Godless is a neat show but it doesn’t really tell the stories of Western Women the way I was hoping it would…. so to make up for that here are some irl badass ladies and gnc people who deserve to have their stories heard:
Known for her cross-dressing, whiskey-slinging, sharp-shooting ways, Calamity Jane is one of the most famous characters of the Wild West. She lived in Deadwood (yes like the show lol) and kicked some serious ass with big names like Buffalo Bill and Wild Bill Hickok. They called her “calamity” because she had such terrible luck in life (dead parents/family, bouts with poverty, etc). Despite the tragedy that surrounded her, she was always regarded as having a magnetic and warm personality. She’s probably the inspiration behind the character of Mary Agnes.
Maybe the most famous prostitute in Wild West history, Julia made her living in Virginia City. It’s said that she was wealthy enough to serve French champagne and gourmet food in her “palace” (aka brothel). She charged $1000 a night (in an era where people were earning maybe 5 bucks an hour) and was an honorary member of The Virginia Engine Company No. 1. She was brutally murdered when she was only 35 years old, and had one of the most expensive funerals in the history of Virginia City. The saloons closed in her memory and men and women from the town paid their respects at her catholic funeral. A man was hung for her murder, but there is some speculation as to wether or not he actually committed the crime.
Although Charley spent most of his (their? I’m going to use male pronouns bc that’s what he used when alive) life as a man, I’m including him in this list as it’s not only women who have their stories erased from this era, but gnc folks as well. After growing up in an abusive orphanage, Charley ran away at the age of 15 to seek employment as a stage-driver. He was regarded as the kindest, fastest, and most reliable driver of his time. Wealthy folks would request him for any trip they thought dangerous. He wore an eyepatch after losing an eye to a horse kick, and avoided drinking (perhaps in fear of being outed). He lacked close friends, but was well loved for his kindness. He once used his earnings to buy a home for a poor widow and her daughter, and always carried candy in his pockets for children. It wasn’t until his death that his community found out that he was assigned female at birth. The coroner also discovered that he had likely given birth to a child at some point, adding more mystery to a lonely and secretive life.
Mrs. Cook became Nevada’s first female doctor in 1884, when she was 28 years old. John’s Hopkins admitted her under the condition that she sit behind a black curtain in class (as not to distract male students). She came off as very severe and professional, but was remarkably kind and thoughtful at heart. She would drive her black buggy through terrible blizzards and scorching heat alike to tend to her patients. Her advice was sought not only for medical needs, but for gardening, baking, and knitting issues as well. She lived her last years fighting for women’s suffrage and passed away at the age of 91 in her home.
TLDR: there were a ton of awesome, tough-as-shit people in the Wild West, and its really sad that westerns keep focusing on drunk men when these kick ass folks have stories to share as well. (Please add more stories on forgotten western heroes if you’ve got any!)
“I think you’re telling this story to her as you walk into the house, and the camera just kind of zooms out as we watch you walk through the yard toward the door, reciting this story. And we see you one last time as Magnus rushes in.”
Author’s Note: You guys thought I was joking about writing something about me hating that Dylan smokes… never think that I am kidding (except, always assume that I am kidding…). This will be a short series. I’m imposing a limit on myself. Whatever. Don’t read it. It’s dumb. This will likely be the only Dylan shit I ever write. Okay byeeee.
“This is a lot of drunk people… this is just a lot of people in general, and I feel like some people have recognized me, an-“
“Dyl.. you wanted to come with me.”
“Well, I didn’t want to just sit at the house all day.”
“You’re going to be fine. You have sunglasses and a hat and some of this crap.” Julia rubbed her fingers against the stubble on his face in an aggressive, teasing sisterly way. “No one’s going to recognize you, why don’t we get you a drink so you can chill out.”
Dylan rolled his eyes, regardless of the fact that he knew his sister would not be able to see it behind his jet black Ray Ban sunglasses. He sighed and followed her through the throngs of sweaty and beer-soaked bodies towards the bar. He sidled up next to her and pressed his elbows against the bar.
“That’s cool.” He said sarcastically, pursing his lips, as he removed his elbows from the beer-soaked counter, and peeled a sticky bottle cap off of his skin. His head whipped around when he heard someone say his older sister’s name excitedly.
Going back to Raven’s Roost didn’t hurt as much as he’d thought it might. It was easier to rebuild when the whole world was rebuilding.
It was still hard. He cried the first time he saw the ruins, and then he wiped the tears from his eyes and broke ground.
