness and shame. Sometimes, Steve felt as though he was a burden to you, especially in the beginning. You spent so much of your time helping him he became conflicted about your motives. Did you do it out of kindness, assumed responsibility, or pity? It was never any of those. Kindness was the closest thing to it. You helped him because you wanted to. Now, you'd do the same for Bucky. You turned to face the man sprawled out next to you. He wouldn't look at you so you leaned up on your elbows and blocked his view of the ceiling with your frame. "James, listen to me." Your voice filled with stern compassion. "You are not, nor ever will be a burden to me or anyone else on this team. Got it?" He quickly nodded in understanding; perhaps afraid of what would happen if he didn't. You settled back down next to him, closure this time. "Contrary to what your doubts tell you, we like having you around. You're the most loyal and dependable person I've met besides Steve. You're funny and so smart that it nearly kills me sometimes. You could give Bruce and Tony a run for their money if you took up their studies. You're a great role model for Peter. And best of all, you're the most amazing friend. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have made it these past two months. I owe my strength now, to you." Bucky never replied to you after your impromptu speech. If you scared him with your thoughts, so be it. He needed to hear it. Your fears of that drained however when his fingers intertwined with yours. The intimacies in it spoke profound volumes. He couldn't bring to words how much he needed someone to say all those things. In appreciation, he brought your intertwined hands to his lips and kissed your smooth skin available to him. Things stilled in the universe surrounding you two. The crickets faded into nothing. Owls grew silent. Even your breathing drew elongated into silent sweeps of breath. Both of you fell asleep like that- in mutually appreciated silence and touch. You slept in that morning due to the lump of super-soldier weighing you down as his personal pillow. --- After that night, Bucky became far more comfortable with touching you. He hadn't shown any problem with it before, but he was far more generous with personal contact now. Everything was platonic. At least that's how it felt. Whether or not the others saw it that way was a different story. Before, his contact with others was limited to pats on the back from Sam or Steve, check-ups from Bruce, and the occasional shoulder squeeze from Nat. His fingers brushed yours on occasion, but it was always in passing. That night released a floodgate of touch starved longing. Bucky began by sitting with his body pressed to yours on the couch. Quickly, he moved on to taking your hand when it was free; even when it was inconvenient. He'd rest his arm on your shoulder and then his head. After exhausting missions, he asked for shoulder rubs on the jet ride back. If you were tired, you'd still agree to it. If he worked up the courage to ask, then he needed it. Slowly, he built his way up to embrace you. One morning, you woke up exceptionally early. When your body refused to let you go back to sleep, you just got up and started your day. The smell of fresh coffee drew you to the kitchen. There, Bucky sat with his head supported by his elbows propped up on the table. His normally silky hair was caught in knots that blanketed his face. Shards of a coffee mug decorated the floor around him. Temporarily ignoring the mess, you took the free seat next to him. Unlike the others, you didn't approach him like a wounded animal. He was just another person at the counter. When he didn't respond, you gently squeezed his bicep. Stormy eyes flashed in front of you. He'd cried his eyes puffy and nearly red. Defeat radiated off of him. "I can't do anything right Y/N." The nightmares were taking their toll. It was clear in his sunken demeanor. Your heart broke for him because he thought he had to keep it all in. He wouldn't ask for help. "No one is asking you to, Bucky." With your free hand, you began detangling the knots from his hair. "Just be and take your time. I'll be right here when you're ready to face the world again." Shock overtook you when he collided with you far faster and harder than you ever anticipated. His arms almost doubled around your waist due to his broad structure. Heat startled the nerves of your shoulders when his cheek rested in the crook of your neck. His body was pressed into yours and you were squished, but you didn't mind. You draped your arms across his frame and dug your fingers into his hair so you could trace small, soothing patterns into his scalp. "Thank you." He breathed into your neck. You stayed like that until he decided to part from you. You refused to let him apologize as you cleaned up the mug he shattered and made him breakfast. Bucky hugged you in the most random moments. You could leave the gym, sweaty and he would be freshly showered, but he'd still pull you against him. If you leaned over him while he sat, he'd pull your arms around his shoulders and lock them there. Walking into a room he occupied, getting excited, frustrated, or any time you lingered next to him you were engulfed by him. Soon, you realized it was his way of communicating with you when he felt too uncomfortable to speak. That realization came when he tapped the words "are you okay" into your arm with morse code. He hugged you when he needed touch, in congratulations, thanks, and concern. It didn't matter where or when, which got you into trouble. If someone walked in without context, they confused the meaning of the embrace. It didn't help that Bucky directed most of his affection to you. He was healing. You'd talk about boundaries when he was strong enough. --- The third month dragged out into eternity. The sooner you neared that benchmark, the more frustrated you grew with everyone. That included yourself. You grew moody, argumentative, and distance. You'd lock yourself away during the day and roam by night. You couldn't handle everyone failing to hold back pity as their eyes met yours because they knew Steve wasn't coming back. It was October now, and even the prospects of the Halloween season and the begging of fall did nothing to lift your spirits. It did get you out of your room more, but only to your spot on the terrace. You curled up in your usual chair, but now you had a portable firepit to enjoy. Autumn winds rippled through the air and chilled your bones. Then the fires' heat rocked against you, warming you back up. Some nights you slept out there, alone, and numb. "If you burn down the compound," A deep voice startled you out of your distant state. "Stark's gonna kill 'ya." You huffed. Bucky. He lounged in the shadows of the corner, barely visible by the light that reflected from his eyes. You rolled your eyes at the slight smugness he'd gained. "Trust me, if I'm burning down the compound there are a lot more violent and plausible causes than my fire pit." You poked and prodded at your insulted method of comfort until Bucky snatched the iron rod away from you. "So what's got 'ya acting like a caged wild animal?" He plopped down into the chair beside you. The patio table and chairs were replaced with lawn chairs once fall appeared. You gave him your most obvious really look. "What do you think?" "I don't get it." He stated bluntly. "Why now? You think this would be how you acted right after he left, not month three going on four." He turned and faced you. He didn't know. For a super-assassin and soldier, he was pretty clueless. "Because." You met his gaze. "If he doesn't return by month three, he isn't returning at all. Not for a very long time." "You left for three months." He nodded, beginning to understand. "We have an agreement: neither of us can leave for more than three months at a time. Missions never ran past three months without rotating teammates. I never went on a tour longer than three months without a massive break in between. He even refused to search for you more than three months without a visit. If it passes three months, we really are broken beyond repair." Bucky reached for you and when he got ahold of you, he lifted you up and onto his lawn chair. "Hey, look at me, doll." His fingers traced the outlines of your face and gently nudged your vision back to him. "No one is broken here. Whatever wounds are hurting you today, will heal in time. You'll see." Your voice croaked as you allowed the pain to take over you. "Bucky, I can't do this without him. I'm holding onto something that's drowning me and I can't." "Then let him go." He crooned. "And be your lifevest. A person isn't worth sinking over." He kissed your forehead and held you tight in his arms. That night, he did the reassuring. In the morning, you woke up to a peeking sun and smoldering embers. Bucky's chest was your pillow and a small fleece blanket was enough for you both when you comfortably intertwined. You left Bucky with the blanket, figuring he'd sleep another hour. You needed to make a call. "Voicemail ten-thousand, and it'll be the last one you'll have to endure from me." You sniffled as you rubbed your chilled face warm again. "I thought you were the one Steve. Finally, I found a man I could give my heart to and love. But you took that chance away from me when you left. Do you understand that? You made my decision for me and that is wrong. For the past three months, I've done nothing but think of you. I wondered what it would be like if you were here. How happy would I be? Now I'm miserable. When Bucky lapsed I blamed myself because maybe he wouldn't have if you were here, and I drove you away. I beat myself up for your decision, something I had no control over. Enough is enough. From now on, I'm going to work on forgetting you instead of mourning someone who ran from me. I don't hold any ill will against you. In fact, I hope you thrive on this mission. I hope it brings you to everything you needed and more because no matter how much you hurt me, I could never hate you. So this is the last time I'll attempt to contact you. You need to get over me and I need to get over you. So this is goodbye. Stay safe Steve." Misty eyed, you hung up the phone. With the click of that button, you allowed all the emotions you'd bottled up over the past three months to spring free. You felt nostalgia, regret, bitterness, dread, insecurity, and finally release. Hope. You felt hope. You met Steve at such a young age, and for years he was a crutch for the pitfalls and joys of your youth. Now that he was gone, it was time for you to embark on your journey. As a woman, it was time for you to grow up and create an identity outside of those around you. It was time to settle your uncharted territory. Silently, you slipped back under the blanket with Bucky. When you returned from your phone call, he was still asleep. He looked so peaceful this morning. He hadn't shown this much tranquility in months. You were careful not to bother him as you gently sunk into the spot you left. In no time his arms were back around you, but now you were his pillow. A delicate sigh escaped his sleeping lips when he nustled into your chest. Your light chuckles only lulled him further back into his present state. It felt right and you felt content. Now, you were exactly where you needed to be.

