set of quiet man

variety.com
Oscar Wilde Awards Honors Irish-Hollywood Connection
Oscar Wilde Awards honoree Martin Short, known for his zingers and stinging observations, was asked if anyone in the current presidential administration is ripe for satire. “Everyone is ripe for sa…
By Will Thorne

Oscar Wilde Awards honoree Martin Short, known for his zingers and stinging observations, was asked if anyone in the current presidential administration is ripe for satire. “Everyone is ripe for satire,” he says, “particularly in this administration. But it’s hard to satirize, hard to go broader than what we have seen.”

Asked if his talk-show character Jiminy Glick would have anything to say about the current Trump administration, Short demurs. “I’m not going there.”

Short feels a connection to the Wilde Awards. “My mother was half-Irish, my father was 100%,” he offers. Short, who has credits going back to 1972, says his father introduced him to film. They watched Ireland-set films such as “The Quiet Man” and “Shake Hands With the Devil.”

And while fans admire his wit, the performer freely admits, “I don’t know that if I could compare to Oscar Wilde.”

The comic actor is one of several honorees at the 12th annual Oscar Wilde Awards, put on by the U.S.-Ireland Alliance to celebrate Irish contributions to entertainment, and hosted by J.J. Abrams on Feb. 26 at his Bad Robot headquarters.

The class of 2017 consists of Short, “Outlander” star Caitriona Balfe, Zachary Quinto, Irish folk-rock singer Glen Hansard, and “Loving” actress Ruth Negga.

What is the common link for this cluster of actors, singers and comedians? They are all, at least in some part, Irish.

As a result, they have inherited a penchant for storytelling, which Balfe says is rooted deep in Irish culture.

“I grew up in the Irish countryside, but there’s such an amazing tradition in Ireland of storytelling, and even though my dad was a policeman, he and his friends used to put on plays and sketches, so it was something that I was surrounded by all my childhood, and it was always something that I wanted to do,” she says.

Although the star of Starz’s “Outlander,” filming its third season, grew up in a local theater milieu, she admits she took a less-trodden path for Irish actors in heading to the U.S.

Balfe’s first film role was in “The Devil Wears Prada,” where only her ankle was shown. The rest of her appeared in J.J. Abrams’ sci-fi thriller “Super 8.”

“J.J. gave me my first job in the U.S., so it’s quite a nice full circle event to be a part of,” Balfe says of the honor. “It was quite a small role, I played a mom in flashbacks, but for my first job it was such a big thing, and I remember going down to Virginia and meeting J.J. and we chatted for a few hours. He’s such an interesting guy, and he was telling me about how he started filmmaking when he was a kid.”

Balfe isn’t the only one on this year’s Oscar Wilde honorees list to get a first big film break in an Abrams movie.

Quinto’s star-making turn in 2009’s “Star Trek” and the subsequent franchise follow-ups have given him a large fan base and a powerful voice with which to advocate for gay rights and organizations. Quinto says the Oscar Wilde Awards are of extra importance to him because of Wilde’s homosexuality and the oppressed community he stood for.

“I got my Equity card while I was still in college doing a play called ‘The Three Trials of Oscar Wilde,’ so I’ve had a long awareness and affinity for Oscar Wilde — not only his literary prowess and his incisive wit, but also what he represented in that time in the late 1800s,” he says. “He was persecuted and ultimately prosecuted and imprisoned for his homosexuality, and in many ways was ruined by the society of the time and their intolerance. Yet he maintained an integrity and an openness about who he was and how he lived his life that I have a tremendous respect for.”

The actor is so inspired by Wilde’s life and work that he named his company Wallpaper Goes. That’s a reference to a line that was attributed to Wilde. Legend says that as Wilde was on his deathbed, he said, “Either that wallpaper goes, or I do.”

“I always thought that was pretty humorous, the fact that he said it: a) to his wife, and b) that it was such a witty contemplation of his own mortality, and when I was naming my corporation I thought I’m not going anywhere, so wallpaper goes,” Quinto says.

As for Oscar-nominated Negga, U.S.-Ireland Alliance’s Trina Vargo says: “I watched the film [“Loving”] several times at our various screenings and found new subtleties with each viewing. The brilliance of Ruth’s performance lies in the nuances. It’s a role that requires the conveyance of emotion as much through a look as through dialogue.”