He helped with the construction team that stabilized the remaining pillars, that cleared out the rubble and made sure everything he built would be on firm foundations. It was the first time he’d had firm foundations in over a hundred years. There was something satisfying about driving the first strut deep into the ground, about having strong earth beneath him and the work of his hands around him as he built himself a home.
When he first went back, he wasn’t quite sure what he was planning to do there. He moved all the equipment from his Pocket Workshop out into one of the rooms and sat on his bench and stared at it, turning his favorite whittling knife over and over in his hands.
He couldn’t go back to woodworking. Not full time. Even if he gave it a different name, trying to build furniture here would wear him down, press him in his own memories like a vice. He couldn’t stop woodworking either, but it was relegated to the evenings. He gave his work away–to his friends, to his neighbors, to anyone who needed a carved duck or a fine chair.
Johann came before the idea for the Hammer and Tails. He was already a few years old before Magnus adopted him–still srpy, but with a speckling of grey around his muzzle. (Taako balked when he first visited. “Did they run out of puppies?” he asked, levitating away from the dog’s enthusiastic greeting, and Magnus didn’t understand the concern in the elf’s face until years later when he started finding grey in his own hair and Taako’s face went sorrowful when he thought Magnus wasn’t looking).
When Magnus came up with the name for the Hammer and Tails, he laughed. Julia would have laughed too, her face lighting up and showing off the chipped tooth she’d gotten in a wrestling match with the blacksmith’s daughter. For a moment he paused, wondering if it had been a bad idea to come back. Then he thought about how Carey would probably laugh with him too, so he sat down and wrote her a letter and told her to visit whenever she was in the neighbourhood. She and Killian showed up two weeks later.
He filled in his life with his school, with his friendships. All the IPRE crew had an ongoing contest over who could spoil Merle’s kids the most, and although Lup always won Magnus put in a good show. Angus stayed with him during the school holidays and next Candlenights he handed Magnus an inexpertly-carved wooden duck. “Carey gave me secret lessons,” Angus said. “I told her I could probably just ask you to teach me but she seemed very excited about the secrecy aspect. I know you gave me that knife and I just thought I should … know how to use it.” Magnus hugged him and put the duck in pride of place on his mantlepiece, along with the Taako Brand postcards his itinerant friends sent him and a few of Lucretia’s smaller paintings.
Raven’s Roost regrew, slowly but steadily. People from the surrounding fields came back to build and set up shop. Soon Merle’s children weren’t the only ones Magnus was honorary uncle to. After a few years, Magnus went from being the Local Hero to the man known for his dogs and his rib-cracking hugs. A steady stream of visitors stopped at his house on official business from the Bureau of Benevolence and both the continent’s most prominent magic schools, and sometimes groups of children in Xtreme Teen Adventures! t-shirts would come to study with him and learn about strength. The sight of Magnus laughing as a gaggle of teens teamed up to pull him down onto the grass outside his house was common enough that his neighbors had long ago stopped remarking on it.
He was happy. And he stayed happy, for a long, long time.
“Did you mean it?” said Julia, after Magnus finished telling her the story of everything she’d missed.
“That you were sorry to keep me waiting.”
“I mean …” Magnus fumbled for words, and Julia laughed. He could see her chipped tooth and he could feel her hands tight around his. He squeezed, and she squeezed back.
“I missed you,” he said. “I missed you so much. So in that sense, yes, I meant it with everything I have, but … on the other hand … I wouldn’t want to have missed any of that. So … I’m sorry that you had to wait, but I’m not sorry I lived long enough that you had to.”
“Good,” she said, and hugged him so tight she lifted him off the ground.
I just thought about what if Jason accidentally fakes his death? Like the batfam thought his still in a warehouse or something when it blew, and his comms destroyed so they can't call him, and he just went to a safe house after to sleep and like he doesn't know until a few weeks later when he shows up at the manor to meet up with Alfred for tea.
would it be better or worse if he wasn’t even really getting along with the rest of the family at that point? either way you play it, jason has a bunch of redundancies for his safe houses, and he was trained just as well as any of them. there has to be at least one or two he’s managed to keep secret from the rest of the bats.
jay doesn’t really make a habit of carrying explosives in his helmet anymore; that was really more of a one-off when he first came back to gotham. since then, he generally just carries more explosives with him to make up for it. because of that, and because he’s usually fighting standard-grade humans, it’s not all that likely that he tosses his helmet aside in the middle of a fight.