---

A/N: What did you think of chapter 7? Reblog if you liked it! Comment what you enjoyed the most?

Do you think it was wise for Y/N to take over Steve’s supportive roll in Bucky’s life? Was it fair for her to place so much blame on herself? With Steve’s door closing, what doors should open to Y/N?

My messages, asks, and requests are all open. Let me know if you have any thoughts, comments, or suggestions!

[shsuschoollibraryprogramming]

Planning:

Read Across America was a success for the school last year. When planning for this year, a student asked if we could read a book about her country and that’s how this year’s plan was conceived. This year Read Across America will go “global” with books selected from other countries.

Students will have a passport that will get “stamped” as they travel through the books from different countries. The rotations will happen on Monday, February 28th through Friday, March 4th. Students will hear a different book in each of the following rotations:

homeroom teacher (will possibly read a different book each day)

music teacher

PE coach

librarian

art teacher

computer teacher

parent volunteers if applicable in the class

  Promotion:

The event is being announced during morning announcements beginning a week before the event. Flyers/posters are also posted in hallways around the school and in the library.

Preparations:

Librarian will locate books in the collection to represent as many countries as possible. See list:

Australia - Where the Forest Meets the Sea by Jeannie Baker

Ukraine - Luba and the Wren by Patricia Polacco

Germany - Mercedes and the Chocolate Pilot by Margot Theis Raven (true story)

Jamaica - The Chalk Doll by Charlotte Pomerantz E POM - Anderson Library

Ghana - The Spider Weaver - A Legend of Kente Cloth by Margaret Musgrove

Mexico - A Gift from Abuela by Cecilia Ruiz

Iraq - Silent Music A Story of Baghdad by James Rumford (maybe older kids) OR Kunkush - The True Story of a Refugee Cat by Mame Ventura

Kenya - Wangari’s Trees of Peace: A True Story from Africa

Nigeria - When the sky is Far Away ( A Nigerian folktale) - at Neal Library

Kurdistan - The Hungry Coat (A Tale from Turkey) by Demi

India - A Basket of Bangles (How a Business Begins) by Ginger Howard

Guatemala- My Pig Amarillo by Satomi Ichikawa (younger)

Panama - Conejito: A Folktale from Panama by Margaret MacDonald  (Nancy Neal)

Palestine - Tunjur Tunjur Tunjur ( A Palestinian Folktale) - E MAC Spencer Elementary

Egypt - The Day of Ahmed’s Secret (good for idea of culture) by Florence Parry Heide or What’s the Matter habibi?(you can tell it is Egypt but doesn’t really mention it) By Betsy Lewin

Belize - Great Blue hole   550 LON by Martha London - Martha Reid

Puerto Rico - The Secret Footprints by Julia Alvarez

Haiti*****- Please, Malese by Amy Macdonald

Paraguay *****- Ada’s Violin by Susan Hood

Sudan - Nya’s Long Walk - Norwood ES (E PAR)

Poland - Babuska Baba Yoga (E-POL)

China - Lon Popo 398.2 you or Two of Everything (398.21 HON)

Canada - The Snow Bear (E STA)

Korea - The Green Frogs: a Korean Folktale (398.2 HEO)

Peru - Run Little Chaski; an Inka Trail Adventure (E LLa)

England - Leon and Bob (E JAM)

France - Pretty Minnie in Paris (E STE)

Norway - Cecil the Pet Glacier (E HAR)

Ireland -  O’Sullivan Stew: A Tale Cooked Up in Ireland (E TAL)

Japan - Three Samurai Cats - 398.2 KIM

  Librarian will plan the times when students will read/hear books. Using the CLAMP (computer, library, art, music, PE) rotations allows students to experience more books.

Teachers will come in and choose the books they want to read.

Librarian will create a “passport” for the students to get stamped as they “travel” the world through books.

Make copies of the passports.

Explain the process to the teachers.

  Procedures:

teachers will choose books to read

teachers will choose stamps to represent the country or will initial/check off the countries in the passports

teachers will use a world map to show the students the location of the represented country

read aloud to the class and show illustrations

short discussion and/or activity related to the book

stamp the matching country on the students’ “passports”

  Payoff:

Students will experience stories from different countries around the world and will experience different cultures. In the process of reading and discussing the books, students will experience and appreciate the love of reading!

[popradar]

Weekend Planner: 20 of the Coolest Things To Do In Los Angeles

Here are 20 awesome events happening in L.A. this post-Thanksgiving weekend. Want the 411 on additional events and happenings in LA? Follow @christineziemba on Twitter or Instagram. 

FRIDAY, NOV. 24

BLACK FRIDAY: E.P. & L.P. (Food)

Now this is a Black Friday event we can get into: E.P. & L.P. in West Hollywood offers us a break from turkey with a Chinese banquet-inspired feast of classic takeout dishes. The family-style comfort food dishes, available on Black Friday only, includes egg rolls, beef and broccoli, Dan Dan Noodles, Kung Pao chicken and shrimp fried rice. Items are priced from $8-29. There’s also a “Lechon” special, featuring a shareable suckling pig with shrimp crackers and homemade condiments ($29). 