Hansard, who won the Oscar for song with “Falling Slowly” in 2007’s “Once Again,” gave an impromptu performance with Marketa Irglova at the 2008 event that made such an impression he is back as an honoree. He will perform again at this year’s event.
Abrams will emcee, and Chris Pine and Catherine O’Hara will be among the presenters.

Secret Admirer

*walks in a day late to MariChat week with Starbucks* MariChat Week Day 1: Secret Dating.

~

The messenger arrived two hours into the school day.

Like the rest of her classmates, Marinette’s attention was drawn to the enormous flower arrangement that filled the doorway, bursting into the room before the delivery man did. Ms. Mendeleiev lowered her tablet to place her hands on her hips. “Excuse me,” she said, “this is a physics lecture, not a garden.”

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Saeran Fanfiction #3: Cat-nappers

A/N: Here’s the drabble, as promised. :) But I did it pretty quickly so I didn’t actually go all the way with this idea.

Inspired by @mizueki‘s drawing of Saeran and Seven’s infiltration of Jumin’s apartment. Thank you for sharing that really cute piece of art on tumblr! :) Link to the picture is here.

Summary: Your job description never mentioned anything about having to protect a cat from two twin cat-nappers, or that one of them would be a particularly cute cat-napper.




You… had no words. Absolutely none.

You hadn’t worked in this field for long, so you had yet to experience or witness many odd things, according to your seniors. But then, you didn’t think that even they could have anticipated something like this to happen. and no amount of training could have prepared you for a scenario as absurd and ridiculous as this.

Honestly, it was almost laughable, except that your job was currently at risk even though you had only started work two days ago.

You gaped at the startlingly huge hole in the window through which one of them had crashed through — how was that even possible? This was the top floor, for crying out loud! — and the little shards of glass scattered across the smooth marble flooring. It didn’t look too bad, you supposed. They looked like diamonds from here, with the sun’s rays reflecting off them that gave them an iridescent glow.

Oh, who were you kidding, you were definitely going to get fired the moment Mr. Han got home.

The stress of not knowing how to account for this to your superior or Mr. Han, as well as the shock of your overwhelming failure on your second day, gradually morphed into anger, which you directed in the form of a glare at the two twin perpetrators, one of whom you had handcuffed to yourself.

The man handcuffed to you, in turn, was glaring at his brother, while the cat, Elizabeth the 3rd (you still thought her name incredibly odd, but you knew better than to make a comment about it), was rubbing her head and body against the angry man’s leg. Her tail would brush against your pants every now and then, which didn’t really help to ease your frustration with the entire situation.

As you mentioned before, you simply had no words to spare.

Everyone was currently playing the waiting game, and some of your other colleagues had gone to secure the apartment. Another had left to call for the cleaner to clear up the glass, in case an accident occurred — namely, in case the cat went over and got her paws cut. In which case, it would mean instant death by corporate heir employer.

Meanwhile, Mr. Han was reportedly rushing back home for his beloved and apparently distressed cat. It didn’t really seem to be the case. If anything, she seemed perfectly happy, rubbing her body against his leg. She seemed to have taken a liking to her kidnapper. You didn’t think Stockholm syndrome could kick in so early, and for a cat, no less.

You spared the man handcuffed to you a sideways glance, and you saw uncertainty flicker in his striking mint green eyes as he looked on silently at the cat by his leg. His hands were fidgeting by his sides, and he was biting the inside of his cheek. He probably wanted to pet her as much as she wanted to be petted by him.

She was adorable, one of the most elegantly groomed cats you had ever seen, but you couldn’t afford to be distracted by her. You were working. Not for long, anyway. You sighed inwardly when you heard her meow for the tenth time in the past… fifteen minutes. There wasn’t really much else to do, and since dwelling on your imminent downfall was doing little to help you feel better, you decided to just observe him quietly. Maybe it was a habit from your job, but something about observing people calmed you. Gave you something to think about, and at times, something to imagine.

The man next to you had messy red hair just like his brother’s, and upon closer inspection, you noticed some strands of white fur clung to the very tips of his baby hairs, no doubt because of the cat. You had been told she was known to shed an unusual amount of fur, which you hadn’t believed at first, given the stark cleanliness of the apartment in its original state. But now, looking at your blank pants that were stained with little feathery white strands, you concluded that the cleaner was exceptional at her job. Maybe you could ask her for tips later on how to get rid of all this fur when you got home.

