#there are a lot that have been kept in near mint condition with tags and stuff I just cant resist loving them sometimes :(

[angelkunii]

thinking about my plushies that got heavily loved and are now in a poor condition when i want to display them because while i love my plushies i also care deeply about the preservation of physical merchandise

[charmingturkeysandwich]

I Could Use a Love Song Ch. 3: don’t need no reason or happy hour

Chapter 3 of my Country Singer!Emma AU is here. I added a tag on AO3 for alcohol abuse, because while I don’t think we have true alcoholism here... Emma’s coping mechanisms are shit and the heavy drinking isn’t the healthiest. I wanted to make sure that I added that warning here as well. Please don’t use alcohol like Emma does here. I know from experience it’s hella bad news. Find a therapist! This is actual advice, not a joke. For reals. Emma should have just gone to a counselor instead of making appointments with Jose Cuervo and Jack Daniels. If anyone has treated you the way this iteration of Neal treated Emma, talk to someone. If you can’t afford a therapist, talk to me. Seriously, no lie, no joke, I’m only alive today because I eventually adopted a dog and sought counseling to cope with life’s many traumas.

Mmmmkkay enough babbling. 

Also on AO3

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Their next few gigs were some of the best in Emma’s (admittedly tequila-hazed) memory, and for once that glimmer of hope for that future of fame and fortune… well, it felt like a hell of a lot more than a glimmer.

The crowds had been rowdy, raucous, and ready to sing along to every song on their whole set. A few people even more some of the merch Killian had started selling at the door, nothing fancy of course, but it made her heart burst with pride nonetheless.

It had all gotten so real, so achievable, so close to everything she’s been dreaming about before she ever really knew that dreams were a thing that could come true.

So of course something was about to bring back the quasi-comfort of her life always reverting to being a waking nightmare.

That was a deeply melodramatic way of putting it – it’s not like she was being beaten or shamed or any of the daily torments her tiny town had ensured were burned into her brain. But that was the problem with the past, wasn’t it? It wasn’t over, even when it was. Those days were past but they would always somehow be present, replaying in her brain and aching in her heart no matter how far from Pennsylvania their little van puttered.

(Whoever said you can’t go home again neglected to mention how hard it was to leave it, even after you’d physically gone.)

It had been a Tuesday. In some chain grocery store outside Virginia Beach, the sun glowing through the big front windows and the icy chill of the air conditioning raising goosebumps on her bare arms. Emma had only echoes of a hangover, so Ruby’s constantly chatting wasn’t nearly as grating as it could be. They moved slowly through the aisles, tossing various food and supplies in their cart, more than fulfilling the list Graham and Mary Margaret had given them.

They were still struggling artists but some weeks the struggle was… less. This was one of them and if they decided to celebrate with Patron instead of Jose Cuervo and fresh, organic honeycrisp apples instead of Great Value brand dried apple chips, well, it’s because they damn well deserved it.

They couldn’t have been more than a few feet away from the checkout when the radio (a constant calming presence, most days, being the object of their ambition and all) caused her heart to drop to the deepest pits of her gut, twisting her insides until she was nearly dry-heaving to get the gross sensation of feelings out of her body and in the sewer system where it belonged.

They say scent is tied to memory, and it surely is, but there’s something, too, in sound. Music had a distinct way of tying itself to a moment, to a feeling. For some people that feeling was joy, was love, could be better than the best drug to intoxicate them with no risk of hangover. But for Emma, for this song in particular, it was all hangover, no high.

I’m set on cruise control

I’m slowly losing hold of everything I got

You’re looking so damn hot

The lyrics were innocuous enough. Sweet. Loving. There was certainly some couple out there – many, probably – who smiled fondly at each other when it came on. But for her, it was just a reminder of how pathetic she’d been, once upon a time, how deeply manipulated she’d been. And oh, the consequences she’d suffered for falling for a sweet voice and a pretty face and a moment that had felt like a country song.

And I don’t know what road we’re on

Or where we’ve been, from starin at you, girl

All I know is I don’t want this night to end

It had been a song she’d listened to in Neal’s truck, on a back road, the moon high and the stars bright and her heart hammering in her chest before he leaned over the center counsel parked in his daddy’s field and kissed her like she was precious, like she was, like he could love her through this life and the next.

And even today, half-hungover in a Piggly Wiggly or whatever the fuck this place was, she still felt the whisper of butterflies in her. She still remembered how much she’d believed the lies and even hoped the bad stuff wasn’t actually real, holding on to nights like that first one, her and Neal seemingly the only two people on Earth and all she’d ever need to feel whole again.

