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alecmagnuslwb · 3 years

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Teenagers, We Think We’re Smart

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Zatanna’s one hundred percent certain that her father rues the day he brought John Constantine home as his latest project as he paces the floor in front of her running a hand along his goatee with a loud sigh every few minutes.

“He’s a smart young man,” she remembers her father saying to her as Constantine roamed the edges of her father’s study picking up magical tidbits here and there and flipping them around haphazardly. “He’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s got a sorcerers mind. With the right tutelage he might even catch up with you one day.”

Rough around the edges had been her father’s polite description. Really he was the father of a teenage daughter’s worst nightmare, he just somehow missed that part as he allowed John into their home and began training him.

The sandy blonde hair always purposefully tousled, the tattoos that peaked from the edges of his ratty old jacket covered in patches and pins, the line of piercings along both ears and the handsome face with a nose that had been broken a few too many times were exactly what any girl would bring home for dinner to terrorize her parents. And here he was already sitting at the dinner table.

But Zatanna had no interest in making her father angry about the boys she spent her time with. She told herself that to her Constantine would be just another in a long line of young proteges her father picked up hoping to challenge her a little more.

They never did and she was content with letting the Constantine phase pass quickly. Constantine was talented her father had been right about that, but he was also a shameless flirt who liked to live a little too dangerously. It annoyed her to no ends, or at least that’s what she told herself the first few months.

“You’re exhausting,” Zatanna said standing up from her seat at the table they’d been occupying quietly reading until he’d started on a rant about some ancient demon he’d been reading up about. For all that she claimed he was exhausting, she chose to stay at the table for the entire rant. Just like he’d listened to her talk about the finer, boring details of backwards magic the other day. She was just keeping things civil, balanced, that’s all. “And one of these days my father is going to hear you going on about raising demons to fight just fights and he’ll never let you in here again.”

Constantine chuckled standing and following her as she made her way to the door. He caught up putting an arm in front of the exit loosely and just high enough she could still leave if she wanted, but with a quiet request to stop if she chose to as well. She should have ducked under his arm and gone on, but she stayed put turning her head to meet his eyes.

He looked her up and down once that little frustrating almost smile he always seemed to sport when he looked at her on his lips as he held her gaze.

She squirmed under the look. “You know this whole hot, bad boy schtick thing you’ve got going on, doesn’t work on me, right?” she said pulling the book still in her arms tighter to her chest.

“You think I’m hot?” he said with a raise of his left eyebrow, the one with the little scar from where his father had thrown a bottle at him when he was nine. She’s not sure he meant to tell her that story, too vulnerable of a moment to share, but he’d let it slip one night when her father had rushed off to some meeting of sorcerer’s or something of the like leaving the two of them to their own devices. Something had shifted from there; she couldn’t quite be as annoyed with him as she wanted to be anymore.

“Not the point,” she scoffed loosening her hold on the book and letting one of her arms drop to her side. “What I mean is the schtick doesn’t work, because I see there’s more underneath it.”

She didn’t really think after that she just acted lifting herself up and kissing him on the lips once hard and quick. She smiled at him before ducking underneath his arm that had slipped just a little from the shock of her kiss and walked off. She turned back just once before heading up the stairs passing her father who was oblivious to what had just happened to catch sight of Constantine running the tips of his fingers across his lips shaking his head with a smile.

Since then five days a week when he’s at the mansion they’ve been stealing kisses in shadowy alcoves and holding hands a little longer than necessary when conjuring something and the other two days either John’s in the audience of her father’s shows while she assists him or they’re slipping off to get into their own brand of trouble.

Tonight had been the latter and finally after months of caution and her father not so much as batting an eye at them, they’d been caught.

“I cannot believe you did this,” her father says finally speaking for the first time in nearly twenty minutes. Zatanna sits up straight from where she’s been slouched over her head resting on her hand watching as her father’s pacing comes to a stop.

“How long has this thing been going on?” he asks gesturing to the closed door on the other side John is, as far as she knows, still waiting for her father to inevitably ban him from the mansion.

“A few months,” Zatanna shrugs not wanting to go into the details. If he knows it’s been six months and that as weird as it can feel they call each other boyfriend and girlfriend and that a few short days ago John casually and quietly told her he loved her for the first time he’d flip out even more than he already is.

“Months,” he mutters under his breath rubbing a hand across his forehead. “And how long have you been spending your nights in pocket dimension magic bars that you’re not old enough to be in?”

“Just the once,” she quickly answers. He doesn’t need to know about the other pocket dimension magic bar they found themselves in last month and the subsequent bar fight John got into when a four-armed creature got three of his hand’s way too close to her. He’d probably be proud she’s perfected a spell to fix a broken nose without any pain however.

Her father opens his mouth about to say something else when suddenly the faint smell of smoke drifts under the door freezing him in place.

“That better not be a cigarette in my house out there Constantine,” he shouts loud and angry, the fearful sorcerer he is on full display. The smell of smoke dissipates almost instantly just as the clatter of something metal, a conjured ash tray she’d bet, falls to the ground.

She smiles a small amused smile that drops as soon as her father turns back to her.

“You are a child,” he says and Zatanna straightens up even more.

“I’m seventeen,” she says indignantly.

“Exactly, a child, both of you are,” he says once again gesturing to the door John sits behind. “A place like that is no place for you to be.”

“We didn’t even drink or buy anything,” Zatanna defends knowing it’s a weak defense that won’t win this argument. It’s the truth though, her father had just happened to walk into that same bar the moment when John had picked up an empty glass to show her a new trick he’d learned, which looked pretty suspect with no context she’s willing to admit.

“That is not the point and you know it. You have been lying for months and,” he says stuffing his hand into one of the pockets of his fancy black slacks. He pulls out a key with a bright pink motel keychain attached to it, John’s room number blazoned across it in bold black letters. “I found this by your door, you must have dropped it on your way out for drinks.”

She rolls her eyes and he gives her a sharp look that stops the roll in its tracks.

“How many nights have you not slept here?” he asks an eyebrow raised angrily.

“A few,” she shrugs, slinking back into her chair. It’s fifteen to be exact, another thing he doesn’t need to know all the details of.

“So, not only have you been galivanting off in bars you shouldn’t be in and lying about what you do with your free time, but my little girl has also been spending the night with some boy?” he says his voice getting a little louder. Not quite yelling, but definitely not happy.

“A boy you brought around,” she scoffs crossing her arms.

Her father let’s out an angry huff. “Well, not anymore. He’s done. I won’t have a bad influence around my daughter any longer.”

Zatanna stands from her chair grabbing his arm as he turns to the door on a warpath to kick John out for good.

“You can’t do that,” she pleas tugging his sleeve so he looks back at her. “He’s worked so hard, he’s bright just like you said when you first found him.”

“Bright doesn’t excuse lying and dragging my daughter around god knows where,” he says, but Zatanna holds tight to his arm pleading their case, pleading John’s.