The man next to you didn’t seem all too bothered by it, however. The barest of smiles, just a ghost of it, played on his lips as he continued to stare at the cat as she meowed and purred at him.

…Cute.

The corners of your lips began to twitch upwards, and the moment you realised it, you pressed them into a thin line and let the frown settle back on your face, trying your hardest to keep the heat from spreading up your neck.

Get a grip, you instructed yourself. You were working now, you couldn’t afford to get distracted by an unusually cute cat-napper.

But, well, you supposed there wasn’t really anything wrong with this. You were simply observing him, after all. Besides, it wasn’t as if you had anything else to do at the moment.

So your eyes went back to him, and you noted the peculiar mint green hue of his eyes, which differed greatly from the golden ones that his brother had. You were fairly sure they were twins, however. They shared the exact same facial features, except that his brother had glasses on while he didn’t, and then of course there were the eyes, and the fact that he had a completely different aura about him compared to his brother.

His brother, who had introduced himself quite grandiosely as “God Seven-Zero-Seven” when you first caught them both lurking in the hallway, was animated and strangely spirited even though he had just landed himself in hot soup with the team. Maybe slightly insane too, evident from his obsession with the Mr. Han’s pet. He seemed likeable enough though, and you would have appreciated his eccentricity and unique sense of humour more in another setting.

On the other hand, the man next to you was quiet, composed. He was eccentric in another way altogether. His face was a mask of calm, though from the slight turn down of his eyebrows, you could tell he wasn’t entirely happy with getting caught up in this mess. It was highly likely that he had been dragged into this infiltration mission by his brother.

His eyes were still fixated on the cat, and although his face was stone, betrayed no emotion, you could tell from his gaze that he truly longed to touch her, if only to pass the time while waiting for Mr. Han to return.

So against your better judgment, your lips parted to speak.

“You can touch her if you want, you know.”

His head turned, and his eyes came to rest on you.

You didn’t get a chance to take a good look at him earlier, since you had been too caught up with chasing after the both of them. But now, seeing him under the white beam of light from the ceiling, with him facing you and neither of you in a rush to make a move, you couldn’t help the slight quickening of your pulse.

He was handsome, and very much so.

His face looked especially pale under the lighting, but and it gave a gleam to his beautifully luminous eyes. He reminded you of a cat’s eyes in the dark. Glowing, mysterious, magnetic.

“I can?” he asked softly, his voice flowing like honey towards you. Just minutes before he had been shouting at his brother for “coming up with such a stupid plan”, and you hadn’t expected to hear such a tender quality in his voice. It was soothing, gliding into your ears like a gentle melody.

“Go ahead,” you replied, allowing a tiny smile to show on your face briefly, as you slowly knelt down so that he could also lower himself to pet Elizabeth conveniently.

You caught the eye of your other colleague who had a brow arched questioningly, but you mouthed a quick assurance to him. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt the cat. And if he did, you would make him pay for it, as well as for jeopardising your career.

The moment he lowered himself enough, Elizabeth practically jumped up to him, meowing in delight and nuzzling her head against his chest. He looked a little bit conflicted, a little hesitant as he raised his hand to gently stroke her head. That earned him a satisfied purr in response, as well as jealous cries of protest from his brother at the other end of the room. He began begging your colleague to let him touch her as well, but your colleague refused to budge. Fair enough, given that Mr. Han had stressed time and again not to allow a bespectacled man going by the name of Seven anywhere near his cat.

You watched quietly as he continued stroking her, the little frown that had been there on his face slowly melting away, replaced with a gentle, kind face. The corners of his lips were curled upwards slightly as he played with the cat, looking more comfortable with her by the minute.

You didn’t even realise you had been smiling yourself until his gaze moved from Elizabeth to you, and in that instant, you felt heat rush to your cheeks. Hastily, you averted your gaze, and you instinctively moved away to put some space between the both of you, except the tug of the handcuff on your wrist prevented you from doing so.

If anything, because you tugged a little too hard, the returning force made you lose your balance since you had been balancing on the balls of your feet while squatting next to him.

And then the next thing you knew, you were falling towards him.

You heard a sharp cry from the cat as she jumped away just in time to avoid getting squashed in between the both of you. And then you felt two strong hands hold firmly onto your arms to steady you, which lessened the pain as you crashed face first against his chest.