RL GRIME (Music)

Producer RL Grime plays the Shrine Auditorium on Saturday and Sunday, bringing his electro/house sounds to L.A. Doors at 8 pm., show at 9 pm. Ages 18+. Tickets: $38.34. 

WEST SIDE STORY (Film + music)

On Friday at 8 pm and Sunday at 2 pm, the LA Phil screens West Side Story (1961) at Walt Disney Concert Hall. While the remastered film is projected in HD, the LA Phil plays Leonard Bernstein’s music live. David Newman conducts the orchestra. Tickets: $20-$166. 

THE EXPANDERS (Music)

LA’s The Expanders brings its reggae sounds to the Teragram Ballroom on Friday night for the album release party for Old Time Something Come Back Again, Vol. 2. Opening sets from Dubbest, Iya Terra. 8:30 pm. Tickets: $16 advance / $18 day of show. All ages. 

There’s still time to check out Shepard Fairey’s exhibition, Damaged, in DTLA. | Image: Shepard Fairey, Welcome Visitor, 2017, Mixed Media (Stencil, Silkscreen, and Collage) on Canvas.

SHEPARD FAIREY: DAMAGED (Art)

On Nov. 11, Library Street Collective, Shepard Fairey’s Detroit-based gallery, opened Damaged, Fairey’s first large-scale exhibition in L.A. in nearly a decade. The show, which runs through Dec. 17 (and perfect something to do with family in town), features more than 200 works focusing on social issues, politics, human rights and advocacy. Damaged is on view at 1650 Naud St. in DTLA from Wednesdays to Sundays from 11 am to 6 pm. Free entry.

BLACK FRIDAY RECORD STORE DAY (Music)

If shopping is your thing on Friday, then why not shop local record stores for Black Friday Record Store Day. Special releases include: a limited-edition vinyl 12” from U2 called “The Blackout”; and Warner Bros. Records and its labels are offering exclusive vinyl releases by Dan Auerbach, Gary Clark Jr. With Junkie XL, Death From Above, Steve Earle, Fleet Foxes, Gorillaz and Neil Young. Many more specials and releases on Friday.

SATURDAY, NOV. 25

MODERN HIKER: MOUNT HOLLYWOOD (Beer)

Modern Hiker presents a 6-mile, post-Thanksgiving hike to Mount Hollywood in Griffith Park on Saturday at 9 am. Meet across the street from Trails Cafe for a moderate hike through Griffith Park with great views of the Hollywood sign, stopping by volunteer-run citizen-gardens before returning through a pine forest from one of our Sister Cities and the Griffith Observatory. Learn a bit about the park's history, too. The hike is free, but Modern Hiker’s Casey Schreiner sells and signs copies of his book, Day Hiking Los Angeles (which makes a great holiday gift, btw).

POP-UP POOL DAY (Swim party)

The Annenberg Community Beach House in Santa Monica presents a Pop-up Pool Day on Saturday from 10 am to 4 pm. Passes available beginning at 9 am (walk-up purchases only). Rules and rates apply.

HAMILJAM (Dance party)

Are you crazy for Hamilton? Then head to the Bootleg Theater on Saturday night. They’re hosting a Hamiljam, playing the entire soundtrack for a dance party (and sing-along), and then will play the Hamilton mixtape if there’s time. The dance party starts at 7:30 pm. Free. 

SMALL BUSINESS SATURDAY + INDIES FIRST (Books)

Celebrate Small Business Saturday by taking part in Indies First—an initiative that encourages shopping at local, independent bookstores like Skylight Books, Book Soup, Chevalier’s Books, Vromans and many more. There will be author readings, honorary sellers, discounts and more. 

TOM SEGURA (Comedy)

Comic and podcaster Tom Segura brings his No Teeth No Entry show to The Wiltern on Saturday night. Doors at 7 and show at 8 pm. All ages. Tickets: $25-$35. (Low ticket alert for this show.)

JOLIE-LAIDE WINE TASTING @ HAYDEN (Eats + drinks)

Hayden, a cafe-wine shop at Platform in Culver City, presents a wine tasting of Jolie-Laide wines on Saturday at from 2-5 pm. Tickets: $20 and includes four wines and small bites.

FAMILY VALUES TOUR: JOEY IZZO (Film)

Family Values Tour: New and Selected Short Films by Joey Izzo is at Spielberg Theatre at the Egyptian on Saturday night at 7:30 pm. Hosted by Kate Berlant and the comedy collective Power Violence, the night features screenings of the filmmaker’s short films. The night features his latest film, “I Was There Too,” plus a rare screening of an experimental collaboration with musician-composer John Zorn. The night features a live performance by Fryborg (“cosmic analog synth improvisations” from Matt Jones of Castle Face Records and Male Gaze). Tickets: $10. 

HANDMADE LA (Shopping)

The Craft & Folk Art Museum on Museum Row presents Handmade LA, its annual holiday marketplace on Saturday and Sunday. The weekend features 15 LA-based craft and design artists offering a wide-ranging gifts for all ages. Vending artists are: AKR Design Studio, Calila, Christopher Phillips, Delusions of Grandeur, Ena Dubnoff, Felt Flanerie, Fulcrum Jewelry, Post Studio, Rabbits and Robots, Rachel Ritter, TJ Cervantes Art, Tome Ceramics, Wonder Woven and Yukari. Hours: 11 am to 6 p.m. All-day parking is available for $5.00 with validation at 5750 Courtyard Place, 90036.

GREMLINS HOLIDAY TIKI PARTY (Film + party)

Birth.Movies.Death. and Spaceland presents a Gremlins Holiday Tiki Party on Saturday at 1 pm at The Regent Theater in DTLA. Ages 21+. Tickets: $5. The event is sold out, but check the ticket exchange as ticket become available. 

SILVERSUN PICKUPS PUERTO RICO BENEFIT SHOW (Music) L.A.’s own Silversun Pickups play a benefit show at The Theatre at Ace Hotel in support of Puerto Rico hurricane relief on Saturday. All money raised at the show will be donated to "Unidos," a fund managed by the Hispanic Federation, a leading Latino nonprofit organization. Tickets: $35-$150. All ages. Doors at 7 pm, show at 8 pm. 

THE THREE STOOGES® BIG SCREEN EVENT (Film)

The Alex Film Society presents the 20th annual The Three Stooges Big Screen event on Saturday at 2 pm at The Alex Theatre in Glendale. The Society has curated a series of shorts with the theme, “Crème de la Cream Pies.” The day also features Stooges family members, friends and co-stars in attendance. Raffle baskets filled with Stooge goodies from C3 Entertainment will be available, with all raffle proceeds supporting the nonprofit the Alex Film Society. Adult general admission: $16-$16.50. 

