#firstwritingpost

[thru-ocean-eyes]

pain spoke sweetly to me in the dark as i spun softly in your arms invisible, impossible to touch moved by notes made of silk figments of another world where you choose me

— last night

[yike-plural]

Induced by sleepless nights and “Sleepless Nights”- Something I wrote,

In this moment, everything seems to sink away. Just these lifelike figures flashing across the screen, a glowing rectangular window into each and every one of our hopes and dreams, blues, blacks, pinpoints of falsehood, bordered by a threshold before mortality. I sit here, clocks ticking around me, the silent hum of a fan, running along on its journey, and the quiet stillness of cobblestones just after a rain accost me. Imprinting a blurry arrangement of greens, browns, whites, and reds, Italy without the smells, upon a moment of pine-scent and calm ambiance. Slightly cooled and a coughing in the next room. Cultureless and pedestrian everything seems until the glow of the ceiling lamps glints off the wooden varnish and the shadows on an erect tissue, rising out of the box, defying the presence of the suburban humdrum amassed around it, show an arousing fragility, balanced on an eve of perfection, only a blow away from, name-brand-Kleenex.

[pineappleauthor-blog]

Sing To Me

"Sing to me" she whispered softly as the gentle afternoon wind caressed her rosy cheeks. "Wanna hear a pretty little lulaby?" he teased attempting to see her blush beautifully once more. She shook her head gently causing her auburn coloured hair to ruffle, "No, I wanna hear the song of your soul. The song that makes all your anxieties and fears resurface, the wonderous and glorious lyrics that represent your depression filled heart. Show me the lucky person who was willing enough to capture your heart with words and instruments. So sing to me, REALLY sing to me."

[avenger-nerd-mom]

Sub Notes

Actor Chris Evans helps out when his new girlfriend Emery, a high school math teacher, gets sick and can’t go to work. Warnings: None, Fluff.  Part 14 of the “Georgia On My Mind” Series

Note: First story I ever posted; was originally a stand alone ficlet

Part 13 “Till the End of the Line”

      Chris wakes up to a familiar, but unpleasant sound.  He knows Emery isn’t hungover this morning, so it can only mean one thing.  He crawls out of her warm bed and softly walks over to the bathroom door.  He gently knocks, and asks, “Babe? Are you sick?”

      “Ugh.  Yes, I’m dying.  Go away,” Emery’s weak voice responds.

      “Can I come in?” he inquires.

       “Just gimme a minute,” she answers.  He hears the sink turn on and a muffled thud.  He doesn’t wait for her permission to open the door, and finds her sitting on the floor with her back against the cabinet sink.  Her normally beautiful green eyes are cloudy and red, and she has tears running down her face.  “I hate being sick,” she complains softly.  “But there is no way I can go to work today.  Even worse than being sick is having to write a sub plan.”

       Chris sits down on the floor next to her, wrapping his arms around her petite frame.  He can feel that she is running a fever, but also seems to have chills at the same time.  He thinks quietly for a moment, and an idea pops into his head.  “Let me do it; I can write a sub plan for you!”

       Her laughter comes out as a snort, and she covers her mouth.  “Evans.  Name one thing you know about math that qualifies you to write my sub plan.”

       “Do you trust me?”

        “Oh, Lord.  Heaven help me, I do.  I’m so sick. I don’t care.  Write a damn plan.  Now, move, so I can lie down on the cold tile floor.  It feels nice.”

         Chris scoots over and helps lower her down.  He grabs a towel and bunches it up as a pillow.  “What else do you need me to do?”

        In her weakened state, she asks for him to bring her phone, and tells Chris there is a sub file template on her computer so all he has to do is type in necessary information specific for today.  Emery’s stomach starts to rumble again, and she sits up, pushing him away and tells him to get out.

       He kisses the top of her feverish head, and chuckles to himself that this is the first time her teacher voice is not sexy, and as he closes the door behind him, he hears that unpleasant sound again.