His broad, warm, strong chest—

You pulled away from him, cheeks flaming and heart racing. You muttered an apology as he steadied you, and when your eyes met, it dawned on you suddenly how close you were to him. He was holding you in place, which meant your faces were just inches apart; too close for comfort. Colour was rushing to his face, reddening his cheeks and the tips of his ears. From the heat gathering in your face, you guessed you probably looked the same.

His eyes had widened, shock and bewilderment swimming in them, as they stared deeply into yours. His gaze was penetrating, piercing, intriguing enough that you could get lost in them, just observing him all day long. 

Except you had a job to do. You quickly shook yourself out of your daze, aware that your colleagues were still in the room and had probably witnessed your moment of uncharacteristic clumsiness.

Hastily, you looked away, putting as much space as you could between the both of you without causing another similar mishap. You heard him clear his throat, and from the corner of your eye, you noticed his face was still a little red as he petted the cat who had already made a swift return to his fur-covered lap.

You caught the eye of your colleague, who had arched a brow at you and was sending you a teasing smirk.

And all you could do was stare at the floor, speechless.

You had no words. Absolutely none to defend yourself, or to explain what had just happened.

All you knew was that your heart was still beating furiously in your chest and that the heat in your face wouldn’t go away.

Second day on the job, and this was proving to be increasingly disastrous as the seconds ticked by.




You didn’t know if you should be relieved or not when Mr. Han finally arrived. He had that frigid air of professionalism about him as always, though the anger simmering beneath his cool face was plain for all to see.

He exchanged a few harsh words with “Seven”, threatening to call the police on him for unwarranted trespassing of property, damaging his window, attempting to kidnap his cat and for putting her through an unbearable ordeal that could scar her fragile mind for good. (Were all corporate heirs this dramatic when it came to their pets?)

You noted, however, that he seemed otherwise fine with the man next to you, whose name you learned was Saeran. He requested you to remove the handcuffs and you did, although he didn’t ask the same of your colleague who was with Seven.

Saeran sent a flat glare in the direction of his brother when Seven pleaded for him to put in a good word for him with Mr. Han, and you had to fight to suppress a chuckle when he later sneezed thrice in succession, no doubt because of all the cat fur on him.

It wasn’t long before you and your colleagues were dismissed Mr. Han from the apartment, requesting all of you to get back to your work. You exchanged glances with the rest of the team, and in general, everyone looked quite relieved. Probably meant your job was safe for now. One of them whispered discreetly to inform you that Seven and Saeran were both experienced hackers, and that they were both part of the RFA charity organization that Mr. Han was also a member of, so nothing too severe would happen to either of them, or to the team.

That was enough to make you release a long exhale, and for the stress that had been giving you a mild migraine to fade away. You couldn’t ask for better news.

You were the last to exit the door of the apartment, and you couldn’t help but turn back. You didn’t know why you did it, exactly. You just… felt like doing it.

And then you found yourself staring back into mint eyes. He had turned over his shoulder too, to spare you one last glance before you left.

Once more, you felt your cheeks heat in a blush, but this time, you didn’t look away. You offered him a tiny smile and a nod, which he returned in kind. A wordless goodbye. Maybe a “see you later”. Who knew?

You had work to do.

So with a slightly giddy head and a loud thumping in your ears, you turned around and left, closing the door behind you, and silently hoping that the two cat-nappers would drop by sometime soon. 

Rivetra Week: Modern

1875

“Oh papa I’ve won again!”

Petra Ral let out a triumphant giggle as she placed her playing cards face up, revealing her winning hand. Feigning distress, her father put a hand over his heart and marked another tally next to her name on the pad of paper he was using as a scoreboard. In a chair by the fireplace, her mother rocked in a wooden chair, mending an apron.

“Perhaps we should send her off to the gambling halls, dear,” she suggested, not looking up from her work, “we’d have to work only half as hard.”

Petra laughed at this, shuffling the deck and asking if he’d like to play again. He did, of course.

A knock at their door caused them to pause and Mrs. Ral set down the her project with a slightly furrowed brow.

“Who would come at this hour?” she wondered, excusing herself from the living area to see what exactly was the matter.

Mr. Ral and Petra exchanged a curious glance.

“You don’t suppose Auruo has lost his cat again do you?” he wondered.