Emma Swan was a fighter, a survivor, a strong, badass woman that no man would ever hurt again.

But one Luke Bryan song on a clear Tuesday afternoon had her so torn up in shame, she almost forgot her best friend was standing beside her, her little “family” of a band and crew waiting for her back at the block of hotel rooms down the road.

She wasn’t in Pennsylvania. Neal wasn’t anywhere near her. But she could practically smell his cologne and the exhaust of his truck and the fact that there was a tiny part of her that truly still wished it had all worked out, that he’d been the happily ever after she’d wanted, and she wanted to slap herself silly for how stupid one smart girl could be.

“I think we can afford some Reese’s mix, right?” Ruby asked, already tossing two bags in the cart as they entered the self-checkout line.

“Yeah,” was all Emma could respond, her traitor brain still wavering between wishing for an alternate ending to her stupid, sad tale and coming totally clean to Ruby about what horrors she’d suffered and hitting the road with her on a revenge-fueled quest to keep that fucker from ever hurting another sweet, could-be-innocent girl ever again.

“Emma, you with me?” Ruby’s voice was hesitant, her eyes wide as she took in Emma’s likely ghost-pale complexion and battle-ready stance.

(She was always fighting those internal ghosts and damn could those things travel.)

But she didn’t want to think about Neal or the bruises long-healed or how she wishes she could time travel back and prevent the most painful part of what that monster had done to her, the part where for a pretty little minute she truly thought she’d loved him.

No. The past might be doing its damnedest to creep into today but she was not going to let it.

Fuck you, Luke Bryan, and all your pelvic sorcery.

“God, I hate this song,” Emma finally croaked out. “I think we should celebrate today.”

“Celebrate how much you hate a song that I’m fairly sure David would kill you for hating?”

“No, Rubes. Celebrate this,” Emma motioned all around them, somewhat erratically, only serving to further confuse Ruby. At least for a moment. “We’re really getting somewhere, aren’t we? I mean, three hotel rooms. That’s, like, a record. We’re getting somewhere. You and I, we came from some shit, right? And now we’re headed toward something good and I think we should celebrate.”

“And how exactly do you propose we celebrate this? Because if it’s by having a four-way with Graham and Killian I’m absolutely in, with just a couple ground rules – “

Emma cut off her teasing before her brain had enough time to make any visuals of that: “Ew. God, no. Why does your brain even go there? No. I just meant, you know, hitting some bars or the beach or something. Day drinking. It’s the ultimate in enjoyment and not giving a fuck.”

“So you’re suggesting we celebrate the good the same way we drown our sorrows in the bad?” Ruby mocked, tossing the groceries on the conveyor belt and a packet of mints at Emma’s head.

“No, you drink your sorrows in the dark. You drink your celebrations when the sun’s out,” Emma said like it was the most normal, accepted thing in the world, like she was reciting it from a code of conduct instead of having made it up on the spot to cover for the fact that she very much, one hundred percent was drowning her sorrows but just didn’t have the patience to wait for the sun to set.

“Sure, Ems. Let’s go with that.” Ruby clearly wasn’t buying her bullshit – she always did have an excellent bullshit detector – but she went along with it all the same.

Emma paid for the groceries and hefted as many bags to the car as she could possibly carry, the burn in her arms like the warmth of the sun as she flip-flopped her way to the awaiting van, a great day of drinking and forgettingahead of her.

The usual six of them turned into seven that day, Killian’s old buddy from the service having been stationed at the naval base in Norfolk and here for a visit. Will, that was his name, and he was a pain in the ass in the very best way. He had been matching her shot-for-shot in the hotel room before they hopped the Uber to The Cove, a beachside bar favored by locals and tourists alike. He would tease her and taunt her and buy her drinks, but with absolutely the energy of a brother and not a I’m looking to get into your pants kind of way.

David saw her as a sister, sure, but he tended toward the serious, the protective. He cared so much and knew too much, and it kept him from being totally lighthearted or even downright rude. And Graham, well he never paid Emma quite that much attention, always on his own quests and whatnot. She couldn’t blame the guy, and truly she didn’t usually want attention, but there was something about today, something about the casual nature of her exchanges with Will that allowed her to just be free.

Killian wasn’t quite on board, though. Ever since she and Ruby had floated the idea of some casual no-show-tonight fun, he’d been weirdly quiet. Mary Margaret and David were notably excited, seeming to view it as an opportunity for date night, even with the five other tagalongs. And Ruby was pretty much always up for a party.