SUNDAY, NOV. 26

HOLLYWOOD CHRISTMAS PARADE (Holiday fun)

The 86th Annual Hollywood Christmas Parade makes its way down Hollywood Boulevard on Sunday beginning at 5 pm. In addition to floats and usual parade marchers, performers include The Village People, CeeLo Green, Ruben Studdard, The Band of Merrymakers featuring Tyler Glenn (Neon Trees), Zach Barrett (American Authors), Jeremy Ruzumna (Fitz & The Tantrums) and Kay Hanley (Letters to Cleo). The parade also features a special tribute for Toys for Tots from Ludacris. The parade’s hosted by Erik Estrada, Laura McKenzie, Dean Cain and Montel Williams, with special co-hosts Elizabeth Stanton and Garrett Clayton. The u-shaped route starts at Hollywood and Orange, heads south on Vine and west on Sunset. Grandstand tickets are sold out.

HOLIDAY MARKET AT SMORGASBURG LA (Holiday)

Smorgasburg LA launches its Holiday Market on Sunday (aka Black Sunday) featuring special discounts from Smorgasburg LA vendors. The Holiday Market includes regular and pop-up merchants from week to week. Hours: 10 am to 4 pm. Two hours free parking. 

NEIL HAMBURGER (Comedy)

Neil Hamburger: Live is at the Satellite on Sunday night at 8:30 pm. In addition to comedy by Hamburger, the great lineup this month also features Natasha Leggero, Moshe Kasher, Debra DiGiovanni and Phoebe Bottoms. Door at 8 pm. Tickets: $8 in advance, $10 at the door. 21+. 

—by Christine N. Ziemba

[johnhardinsawyer]

Abundant Sharing

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

10 / 27 / 19

1 Peter 4:7-11

Exodus 35:30-36:7

“Abundant Sharing”

(Celebrating our Abundance – Sharing our Gifts)

If you’re going to lead a bunch of people out into the wilderness, chances are, you might run into a few problems along the way.  Thankfully, when Moses led the people  out of Egypt into the wilderness, God was there to help.  God helped them escape from Egypt and cross the Red Sea and they made it all the way out into the desert to Mount Sinai.  When food and water started to run out, thankfully, God took care of all that – providing both food and water for everybody.  And, thankfully, when Moses came down the mountain, holding the Ten Commandments,  and found the people worshiping a golden calf as an idol, even though God could have ended the whole thing right there, God forgave them and gave them a second chance.  Problem after problem was solved. . .  by God.

But now Moses had another problem.  It would seem that every time Moses went to talk with God about the people and their problems, he would come back looking – how shall we say? – different.  After spending so much time in the presence of God, Moses’ face was shining.[1]  In the original language, his face “sent out rays or horns”[2] of light and it kind of freaked people out.  When the people saw Moses, they were afraid to come near him.  So, Moses had to stay in a tent outside the camp.  He would go into that tent – called the “tent of meeting”[3] – to – guess what? – meet with God and then he would come out to talk to the people with his face shining even more.  It was like going to a holy tanning bed, or something.  The thing was, there was just so much holy power in that place and the people just didn’t know what to do with it.  It scared them.  So Moses set out to have a special place built – a Tabernacle – that could house all of that power.

If you’re going to build a place here on earth that will be able to handle all of God’s power, you’ve got to go about things the right way.  Thankfully, God had given the people some specific instructions as to how to go about building this thing.  There are several chapters in the Book of Exodus devoted to these instructions.[4]  The people were to offer the best of what they had:  gold, silver, and bronze; blue, purple, and crimson yarns and fine linen, goats’ hair, tanned rams skins, fine leather, acacia wood, oil and spices and fragrant incense[5] – all the best stuff.  And, out of these things, a special tent, a Tabernacle, would be built – with great care.

Now, as we have found in our recent Capital Campaign and renovations, if you’re going to do a building project, you need to find a good general contractor.  You might remember that the people of Israel had just come out of Egypt where their primary job as slaves had been building things for the Egyptians.  Some of the Israelites had come out of Egypt with great skills.  So, Moses thought about all of the gifted and talented people who were camped out there in the wilderness, and then said,

God has selected Bezalel [that guy, right there]. . .  He’s filled with the Spirit of God, with skill, ability, and know-how for making all sorts of things, to design and work in gold, silver and bronze; to carve stones and set them; to carve wood, working in every kind of skilled craft.  (Exodus 35:30-33) [6]

If you’re going to set out to build the Tabernacle – God’s dwelling on earth – you’re going to need a guy like Bezalel.  When it came to building things, he really knew his stuff.  It would be like if Matt Bader from our own church were living in the time of Moses.  But Bezalel knew, and Matt Bader knows, too, that you can’t do a big building project like this on your own.  You’re going to need help.  This is why God provided a sub-contractor, Oholiab.  It should be noted that, in the original language, Oholiab’s name can be translated as “Father’s Tent.”[7]  Oholiab and his friend, Bezalel, were about to build the greatest tent the world had ever seen – a tent for God to stay in.

By the way, it’s clear that Bezalel and Oholiab had a lot of gifts, but their most important gift gets mentioned, almost in passing:  God had inspired Bezalel and Oholiab to teach others how to do the job. (35:34)  Because it’s great to have somebody who knows how to do things, but it’s even better to have someone who knows how to teach others how to do things.  This is how gifts and skills get passed on – and discovered in others, along the way.  In the book Neighborhood Church, which we have been reading as a congregation, the authors talk about the importance of mentoring new leaders:  “Every church leader should have one hand held by someone who is discipling them into maturity, and the other [hand] joined to a newer leader whom they are also mentoring.”[8]  Bezalel, and Oholiab, and Moses, and so many other people have done this over the years.  Many of us wouldn’t be who and where we are without those who have mentored us.

So, Moses got the workers together – Bezalel, and Oholiab, and “every skillful one to whom the Lord had given skill, everyone whose heart was stirred to come to do the work, and they received from Moses all the freewill offerings that the Israelites had brought for doing the work on the sanctuary. . .”  (36:3)

But then they ran into another problem:  Moses gathered up everything that the people had given for the building of the Tabernacle – all of the gold, and silver, and bronze, and special cloth and wood – but then, the people wouldn’t stop bringing more. They just kept bringing their gifts and offering more and more and more until the workers came to Moses and said, “The people are bringing much more than enough for doing the work that the Lord has commanded us to do.”  (36:5)

There are all kinds of things that I love about this story.  I love how Moses says that Bezalel and Oholiab and the other workers don’t just have the skills that are needed – they have been given these skills by God.  I also love how the people who come to help build the Tabernacle are people “whose hearts were stirred” to come and help.  Now, if you’ve hung around church folks long enough, you might think that having one’s heart stirred is more of a Methodist kind of thing or even a Pentecostal kind of thing and not really a Presbyterian kind of thing.  But, in the original language, those whose hearts were stirred had their hearts “lifted, carried, and taken”[9] by something other, something holy.  In other words, God was inspiring the hearts of the people to serve – that’s some pretty Presbyterian-sounding stuff.  I think I’m starting to sense a theme here:  God gives people the skills to serve and God gives people the inspiration to use those skills in service of something greater than themselves.  As the author of 1 Peter writes in today’s first reading, “. . . whoever serves must do so with the strength that God supplies so that God may be glorified.”  (1 Peter 4:11b)  God doesn’t give us the gifts and skills we need to serve ourselves.  God gives them to us so that God may be glorified.  We serve, we love, and we give all to the glory of God.  It’s not about us.  It’s about God, and God alone.