“He didn’t drag me anywhere,” she practically shouts to hold her father’s attention. “I was the one who wanted to go tonight, I’m the one who kissed him first, I’m the one who asked for a key. Me. Not him.”

She takes a breath soldiering on.

“You never want me to go anywhere, I ask for you to show me more and you won’t. I know my magic has limits that you won’t let me discover, but I want to,” she pauses dropping her hand from his arm. “I know you worry and it’s dangerous, but I’m not a little kid anymore. So I went to some of the places and learned some things I’ve been curious about not because John is a bad influence, but because I wanted to. At best he was a protective hand to hold mine if things got too scary and at worst a willing and caring accomplice.”

“No matter what, you’ve still been lying to me, both of you have,” her father says eyes still hard, but softening just a bit.

“Yeah, you’ve got us there and if you want to make us sit in silence and read history of magic books for weeks on end as punishment for sneaking around you can, but don’t send him away. He’s no angel, don’t get me wrong, but he’s not a bad influence, if anything I’m too good of an influence on him that’s the first he’s smoked in weeks,” she says gesturing to the door with a chuckle. “You said it yourself we’re kids. Dumb kids who lied, but every choice I made was mine, and everything we did was between two people who lo-“ she pauses not really wanting to share that with her father right now. She hasn’t even said it back to John yet so she course corrects. “Care for each other in a fully consenting way.”

She finishes her argument off with emphasis hoping her father doesn’t try and go there specifically tonight. She doesn’t need another birds and bees talk from her dad. The first one was painful enough.

Her father’s shoulders slump and he lets out a sigh more dramatic than necessary.

“Fine,” he says before reaching for the door and turning the handle. John practically falls through it when it opens, catching himself at the last moment.

He clears his throat standing to his full height and gives her father a smile that’s perfectly balanced between apologetic and humble, trying to play off the fact he was very obviously listening to everything that was said through the door.

“Three weeks,” her father says as John settles next to her. He starts to reach out for her hand, but thinks better of it at the last second. “You will both be sitting quietly reading magical history books that will bore you to tears for three weeks, no spells, no conjuring, no magic of any sort.”

“Yes, sir,” they say in unison. John’s shoulders which were rigid with tension, clearly worried he was going to be sent packing all the way back to London, drop and he steps a little closer to Zatanna.

“There will be no more lying, no more magical bars until your both of age,” he continues on holding himself in a parade stance in front of them, all business. “This key,” he says pulling it back out from his pocket and shockingly handing it over to Zatanna. “May be used, but you will come home at a prompt and discussed time when it is.”

“Yes, sir,” they say once again. John seems to feel a little braver now and reaches out tangling his fingers with hers.

“And if you do stay the night, you better be as sly about it as you have been and you must be safe,” he says his eyes staying put on John’s specifically in warning.

“Yes, sir,” he says with a confident nod. “Always am.”

“Good,” her father says softening his stance. “As for tonight though, I think it’s best you went home, John. I’ll let you say your goodnights.”

Her father gives her a small smile before swiftly leaving the room.

John lets out a long-relieved breath once he’s gone.

“Bloody hell I thought for sure he was going to send me packing, or just kill me,” he says letting his head drop down to her shoulder. “Definitely assumed he was about to melt that key right in front of us.”

Zatanna chuckles ruffling his hair and tugging at the ends until he lifts back up.

“Good thing he didn’t cause that one’s yours actually,” she says with a smile dropping it in his hand and pulling her own key from her shorts pocket dangling it in front of his eyes.

“Shit,” he says slipping it into the inside pocket of the long black trench coat he’s taken to wearing of late, she weirdly thinks a tan one would suit him better. “When the hell did I lose that?”

“This morning probably,” she says referring to when John had been sent upstairs by her father that morning to retrieve her for an early morning lesson. Things had gotten a little out of hands in the doorway when they’d been given a moment alone.

“Oops,” he says with a chuckle. He leans down kissing her lightly on the lips once, twice until the loud definitely magically manufactured sound of a ticking clock breaks them apart.

“Sounds like that’s my farewell song playing,” he says leaning in one last time, the linger of the cigarette he barely smoked in the hall still on his lips. “I’ll see you Monday for history lessons.”

Zatanna nods her head smiling as their arms travel along one another until it’s just their fingertips and he’s backing out of the door.

He turns and she follows watching as he heads for the intricate stained glass front doors.

“Hey, John,” she says leaning against the stairs. She can feel her father lingering at the top of them just out of sight, but she doesn’t care. “I love you too.”

He turns half in the door, half out with a big smile on his lips that she’s still getting used to seeing.

“Telling me just as we’re grounded, damn Zee. You’re gonna be the death of me luv,” he says smile still in place, he gives her a wink as he finally makes his way out the door the magic of the mansion closing it behind him.

She hears her father’s footsteps heading down the stairs as she pushes herself off of them.

“You two are going to make me regret giving you that key back aren’t you?” he says with a put-upon sigh.

Zatanna just smiles and makes her way up the steps patting him on the shoulder playfully as she passes.

“We’ll behave, I promise,” she says once she hits the top of the stairs and turns the corner.

“Go to bed,” he shouts after her sounding more like an exasperated single father than he ever has before as he trudges his way back up the stairs.

“As you wish father,” she shouts back playfully making her way down the hall to her room. As she turns the knob to her bedroom door she hears her father mutter with another loud sigh one solitary word: teenagers.

#my fic #johnzee #john constantine #zatanna zatara #writersmonth2021 #getting a late start and will be posting so many out of order prompts but i intend to do the whole month so stay tuned!

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

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shallow or deep

— “Why would you want a guy with such a large and disgusting burn?” he whispered, his tone thoroughly rejected, broken. It was then that it hit you: did he think he wasn't good enough for you. —

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, angst (insecurities), cursing

word count: 2,544

a/n: I took the shouto has an insecurity over his scar even if it isnt that deep headcanon and ran with it, I hope yall enjoy this!!!! its been awhile since ive managed to write a fic in a single day!!!

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“You’re quite the handsome man!”

“Oh, thank you.”

“But that scar... don’t you want to get that fixed? I know someone with a quirk who can fix that up for you!”

“Thank you for your concern, but I think I am content with it.”

“Without a doubt, you are by far one of the most attractive Pro Heroes to have existed!”

“Thank you for your compliment, but I think it’s my ability to—”

“Don’t you think you would look hotter without your scar? Have you ever considered getting it removed?”

“...no, I haven’t…”

“Just imagine how Shouto would look like without his scar, here are some edited pictures for reference!”

“Wow, if I didn’t want to give him my life already, I would sell my soul to the devil to get with a scarless Shouto…”

“I don’t know, I think the scars sexy! Like look at it, it makes him so mysterious and badass! Guys with scars are so fucking hot! But in my opinion, without the scar? Shouto isn’t shit!”

“Guys with scars are hot, I’ll give you that, but not one-fourth of the face scars! He’s extremely handsome still, but it’s a bit tacky for the scar to be there. If it had been like Deku’s arm and hand scars — hell, even Eraserheads face scar — he would be so much finer.”