But Killian seemed to be cranky at her and she couldn’t figure out why.

“Let loose, why don’t you, Jones!” Emma shouted across the bar, Killian nursing a rum and coke while Ruby, Will, and Emma had joined another group of probable-tourists in a limbo competition.

“Eh, let him sulk,” Will had suggested, stumbling a little after returning to the upright position. He was suspiciously good at the limbo. Maybe he’d been a gymnast in another life?

“I’ll get him, Em,” Ruby promised, having fallen flat on her ass after the last round (the responding ooooohhhhhhshaving more to do with her skirt riding up to her waist as she fell than it was about the fall itself).

Ruby had spent the next hour or so in the corner with Killian, both steadily drinking but never really coming to re-join the party. So Emma and Will kept socializing with strangers while Graham flirted hard with a pretty girl and Mary Margaret and David found another grossly into each other couple to apparently double date with, because of course they did.

After a few drinking games, a few messy dances, and definitely too much liquor for before 5pm, Emma finally took a break, she and Will sidling up to the bar and ordering some nachos.

“Y’know, you’re not nearly as pretty as Killian described you,” Will said after a few minutes of nacho-focused silence.

“Hey! I think you’re insulting me and I don’t appreciate it,” Emma responded, cheese dripping down the corner of her mouth.

“Way he talks, you’d think you were a bleeding fallen angel or something. I definitely didn’t expect a hot mess who talked with her mouth full.”

“Hah! You said hot. I still got it,” she joked, chomping down on another cheese and chili covered chip.

Emma had become pretty good at reading people – people tended to adapt after you suffering the consequences of falling for it – and Will definitely wasn’t flirting with her. At least not with actual intent. So why on earth had he brought up her looks?

She was happy to play along with whatever game he had going, was even feeling a little bolder and more confident than usual with his carefree attitude and his backward compliments.

But his next comment was the proverbial bucket of ice on any of those feelings.

“He’s a good man, Emma. I hope you don’t toy with him.”

“Excuse me?” What exactly was this fucker accusing her of? She hadn’t even talked to Killian since they’d been at the hotel and she certainly hadn’t been mean. No, even at her most prickly, she was never all-out mean to him. He was a good guy, the type to hold your hair when you puked and nearly the opposite of her initial assumptions about him. Of course she’d never ‘toy with him.’ The fucking nerve of this dude.

“I don’t think you know me enough to continue those thoughts, Scarlet,” she warned, shoving the nachos away and downing her fruity drink.

“Don’t get me wrong. I like you, Emma. You’d make a good mate. But I’m more like you than you realize, and I know how many people I hurt before I got myself straight. Just … keep that in mind, won’t ya?”

And then the bastard just… left.

He didn’t say goodbye to anyone – not even to Killian – and left Emma pissed as all hell and sitting alone at a tourist trap in the worst city in all of Virginia.

So much for that attempt at celebration.

But before her thoughts (and actions) could turn to the dark side, Graham and David were approaching her for a friendly tournament of darts and after a couple bulls eyes and a little light taunting, her carefree spirit had returned, just in time to kick Mary Margaret’s ass and move onto the championship game between her and Killian.

“So, that friend of yours is something,” Emma observed, tossing her first set of darts and landing them with soft thunks into the felt.

“Will? Aye. He’s… he’s been a friend for quite a long time. There for me for some pain. So I choose to keep his pain-in-the-ass existence around.” His tone was light and his words sincere, but there was a weight to his expression that Emma didn’t quite understand.

He took his turn, little glints in his eye and mini-fist pumps when he hit his intended target. It was adorable, to be honest. But there was definitely something wrong and despite Will’s seeming accusations about her and her abilities to be a good friend, she wanted nothing more than to take away whatever pain he was reliving at the moment.

So she lost – yes, intentionally – and dragged him to the bar, ordering him some straight whiskey to loosen him up and hopefully to help him forget like she already was.

“Why, Swan, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to get me drunk,” he practically purred, breaking the flirty tone with a gentle boop to her nose. “Which is usually my tactic.”

“Easy, Captain,” she joked with him, fiddling with the prosthetic ‘hook’ contraption he wore when they went out (it’s a perfect beer holder, he’d said, to which she’d responded yeah, right, you just want to play pirate).

Despite the fog of the liquor, a few facts clicked into place. He’d suffered some bad shit in his past, shit Will apparently witnessed. Killian had also lost his hand, probably in the Navy. And this town, it wasn’t far from a navy base. Could that have been his navy base? Had they inadvertently brought Killian to the scene of the crime, so to speak?