There is one last thing that I love about this story.  The people offered more than enough.  They kept bringing their offerings until Moses said, “Thanks, y’all, but that’s enough for now.”  (Exodus 36:6)[10]  More than enough. . .  What a wonderful problem to have!  This kind of abundance sounds so rare in an age when not having enough seems to be on everyone’s mind.  When it comes to money, or power, or other things we think we need, there just doesn’t seem to be enough, does there?  And yet, God has a way of changing our minds and stirring our hearts.  At least, that’s what I have seen and know to be true.

·      Four years ago, members of our Capital Campaign team stood here at this pulpit and talked about raising $550,000 to make much-needed renovations to our church.  There were those who said it could not be done.  And yet, you responded by raising over $650,000.  What great abundance!

·      A little less than a month from today, when we ask for people to come and pack Thanksgiving Baskets, the Fellowship Hall will be filled with people, who are overjoyed to serve God by helping to feed the hungry.  What great abundance!

·      On Tuesday, November 5, there will be a gathering of people here at the church who are interested in hearing about more hurricane recovery work in Puerto Rico.  The response this past year was so great and there is more to come!  What great abundance!

·      If you talk to a member of the Youth Mission Team that went to Mission at the Eastward, they will tell you about the life-changing experience they had there, serving others.  What great abundance!

·      If you look at the front pew of our sanctuary for the Children’s Sermon each week, there are often more children than will fit on the pew.  And there are those who answer the promise made every time a child is baptized, to help teach those children about the love of Jesus.  What great abundance!

·      If you talk to a member of the choir, they will tell you that even with their expanded choir seating, they are cramped for space and need to order some new choir robes because they love to offer the gift of song together, to the glory of God.  What great abundance!

·      A few weeks ago, when you were asked what you could offer your neighbors, so many of you wrote “time.”  “I can give my time in so many ways,” you said.  What great abundance!

·      And, if you talk to our Deacons about everyone who will gather this afternoon for the “Wise and Wonderful Tea, they will tell the story of great abundance!  Abundant gifts shared right here in our midst, over many, many years.

These are just a few examples of the legacy of abundance that can be found here at Bedford Presbyterian Church.  All of us are recipients of, and participants in that abundance.

I’ll close with this:  In today’s story, Moses makes the interesting choice of telling the people to please stop bringing gifts.  “Hey, thank you, but we have more than enough!  We can’t possibly use all of it!”  Now, why would Moses do something like that?  Why didn’t his Stewardship and Finance Committee advise him to do something different – maybe invest it or put it in an endowment fund?  Actually, Moses had a very practical reason for doing this:  remember, the people were building something that they had to carry – it needed to be mobile.  They were building a tent that had to be transported all the way to the Promised Land.  Too much gold, and silver, and bronze and all the rest would make it nearly impossible to move.  The Tabernacle needed to be moved, because God was always on the move – leading the people onward.

And, all these centuries later, there is no Tabernacle anymore.  There is just the Body – the Body of Christ.  That’s right. . . The church is the place here on earth that houses the holy power of God.  But it is not the church building that houses that power.  It is the people of God – you and I – who have encountered something Holy and have had our lives changed:  from faces that shine with the light of Christ to hearts that carry that light out into the world – carried out into the world by God.  God has given us so many varied gifts and talents and skills and each of us is called to serve, called to give, called to offer ourselves and our gifts abundantly for God’s kingdom. . . for God’s glory. . . for the love of God and neighbor.

As the author of 1 Peter writes, “like good stewards of the manifold grace of God, [let us] serve one another [and the world] with whatever gift each of [us] has received.”  (1 Peter 4:10)

May we be good stewards of God’s abundant gifts, offering them, abundantly, to the glory of God.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

--------- 

[1] Exodus 34:29 ff.

[2] F. Brown, S. Driver, and C. Briggs.  The Brown-Driver-Briggs Hebrew and English Lexicon (Peabody:  Hendrickson Publishers, 1997) 902.

[3] See Exodus 33:7 ff.

[4] See Exodus 25-30.

[5] See Exodus 25:3-6.

[6] Eugene Peterson, The Message – Numbered Edition (Colorado Springs:  NAV Press, 2002) 126.  Exodus 35:30-33.

[7] Brown-Driver-Briggs, 14.  Just in case you’re wondering, Bezalel’s name means “Under the Protection of God.”

[8] Krin van Tatenhove and Rob Mueller, Neighborhood Church (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2019) 109.

[9] Brown-Driver-Briggs, 669.

[10] Paraphrased, JHS.

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New Post has been published on https://vacationsoup.com/an-ode-to-orchids/

An Ode to Orchids

A bright array of phalaenopsis, cattleyas, vandas, dendrobiums, and oncidiums stand in pots and hang graciously from stands inside the lobby of Hospice of the Golden Isles. As visitors and staff walk by, one man gently pulls off dead leaves and tends to the plants under his care. Some may need repotting, others periodic fertilizing. Under his careful eye, the plants provide a beautiful landscape inside, where passersby often comment on the curated garden.

Taylor Schoettle has been traveling from Darien once a week to tend to the orchids at the hospice facility for the past six years. Throughout his career, he has been a zoo curator in Puerto Rico, a marine education specialist with the University of Georgia Marine Extension Service in Brunswick, and a biology teacher. And now, he is known as the Orchid Man.

“It’s just like people who collect coins or glassware or antiques. For me, it’s orchids,” says Schoettle, who first started displaying his plants at the Nativity of Our Lady Catholic Church in Darien for two decades before moving them to Hospice of the Golden Isles.

“I can’t have a greenhouse with orchids and not have people enjoy them,” he says.

Schoettle’s greenhouse, which he built with the help of his sons, is filled with different types of orchids, from the exotic cattleyas to the classic phalaenopsis. He has been known to travel to Jacksonville for the orchid show in March each year. “You will be fascinated by what you see. Oftentimes, I like the weird ones,” he says.

But Schoettle didn’t immediately jump into growing orchids after he was given one while living in Puerto Rico. His first love was reserved for heliconia, known as the lobster-claw, wild plantain, or false bird-of-paradise. “They are very rich in color … bright, brilliant; My God, they are just amazing. I took some with me, but they kept dying,” he says.

So he shifted his focus to orchids and found the species to be more resilient than most people believe. With the right care and dedication, he says, the plants can thrive. And for those that don’t seem to bloom, don’t give up on them. “I had a vanda that didn’t flower for years. Then, I put it in front of a window and, all of a sudden, it flowers. Last year, of the flowers I had, most were vandas,” Schoettle says.