“And just how did you get your scar, Shouto?”

The American interviewer who sat in front of Shouto during this live national interview had the kindest smile on her face, but to the Pro Heroes who sat on the stage alongside Shouto could recognize that shark-like glint in her eyes. Her face was calm, tranquil, beautiful, but her eyes sent bitter acid through the Heroes mouth.

“I’ve already explained what happened in a previous interview,” Shouto spoke calmly, his fingers digging into his knees.

Your eyes looked over to your boyfriend, who seemed to be trying everything in his power to remain calm. You’d only seen this happen through a screen, never in real life.

The interviewer seemed unconcerned with his rebuttal, most likely expecting this from the man who wasn’t one for repeating big stories. Her chin tilted up almost like she was looking down on him, looking down on who he was.

“Well then, I’ll bite,” she leaned forward, and you felt on edge to attack, but a hand gripped your wrist when a cruel smirk spread on her face. “Do you resent your mother for burning you that night? How do you feel about the fact that it was your mother who ruined your charming looks?”

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The car was silent.

Your eyes tried to remain focused on the road ahead of you, but to your misplaced anger and hurt, you focused on the side of Shouto’s face every so often while he drove.

The radio wasn’t even on, something the both of you enjoyed blasting because you would sing stupidly loud and Shouto would hum along in his own mirth. The only sound heard was the tires driving against the gravel road and your irritated breathing.

The two of you had dropped off your friends five minutes ago, the once awkwardly tense car melting to this angry silence between the two of you in the front.

You hadn’t defended him on live television because Momo held you back, and Shouto allowed the interviewer to defile his family’s past abuse with her keen touch. The silence between the two of you was also irritating you.

Once the interview was done, Shouto had been the first to rise from his chair and to leave. And you were hot on his heels. You hadn’t been forgiving to Shouto when you finally corned him.

“How could you let her talk to you like that, Shouto?” you blazoned, your heart hammering in your chest, anger, humiliation, and sorrow riling you up. “She was a total fucking cunt, and you just took it!”

Shouto stared down at you, that old yet familiar distant look in his eyes — that anger that burned brighter than any fire he could produce flaming in both eyes.

“Drop it, y/n,” he all but hissed, his face stone, his tone fierce. “You don’t need to fight every single fucking thing that makes me uncomfortable.”

Those words weren’t enough to make you drop it, had it been any other fight you would have continued to press him for what was wrong with him, but it was that look in his eyes. The old look that you had sworn long ago you’d never allow to meet his eyes again.

The anger, humiliation, and broken look that he used to wear every day.

When Shouto finally parked, he didn’t hesitate to get out of the car, the door slamming loudly while you stumbled to follow after him.

But he was tall, too tall, and was in the house well before you could close your own door. It didn’t deter the way that you stormed towards the house, the devil, and god riding on your shoulder in this battle to figure out what the hell was wrong with Shouto.

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“I don’t resent my mother,” Shouto cooly stated. “It was an unfortunate accident, but fortunately, it hasn’t kept me from anything. I still have complete sight and functionality, so I’m okay. I could never resent my mother.”

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“Won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” you ask, coming into the house.

This was Shouto’s house, something that Endeavor had gifted to him in his expression of apology. He and his siblings had been given their own homes the moment they turned twenty, and shortly after starting your relationship, he had asked you to move in.

You both were now twenty-three. You were neither each other's firsts on many levels, but there was no denying that this was the best relationship the both of you had. You comforted each other to no level, loved each other like no other. It was almost a shame that you didn’t have any feelings for your old classmate during high school because maybe then you’d been together for longer than a year.

But nevertheless, the two of you held no regrets. His house had become yours with him.

It was a bright place, no matter how dull the day was, it was always vivacious and warm in here.

But not now.

The door closed behind you, and you saw Shouto standing at the kitchen table, head lowered, arms tense. The world seemed grey, dull, and cold. You almost swore the house’s temperature was ten degrees cooler while you approached your boyfriend, who appeared to be trapped in his thoughts.

You neared him, your own anger diminishing slowly when you saw the shadows over his eyes, his teeth gnashing in a grit.

Sorrow, humiliation, guilt.

That’s all you could read from him, but you needed more from him.

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The interviewer seems to have expected that answer for she remains unfazed, but that predatorial glint in her eyes remains. The eyes of someone who hasn’t shown off their strongest of cards.

“How about relationship-wise? Have any of the beautiful ladies you’ve dated or have wanted to court in the past told you that you’d be much more handsome without it? Don’t you wish that you could be more normal for y/h/n?”

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“Why would you want a guy with such a large and disgusting burn?” he whispered, his tone thoroughly rejected, broken. It was then that it hit you: did he think he wasn't good enough for you.

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You stood up, the chair you were sitting on scraping loudly against the black floor. The interviewer snapped her attention on you for just a moment, eyes sparkling with the thrill of getting a dramatic reaction from someone.

But Momo and Uraraka held you down, and Sero’s tape came across your mouth to keep you from talking your mind.

“There have been words like that before,” Shouto says, his voice steely smooth. “But as you can see, I’m not dating anyone who shares those same opinions.”

The interviewer seemed to deflate at that answer, obviously not the juicy breakdown she was hoping for. She continued down the mass interview with the most successful class from UA’s hero program, and you continued to fume in your seat. Anger that couldn’t even be quieted by the sour emotions coming off of Shouto in large waves.

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“W-What?” you say almost in a horrified whisper.

Your eyes were wide, unsure if you had heard Shouto correctly. You prayed you had. A fist clenched on your chest, your gaze followed Shouto’s clouded face when he stood up completely.

“You heard me right,” he repeats, his focus on the wall. Finally, his blue and grey eyes focus on you; they’re distant, so far away, you weren’t sure if you could get him back anytime soon. A soft sigh ragged in his chest, nearly choking in his throat when he looked at you. “I was never insecure about my scar growing up… I didn’t have anything in sight except for wanting to be a hero, and hell, even through high school, it didn’t matter. No one in our class mentioned it, and I went on to believe that it while it wasn’t normal, it was in some way.” His hands found your cheeks, pressing onto them gently, and you could feel them tremble slightly. “Then I finally liked someone romantically, and we were thrust into the crazy world of media, and I realized that my burn isn’t normal.”

“S-Shouto…”

“The first person I ever dated told me they knew someone who would fix it up for me for free. The second person… well, they were an idiot and thought if we had children, the burn would be transferred over. More and more people both privately and publicly told me that I would be s-so much better without it… Do you think I’d be better without it?” his lips twisted, and you could only stare up in his eyes that seemed so far away so broken. “Even the ones who liked it, it was some weird fetish of theirs… the truth is, I don’t know how to feel about it. I shouldn’t hate it because it’s who I am, but I hate it because people always have some opinion about it, and no matter what I hear, it always pisses me off. I just… you’re beautiful, y/n. You’re the person in my life that I never want to see leave, and I know that it’s shallow to value people only for their beauty, but I’m not beautiful. Scars and burns are not beautiful, they’re ugly... My looks are decent at best, but that’s all that makes me desirable. Not you, though. You’re gorgeous, your personality and attitude never fail to make everyone feel better, and yet you’re here with me… why would you love someone like me?”