a warehouse blows. red hood was in it, they know that (it all but had “This Is A Trap For Red Hood”written all over it), and when searching it, the bats find the badly burnt remnants of hood’s shattered helmet. no body, but –
it’s easy to assume the worst. it’s already happened once, after all. they hold on to hope for a week, but they haven’t been able to find any sign of jason. he can’t be raised on his comms, he hasn’t been in any of the safe houses that they know of, oracle couldn’t find any sign of him on cameras.
no sign of him in a hospital or even leslie’s clinic, no body matching his description in the morgue. (that last doesn’t mean anything. no body at the warehouse, but someone had set the trap – they could have easily dumped it somewhere else.)
there’s no sign of him, living or dead, anywhere in the city so far as they can tell.
red hood’s been throwing himself into ever-escalating fights since he came back to gotham, and finally they have to assume that this time, his luck didn’t hold long enough for him to get out.
the family sinks into some kind of shock. it’s impossible to believe that they lost him again.
it’s not something that can even be explained to the public. how do you explain that you’re in fresh mourning for a son and brother that was declared dead over half a decade ago?
then again, all the bats are good at hiding how they feel.
Julia, my dearest love, would you please tell me a story? Any story at all.
A/N: Hello! Dunno what this is, but I’m a bit fascinated with November where I live, so I came up with this and *shrugs*. Happy to tell you a story anytime you like friend <3
Some snippet of a CS adventure, at some undefined point in an undefined future.
“Do you think we’re cursed?”
It mustn’t rain much in this realm, Emma surmises. The trees seem a different green for it, their leaves more silver and sun-sorry than at home. And even though there is currently rain dropping from tree top, to tree top, to their heads, a tiny crescendo of noise, the ground is hardly wet. There are few puddles upon the bark-littered path, no great squelch and slip of earth, low lying flowers wilting a little. The rain is new here, the plants are still taking as much of it as they can get before it sinks out of reach.
All it really does is change the colour of the trees they go past, purple bodies turning bold shades of orange and green with each ripple of water that trickles to their roots. (Almost as though the rain is trying to hide the colour from them.)
“What makes you ask that, Swan?”
Emma pulls her slipping hood back over her head, grumbling as the rain means it both slips and sticks from her head and she contemplates leaving it off altogether.
“I just feel like we’ve been in this situation far too many times before. You, me, some sort of forest-”
Emma’s words are cut off by a sharp noise above them, a haunting cackle that jars every thought in her head. Killian stops his feet, glancing up into the canopy above them for the source of the noise. The ground beneath Emma’s footsteps snap, the bark that is stripping from the trees around them mostly terracotta in tone, but she only stops walking once she’s shoulder-to-shoulder with Killian and his great leather coat again.
He is still listening to the air as the mysterious cackling noise fades once more.
“Danger,” Emma finishes pointedly, head tilting in the direction of the laughter.
-merle has a fanny pack full of snacks and colorful bandaids for the other boys
-magnus likes to carry the boys around a lot. most of the time its because merle needs to see something up high and sometimes taakos just Not Feelin It™ and if magnus notices either he just. picks them up
-merle deffo has a bunch of wallet photos of his kids and the boys but he never shows them to anyone
-magnus is super super emotional and hugs people a lot, either for their comfort or his
-taako has really shaky hands and scratches his wrists when hes deep in thought
-they all know each other pretty well by now probably and can tell if the others aren’t doing so well, like merle gets super angry/grumpy, magnus kinda shuts off and talks quieter, taako stutters a lot and breathes a lil faster than normal
-magnus always knows when someone needs emotional support or validation, even if they’re in another room
-magnus loves showing off his many pictures of Julia to the other boys and telling stories of the stuff they did together (and probably gets sad about it)
-taako has bad bad nightmares and a lot of the time will sleepwalk/sleeptalk and it freaks everyone out
November 1st, 1744; Somewhere between Inverness and Lallybroch, Scotland. Claire.
The channel crossing was uneventful to say the least. Jamie
spent the entire voyage passed out drunk on his bunk, and Julia joined him in peaceful
slumber for most of it. The overland leg of our journey was proving to be more
of a challenge.
“Stop. I can’t take this,” I said, reigning in my horse and
dismounting in one movement. “Please, Jamie, give her to me.”
Jamie brought his mount up next to me and handed down our screaming
daughter. He was handling her tears about as well as I was, his face drawn in
concern. “I’m sorry, Sassenach, I canna settle her.”