The way she never wanted to go back to her ‘hometown,’ the place she’d lived the longest and suffered the most… what if that’s how he felt here? What if she’d suggested they celebrate over the grave of whatever and whoever he lost?

God, she was a hot mess and she was dangerous, the way she sank into her pain without looking into anyone else’s.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she wanted to apologize. Or something. “I’m sorry about this. Or, I guess, about whatever led to this. Or accompanied it. I’m just… I’m just sorry?”

“For the ungodly amount of liquor you’re pressuring me into drinking? Don’t worry, love, I’m a big boy.”

Ugh, the deflection. She knew that tactic well. “No, I mean this,” she said, gripping the elbow of his damaged arm. “I don’t know what happened and I’m not asking, but I just want you to know that I’m sorry. Not in the fault kind of way. Just the way where I wish it hadn’t happened and I know there’s pain and you didn’t deserve it. Or don’t. Currently. You know what I mean.”

“I think you’re drunk off your ass, darling.”

“Call me darling one more time and you’ll be the one on your ass.”

“So defensive, jeez,” he quipped, finishing another drink and slamming the glass back down on the table, his face melting into something a little more serious, if only for a moment. “Thank you, Swan,” he said finally, cupping her cheek with his right hand.

Her heart about stopped as his eyes bored into hers. It was much too much, the closeness, the feel of his hand, the heat of his body, the truth in his eyes, and all she wanted was to go back to teasing and laughing and strangers who didn’t have feelings or at least didn’t share them with her and why did she even bring it up, anyway? Just because Will had made her feel bad? Why shouldn’t they drink away their pain if it quieted the demons for one blessed day? Why should we have to suffer the same memories over and over when instead we could just fucking let go.

She should have just stuck to letting go.

But his intense sincerity washed away in a blink, his flirty near-pirate persona back with a vengeance. “Now, Swan, what game shall I best you at next?” His gentle caress on her cheek turned into a full grip, his fingers scrunching her face almost comically.

“Name it, Jones. You’re on.”

Turns out their little crew had signed them all up for a cornhole tournament out on the sand and Graham had called dibs on Emma as a partner, for which she was thankful. He was pretty boss at all bar games, and she had a competitive streak even without her BAC being higher than her high school GPA.

But get her drunk and she’d pretty much lie, cheat, and steal her way to bragging rights on whatever silly game they were playing.

So of course she and Graham had made it to the finals, their opponents two bikini-clad college girls who could trash talk like no other.

Which is why Emma was totally fine with the little plot she had brewing in her head.

“Graham, we need distractions here.”

“What do you mean, like have Mary Margaret set something on fire again?”

“Oh, come on. Pretty girls. Fun, happy, drunk, pretty girls. I saw them ogling you earlier so they’re probably straight. Take your shirt off. Now!”

“I always said I’d reject your advances when you inevitably tried to get me naked, Swan, but you drive a hard bargain.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but Graham did as instructed, stretching lazily and pantomiming sweat before pulling at the neck of his t-shirt and whisking it over his head.

The girls missed their next shots, and Graham had the chance to win it with this last toss and Emma was ready to bust out her victory dance just a tad prematurely.

Until the brunette untied her bikini top and let the fabric fall to her waist just as Graham was taking his shot.

He missed, of course.

Damn, these girls were good.

“Can I be of assistance?” a husky voice offered, his breath ticking her ear lobe.

Killian, of course.

“What exactly can you offer, Jones?” Graham swooped in to ask, clearly annoyed that his bare chest hadn’t yet won them the game.

“Well, Graham, Emma here assures me that you’re one ‘fine specimen of man’ but sadly to those girls you’re all talk and no action, across the beach from them, separated by this very game. I think they need something a little more… tactile.”

Killian was over-confident when he was drinking, but it’s not as if he were wrong. If she were one of those girls and Killian came up to her, with his sultry accent and his maddening smirk and the way he’d run his fingers through her long hair…

Yeah, it would work. Definitely. Yup.

“Go for it, Jones, but don’t come crying to us if they don’t take to your charms the way you want them to,” Emma warned, rolling her eyes and banishing all inappropriate thoughts of Killian Jones to the dark recesses of her mind with her knowledge of calculus and the memory of that time she walked in on Mary Margaret sucking David off in their shared kitchen back in Pittsburgh.

Killians voice alone proved distracting enough for the blonde girl to miss her shot and Graham, his ego now challenged, sank his with ease.