There it was.

His eyes kept to your feet as if he wasn’t worthy of staring you in the face. His hands continue to hold against you in a weak grasp, as if he pressed any harder against you, you would crumble to dust or say you hated him.

Your hands grasped his wrists, pressing his hands even more against your skin. It was an intense action, so out of the blue that his eyes snapped up to meet yours finally.

Shouto wasn’t sure what to expect when he looked at your face; he knew you were upset about the interview, and truthfully he wished he hadn’t warned Uraraka, Momo, and Sero to keep you down when those questions were asked — should they have been proposed. He also expected tears, you were always one to be more emotional than he was.

What he didn’t expect were steely yet warm eyes.

“You’re an idiot, Todoroki Shouto,” you finally speak. You took a step closer to him, your heartbeat in your throat. This was a raw Shouto standing before you. A Shouto, you had no idea how he reacted, no matter how much you knew him. So, if this was a rebuilding scene, a moment to get him to see what you saw, you would take it. “You’re right, scars and burns are ugly. They shouldn’t be romanticized. It’s also not the same as others, who take scars as a sign of overcoming hardships and victory. Your scar is one of a kind… but like you’ve said, shallow traits aren’t enough…” Your chin trembled just the slightest bit, but you couldn’t let yourself cry. No, you had to be strong for him. “You’re the kindest person I know, which knowing the saint that is Midoriya and All Might, it means a lot. I don’t mean it because you’re my boyfriend, or because I want you to feel better, but you had every reason to not be kind in your life and look at you, you’re gentle, you’re sweet. You also speak your mind, no matter what. Your opinions are valuable, and that’s why you’re such a great leader. You were made to become a hero that surpassed All Might, and you did it without ever once going down the road your father had intended for you. You did that. But if we’re going to be looking at the shallow traits, we can do that.

Your scar is a sign of growth. It’s ugly, and it’s beautiful. It’s ugly because it makes you feel like you’re not good for me. It’s ugly because it was such a dark time for you when it came. It’s ugly because it’s an insecurity. But I also see beauty. It’s beautiful because it’s another place I can tenderly love at night. It’s beautiful because who you were back then is just a scar of who you were. It’s beautiful because it’s a source of your strength despite it all. You can think whatever you want of it, Shouto, think it’s good or bad, but because it’s apart of you I have to and I choose to love it. Why would I ever want you to change who you are if you’re comfortable with it? What kind of lover would I be if I decided to love everything but one part of you?” your fingers trailed to his scarred skin, the red skin forever warm under your touch. “Shallow or deep, I will never stop loving you.”

Tears fell from his eyes, and his lips crashed against yours.

The two of you sink to the floor in this wet and sweet embrace. Lips never tearing from each other, fingers wistfully holding on, a silent prayer to each other of your devotions, and hope to never leave each other’s sides. Your fingers continued to stroke against his scar, and he held you so close until you could no longer kiss.

So your wet and bruised lips pressed against his warm scar, gentle and soft reminders that you were there for him until his faint cries became steady breathing.

Todoroki Shouto may never get over the insecurity of his scar, but he’d be damned if he thought for a second whether it was there or not, you’d love him any more or any less. You loved him entirely, and for that, he was forever grateful.

#todoroki shouto #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #bnha x reader

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cathygeha · 3 years

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REVIEW

Boone by Emily March

The McBrides of Texas #3

Three cousins star in this trilogy of romance stories set in Texas. All three men, and the women they ended up with, were strong wonderful people and their romances a delight to read. In this, the final book of the series, we learn about Boone’s life before he moved away from the big city and we also get to know Hannah’s backstory with the losses that drew her into a deep dark hole that nearly sucked her into its maws. All of the Eternity Springs series stories bring hope, love, and happily ever after endings to at least one couple and sometimes more.

What I liked:

* Boone: strong, intelligent, caring, kind, compassionate, giving and a great book boyfriend. He steps in and does what needs to be done and is a safe place to land for the woman he pretty much falls for soon after meeting her.

* Hannah: a good person dealing with a huge loss who arrives just where she needs to be to heal, fall in love and begin again. She and Boone are perfect together.

* Seeing Tucker and Jackson again and hearing how they and their partners are doing

* Holly: a wonderful little girl

* The growth made by both Boone and Hannah

* Celeste and the idea of the wings blazon

* The uplifting emotional feel of the story

* The idea that one can love again

* Bree and her birth mother – what a sad story but what a happy ending

* Ranger: a sweet puppy

* The reality of what it is like to be a parent with a newborn

* The romance and glamping and all the rest

* All of it really except…

What I didn’t like: * The losses both Boone and Hannah sustained in the past – they happen to many but are never easy to deal with

* Saying goodbye to the series when I read the last page.

Did I enjoy this book? Yes

Would I read more by this author? Definitely

Thank you to NetGalley and St. Martin’s Press for the ARC – This is my honest review.

5 Stars

BLURB

In Eternity Springs: The McBrides of Texas, New York Times bestselling author Emily March presents a brand new arc set in the Lone Star State that features a family-linked trilogy within the author's romantic series. With his smooth talk, rugged good looks, and deep pockets, native Texan Boone McBride appears to be a man who has it all. Few people know about the heartbreak behind his decision to leave home, family, and career for the isolation of a small town in the Colorado Rockies. Luckily, time and life in Eternity Springs has worked its healing magic upon his wounded soul, so when he meets obviously troubled Hannah Dupree, Boone sees a chance to pay his good fortune forward. The last thing he anticipates is tumbling into love. Tragedy has taken everything Hannah loves, and her will to keep going is failing. So when Boone strides into her life determined to save her, it’s easier to go along with him than to resist. Soon she is drawn into the fabric of life in Eternity Springs, and as her spirit begins to heal, her strength returns, and she’s able to go toe-to-toe with this hardheaded, big-hearted Texan. But just when love blooms and happiness is within their grasp, shadows from the past threaten. Hannah and Boone must stand strong and united in order to defeat old ghosts—if they are to create a brand-new life together.

#Emily March #St. Martin's Press #NetGalley #The McBrides of Texas 3 #Small town Romance

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easyfoodnetwork · 4 years

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Food-Adjacent TV to Stream This Weekend, According to Eater Staff

Actor Sandra Oh, wearing a black chef beanie and a white t-shirt, talks on an iPhone outside a restaurant kitchen. | BBC America

“Killing Eve,” reality TV favorites, classic sitcoms, and more

We at Eater spend a lot of time thinking about food, so when it appears on our TV screen, we take special interest. If you’re looking to stream some non-food TV that happens to be — at least tangentially — about food this weekend, here’s what we recommend.