I had made sure she was fed and dry when we left the inn, but
the combination of irregular movement, inclement weather, and increased tension
was enough to tip Julia right over the edge of colic and into the chasm of
complete and utter despondency.
I sat down on a wet boulder, back to the road, and loosened
the blankets she was bundled in. Taking a swift look at her nappy, I found it
still dry. She had just eaten and wasn’t acting hungry, but loosened my stays
just in case. Julia wasn’t even the slightest bit interested in nursing. I held
her hands in mine and checked another item off the list: she wasn’t cold. The
weather was stereotypically Scottish, rainy and chilly. We had taken great
pains to shelter Julia from the elements, but, still, November was not an ideal
month for an infant to travel.
Not wet, not hungry, not cold.
“What is it, darling? Will you please show me what’s wrong?”
I begged my infant daughter, pulling my earasaid tighter around
everything I could think of. I rocked, I patted, I walked, I bounced:
everything that usually worked and then some. After ten fruitless minutes, I lowered
myself back down on the rock and joined Julia in her misery, my hot tears
warming chilled cheeks.
Jamie knelt beside me and took my face in his hands, “What
can I do, mo chridhe?”
“I don’t know,” I sobbed.
“Then let me tell ye what I ken, aye?” He wiped my tears
away with his thumb, caressing my cheekbone.
He was calm. How in bloody hell could he be so calm when his
daughter had been for over an hour and showed no signs of stopping?
His voice was low and even, steady and sure as the massive
boulder I was sitting on. His eyes were clear and bright, never straying from
mine. His gaze loosened the stronghold of panic on my heart. It always did.
“I ken I love ye more than life itself and, in spite of all
the heartache I’ve caused ye, I ken ye love me too. I ken that ye are the most beautiful
woman this side of heaven. I ken
ye are a wonderful mother to our bairn and ye are doing everything in your
power to make sure she is well and happy.”
Julia let out a shriek that told her father just exactly how
far from happy she was, making Jamie
smile at the perfect timing. “I also ken that she is your daughter and canna
resist speaking her mind.”
I couldn’t help but smile at his wry grin, “Oh, my daughter, is she? She’s a stubborn
Scot if I ever met one.”
“Oh, aye. I ken that too, Sassenach.” He brought his face
close, his nose nuzzling my neck. “But I ken it’s her stubborn, warrior’s
spirit that will keep her wi’ us.”
“That’s what Master Raymond called her. Did I tell you that?
He said she was my petit guerrier.”
“Aye, ye did and she is that,” he agreed as he gently took
Julia from my arms. “Let me have a turn wi’ mo
“Leoch?” I raised an eyebrow.
He smiled and shook his head, “Nae, but it sounds close,
Sassenach. Laoch is a warrior or
With that, he rose and began his usual calming routine.
The two of them had become inseparable in the weeks after
Jamie retuned to me. They had their own secret language, similar to the
whispers of motherhood, but something indescribably unique. He tucked her up
firmly against his chest, swaying gently, murmuring Gaelic reassurances in her
ear. They walked back and forth in front of me. With each pass, Julia became
less and less distraught. Soon, Julia settled into contentment and was silent.
Jamie stopped pacing in front of me, grinning from ear to ear.
I glared back up at him, “That’s not fair.”
“Aye, well, dinna fash, Sassenach, I think ye had her most
of the way there. Do the two of ye want to try the wagon with Murtagh?” He
helped me up from the rock and lead us back towards the horses.
“No,” I responded immediately, shuddering at the thought of
bumping along in a poorly made wagon on deeply rutted roads with a colicky
three month old. ”I think she should ride with you again. You seemed to have
charmed her into silence, maybe you can get her fall asleep.”
Jamie apparently took my suggestion as a personal challenge,
for less than twenty minutes later, Julia had settled into a shallow slumber as
we plodded thru the dripping Scottish Highlands. The road, more like a path at
this point, began to discourage side-by-side travel, forcing me to fall in line
behind them. Fergus had joined me in the saddle when we remounted and seemed to
be dozing as well. He leaned heavily against my back, arms loose about my
I watched Jamie turn this way and that, taking in the beauty
of his homeland. I could hear him speaking, but the wind swept away his words
before I could make out what he was saying. His voice was animated, and I could
only imagine the stories he was telling Julia. Heeling my mount when the road
finally allowed, I pulled up along side him.
“How’s she doing?” I asked nervously. I knew she wasn’t crying,
but that didn’t mean she wasn’t unhappy.