Emma cheered far too loud and leaped into Graham’s arms, her legs around his waist, Ruby rushing up to high five them and pass along a few more shots to keep the day rolling.

By the time the sun sank behind the bar, the ocean in front of them streaked with the deep blues and purples of twilight, Emma was well past drunk and definitely no longer thinking of any painful backstories or traumas or anything, really, but the cinnamon burn of the Fireball and the feel of Killian’s arm around her as they walked down a set of stairs to a fire pit so much like those that she’d built on the banks of the Allegheny and yet so different, the smell of the salt of the ocean and the leather of Killian’s jacket keeping her brain from connecting the present to the past.

“Jones, haven’t you ever heard you’re supposed to keep your hands to yourself in the presence of a lady?” she teased, wiggling her shoulders where he was grasping her.

“Aye, but I see no ladies here!” He chuckled and she elbowed him and he bowed his head to her ear as they stepped down the last stair. “Besides, love, what if you’d fallen and no one was there to save you?”

She rolled her eyes again, shrugging off his support now that there was no excuse for it, solid ground beneath their feet. “Oh, I’m a loud screamer. Someone would have come for me.”

“Oh, how I’d like to experience both of those things for myself…” Killian groaned, his mind of course solidly in the gutter.

Emma just laughed it off and stumbled toward the fire, joining Mary Margaret and David on a log clearly only meant for two.

Tomorrow was going to be hell, definitely more than just the echo of a hangover. But they had hotel rooms and each other and now and really those things alone made every minute of tomorrow’s inevitable headache more worth it than she could ever have fathomed in any stage of her life before this one.

[scribeofmorpheus]

Chasing Tornadoes Prologue

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader

Series Warnings: poorly written medical procedural , mild delving into spirituality, language, overbearing egos, graphic descriptions, more to be added.

*Set before Doctor Strange

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3

Taglist is open -comment or send an ask!

The hairs on your arms stood erect, prickling with new vivacity. Wind blew in from the east: Euros was stirring. Dust lifted off the ground as the howling winds agitate the tarp materials of the parasol overhead. You grabbed a serviette from the box next to the condiments and wiped the cucumber and mint tzatziki sauce off your lip. 

Something was coming.

You could feel it in the heat of the air and the rise in humidity. 

Deemng it past time that you got back, you pulled out a twenty from your purse and secured it under a salt shaker after you took one last bite of your lamb burger before binning the food wrapper and slinging your wicker bag over your shoulder. Your wide-brim hat protected your complexion from the harsh summer rays. 

Beyond the city line, a green sky began to crawl outwards. Random debris started rolling down the tarred road. At first, it was only small objects. Weightless objects like cans and newspapers and runaway articles of clothing. Then it escalated to furniture grinding against the cobbled streets, reluctantly being pushed backwards. 

You riffled through your bag, digging for your keys when the wind suddenly died down unexpectedly. A flash of light struck down in your peripheral and then you heard a roar that sounded like a runaway freight train.

Something was definitely coming.

The TV was relaying the latest weather report on mute. The freak weather had prompted the meteorologists to do a deep dive on the direction of air currents and possible escalations.

You set your kettle on, hand gripping your crystal necklace as you stood by your open window. Wind chimes clanking in a dissonant manner. The grey sky had blocked out the sun and a funnel began to form at the centre of a thunderstorm just beyond the horizon. The thundering shook the photo frames hanging up on the walls.

Your iguana, Spike, startled you by dropping several spice containers from your spice rack. His reptilian growl communicating his discomfort as you picked him up and cradled him against your shoulder. 

"It's okay Spikey boy, it's just thunder," you observed the funnel descend further down from the sky. Chunks of debris mixing into the circulating air. "Just a thunderstorm." 

You weren’t sure who you were trying to console, the fat lizard straining against your arms, or yourself.

The tornado had razed through half the neighbouring farming town to the south. Your pager beeped incessantly as soon as the weather had died down. Without needing to check why, you grabbed your medical badge and called an Uber.

The hospital was abuzz, filled by the smell of antiseptic and bleach. The waiting room was packed and the PA system blared out one announcement after the other with little breathing room between sentences. Swift feet rushed from one corner to the other. The few interns and fellows you could spot inside this chaos looked worse for wear, the stress and humidity making them resemble pruned vegetables.

You walked over to reception, tapping your arm on the counter when you noticed Janice was on duty. "Hey Jan, what's the 411?"