        Thirty minutes later, he has convinced her to take a quick shower, and she has crawled back into bed.  She’s called in her illness to the school, and he hasn’t told her but he’s already called Marc to tell him he won’t be on set today.  There’s a very good chance he will get sick too, and since he’s been exposed to her germs, Chris doesn’t want little McKenna to get sick either.  That sweet little girl playing his niece in the movie he’s been filming the last few weeks doesn’t need to get sick too.  Her mother probably wouldn’t appreciate that.

       He’s written up some sub notes for the day, and using a contact in her phone, he’s already made a few arrangements for the day.  It helps that he knows several of her students, having spent time with them at after school study sessions on afternoons he wasn’t working. 

        Chris walks over to the bed to check on her, and feels that her fever seems to be holding steady; Emery asks for a glass of ice and her Avenger blanket from the couch in the living room.  He laughs again at the idea of this being her security blanket; almost like he knows his superhero friends will watch over her, even when he can’t be with her.  When he brings the items back to her, she’s half asleep. “Hey, babe, I’ve got it all under control,” he whispers.  “I just need to run this over to the school and I’ll be back.”

        She wraps the blanket around her head, and mumbles something that sounds like “Go away and let me die in peace.”

        He laughs at her again, and kisses her forehead.   “You call me if you need anything.  I can get back here in less than 15 minutes,” he tells her as he walks out of the room.

               **********************************************************         Chris checks the time, and still knows it’s early, but he calls his mother anyway.  His mom always knows what to do!  She advises him to get some crackers and clear soda, and since he couldn’t find a thermometer to monitor Emery’s fever, she suggests he gets one.  He chats with his mom about the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday.

       Even through the phone line, Mama Lisa can hear the regret in his voice that he will soon be leaving the warm Southern state and his new love behind; even if only for a short time.  Although she has not yet met Emery, she knows this young woman has a special hold over her son.  When he tells her about the sub lesson he has created for the day, she knows the feeling is pretty mutual.  Chris is finally head over heels for a girl that won’t take any crap, and doesn’t seem to bend to his wishes, just because he is Captain America.  Lisa can’t wait to meet Emery!

        Chris stops at the store to pick up supplies for the sub lesson he created, and the things his mother said he needed.  He pulls into the school parking lot and there is a small group of teenagers, waiting on the sidewalk.  It’s still early, but he knows they can get him inside the building.  “Hey, Captain!  She must be really sick, huh?” calls out Stephen, one of her favorite students.

        “Yea, man, thanks for meeting me here.  She’ll appreciate knowing you helped.”

        In the dark parking lot, the students help Chris unload the car.  He made it easier by buying a few plastic bins to carry the supplies in, and as he pulls out the larger box, he hears the students whisper, “Incoming! Principal Harris!”

        “Boys, what’s going on here?” a tall woman in a no-nonsense business suit approaches the small group.

        “Ms. Thomas is going to be out sick today.  We’re just helping to take in stuff for her sub lesson,” answers Stephen. 

      Principal Harris looks over the group, and notices the items in the storage bins.  She recognizes her students, but the handsome man leaning against the Christmas tree box is unknown to her.  “And you are, sir?”

        “I’m a friend of Ms. Thomas’. I’m just bringing by her sub plan and materials for today’s lesson,” Chris answers.  Why does he feel like he’s in high school all over again, and he’s been busted?  In the dark, this woman who runs the school is actually somewhat scary.  It’s easy for him to see why Emery respects her, and how she runs a tight ship around this place.

        Principal Harris’s eye skims over the storage boxes again, and asks to see the sub lesson plan.  She clicks on a flashlight as Chris hands it to her dutifully.  There is nothing sexy about her teacher voice, but this woman definitely commands authority.  The students begin to shift uncomfortably from the perceived scrutiny.

      She reads over the lesson, and briefly shines the light in Chris’s face.  She gasps upon recognizing who he is.  “Well, Mr. Evans.  This seems like a well thought out plan…  But, Ms. Thomas didn’t write this, did she?”