Dawn Hart of Ace Garden Center on St. Simons Island enjoys vandas, too. “They are smaller, but their blooms are a true blue orchid; not one that has been dyed, which there are some,” she says. “You can get blues and dark, dark purples in the vandas.”

Hart often has a display of orchids at the front of her nursery, with new arrivals every two weeks or so. Classic white phalaenopsis stand in pots next to blossoming cymbidiums. Orchid hanging baskets near the entrance are ready to be filled with cattleyas or dendrobiums.

Hart often sees a spike of orchid purchases during wedding season and before the holidays. At a higher price point among the houseplants, orchids are often given as gifts, Hart says. “Typically, people don’t want to indulge themselves, so that’s why it’s kind of a special gift. It might not be something you think to do yourself,” she says.

In fact, Hart was gifted her first orchid, just like Schoettle was. For both, the plants proved to be more resilient than they first thought. “Don’t be afraid of them. Even though they are delicate looking, they are a pretty great, long-lasting, interior houseplant. There’s not many as refined and elegant looking as an orchid,” Hart says.

Many orchids are ephiphytic, which mean they can live on other plants — such as trees — and derive moisture and nutrients from the air. Because of this, their roots are often exposed. Orchid growers know not to trim the roots that may extend over a pot; it’s actually a sign the plant is healthy, Hart says.

Moisture — but not necessarily water — is critical for orchid care. “Part of the problem is that people hear ‘tropical’ and think they need a lot of water, and they drown them. A lot of times, the roots really need air to breathe more than water,” Schoettle says. Think of the Amazon, he explains. High humidity and a mist that covers everything is hard to mimic inside our dry environments here, which is why many serious orchid enthusiasts have a greenhouse.

Drainage pots are ideal to avoid drowning the plants. For those kept indoors, orchids can stay in the grower pot inside a larger pot; that way the water can flow out of the smaller pot without leaking all over the furniture, Hart suggests.

For those who want to keep orchids inside the home, they need to consider places that avoid direct sunlight but provide a lot of bright, indirect, or filtered light. Hart says orchids tend to do well in bathrooms, where steam from showers and baths can mimic the humidity the plants enjoy.

Watering amounts depend upon the type of orchid medium used — bark uses more than moss, which allows for more aeration. The ice cube philosophy says you can water an orchid with one ice cube, but the trick is divisive in the orchid community. “Our orchid supplier doesn’t like that ice cube philosophy. He says the ice cube kind of shocks it. So he’s not a proponent of it,” Hart explains.

Even under the best conditions, sometimes orchids can be a bit finicky. “It can bloom for three weeks and then you won’t see it at all again. It happens,” Schoettle says. To enhance the chance of respiking, Hart suggests you cut lower down the stalk, not near the bloom, and above a joint.

While tropical conditions are best for the majority of orchids, certain types can grow in northern climates or higher altitudes, including odontoglossums, masdevallias, cymbidiums, and miltonias. Generally, most orchids need to live in environments above 60 degrees. They can handle a brief cold spell but nothing sustained. Think of it this way: Orchids tend to like the same degrees that humans prefer.

“There’s usually a space in any household to accommodate them,” Hart says. “I think they are a special gift for someone who has everything. And they are also long-lasting enjoyment for the homeowner. I don’t think they ever go out of style.”

The Orchid Primer

Phalaenopsis

Phalaenopsis, sometimes called the moth orchid, is a popular choice for orchid lovers today. “They are more popular and some people find them easiest,” says Hart.

While there are a variety of colors, most phals in stores are usually white or purple. And the blooms are long lasting; under the right conditions, they will flower for a few months. “In an ideal world, if you buy one that is both budded and blooming, you should get two to three months,” Hart says.

For Schoettle, phalaenopsis is a personal favorite. “It’s probably one of the most elegant kinds … rows and rows of those faces, so broad, so expressive. It’s also one of the easiest to bloom,” he says. “I don’t want to say they have been cheapened because they are so common. They haven’t; no, they haven’t. And when I was first doing orchids, they weren’t common.”

How to Keep Them Alive

Temps They can handle up to 90 degrees or as low as 60 degrees.

Water Don’t let them dry out. Potting mediums will determine how much water is retained; bark needs watering weekly whereas sphagnum should be watered when the top layer feels dry.

Light Low light or shaded areas are better. A key to look for are the leaves, which should be an olive green color. If they are darker, the plant isn’t getting enough light; if they have a red edge, they are getting too much light.

Cymbidium

Cymbidiums, which usually have several blooms on the plant, are a favorite of Hart. “So many different colors; they are beautiful,” says Hart, as she looks over a large display of orchids at Ace Garden Center. On that day, she has cymbidiums in mustard yellow and deep crimson colors that stand out amongst the purple and white phalaenopsis nearby.

Since cymbidiums can be a pricier option of orchid, they are popular choices to celebrate special occasions, found in corsages or bridal bouquets. “You know you are special when you get a cymbidium orchid corsage. Sometimes in bridal bouquets, you will see cymbidium orchids. White cymbidium would be a very classic upgrade,” Hart says.

How to Keep Them Alive

Temps Ideal range is 70 to 85 degrees and 55 at night.

Water Keep moist throughout the summer, can lessen to barely moist during winter. Mist the bottom on the plant, not the blooms. “A lot of blooms themselves prefer not to be misted. Just around the foliage,” Hart says.

Light Strong indirect light during summer. The leaves can burn, so check for a medium green color.

Dendrobium

Dendrobiums are taller options of orchids, and the smaller blooms aren’t the only eye-catching element. This orchid also has a cascading amount of foliage and roots. They also like to be in smaller pots, which enhance their height.

For Hart, she selects dendrobiums that have a lot of foliage — “that’s just part of it for me,” she says — and will use them in mixed arrangements where the dendrobiums provide the height and ferns can be nestled around the bottom. “If someone has a cachepot for the dining room table, just sitting one orchid in it doesn’t do much; but add plants around the bottom,” she says. “They can be potted in same pot. Some people will change things out and put them in their cachepot and then line the top with moss. That way, they can water everything individually.”

How to Keep Them Alive

Temps They can stand a bit of heat, as high as 95 degrees, and down to 45 degrees at night.

Water Water more during summer months, when the plant is growing. Less so in winter.

Light Dendrobiums like a lot of light, just not direct sun.

Cattleya

These exotic orchids have striking blooms with a ruffled fringe on the flower. Like cymbidiums, cattleyas can be found in wedding bouquets and corsages.

The vivid colors of cattleyas create a beautiful spray of flora inside one’s home. Cattleyas tend to do well in pots, and they can even handle the light on a windowsill. But as an epiphytic plant, these species thrive best when air can get to their roots. “You see them in hanging baskets. You can really do some dramatic things with them on tall house plants and on the trunk of the trees, where you have them in little indentations in the trunk and have them in there and spritz them,” Hart says.

Cattleyas come in different sizes, from large to miniature. “I tend to favor the big cattleyas. I love the intricacies of the faces,” Schoettle says.