Terrace House: Tokyo, Episode 11 (available to stream on Netflix)

Terrace House, the Japanese version of The Real World, has had a long history of food-related misdemeanors and crimes, but the most recent one entails broccoli, pasta water, and egg. Ruka, one of the housemates of the Tokyo house, is a complete enigma of a human being and maybe the most naive person to ever grace Terrace House (or the world?). In an attempt to cook broccoli pasta carbonara, he cracks an egg into the pasta water with the pasta, then adds broccoli. It seems he read the ingredient list, skipped the instructions, and simply winged it. Nothing matters, you know?!

In Netflix’s latest batch of episodes (Netflix US runs a couple of months behind Japan), Ruka attempts broccoli pasta carbonara again. I gasped when I saw he was making pasta FROM SCRATCH and squealed when he presented something that not only looked edible, but delicious! His housemates were (understandably) pleasantly shocked and I got very emotional. It’s rare when you see such dramatic growth. I imagine this is what parents feel when they see their children walk for the first time. — Pelin Keskin, Eater associate producer

Community (available to stream on Hulu and Netflix)

In 2009, when Community first aired, I was actually taking classes at a community college. Yet, somehow I’ve made it this long without watching this series created by Dan Harmon and featuring some of the current era’s most memorable actors (See: Donald Glover, Alison Brie, Gillian Jacobs, and Ken Jeong). The first season hinges on narcissistic student Jeff Winger (Joel McHale) starting classes at a Greendale Community College, where he’s pursuing his bachelor’s degree in an attempt to reclaim his suspended law license. Winger joins a Spanish 101 study group (remember when people still gathered in groups?) to incessantly hit on Britta Perry (played by Jacobs). But as the show evolves, episodes become more unhinged, playing into pop culture tropes observed by TV and movie obsessed student Abed Nadir (Danny Pudi). After a while, it becomes easier to view this show as sort of a live-action version of Harmon’s later work Rick and Morty, but with a slightly less noxious fandom attached. This is particularly encapsulated in episodes like Season 2’s “Epidemiology,” in which the whole student body is transformed into zombies after eating expired military rations. Season 2 also features an excellent example of weird TV sponcon in “Basic Rocket Science,” where the study group gets trapped inside a Kentucky Fried Chicken-branded space flight simulator. — Brenna Houck, Eater.com reporter and Eater Detroit editor

youtube

Killing Eve (Season 3, Episode 1, available to stream on BBC America)

Killing Eve, a BBC show that for two seasons has been about feminism, fucking, and fighting, has added a fourth “f” to its roster: food. When we reunite with the show’s titular “Eve” (Sandra Oh), we watch her shopping the aisles of an Asian grocery, grabbing ramen cups and snacks from shelves that seem preposterously well-stocked to my pandemic-warped eyes. The multitudes the store holds are intoxicating. We then discover that since we last saw her — left for dead by Villanelle (Jodie Comer), an assassin with whom she is/was mutually obsessed — Eve’s fled her job at MI5 for a gig as a dumpling chef at an Asian restaurant, a perfect place, perhaps, for an Asian American woman to make herself invisible in a city like London. As audience members, we get to watch her deftly pinch pot sticker after pot sticker as she eavesdrops on her relationship-impaired colleagues (once a spy, always a spy, perhaps), a rote activity that probably has a lot more in common with tradecraft than most espionage-based thrillers would have us believe. It’s a nice job for a perfectionist like Eve, one that’ll do well enough until (one assumes) Villanelle returns to her life and again throws it into chaos. — Eve Batey, senior editor, Eater SF

Difficult People (Season 1, Episode 5, available on Hulu)

Much of this criminally short-lived sitcom starring comedians Billy Eichner (Billy on the Street) and Julie Klausner takes place in a restaurant where a struggling-artist version of Billy works to pay the bills. But this episode stands out for its art-imitating-life plot: Julie, who has “the palate of a seven-year-old” stops by Billy’s place of employment to eat, but finds the menu too fancy for her liking (“everything on [the] menu has some kind of chutney or jus on it,” Julie complains).

So, when Billy’s boss leaves town for a few days, the duo convert the restaurant into a pop-up named the Children’s Menu, serving items that would belong on a kids’ menu someplace like Applebee’s. The pair set about marking up chicken tenders and fish sticks and peddling it to food blogs. And because Difficult People is set in New York, home to many people with poor taste but lots of money, crowds lap it up. It’s a fun skewering of a side of the food world that values creatively bankrupt novelty above all else. Looking at you, “cereal bars” and Museum of Ice Cream. — Tim Forster, editor, Eater Montreal

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Lodge 49 (available to purchase on Amazon Prime)

I‘m not surprised Lodge 49 was cancelled after two seasons on AMC last fall; I’m delighted it aired at all. This shaggy dog show stars Wyatt Russell (the waggish spawn of Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell) as Dud, an adrift surfer in recession-hit Long Beach, who finds connection through a fraternal lodge along the lines of the Freemasons. Meanwhile his sister Liz (Sonya Cassidy) works at a shitty Hooters knockoff called Shamroxx, run by a ghoulish regional corporate conglomerate, Omni Capital. These days, I’m reminded of Liz’s Season 2 story arc: She’s made manager of Omni’s replacement for Shamroxx, a stupid new steakhouse concept called Higher Steaks. When the restaurant struggles, the way Liz sticks up for her colleagues, who are some of the show’s best minor characters, is an inspiring rebuke of winner-takes-all capitalism — no surprise, as the whole show is basically a socialist document. Ironically it’s not streaming for free, but Lodge 49 is special and well worth buying to watch. — Caleb Pershan, Eater.com reporter

Frasier, Season 1, Episode 3 (available to stream on Hulu)

I know I’m incredibly late getting into Fraiser (most of my coworkers are obsessed with it), but it’s been about a week now and I’m already halfway through the second season. I can’t get enough of it. While Frasier’s advice to his listeners can be a little “meh,” it’s absolutely delightful to watch the main characters give each other therapy through their conversations. And watching each episode unfold feels like much needed therapy right now.

I could go on and on about all the episodes I love, but “Dinner at Eight” is my absolute favorite. Frasier (Kelsey Grammer) and his brother Niles (David Hyde Pierce) decide to take their father Martin (John Mahoney) out to dinner as a way to spend more quality time with him. When the restaurant loses their reservation, they decide to visit a steakhouse at Martin’s suggestion. His pitch: “You can get a steak this thick for $8.95.”

The Timber Mill is nothing like the trendy, pretentious restaurants Frasier and Niles frequent and the duration of the entire meal is a culinary culture clash. For example, when the beef trolley arrives and everyone at the table has to pick their cut of steak, Frasier asks, “How much extra would I have to pay to get one from the refrigerator?”