He peeked under his plaid and smiled down at his daughter,
“She’s found her thumb, Sassenach. All is well.”
Densi Holiday fic inspired by a @densi-mber writing prompt. This started as
the moms sharing holiday baby stories of Kensi & Deeks but might have grown
into something more. Anyhow, here it is and I hope people like it.
The drive was made in complete silence, the couple still at
odds about their upcoming breakfast meeting and both wanting to have their way
over the other.
None of them wanted to be the one to break the silence, but
as it typically was in this sort of situations, the young detective was the one
to cave first. “Come on princess, do we really have to go?”
“Deeks, we have been debating this for a week, and I already
told you in no uncertain terms this meeting is happening” she didn’t take her
eyes away from the road as she drily responded, tired of having the same debate
over and over again.
“No, buts Deeks. We’re already on the way, and we’re not
“We could say there’s a national security issue that required
our participation… no one will give it a second thought.”
Kensi blew out her breath and took advantage of the traffic
light to turn around and look at her boyfriend, the man she loved with all her
heart but who could always irritate her like no other. “Come on baby, you’re
acting like we’re driving to a doctor’s appointment or to an LAPD meeting…” She
reached out to grab his hand and squeezed as she said the next words, “we’re
just meeting our moms for breakfast…” Seeing the uncertain look still in his
eyes, she decided to keep trying to reassure him, “we walk into firefights all
the time, and put our lives on the line daily, today is just breakfast… with
our moms… for the holidays… there’s no reason to worry about, everything will
“Yeah… You, me, Julia and Crazy Bertie in one table… What
could possibly go wrong?” He then paled and look at her as if he just had the
worst realization in the world, “…and what if Guy is there?” He buried his head
in his hands and moaned.
“Oh Marty… You’re such a drama king…”
“Deeks…” he mumbled from under his hands.
“You called me Marty, you know I prefer Deeks…”
“Sorry baby… I forgot…” Then a recurrent question popped in
her head and she decided this was a good time as any to ask. “Why don’t you like
anyone calling you Marty?”
“Not now Kens…”
The finality of his words gave her some pause and she
realized the subject must not be a pleasant one so she decided to stop asking…
for now. But she was determined, and soon enough she will get her answer.
“But really, why do we have to go? If Guy’s there… I’m
looking for an excuse and leaving…” He could be really insistent when he wanted
and apparently this time he had no intentions to stop his whining.
“Everything will be fine, and if
Guy is there, we will just talk to him like the adults we are and maybe… even
try to get to know him, considering he’s with your… mom,” she said the last
words sounding uncertain and slightly worried of his reaction. At his silence,
she decided to continue, “Shaggy… you know your mom’s life hasn’t been easy,
she deserves to be happy and to find someone who gives her that… just like we
found each other…”
“But… He’s her trainer…”
“Yeah… and you were my partner!”
Kensi’s final response silenced any further argument or
reproach from the man setting beside her and they finished the last 10 minutes
of their drive in silence, eventually arriving to the restaurant and going
straight to their table.
Roberta and Julia were already there, both talking loudly and
smiling widely at whatever it was they were discussing… Probably something
having to do with the two people making their way towards them.
“Martin, I’m so happy you could make it. I was just betting
with Julia if you would bail out or not” Roberta got up to hug her son, not
missing the opportunity to fluster and slightly embarrass him.
“Hi mama… you know I would never miss the lovely opportunity
of meeting you and Julia” He said the first part of the sentence with an ironic
tone, but at the end he turned around and smiled warmly at Julia.
After hugging their mothers and wishing them Happy Holidays,
the couple took their seats, each next to their respective mom and facing each
other and started looking at their menus so they could order quickly.
After some minutes of silence and sensing the tense aura around
the couple, Roberta decided to continue her previous conversation with Julia,
hoping with it to bring her son and future daughter-in-law out of their heads.
“So Julia… I brought the picture I promised you the other
Deeks perked up at the statement and worriedly asked… “What
“Oh Martin, I can never shut you up and today you decided you
finally wanna rest that tongue of yours, but now you suddenly want to talk
again?” Julia looked at her son with raised eyebrows, always knowing what was
going on through his head and the best way to rattle him.
“We met last week for some drinks and Bertie here promised me
a picture that she so kindly brought today” Julia got in the way in order to
avoid an argument between the mother and son, all knowing how common those were
from the few times they all had met together.