How to Keep Them Alive

Temps Keep between 55 and 85 degrees.

Water The size of the plant matters in how often you water. Minis and seedlings will need to be watered more often, usually five to seven days, because they store less water in their pseudobulbs and roots. Larger ones can be watered every 10 days or so.

Light Light should be strong, but not direct. The leaves should be medium green, and the blooms should look healthy. If you are having difficulty with your plant blooming, it may not have enough light.

Source:  Golden Isles:  The Magazine for Brunswick, St Simons Island. Jekyll, & Sea Island, By:  Bethany Leggett

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See’s Candies almond buds: “I’m from California, and I grew up on See’s Candies’s boxes of different chocolates (they’re a San Francisco based company). Whenever my parents would get a box, I’d beeline for the archetypal Almond Buds—they’re these archetypal milk amber and almond clusters with aloof a blow of a caramel—I could not get abundant as a kid.” —Anne Kim, abettor editor

Godiva white amber allowance box: “White amber is my complete fave, and this box gives me 24 means to indulge. Who doesn’t adulation variety? Plus, back white amber doesn’t accommodate absolute amber (there are no amber capacity in it), I apperceive I’m safe from the shortage!” —Sharon Clott, chief editor

Trader Joe’s aphotic amber speculoos cookie adulate cups: “I’m not a big fan of peanut butter, so I was animated back I afresh apparent these speculoos-filled cups of heaven at Trader Joe’s. The arrangement of cookie adulate to aphotic amber is aloof right.” —Claire Stern, beat assistant

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[gailmalooft]

Thanksgiving Spirits: Bottle Suggestions in your Banquet

Even supposing wine and beer are extra usually paired with a Thanksgiving Day banquet, don’t omit distilled spirits for the festivities. Have a couple of bottles available and let your visitors create their very own cocktails whilst you deal with trade within the kitchen. Moreover, elderly spirits like whiskey, brandy and rum make nice after dinner beverages in addition to fantastic items in your host will have to you be invited to a meal this 12 months. Costs indexed are reasonable retail costs in america.

Wild Turkey 101

In my family, Thanksgiving simply isn’t whole with out a bottle of Wild Turkey to proportion. It’s the very best no-nonsense bourbon to drink whilst observing a little bit (or so much) of soccer. The vintage 101 evidence is best possible served at the rocks. Pass forward and splash a little bit within the candy potatoes—we received’t inform! $23

Wild Turkey 101 / Photograph Credit score: Wild Turkey

Laird’s Straight Applejack 86

Presented in fall 2017, this Applejack is 100% apple brandy—not like the emblem’s usual Applejack which makes use of impartial spirit in its make-up. Seventeen kilos of apples are had to produce every bottle. Best possible for when Scorching Toddies are so as. $25

Don Q Añejo

In fact, now not all households serve turkey for Thanksgiving. For plenty of, red meat is the protein of selection. And what higher to serve with red meat than rum? Elderly in American oak from Three-10 years, the emblem’s Añejo bottling shows flavors like vanilla, molasses and dried fruit. Don Q is the go-to rum emblem in Puerto Rico, so in the event you aren’t acquainted, remember to give them a take a look at. $19

Martell Blue Swift

Martell is among the “Giant 4” homes in cognac. Blue Swift is made by means of taking Martell VSOP cognac and completing it in barrels in the past used to age Kentucky bourbon. Growing old in used barrels which held one thing as opposed to wine or wine spirits isn’t allowed in cognac, therefore the “Eau de Vie” designation. Anticipate finding a variety of oak, vanilla and fruit. Should you’re a bourbon drinker taking a look to take the plunge to cognac, that is only for you. $48

Martell Blue Swift / Photograph Credit score: Martell

Mount Gay 1703 Master Select Rum

The rums used on this annual unlock are elderly for 10 to 30 years. In finding smoky, candy flavors with tropical end result, butterscotch and barrel spices coming thru. Function is! $164

Laphroaig Cairdeas 2018 Fino Cask Finish

I’ve a factor for oysters and to find that peated whisky pairs fantastically with them. This bottling from Laphroaig used to be completed in a fino sherry cask, which makes this an extremely excellent whiskey to devour with shellfish. Cairdeas approach “friendship” in Gaelic, so remember to proportion along with your selected circle of relatives. $84

Westland Sherry Wood American Single Malt

This Seattle-based distillery makes use of six other kinds of malted barley and 4 other casks to create this whiskey. Notes of chocolate, orchard end result and barrel spices are simply some of the flavors you’ll to find right here. $76

Westland Sherry Wooden American Unmarried Malt / Photograph Credit score: Westland Whiskey

Lepanto PX Gran Reserva

This Spanish brandy bottling is elderly on reasonable of 15 years with its ultimate 3 years resting in Pedro Ximenez sherry. Assume a variety of dried fruit, coffee and walnuts. Do that one with pecan pie! $62

WhistlePig The Boss Hog V: The Spirit of Mauve

The 5th within the Boss Hog collection from Vermont-based Whistlepig, this is known as after a liked pig named Mauve. Elderly 13 years, this immediately rye whiskey completed its maturation in calvados casks. The bottle is crowned with a hand made Danforth pewter stopper “within the form of Mauve ascending to heaven”. Be expecting an excellent cohesion of rye and calvados expressed within the glass. $499

With Distiller, you’ll all the time know what’s within the bottle earlier than you spend a cent. Fee, Overview and Uncover spirits! Head on over to Distiller, or obtain the app for iOS and Android nowadays!

The submit Thanksgiving Spirits: Bottle Recommendations for your Feast gave the impression first on The Distiller Blog.

The post Thanksgiving Spirits: Bottle Suggestions in your Banquet appeared first on Liquor Gift Baskets.

from http://liquorgiftbaskets.net/2018/11/22/thanksgiving-spirits-bottle-recommendations-for-your-feast/

[shsuschoollibraryprogramming]

Planning:

Read Across America was a success for the school last year. When planning for this year, a student asked if we could read a book about her country and that’s how this year’s plan was conceived. This year Read Across America will go “global” with books selected from other countries.

Students will have a passport that will get “stamped” as they travel through the books from different countries. The rotations will happen on Monday, February 28th through Friday, March 4th. Students will hear a different book in each of the following rotations:

homeroom teacher (will possibly read a different book each day)

music teacher

PE coach

librarian

art teacher

computer teacher

parent volunteers if applicable in the class

  Promotion:

The event is being announced during morning announcements beginning a week before the event. Flyers/posters are also posted in hallways around the school and in the library.