“If he has, I haven’t got it!” she shot back with a huff. It wasn’t likely to be true. Her childhood friend, Auruo Bossard was forever misplacing his pet due to the feline’s infatuation with the copper haired girl. It was trying to say the least.

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The Christmas Lights Across the Street [Pietro Maximoff x Reader]

Author’s Note: It’s still Christmas where I’m at guys so it’s okay lol (I have fifteen minutes). I did this same exact thing during Halloween, I don’t know why I always wait until I have like, an hour left. xD Hope you all had a great Christmas–did you get any cool gifts? I’d love to know! (and I can totes share what I got if anyone cares lelel *coughs*)

Word Count: 769

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rosalyn-mclaird  asked:

“Here. You look like you need a drink.” Rosalyn said softly, setting down a glass of whisky in front of the quiet but handsome man in the bar, "Do you mind if I join you?"

Though it was quite against the law to fraternize with no-mag, there was nothing to stop Percival from enjoying their bars and speak easies, nothing to stop him from enjoying their spirits. It had been a *long* day, the kind that left him soul-weary where whiskey warmed his gut to compensate the chill in his chest.

He was already a few drinks in, the empty glasses lined like military ranks in front of him. But loathe was he to turn down another, and from a pretty little thing like the woman who offered it. He arched an eyebrow to her in brief question, then smiled, easy and natural; he waved to the empty seat beside her, using discrete magic and a faint kick of his foot to push the stool out for her.

“By all means,” he answered. Gratefully, he took the drink. “Is it really that obvious?” And he seemed a bit sheepish when he asked. Still, he continued smoothly, “Well, you’re very kind to help someone in need. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

@rosalyn-mclaird

anonymous asked:

*small voice* do you mean to write the 101 dalmatians AU? It sounds lovely, I need more!

My hand slipped. It’s just the meet-cute, I don’t know how it happened but here it is. (I changed the dogs to be Alana and Margot because reasons). (x)

-x-

Alana is an exceedingly clever dalmatian.

She has always been, but since Will adopted her she has only grown more clever, between the tricks he teaches her and the lessons she teaches herself to keep a leg up (so to speak) on her six brothers and sisters.

Will takes very good care of her and her adopted siblings, and really she thinks she could want for nothing, but on days like today she wonders if maybe there’s something he wants for.

He’s taken her to the park, and she lies next to him as he sits, elbows hooked over knees, on a clean patch of grass overlooking the pond. He thinks she doesn’t see the loneliness in his eyes, but she does. It isn’t there always, but it’s there in flashes, just before he turns off the lights and curls into bed at night. It’s there when he stares across his empty kitchen table over his plate of trout that he feeds her flakes of. It’s there now, as she watches him try to read his book even though he hasn’t turned a page in nearly half an hour.

He’s staring out over the bank, the stripes of sunshine in the water reflecting in his eyes, and he’s thinking of something… someone perhaps.

Alana rests her chin on Will’s thigh and huffs out a little snort of a sigh. Absent-mindedly he pats her head, rubbing the soft flap of her ear as she thumps her tail in lazy contentment.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. The pages of his book remain unturned.

A silvery jingle distracts Alana and she cocks her head, shifting out from under Will’s hand to look at the bench behind them.

Sitting at the feet of a very well-dressed man is the most beautiful dalmatian she has ever seen.

She is poised, regal even, with crystal blue eyes and an elegant red collar specifically tailored just for her that brings out the contrast of her brilliant spots. Alana doesn’t think about the simple black cord that Will has looped around her neck, she’s so impeccably trained that her leash is mostly for show, but all of a sudden she feels a little shy.

The dalmatian catches eyes with her and dips her head in greeting. Her owner looks up, first at Alana, then at Will. His eyebrows raise and he rests his gaze on Will’s unsuspecting profile, lingering longer than she’s ever seen anyone look at her master.

She looks back at Will in excitement and barks softly, tugging at her leash as she stands. Will looks down in surprise. She never tugs at her leash. He follows the source of her little commotion and locks eyes with the man at the bench.

The man does not look away. Will flushes from head to toe. He does not look away either.

Alana tugs again and moves towards them, barking a little louder. Will tries to shush her and pulls back. The red-collared dalmatian stands, a little confused by the encroachment, and moves in front of her owner in protection. She barks once, clear and with authority, and Alana immediately sits.