Jan covered her headset with one hand, "Tornado crashed through. Doctor on call is stuck on the other side of a collapsed bridge. Metro General is flying in some doctor to help with the relief efforts." 

Could it be Christine? You wondered.

You frowned, tying your untamed hair back and stowing away your bangles and necklaces. "Who's heading triage?" 

Right then, two paramedics burst through the swinging doors. Janice waved her arms to keep them from stopping, “Don’t bother waiting,” she said. “Just head on through.”

The police officers manning the entrance kept it open for another set of paramedics.

Things were escalating quickly and about to get a whole lot worse.

One of the fellows –Mike- half jogged to oversee the second patient on the gurney. The wheels squeaked, grinding from poor maintenance as he hovered over the gurney. Mike nodded at you as he shot Janice a pleading look. A smudge of soot on his cheek.

“Jan, you gotta get Doctor Weisz back on the phone, stat. We can’t take anymore as it is. We were understaffed to begin with.” He said with a tired lull to his voice.

“Sorry kid, unless you can magically mend bridges, we’re gonna have to make do.”

Mike wiped the sweat off his brow with his blue scrubs as he listened to the paramedics fill him in on the patient’s condition. He applied pressure to the patient’s stomach and asked a series of stand of the mill questions as they disappeared behind another set of doors.

Janice took another call and you waited on jittery legs until she was done, "Mike and a few other interns are the one’s handling triage. You best get in there, they could use you."

Next to go were your earrings as you started inching towards the second set of doors, clocking in your shift card. "Who's senior medical on staff?" 

Janice clacked away at her computer, bringing up the roll sheet, "According to my logs, now that you're here, it's you." 

You swallowed uncomfortably, handing Janice your bag so she could shove it under her desk. The distant fire-truck sirens were barely audible from inside of this noisy beast’s belly. A new ambulance screeched to a halt at the entrance.

Great…

   “You’re sending me where?” Strange demanded as he stared at Christine with large eyes and pulled eyebrows.

Christine scoffed as she made her rounds, “I’m not sending you anywhere, the board is.”

The skin around his nose curled upwards as he refrained from rolling his eyes, “Oh, screw the board.”

“Don’t start with that, you know why they’re keeping a close eye on you, it’s not like they don’t have good reason to either,” she ticked off a chart next to a patient’s room after thoroughly reading the attending physician’s notes.

Strange peered over her shoulder, “You should probably prescribe some probiotics,” he offered his advice freely even though she hadn’t asked.

She gave him a look that told him to back off and he did. Christine placed the chart back in its slot and made her way to another room. He massaged his jaw in frustration as he chased after her, nowhere near done with his rant. “I saved that patients life, Christine and now the board is punishing me for it. it’s bloody ridiculous is what it is! They’re all just bitter because I’m smarter than everybody on that circus show and they know it.”

She spun around to face him, her pen nearly touching his chin, “Yes, you saved that patients life, but you did so with no regard for this hospital’s code of ethics. You acted impulsively and without a seconds thought about the rules you were breaking or the potential backlash we could have faced had the media caught wind of it. That is why they chose you.”

He flicked her pen away with his index and middle finger, unwavering confidence twinkling in his eye, “I did what I had to do to save that man’s life.”

“Our jobs aren’t just about saving lives, that’s the harsh reality of it Stephen!” Christine’s voice turned stern, “You could have been fired for your recklessness… and if anything had gone even the slightest bit wrong, the patient’s family would have been liable to sue!”

He shot her a dastardly smirk, head cocked to the side, “But that didn’t happen, did it?” He could see it in the way her face muscles twitched, she wasn’t in the mood to deal with his tantrum.

She grunted in exasperation as she continued down the hallway. He was so sure of himself it made Christine want to pull her hair out at times. “Listen, they’re sending you to aid the relief efforts after that Tornado struck and that’s the end of it. If you want to look at this as some form of punishment to appease your ego then that’s fine by me, but either way, you’re getting on that chopper.”

“For Christ’s sake, Christine. I’m a bloody neurosurgeon! Not some goffer the board can pawn off to some second rate hospital in the middle of nowhere!” His temple was throbbing, that vein of his pulsing to the rhythm of his accelerated heart rate. He was beginning to lose his temper.

“Yes, you’re a brilliant neurosurgeon, no one disputes that,” she patted his chest, feeling his lungs force his ribs up and down in quick movements. She smiled sweetly. “But you were also a gifted doctor before you specialised. Time to get back on that bicycle superstar.”