Preparations:

Librarian will locate books in the collection to represent as many countries as possible. See list:

Australia - Where the Forest Meets the Sea by Jeannie Baker

Ukraine - Luba and the Wren by Patricia Polacco

Germany - Mercedes and the Chocolate Pilot by Margot Theis Raven (true story)

Jamaica - The Chalk Doll by Charlotte Pomerantz E POM - Anderson Library

Ghana - The Spider Weaver - A Legend of Kente Cloth by Margaret Musgrove

Mexico - A Gift from Abuela by Cecilia Ruiz

Iraq - Silent Music A Story of Baghdad by James Rumford (maybe older kids) OR Kunkush - The True Story of a Refugee Cat by Mame Ventura

Kenya - Wangari’s Trees of Peace: A True Story from Africa

Nigeria - When the sky is Far Away ( A Nigerian folktale) - at Neal Library

Kurdistan - The Hungry Coat (A Tale from Turkey) by Demi

India - A Basket of Bangles (How a Business Begins) by Ginger Howard

Guatemala- My Pig Amarillo by Satomi Ichikawa (younger)

Panama - Conejito: A Folktale from Panama by Margaret MacDonald  (Nancy Neal)

Palestine - Tunjur Tunjur Tunjur ( A Palestinian Folktale) - E MAC Spencer Elementary

Egypt - The Day of Ahmed’s Secret (good for idea of culture) by Florence Parry Heide or What’s the Matter habibi?(you can tell it is Egypt but doesn’t really mention it) By Betsy Lewin

Belize - Great Blue hole   550 LON by Martha London - Martha Reid

Puerto Rico - The Secret Footprints by Julia Alvarez

Haiti*****- Please, Malese by Amy Macdonald

Paraguay *****- Ada’s Violin by Susan Hood

Sudan - Nya’s Long Walk - Norwood ES (E PAR)

Poland - Babuska Baba Yoga (E-POL)

China - Lon Popo 398.2 you or Two of Everything (398.21 HON)

Canada - The Snow Bear (E STA)

Korea - The Green Frogs: a Korean Folktale (398.2 HEO)

Peru - Run Little Chaski; an Inka Trail Adventure (E LLa)

England - Leon and Bob (E JAM)

France - Pretty Minnie in Paris (E STE)

Norway - Cecil the Pet Glacier (E HAR)

Ireland -  O’Sullivan Stew: A Tale Cooked Up in Ireland (E TAL)

Japan - Three Samurai Cats - 398.2 KIM

  Librarian will plan the times when students will read/hear books. Using the CLAMP (computer, library, art, music, PE) rotations allows students to experience more books.

Teachers will come in and choose the books they want to read.

Librarian will create a “passport” for the students to get stamped as they “travel” the world through books.

Make copies of the passports.

Explain the process to the teachers.

  Procedures:

teachers will choose books to read

teachers will choose stamps to represent the country or will initial/check off the countries in the passports

teachers will use a world map to show the students the location of the represented country

read aloud to the class and show illustrations

short discussion and/or activity related to the book

stamp the matching country on the students’ “passports”

  Payoff:

Students will experience stories from different countries around the world and will experience different cultures. In the process of reading and discussing the books, students will experience and appreciate the love of reading!

[ellismorris0]

Thanksgiving Spirits: Bottle Suggestions in your Banquet

Even supposing wine and beer are extra usually paired with a Thanksgiving Day banquet, don’t omit distilled spirits for the festivities. Have a couple of bottles available and let your visitors create their very own cocktails whilst you deal with trade within the kitchen. Moreover, elderly spirits like whiskey, brandy and rum make nice after dinner beverages in addition to fantastic items in your host will have to you be invited to a meal this 12 months. Costs indexed are reasonable retail costs in america.

Wild Turkey 101

In my family, Thanksgiving simply isn’t whole with out a bottle of Wild Turkey to proportion. It’s the very best no-nonsense bourbon to drink whilst observing a little bit (or so much) of soccer. The vintage 101 evidence is best possible served at the rocks. Pass forward and splash a little bit within the candy potatoes—we received’t inform! $23

Wild Turkey 101 / Photograph Credit score: Wild Turkey

Laird’s Straight Applejack 86

Presented in fall 2017, this Applejack is 100% apple brandy—not like the emblem’s usual Applejack which makes use of impartial spirit in its make-up. Seventeen kilos of apples are had to produce every bottle. Best possible for when Scorching Toddies are so as. $25

Don Q Añejo

In fact, now not all households serve turkey for Thanksgiving. For plenty of, red meat is the protein of selection. And what higher to serve with red meat than rum? Elderly in American oak from Three-10 years, the emblem’s Añejo bottling shows flavors like vanilla, molasses and dried fruit. Don Q is the go-to rum emblem in Puerto Rico, so in the event you aren’t acquainted, remember to give them a take a look at. $19

Martell Blue Swift

Martell is among the “Giant 4” homes in cognac. Blue Swift is made by means of taking Martell VSOP cognac and completing it in barrels in the past used to age Kentucky bourbon. Growing old in used barrels which held one thing as opposed to wine or wine spirits isn’t allowed in cognac, therefore the “Eau de Vie” designation. Anticipate finding a variety of oak, vanilla and fruit. Should you’re a bourbon drinker taking a look to take the plunge to cognac, that is only for you. $48

Martell Blue Swift / Photograph Credit score: Martell

Mount Gay 1703 Master Select Rum

The rums used on this annual unlock are elderly for 10 to 30 years. In finding smoky, candy flavors with tropical end result, butterscotch and barrel spices coming thru. Function is! $164

Laphroaig Cairdeas 2018 Fino Cask Finish

I’ve a factor for oysters and to find that peated whisky pairs fantastically with them. This bottling from Laphroaig used to be completed in a fino sherry cask, which makes this an extremely excellent whiskey to devour with shellfish. Cairdeas approach “friendship” in Gaelic, so remember to proportion along with your selected circle of relatives. $84

Westland Sherry Wood American Single Malt

This Seattle-based distillery makes use of six other kinds of malted barley and 4 other casks to create this whiskey. Notes of chocolate, orchard end result and barrel spices are simply some of the flavors you’ll to find right here. $76

Westland Sherry Wooden American Unmarried Malt / Photograph Credit score: Westland Whiskey

Lepanto PX Gran Reserva

This Spanish brandy bottling is elderly on reasonable of 15 years with its ultimate 3 years resting in Pedro Ximenez sherry. Assume a variety of dried fruit, coffee and walnuts. Do that one with pecan pie! $62

WhistlePig The Boss Hog V: The Spirit of Mauve

The 5th within the Boss Hog collection from Vermont-based Whistlepig, this is known as after a liked pig named Mauve. Elderly 13 years, this immediately rye whiskey completed its maturation in calvados casks. The bottle is crowned with a hand made Danforth pewter stopper “within the form of Mauve ascending to heaven”. Be expecting an excellent cohesion of rye and calvados expressed within the glass. $499

With Distiller, you’ll all the time know what’s within the bottle earlier than you spend a cent. Fee, Overview and Uncover spirits! Head on over to Distiller, or obtain the app for iOS and Android nowadays!

The submit Thanksgiving Spirits: Bottle Recommendations for your Feast gave the impression first on The Distiller Blog.

The post Thanksgiving Spirits: Bottle Suggestions in your Banquet appeared first on Liquor Gift Baskets.

from http://liquorgiftbaskets.net/2018/11/22/thanksgiving-spirits-bottle-recommendations-for-your-feast/