“Margot,” her owner admonishes gently. His lips quirk and he raises a brow. She sits once again, grumbling her discontent. Will marvels at the man’s quiet authority. He practically radiates with it, power crackling off of him and reaching out in jagged bolts towards him.

Will has never wanted to be electrocuted more in his life.

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SO someone posted a comment Moffat made about the role of the companions. As this is Moffat, the comment was exceedingly stupid and awful.

Moffat also addressed the trend for the companions usually being young women. He said: “I think the function of a companion is pretty simple. I don’t think that’s very difficult. It’s just a question of who credibly is going to agree to go in the TARDIS? Who’s going to do it? Is it going to be a mother of 15 children? No. Is it going to be someone in their 60s? No. Is there going to be a particular age range? I mean… who’s going to have a crush on the Doctor? You know, come on! It’s more than a format. It’s evolved from good, dramatic reasons.”

This comment spawned a story about how a mother of 15 COULD be a companion.It got big, and continues to grow,so I’m going to make a post of it by itself.  It’s a little disjointed, as each addition was prompted by a response, but I think it holds up well enough.

Why couldn’t it be a mother of 15 kids? Imagine, she’s a woman with 15 children in her care, trapped in a loveless relationship, whose dreams and ambitions had to take a back seat due to continual pregnancies. This was never what she wanted. She loves her kids, of course she does, but there’s a part of her that is just screaming to run. She wants out of the monotony, out of the endless piles of laundry, the lunches to pack, the beds to make, the meals to plan. She wants to make a difference somehow. 

She has had big dreams of making a difference  since she was a little girl. She wanted to shoot for the stars, and write her name on the moon. Instead, she got pregnant at sixteen. She was married at 18. Eventually, everything in her life just became a habit. She stayed married because she didn’t know where else to go. She had and raised her children because that’s what she was told she must do. She put on a smile because she refused to accept that this was all there was.

Then he shows up. He’s extravagant, lively, and full of tales that reminded her of her childhood stories, the ones she wrote while she lay beneath her glow in the dark stars. 

He made a difference. He made things better for those around him. He could travel to the end of time and back, and for whatever reason, he held out his hand and asked her to come with him. He wanted to show her those stars she had once held in the palm of her hand. He wanted to take her to hundreds of moons so she could sign her name on each one. 

Everything in her told her to stay. She had children, commitments, carpools and dinners. What would the neighbors say when they learned she had left? 

All of those thoughts were drowned out by the twinkle in his eye, the extended hand, and the stick he held out towards her.

She didn’t understand it, not at first, but then he smiled, and he demonstrated. With long, flourishing strokes, he signed his name in the dirt. The Doctor. He placed the stick in her hand, and pointed towards the sky. There are plenty of other moons and planets out there, he tells her, all with plenty of space to sign on the invisible dotted line. 

With one shaky breath, she took the stick, wrote a quick word beneath his signature, stepped into the TARDIS, and disappeared.

When her husband came outside to see what the noise was, he caught a faint hint of blue, and saw three large words written in the dirt. 

The top line said “The Doctor”. 

The bottom line, written in his wife’s handwriting, said one thing. “Goodbye”.

I like to think that every once in a while, when the moon is full and the kids are tucked in bed, the sound of the TARDIS echoes in the quiet house. With soft foot steps, she creeps past the master bedroom and up the stairs. She visits each bedroom, and carefully tucks the sleepy heads in their beds, smooths back their hair, and whispers that she loves them. Every once in a while, one will sleepily mumble back that they love her, too, and her heart will clench with maternal guilt. Each one of them had changed so much since she last saw them, and she was missing so much. But missing so much of their young lives allowed her to change things for the better for them. It was because of her absence that they could sleep peacefully in their little beds. They had not a care in the world, because she made sure of that.

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To Granny's House We Go

A Pretending to be Engaged fic: part one, part two.  Prompts still being accepted!

Anonymous prompted: it’s a two hour drive to grandma’s house.

Early Friday morning Belle placed her suitcase in Mr. Gold’s truck, setting it down next to her traveling companion’s.  Sliding into the passenger side of his black Cadillac she smiled cheerfully, before yawning suddenly.

“Tired?”  He asked, amusement lacing his tone.

“Just a little.”  She admitted sheepishly.

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