“Drinks? I hope you’re talking about tea… or coffee… I
wouldn’t want to add alcohol into your mix.” Deeks had paled a bit at the
admission that the two moms have met without them present.
“Martin, don’t be silly we were obviously meeting for some
wine… and maybe it then got to other drinks…” Roberta answered with a smile,
enjoying how her son’s face kept losing color as she continued.
“And it’s not the first time… It’s a glamorous activity that
we partake in every couple of weeks,” Apparently Roberta wasn’t the only one
enjoying the young man’s discomfort and Julia was keen to join in.
Kensi feeling sorry for her boyfriend, and knowing that as
partner, in everything, she needed to
have his back decided to help, not knowing that really she was making things
worst. “Okay, okay, enough of this, I want to know what picture you both were
Roberta smiled in a way that could be argued was more like a
devious grin as she looked for her purse and starting rummaging for something.
Eventually stopping as she took a piece of paper and held it in her hand, not
letting anyone see what was on it.
After putting her purse back behind her chair, she passed the
picture to Julia, who looked at it with a huge smile on her face and quickly
showed it to Kensi, who squealed in a matter not common to Bad-Ass Blye and
looked at her man with loving eyes.
Deeks on the other hand had a pretty good idea of what, or
rather who, was in that picture and just wanted to jump ship and abandon these
three women to enjoy their breakfast on their own.
“OMG Marty you were the cutest kid… look at that hair and
that perfect little face…” Julia reached across the table to squeeze his
cheeks, making Roberta and Kensi burst out laughing at the redness that had
suddenly appeared in said cheeks.
When the picture was finally passed to the man in question,
he found himself staring at a young Marty Deeks who was probably around 4 years
old. His bangs were already long and they were partially covered by the fluffy
red Santa hat that he was wearing and which highlighted his striking blue eyes
even more. The green vest and Christmas tree sweatpants that he was sporting
only adding to his embarrassment at seeing the picture.
He remained quiet and passed the picture back to his mother,
glaring at her as he did so.
“Baby, do you think you could dress like that for me one of
these nights?” Kensi breathlessly asked even as she started laughing again. At
first wanting to reassure him, but now enjoying the teasing too much not to
join the other two women.
Deeks couldn’t believe the three most important women in his
life were ganging up on him… Or really he could totally believe it and he just
knew that he shouldn’t have come to this meeting.
“And Kensi, you should have heard some of the stories Bertie
was telling me the other day, Marty was such a funny kid.” As Julia said the
words, Deeks head fell on the table and he closed his eyes, wondering if this
supposedly simple and harmless breakfast could get any worse.
“Roberta you have to tell me now, I can’t wait to hear what
crazy things little Deeks was involved in.” Kensi’s voice was full of amusement
and curiosity, especially wanting to know of some good times in her boyfriend’s
Deeks, still with his head on the table, turned to look at
his mom pleadingly, but realized he was doomed as soon as he saw the smirk
spreading on her face. A smirk that was so similar to his own.
“It would be my pleasure Kensi…” Roberta then proceeded to
tell Kensi and Julia some stories of her boy, all which sadly painted the
picture of the perfect childhood they all knew he didn’t have.
“…Every Christmas morning he used to come down running down
the stairs wearing his holiday pajamas and a Santa hat, eager to open his gifts
and start playing with them.” As Roberta finished the story Kensi wondered
about Deeks’ father on these stories. They all showed a normal childhood, with
laughs and presents and love, but from the few stories he had told her, she
never associated any of those words with Brandel.
Kensi opened her mouth to ask, but then decided against it,
not wanting to get the mood down. But Roberta was a very intelligent woman and
she knew what the woman, that had finally given her son the happiness he
deserved, wanted to ask.
“This was before things turned… complicated with my
ex-husband. At this time we were a normal family and he used to enjoy the times
with his son a lot…” As Roberta kept talking her eyes glazed over and she got a
faraway look on her face, clearly lost in her memories. “…Until Martin turned 5
or 6, Brandel was a great father, we didn’t have much but he provided
everything he could and every Christmas he got his boy at least one new toy…”
Kensi looked at Deeks who hadn’t said a word since Roberta
started telling her stories and wondered what he thought about them.
“…I always remember one Christmas when Martin was 3, Gordon
got him a toy train that he loved… after that he always asked Santa for a full
train set, but then…” She suddenly stopped, evidently having reached the not so
pleasant part of her memories, “…It just didn’t work out.”
Wanting to turn the conversation back to happier times, Roberta
decided to tell her newfound family another story from their earlier holidays.