The sound of plastic gloves stretching off his slender fingers sent smacking noises through the air. Strange wasn’t happy about his new assignment. He was one of the leading neurosurgeons in his field and they were sending him to some small town in the ass-end of nowhere to aid in relief efforts?

“Utterly ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath as he strode to the locker rooms.

Christine watched him storm away with a cheeky smile hiding under her perfectly professional demeanour. Maybe this trip might do him some good after all. She had been right to suggest him for the job. He could do with a little humility. And if she knew her old friend Y/N, he was in for a bit of a painful awakening.

 To be continued...

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Permatags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @savethehoneeybees 

[hannawilliamson]

Lifest - Party with a Purpose (2019)

On Black Friday 2018 as the deals rolled in I snagged up two tickets to Lifest 2019 at 50% off. Another year I would find myself in the crowds listening to Christian music on various stages in the summer sun, with nights of concert headliners. Sydney from church decided to tag along this year and I couldn’t be more excited. Since solidifying my faith in college, it has not wavered. I started attending church in October 2017 at Central Christian in Beloit, WI. It wasn’t until May 2019 that I had a shift. I questioned if my lack of attendance was in relation to a friend’s passing, but I didn’t doubt my God or His love. Unclear for the reasons behind my drastic lack of attendance in the month of May, June and July I was hesitant heading into a Christ filled weekend. I dove into prayer asking for a weekend of rejuvenation, a flame to return full into my faith and connection with others in Christ. 

Day 1: Thursday July 11, 2019 

Sydney and I departed around 12:30PM for a weekend away in Neenah, WI. It was quite a travel, which provided a good opportunity for us to catch up on the changes of life over the last several months apart. We arrived to our AirBnB in the mid afternoon to find the air conditioning cranked, which provided some reassurance for a hot weekend ahead. It was a quaint older home, simple in many ways with it’s own quirks here and there. We claimed our personal bedrooms and headed to the store for some supplies. 

One of my favorite things about Sydney is her love for food, alternative options and basic cooking methods. Sydney has been vegan for the last several years of her life. I was raised in a home where it isn’t a meal with some sort of meat on the table. Each time I am with Sydney I soak up information about alternative meal options, food benefits and the health behind what we take into our bodies. I was lucky enough to go grocery shopping with Sydney for the first time. We went through the aisles that are unusual for me, filled with organic, vegetarian and vegan options. I love to see and try these options, and typically end up incorporating pieces of the meal into my own life. When we returned home Sydney whipped up a great meal of  homegrown lettuce salad, baked potato and Boca Spicy Chik’n Veggie Patties. Can you tell that I am a huge foodie?

After filling out stomachs we got around and headed to Lifest in Oshkosh, WI. One of my favorite things about Lifest is the organization of the parking, golf cart transportation, police officer supervision of the cross street and the entry process. We arrived first at the Cafe stage direct to the main entrance. We met up with my friend Sarah and her son Carter to finish off the HappyFunTime comedy show. As they grabbed some dinner we couldn’t resist the dough shoppe. Sydney tried the Vegan Chocolate Chip and I had the Salted Caramel Dark Chocolate. Oh how thankful I am for the invention of raw cookie dough as a treat. 

We headed over to the Grandstand to catch the last half of Kari Jobe singing. It was wonderful to see her in person with her husband alongside sharing some of his own songs. Soon after For King & Country came onto the stage. I first saw them last year at Lifest 2018. For King & Country is a group of truly incredible performers with a great message to their audience. A music group that I would pay to see in concert each and every year (that’s a lot coming from a girl who isn’t crazy about loud music & crowds). We spent the entire concert standing up by the stage, which lead to a swollen knee on my end and very tired feet. Upon arrival at home we recognized the television wasn’t working, a late night as is we both headed to bed. 

Day 2: Friday July 12, 2019

We woke up to have a good ol’ bowl of peanut butter cereal and chai tea lattes. A vegan breakfast that again, I ended up loving. 

Once finished we headed out for the day, with the destination of a local coffee shop. Easily distracted we walked ourselves through a local natural product shop and reused bookstore to finally arrive at Timshel Cafe. (Timshel: http://timshelcafe.com/menu-1) Sydney ordered the Vegan Sunrise Wrap and Vegan Chili. I selected the half/half Pesto Chicken Sandwich and Harvest Salad. We chatted, munched and spent some time in our own worlds. Sydney chose to read out of her bible and work on a study, while I worked on my business of Lemongrass Spa. After a few hours out we returning home in the late afternoon for a nap before a long night ahead. While some may say “lazy”, we call it  “relaxed!” 