It’s absolutely heartbreaking to watch Martin get more and more aggravated as Frasier and Niles make ridiculously elaborate orders (a petite filet mignon “very lean, not so lean that it lacks flavor but not so fat that it leaves drippings on the plate”), poke fun at the restaurant, and give the servers a hard time. That’s why it’s so satisfying to watch Martin skewer Frasier and Niles for their snobbery, leaving them to eat the rest of their dinner alone under the scornful eyes of the Timber Mill’s servers as “Tossed Salads and Scrambled Eggs” plays in the background. — Esra Erol, senior social media manager, Eater

Real Housewives of New York, Season 8, Episodes 6 & 7

In times of uncertainty, we seek comfort in consistency: The sun will rise in the east, the tides will ebb and flow, and rich women will scream at each other for our enjoyment on Bravo. Recently, I’ve been rewatching old episodes of Real Housewives of New York and am currently in the midst of its landmark eighth season (“Please don’t let it be about Tom.” “It’s about Tom”). Practically every episode is a hit, but “Tipsying Point” and “Air Your Dirty Laundry” conveniently double as a lesson in the booze business. When jack of all trades/master of none Sonja Morgan announces that she’s releasing a signature prosecco called Tipsy Girl, she faces the wrath of Bethenny Frankel, founder of the Skinny Girl brand. As even the most casual Housewives watcher will tell you, Bethenny is famously protective of her business and turns vicious at any perceived attack on it. “I thought the alcohol was a great idea. I really looked up to what you did and I thought it would be a great way for me to get ahead,” Sonja blubbers to Bethenny in her Skinny Girl brand-blazoned office. It’s because of this episode, and this fight in particular, that I know what a “cheater brand” is.

By the way, I’ve tried Tipsy Girl prosecco and it’s... not the worst wine I’ve had. — Madeleine Davies, Eater.com daily editor

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/3eoMvVY https://ift.tt/2xDhUn5

Actor Sandra Oh, wearing a black chef beanie and a white t-shirt, talks on an iPhone outside a restaurant kitchen. | BBC America

“Killing Eve,” reality TV favorites, classic sitcoms, and more

Terrace House: Tokyo, Episode 11 (available to stream on Netflix)

Community (available to stream on Hulu and Netflix)

youtube

Killing Eve (Season 3, Episode 1, available to stream on BBC America)

Difficult People (Season 1, Episode 5, available on Hulu)

youtube

Lodge 49 (available to purchase on Amazon Prime)

Frasier, Season 1, Episode 3 (available to stream on Hulu)

Real Housewives of New York, Season 8, Episodes 6 & 7

By the way, I’ve tried Tipsy Girl prosecco and it’s... not the worst wine I’ve had. — Madeleine Davies, Eater.com daily editor

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/3eoMvVY via Blogger https://ift.tt/2xuewen

#Blogger #cooking #Eater #food #recipes

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orionlakehastodie · 7 years

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Ocean And The Breeze (1/?) - The Sweetest Thing

She did not know when it all began. But if you ask her it was always there.

Lily could hardly remember a day when she did not, in any way or form, feel strongly about James Fleamont Potter. Whether it be good or bad, she felt for him, so strongly she was sometimes scared of the tides, the ebbs and flows of her own emotion.

Such was the way of love, a tumult, a tempest, especially when it was... not as simple as love ought to be.

Maybe it began in seventh year, when his owl, snowy white with golden eyes, tapped on his window asking her to talk. Maybe it was the rapid thud in her chest, the warmth on her skin, the rush of blood in her veins that she felt when he walked in the doors of Florean Fortescue’s ice cream shop wearing a crisp white shirt and tight jeans and scuffed up shoes.

Maybe it way his glasses slipped down his nose, and the wind ruffled his hair at the same time he saw her and beamed that gave the illusion of a dramatic entrance into the story of her life. Here he is, here he is at last.

Maybe it was the way the Head Boy’s badge fitted in his palms, and seemed to belong there, seemed to be perfect for him, despite the Marauder is his eyes that shaded and darkened as he awaited for her expression.

Maybe it was the way his cheeks flushed when she laughed and patted his hand and told him she was glad it was him, and that they should work well together.

Maybe it was the way that James Fleamont Potter blushed when he was embarrassed, despite having the world bow down at his feet that drew her in. That hint of... James amidst all the bravado.

Maybe it was the notion that there was a James she did not know, and yet always knew.

Maybe it was the notion that if she were honest with herself, it began far longer than seventh year. She was just never able to admit it to herself.

---

If you asked her, she knew from the first moment that one day James and Lily would change the world as she knew it. They were far too... potent, too vital, too James and Lily for them to be anything else but.

Marlene McKinnon could tell the exact moment it happened, the moment she knew with certainty that it was, finally, happening.

James Fleamont Potter and Lily Jane Potter were finally falling in love.

It was a cold day in sixth year, and Lily had finally, finally admitted to herself that Severus was beyond saving. He wasn’t some hapless victim brainwashed by Voldemort’s agenda. He sought it, he craved it, and the power, the status that it brought with it.

And with that acceptance she had also, finally admitted what Marlene knew from the first night Lily Evans opened her mouth about James - that her friend was completely and utterly besotted.

It had been a revelation to watch of course. The way Lily would often sit on the sills of the window by her bed, arms locked around her knees and looking out at the sky, dark and bleak or bright and sunny, and worry her lower lip with her teeth. On her hands was a stuffed deer that she always had, a toy named Prongsie, which she knew mimicked the secret nickname James’ friends called him sometimes.

The way she’d look sadly at the drawer full of cards, and dried flowers and knick knacks James gave her over the years. She claimed to have hated them of course, but she kept them all, every single one, locked in the bottom drawer of her dresser, safely guarded and carefully preserved.

She most especially enjoyed that painstaking concentration Lily gave to a pair of knitting needles, a large ball of red and yellow yarn and Molly Weasley’s Letter being read to her outloud by some spell she cast on it, trying to follow Molly’s instructions to a T.

In the end it wasn’t the “I’m sure it’s a magnificent jumper” Molly assured her it would be. The stitching was crooked, and the large J pattered on the front looked more like a toddler scrawled I, but it was warm and soft and smelled faintly of fresh laundry, and Lily - with various plasters and healing paste on her hands, and bags under her eyes, wrapped it in bright gold paper and stood in the biting cold of December, watching the finals between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Lily had always been a fan of Quidditch, and she had never missed a single game, but today she stood out in the crowd with her flaming red hair poorly restrained by a crusty scrunchy behind her head. She avoided wearing red as it clashed horribly with her hair, but she was now, in view of everyone, clad in a large scarlet shirt with a blazing Gryffindor Lion on the front and POTTER blazoned on the back with a large number 1 accompanying it.

When Gryffindor won the match 300-290 despite the Slytherin Seeker Flint catching the Snitch, having miscalculated the lead Gryffindor had on them, Lily was the first one up from the stands, and James Potter was currently mobbed by his teammates but he met her eyes and she met his and everyone saw the kiss she blew to him, and the stunned pleased flush that took residence on his face for the rest of the night as he emerged from the Quidditch Pitch in a badly sewn jumper with a really skewed J towards the Lake where Lily Evans was hosting the Gryffindor victory party.