“Martin used to love Christmas songs, so much that I used to call him my Little
Drummer Boy, because that was his favorite and he used to sing it a lot during
the Holidays. But his father was more traditional and having grown up in the
60s his favorite was John Lennon’s Happy
Xmas, so our household during the holidays was a strange mashup of
traditional Christmas carols and more modern ones like Lennon’s and Queen’s Thank God It’s Christmas… Martin and
Gordon used to spend a lot of time together sitting in the front porch, sharing
their love for music and the holidays…”
Kensi’s eyes had started to mist with the stories, happy to
know that at least Deeks had managed to enjoy some good early Holidays, even if
somehow they had all turned out bad after that. She didn’t know a lot of what
had caused his family’s situation to end the way it did, but now she was more
curious than ever, and again she was determined to one day ask and get her
“I would have love to meet you at that time, you were
probably such a cheerful and happy kid…” The love and admiration in Kensi’s
eyes as she said the words were enough to melt any man’s heart.
“Yeah princess, I was…” He sounded sad, and all three women
Julia, wanting to cheer up her future son-in-law and the man
that had returned her daughter to her, decided to share some stories of her
“Marty, I’m sure you would also love to hear some stories…”
Kensi tensed at the words, thinking that it had been too good to be true, and
now it was her turn. “Because my husband was in the military we moved a lot,
and one year he was participating in some training in Camp Lejeune in
Jacksonville, North Carolina… This was around the Holidays so a few of the
military families decided to travel to NC to meet our guys in time for
Deeks was looking intently at Kensi while Julia told the
story, seeing all the different emotions play across her face as the story
progressed. From sadness, to happiness, to pure joy, and eventually back to
“After the training was over, all the families decided to
make the drive to the mountains in Boone to give our kids a more normal and fun
Christmas before their parents were deployed again… We spent 5 days there and
it was magical… We stayed in this little cabin and while all the little girls
stayed inside by the fireplace drinking hot chocolate and staying warm, our
Kensi decided to go with all the boys and the fathers to do some snowboarding…
and not surprisingly she gave them a run for their money…”
Deeks laughed, totally imagining a little Kensi, with her
perfect mismatched eyes and long brunette hair, running around with the boys
and snowboarding better than most.
“I remember that trip… it was one of the best Holidays we
spent as a family…” Kensi decided to add her own comment, actually enjoying the
memory and the warm feeling it brought her. “After we came back from the
mountain, everyone went back to the cabin, but I remember I went with my dad to
build a snowman, and we ended up having a huge snow fight between ourselves,
until all the rest of the families came out and joined us…”
“Yeah, how could I forget the huge snow ball that one of the
other kids accidentally, but I must admit perfectly, aimed at my face?”
Everyone laughed, all imagining how the impeccably composed Julia would have
reacted in such a situation.
The food had arrived 5 minutes ago but it had remained
forgotten until Julia and Kensi finished their story. Now all four individuals
decided to mentally return back to the present and enjoy their pancakes,
waffles and omelets.
After breakfast… and dessert, was consumed some more stories
were shared and after some 30 minutes they all decided it was time to say
good-bye and each get back to their Saturday.
As they were exiting the restaurant and starting the walk
back to their cars, Roberta turned around excitedly and looked at her son while
she said, “next time we met remind me to tell you the story of the first time
Martin saw snow, and how he fell on his face when Gordon threw a snow ball at
him and my little boy thought it was a good idea to run in the slippery snow…”
Laughter followed all four people to their cars as they each
thought the morning had gone well, all looking forward to their next Holiday meeting
which had been set for Sunday of next week, to the excitement of the three
women and faked annoyance of the one
As they started the drive back to the house, Kensi reached
out and grabbed Deeks’ hand, bringing their joined hands to her lips and
kissing the bundle sweetly. “See baby, it went well…”
“Speak for yourself… 80% of the morning was just sharing
stories about myself… and now mama also promised to show you and Julia even
more pictures…” Unlike the morning he didn’t sound as exasperated anymore,
secretly having enjoyed the simple and carefree morning and listening to the
stories of better and simpler times.
“Those stories were lovely, and I would really like to have
met you back them… And I was just thinking G and Sam would so love to hear
them, maybe we should share them with them when we meet for the Holidays, and
the pictures too.” Kensi’s eyes were shining as she said the words, enjoying
how they were clearly getting to her boyfriend.