As we headed into Lifest we grabbed some french fries and headed to find seats for an evening of listening to Casting Crowns. Not one to recognize a song by the artists name I was pleased to see how many songs I did know the words to. Sitting in the back on the bleachers gave us the time to witness families of all ages gathered together for a weekend of God, music and family. It is a beautiful thing to watch the gaps between generations come together in the name of Jesus. As the day came to an end we spent some time with a glass of wine at home before crawling into our beds.

Day 3: Saturday July 13, 2019

Sydney Snapchat Saturday! I woke up to snaps of Sydney's face encouraging me to wake up for the farmers market. It doesn’t take much besides the word ���market” to get me up, her face and farmers were a bonus though. We got around for the day before heading out to the local market. Walking up I was impressed it was more than five stand, a little disappointed with the repetitive selection. Please understand our standards are high when it comes to farmers markets as we are spoiled by living in/near Beloit, WI where we have one of the best in the state. We did stop and enjoy some Honey Land Juice Co pressed juices. Sydney tried Mean Green (apple, cucumber, kale, celery, lemon and ginger). I picked Sweet Green (apple, pineapple, cucumber and mint). There on the side of each bottle was a subtle bible verse, adding just a touch more love into our days. 

Straight off to Lifest we went. Upon our arrival we toured around the stages and went through the inside building to tour the various stands of Christian schools, organizations and products. Sydney and I spent some time at a picnic table again enjoying some friends together. We weren’t thrilled with any music going on and decided to head home for some rest before another big night. On our way out my not so hungry self couldn’t resist from bakery treats. I picked up some cream puffs in order to help Sydney live vicariously through my not so vegan choices. It was a good choice indeed! 

After a nap at home, Sydney again cooked an amazing dinner. Today it was her Papa’s famous wine pasta. Sydney added tofu to hers, and my not so adventurous self returned to my Boca Spicy Chik’n Veggie Patties to mix in.  We spent the late afternoon eating, watching television and chatting. During our time at home I received several messages from an old friend from home, talking about life and plans to catch up. She mentioned her love for watching my faith journey and interested in attending a church service in the future. I kept saying in my head, “God I hear you, thank you for listening to my prayer to call me home”.

Photo: Sydney called her Papa to make sure she had the right steps for the recipe.  

Eventually we got ourselves around and headed on back to Lifest. As we approached the Cafe stage Sydney encouraged that we stay to watch Jamie Kimmett singing.  I was surprised I recognized a song, and pleased to find a new artist with a transparent passion in their music. As I silenced myself to my surroundings and honed my listening into his music I got goosebumps as you can feel his love for Christ and passion to share that with others. (His Story: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UXi_fTB0BBU). 

After deciding comfort was the way to go we returned home for a quick change of clothes. Sydney made herself a chai tea latte in a coffee mug for on the go. As we got into the car I questioned her driving and drinking out of a mug, with not confident reassurance on her end we were off. Please note we arrived in one piece with no chai latte casualties on the way. We returned in time to catch the end half of Danny Gokey at the Grandstand. Never before had either of us have seen him in concert. He’s a common name in Christian music these days, so it was incredible to see his stage presence and reliability. Headliners of the night was the American Christian rock band Skillet. I am not one for rock music but I can tell you these people have a stage presence, there is no doubt about that. It was a night filled with flames, smoke and lights. We returned home for our last night in the area. 

Day 4: Sunday July 14, 2019

A few days prior Sydney and I looked online for a local church similar to our own. After looking at various options, she trusted my opinion in which I selected MillCity Church in Neenah, WI. On Sunday morning we woke up, got dressed, ate quick and checked out of our AirBnB before heading to the morning church service. After a few missed turns we arrived at MillCity Church in Neenah, WI. Upon walking in we recognized it was much smaller than both of us intended, but stayed for the sermon which covered a section out of the Bible. I went in to use the bathroom at a small gas station before we left town, only to be surprised by raccoons in the ceiling. I’ve been in plenty of old farmhouses to recognize the sound but never in a tiled room with the fear of one falling in on me, so I scurried on out before one had the chance. We took a long ride home judging the height of farmer’s corn, discussing the week past and week to come.

It was quite a weekend, filled with a lax game plan for the days, Christian music at night and beautiful sunsets. I returned home with the itch for worship, to be present in God’s house surrounded by people that made me feel at home. I was looking forward to returning to my church the next weekend ahead. 

[salgadobarbaratg]

These Protectors Lets You To See The Card Without Exposing Them To Air.

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