Marlene helped with the food and Lily looked over to James and it was there, in that quiet look, the I’m glad you’re here, with me, with the rest of our friends.

And the things was she did not feel left out. Maybe real love was like that, it opens, it makes you more, it give more than it takes. Because when James came over to them, he engaged both of them in conversation but his arms wrapped around Lily and Lily fit against his chest.

But they were present in that moment, not lost in their own world but there, alive, vital and vivid. And that was the image of them that she’d carry with her for the rest of her days. The image of what love, good and true and pure can do to a person.

---

If you asked him the moment he knew for sure that the Marauders were not just the boys anymore was fifth year.

He liked Evans well enough, but Sirius believed in brotherhood - something he and Regulus failed to have, and for a while he had the notion that it would be him and Prongs and Moony and Wormtail against the world.

Until he saw the looks James sent Lily.

And saw the looks that Lily sent back.

Until Lily became as much a part of James’ life as the Marauders.

Until she became much a part of his.

And he realized then and there that James was growing up, but not outgrowing them. They were still the best of friends, but the dynamics have changed.

No longer was James a fellow prankster, a blood brother in crime, he was... very much Sirius’ family. He loved Remus and Peter of course, but James was his brother. He opened his home to him, when his own had cast him away.

And wasn’t it nice, that Lily Evans was just like him in that respect?

She... took him in.

He could have sworn she never much liked him, but she still took him in.

To be honest he was afraid that when Evans returned James’ feelings and he was sure that one day she would, for he often saw the longing stares she sent his way, waiting for him to finally, finally grow up - James would abandon them.

But she stood by them, as she stood by James. When she made her choice that fateful day under the tree, choosing to defend Severus, but being brave enough to choose herself, to cut off ties with a friend who crossed a line, to love herself more than Severus, she placed herself with them.

And he found that he actually, quite enjoyed her presence. Lily Evans with the braying laugh, and the fiery hair that was always attached to some part of James’ anatomy these days.

She found out about Remus two months into her stint of truce with James.

She found out about James’ attempt to be an animagus when she found him vomitting in the toilet during day 5 of having a mandrake leaf perpetually stuck in his mouth.

It was her who helped them transform.

Her who nursed James’ broken bones and cuts and bruises from his many failed transformations.

It was her who almost broke down McGonagall’s door when James grew antlers that they could not, for whatever reason stop from growing.

It was her who fixed him and Pete too.

It was her who convinced Slughorn to let her use a dungeon to brew Wolfsbane.

It was her who was with them the first night Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs rode off into the night.

She was as much a part of their lives as she was James’ and that’s when he knew for sure that this was real between them.

James would think it the height of dishonor to betray his friends and he’d never go for a girl who would make him leave behind his friends.

And Lily had no intention of doing that, instead, she opened her life and let them in, took them in, and sitting across from James, soundly asleep and drooling against Lily’s shoulder as she read a massive book on cursed bites and cures from around the world, Sirius discovered that he was quite pleased that Lily Evans came into James’ life.

They’d make him wonderful godbabies after all.

---

Severus always suspected it, but he knew for sure the first night James Potter walked out of the Quidditch Pitch as the youngest captain Gryffindor ever had.

Figures.

Saint Potter got away with everything he wished to do. Everyone worshipped the ground he walked on. And just because he was good at tossing a ball around, everyone acted like he was something so great and princely.

He sneered at the cocky smirk on his face, and his messy hair that never saw a comb a day in its life.

Potter was just a Quidditch player and not much else.

He wasn’t really a fan of Quidditch, but Lily seemed to like it, and so he’d bear the discomfort and sit with her in the stands. He turned to her to make a scathing comment about how Potter will probably lord the captaincy over their heads when the truth was Gwenog Jones just took a sabbatical to try out for the Harpies and will be back soon when he caught the sneering expression on Lily’s face, and the burning in her green eyes and he looked over to where her eyes were focused at with laser like precision and caught the site of a very blonde and freckled girl who was tinged with a shade of green, her blue eyes wide as she took in the stands around her.

Her long hair was pulled back from her face with a red and hold elastic hair band and she was currently locked within James Potter’s arms as he dragged her against his chest and holding her tight. She seemed to melt against him and he could see the grim determination on James’ face.

“That arrogant toe rag. He should be focusing on the game not making moon eyes at some slag.”

He never heard Lily use a derogatory word for another girl before and was quite taken aback at her behavior.

Her friend Mary sniggered from her perch beside Lily and pointed at the girl. “Don’t you recognize her Lils? Marlene McKinnon, third year. She’s replacing Gwen for Beater. Her first game ever the poor dear. Must be scared as a lamb.

“Well that’s no lamb I’m seeing. She’s just slobbering all over Potter! I bet she’s not even good a beater as Gwen is. I bet Potter just took her to impress her. Even I could be a better beater!”

She has never, not once expressed that she had wanted to be a beater or part of Quidditch or anything and Severus had the feeling that what Lily actually meant was that she’d be a better girl for Potter than Marlene McKinnon ever would.

“My, my Lily, I do believe you are turning into a green eyed monster.”

Lily shoved Mary off but her eyes remained at the hugging couple.

“She’s James’ childhood friend. The McKinnons are tenants at the Potter estate. And... she’s Sirius’ girl. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

At that moment Sirius appeared from the changing room and dragged Marlene from James’s clutches and held on to her himself. The scared look on McKinnon’s face transformed into smug glee and her cheeks tinged pink and Sirius dragged her closer against him and James laughed at something he said.

Lily’s hackles died down, and her eyes narrowed again at James’ back before he turned abruptly and faced their general direction and the jolt Lily gave was indication enough that their gazes met, held and locked, before Potter gave a winning grin and mussed up his hair before turning back to McKinnon and Black.

And Severus watched as a small smirk played on Lily’s lips as her shoulders relaxed and she turned to Mary to place a bet on Gryffindor winning the match.

It spoke of her satisfaction, of her jealousy and of a primordial ownership that she held over James Potter.

It was the same smirk that would play on her lips a year later, by the lake with him in his old and worn underwear, hanging from a tree while James Potter stood there, tall and golden.

It was the same smirk that she’d have whenever she’d call James Potter an arrogant toe rag whenever he mentions he believes Potter has feelings for her, contradicting her words in a way that Severus never really believed she meant it, but was happy enough that she would want to keep the pretence for him.

It was the same smirk that would grace her lips when the Gryffindor table belowed their way through dinner at another Marauder antic targetted at his house.

It was the same smirk that would play on her lips when James Potter winked at her from across the Quidditch pitch as he held the trophy sky high.

It was that, the arrogance of it that mirrored Potters, the surety that James Potter was there, the amusement in him, the joy she found in him, that finally tipped Severus off to the fact that Lily Evans looked at James Potter and she did not hate what she saw. She never did.

---

There were very few people that Remus Lupin absolutely held dear in his heart.

The first was of course his mum.

And the second was James. He admired him at first, so brave and bold, so sure of the world and of himself and of who he wanted to be.

A Potter of Potter Manor who had the world at his feet.