“Don’t even go there Kensalina…” Deeks muttered, not even
wanting to imagine the teasing he would have to endure at the hands of the
senior partners if those stories and pictures got to them.
They got back to the house 30 minutes later and as they
walked towards the door hand-in-hand, as they always did and hoped to always
do, Kensi decided her curiosity was winning and braved asking the questions
that hadn’t left her mind, “Hey, Deeks…” He stopped to look at her with one
hand on the door handle, and the other hand still holding hers, waiting for her
to continue… “What happened with your father? The stories today painted a
different picture to what you previously told me… I know your mother said it
was all well before… So I would like to know when and how it all went so wrong.”
Hearing the questions Deeks closed his eyes and sighed, already
expecting they would be coming soon after the talk his mother had started… He
didn’t want to go there, but he also couldn’t deny his ladybird anything.
“Not now princess, please. That story is not fun… and it’s
related to your previous question, about why I don’t like people to call me
Marty…” He squeezed her hand, and mimicking her previous gesture in the car
brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed them. “Today, I just want to
enjoy the rest of our Saturday, go to the beach as we planned and have a nice
dinner with you… But, I will tell you, I promise, soon…” He finished opening
the door and stepped inside their home.
“I will hold you to that promise…” Kensi said as she also
stepped inside and closed the door behind them, their new Holiday wreath silently
shaking with the movement of the door…
What are your favourite simblr stories at the moment? :)
Hey, Julia! Tell you what, I don’t wanna just simply promote some popular blogs here because they are kind of already promoted, so I’ll share these guys with you; I really wish them to have more notes on their posts
and more followers
because they are absolutely awesome ♥
11 Times ‘Wishbone’ Taught Us Everything We Needed To Know About Life
3. When he taught us about the timeless adorableness of Jensen Ackles.
That’s right, folks. Baby Jensen Ackles appeared in a 1996 episode of “Wishbone”: “Viva Wishbone!” Jensen played Michael, a young man who has recently lost his mother. Joe becomes jealous of the attention Ellen is paying Jensen — er, Michael — until family friend Senora Julia tells Joe the story of Juan Diego. Literature solves all problems.
At first he thought she wouldn’t reply. She stared at the tip of her cigarette, frowning. But then Julia began to tell Martin about Valentina, in halting words; he coaxed each story from her until the words began to create the Valentina who would now live in Julia’s mind. Julia spoke of Valentina for hours, and Martin mourned for the girl he had met only fleetingly, a few afternoons ago.
So I have a little story for everyone, whether you care or not, here it is: When I was seven years old, Neil Gaiman came to my city and my mom and I went to his talk and book signing. I bought a copy of The Wolves in the Walls and we stood in a long line. My mother fidgeted nervously, though I could tell she didn’t want me or anyone else to notice, for in her purse she carried, a box of black tea. Tea. Tea. For Neil Gaiman. One of the coolest people ever. So there we both are, standing about in line, a multitude of different people in front of us (including a gothic man in his twenties who was taking a vow of silence who asked to read my copy of The Wolves in the Walls via a little paper slip that he had fished out a silver cigarette case). When our turn finally arrived, we hobbled over to Neil and he asked our names and made brief, friendly conversation and got our books signed in a quick, organized fashion. Before thanking him, my mom opened her purse and said that she had a box of tea for him. He smiled and exclaimed in delight that he had been milling about with a sore throat and that he was over the moon about this heavenly gift of tea. Then the unthinkable and unanticipated happened; he said, and I quote, “Come here.” My mom took a few steps forward, a he embraced her and gave her a sweet little cheek kiss. Here I was, my wee seven year old self, my brain going, “HOLY COW HE JUST KISSED MY MOM." She just stood there. Awestruck. he thanked us once more, and I waved and smiled and thanked him, my mom just nodded, still not quite sure what had just happened, and I led her off. Upon reaching outside, the cool autumn air fresh on our faces, my mother’s face was still a mask of surprise and disbelief, "He kissed me." Yeap, he sure did, mom.
Nine years later, she still flushes the tiniest bit every time this endeavor is mentioned. Thanks for making it this far if you actually read this, and if Neil Gaiman finds this, congrats on sweeping my mother off her feet and for retweeting her those few times, she’s very grateful. And to everyone else, behold the power of what tea can do.
Summary:after 8 years of marriage, Taylor Swift and Calvin Harris are in the middle of a divorce being closely watched by the media. Between protecting their kids from the attention and moving on with the divorce, life (and truths) can be tougher than expected for these two superstars.