At first he feared he might envy him, resent him for having what he doesn’t. James Potter didn’t even have to try.

But then he got to know James. Behind the bravado, behind the Potter, there was just James.

James who owled him mum to give him chocolates to give to Remus for when he was sick.

James who spent hours buried in books when he saw his scars, his sickness, his absence on the nights of the full moon.

James who sat down by his bedside one horrible transformation, held his hand despite the open wounds over his body, and looked him dead in the eyes and told him he never had to be alone again.

He cried then, silent tears streaking down his face as James held his scarred hand in his own, not realizing just how much power touch, especially when genuinely extended could have.

And he loved James for it. For being the one person he trusted. For being his only friend. For not shunning him away. And he saw that more than anything else, James Potter had a good heart.

And he knew the first time he saw Lily Evans quietly take a seat in front of a tired, sleepless James who was buried in a mound of books on Transfiguration and Advanced Arithmancy in the library and simply watch him with curiosity alive in her green eyes, that he was not the only one who had discovered that fact.

He stayed in a corner, clutching the blanket he brought down for James and watched as Lily cast a bubble charm around him, protecting him from the noise and cold, and slowly, tentatively reached out to brush his hair, and flush bright red the moment her skin touched his and bolted out from the chair and away from James.

He watched them dance around each other, trying to convince themselves that this was impossible, for who ever did find the love of your life at 12 years of age, and it wasn’t until he was bedridden in the same hospital bed, the first night after James had managed to transform himself into a large stag that he found himself finding one more person to love.

Lily was sitting by his bedside, his hand clutched loosely in her slack ones as she slept by his bedside.

And he felt the storm of emotions once more inside of him, at that simple human contact, at another person who found beauty in him when no one else would, and his dry wracking sobs woke Lily from her slumber and she gripped his hand in hers as she let him cry it out.

“He’s okay. James. Had a gash on his side but seeing as he’s not foaming at the mouth or howling at the moon yet, he’s not infected. You don’t have to be alone anymore Remus.”

“I’m sorry...” He forced out through his sobs. “I know... I know you love him and you must have been so scared for him... I’m sorry...”

Lily’s eyes widened at his revelation and her eyes softened, taking on a playful glint.

“Why is it that everybody seems to know how I feel except for that bloody git himself? Should I really just go and date the Squid?”

He chuckled through the hysteria and everything was so surreal around him that he just kept laugh-sobbing and Lily just let him get it out of his system.

When he calmed she gripped his hand again. “He loves you Rem. And I love you too. And James would not be the man I loved if he let fear get in the way of helping people he loves. So don’t feel bad about this okay? James is fine. He’s not hurt. And he sent me here to make sure you know that. To make sure you didn’t hurt him and there’s nothing to be sorry for, nothing to forgive.”

She looked straight at him and still kept a tight grip on his hands and he nodded at her. She smiled and patted his hand before rising from her perch. “Now that that’s settled, let me check on the git. You know how clingy he gets when he’s sick.”

She walked off but turned back to him, a happy flush on her cheeks and a twinkle in her eyes. “Agrippa help me, but I love it when he gets clingy.”

She danced out of the Hospital Wing and Remus can’t help but grin.

There were few people he held dear to his heart.

And wasn’t it just his luck that they ended up falling in love?

---

James Potter knew it from the very first moment he laid his eyes on her.

Well that’s what he’d like to say, except back them he was a smarmy git of eleven and all he saw were adventures to be had and fortunes that favor the bold.

He didn’t know exactly when he fell in love with Lily Evans, it’s just that he realizes that there’s a part of him that had always been in love with her, as if he was waiting for her to come, like some part of his soul that was missing.

And they have grown through the years and changed through the years, and the feeling inside him grew and changed with him, until it wasn’t the obsession in his youth, or the burning in his loins in his adolescence. Rather it was this quiet, this calm that made everything around him okay.

Even if everything was wrong.

It her love that brings sanity to a mad world. And it wasn’t a wild raging fire, it was warm, life giving no destroying. It made him want to be a better man... or no, not a better man, just be... the man she believes he can be.

It was that quiet that gave him strength in the times when he was caught up in a crossfire, not knowing if he would live to see another day.

It was the quiet that came when he made the decision to fight a battle that was not his to fight, but was hers, and because it was it made it his as well.

It was the quiet that comes when they look at each other before every mission, knowing that if today is the day that they leave this Earth they leave with no regrets for they have met, and they have loved and that was more than enough for most.

It was the quiet rush of joy in him when he held his son who shared his face, but had his mother’s eyes.

It was that love that lead him to stand calm, and wandless in front of a murderer as he raised his wand against him with the intention of killing him.

It was that belief that wherever he goes, he’ll find her again. And again. And again.

And that was the moment that James Potter knew what it was to love and be loved in return.

#jily

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instantdeerlover · 4 years

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Food-Adjacent TV to Stream This Weekend, According to Eater Staff added to Google Docs

Food-Adjacent TV to Stream This Weekend, According to Eater Staff

Actor Sandra Oh, wearing a black chef beanie and a white t-shirt, talks on an iPhone outside a restaurant kitchen. | BBC America

“Killing Eve,” reality TV favorites, classic sitcoms, and more

Terrace House: Tokyo, Episode 11 (available to stream on Netflix)

Community (available to stream on Hulu and Netflix)

Killing Eve (Season 3, Episode 1, available to stream on BBC America)

Difficult People (Season 1, Episode 5, available on Hulu)

Lodge 49 (available to purchase on Amazon Prime)

Frasier, Season 1, Episode 3 (available to stream on Hulu)

Real Housewives of New York, Season 8, Episodes 6 & 7

By the way, I’ve tried Tipsy Girl prosecco and it’s... not the worst wine I’ve had. — Madeleine Davies, Eater.com daily editor

via Eater - All https://www.eater.com/2020/4/17/21225037/killing-eve-food-adjacent-tv-to-stream-this-weekend

Created April 18, 2020 at 05:22AM /huong sen View Google Doc Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1xa6sRugRZk4MDSyctcqusGYBv1lXYkrF

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smartshopperteam · 7 years

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Kristen Bell Wore a Butt Pad on the Golden Globes Red Carpet

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We’re only nine days into the new year, but it’s already clear that stars shall take it upon themselves to really let it all hang out on social media this year. Last night’s Golden Globes prep included behind-the-scenes footage from everyone from Drew Barrymore to Thandie Newton, and it seems that if 2016 was the year of no makeup (thanks, in large part, to Alicia Keys), 2017 is going to be the year of no filter.

Case in point: Kristen Bell posing in her “butt pad” as she prepared for the Golden Globes. In a series of shots posted via Insta Stories, Bell shared her pre-award show routine, which included hanging out sans makeup, fueling up with a delicious-looking lunch—and donning padded underwear for her red carpet turn.

“Butt pad,” she blazoned over a shot of herself wearing a serious pair of granny panties. She helpfully added some bright purple arrows, in case you missed the subject of the photo.