        Chris shakes his head.  What seemed like a great lesson in his head, is actually making him sweat now.  Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea…

       “No, ma’am.  Ms. Thomas was very sick when she called me this morning, and I told her I would take care of everything.”  He didn’t want her boss or her students knowing it was her illness that roused him from his slumber this morning.  Emery has a reputation to maintain, and with only another week in town, he wasn’t going to publicly sully it now.

        Principal Harris cocks her head towards him, and he knows she knows he is lying. She looks at the students, shifting with unease, and says, “Mr. Evans, I think we are good here.  It may not be the lesson Ms. Thomas would write, but it’s a lesson her class can handle.  Maybe you learned something about teaching while on set?”

       She smiles warmly at him, and he sees her dragon lady façade disappear.  She continues to tell the students to take the supplies into the building and turns again to Chris.  “I’ll take it from here.  Ms. Thomas will be surprised by the results of this class activity.  Tell her I hope she gets to feeling better, and that as her friend, I want to see her in my office, because she has a lot of explaining to do!  I had no idea you two were dating!”

        Chris laughs as he shakes the woman’s hand.  “Well, Emery’s pretty good at keeping secrets, and so are her students, it seems.  You have good students here at your school, and the best teacher I’ve ever known.  It was a pleasure meeting you, but I really need to get back to check on Emery…”

         ***************************************************************         When Emery arrives at school the next day, still feeling a little puny from her illness, tears fill her eyes as she turns on the lights in her classroom.  Christmas lights are everywhere, 3D snowflakes hang from the ceiling, and a giant Christmas tree, covered in rulers, protractors and calculators decorate the tree. 

      Emery drops her bag on the table, and sits down in her chair.  She wheels it over to the tree for a closer inspection, and notices on the back of the items are handwritten messages from her students. Created mathematical equations in word form, outlining all the things she does for her students that they are grateful for as they get ready for the holiday season.  Things like “Study Group plus granola bars equals a better math score” and “Two hours x Four Days= knowing my teacher cares about me.”

        Tears run down Emery’s face as she continues to read the things her students wrote, and her heart swells, knowing Chris planned this all for her.

       She hears a tap at the door, and turns to see Principal Harris.  “That’s quite the man you’ve found there, Emery.  Don’t let him get away.”

        “I don’t plan to,” Emery replies to her friend.

Click for Part 15 “The Patient”

Copyright © 2015 avenger-nerd-mom. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

[avenger-nerd-mom]

Thanks

I want to thank @thewife101cevans for taking me under her wing recently!  I have just recently acknowledged and accepted my addiction to Chris Evans.  It’s like a 12 step program, but I’m not looking to escape.  Thanks to Lisa, I’ve started writing for the first time in over ten years.  I have 2 larger pieces I’ve been working on, but thanks to the flu this weekend, a ficlet jumped into my head.  It’s based on my existing character, and our man, Chris, of course, but it’s a good, stand alone piece.  I’m about to post it, and I’d appreciate feedback.  First time posting a writing; feeling a little nervous

[kate-n-code]

Hello Again

There just may be one out of all eight of you (*cough* *cough* LIZ *cough*) that actually check up on this blog, but I guess this post is for anyone who might stumble upon it and just so happens to need a laugh or hear a story or need some friends.

I’ve decided to start writing here regularly about our silly little lives, and no, I don’t really expect any of you to care as if all eight of you are actually reading or following or if anyone ever will like we’re important or anything. But like I said, if you need a laugh, enjoy a good story, need some advice, need someone to talk to, I feel like it’s my obligation to let you know we’re here for that.

Cody recently bought a camera, hoping to finally dive into his long lost love of photography, and we aspire towards a youtube channel somewhere in the near future, but that’s the thing about taking up a new hobby, sometimes you just get this thing in your head that tells you you can only take it up once you have this enormous amount of free time. And that’s not true. You have to make time. So with that being said, we will see how well we do at that and I’ll post the link for the channel once it’s created and there’s something there to watch. I cannot make any promises, and I’m relieved there isn’t much pressure. You see, this transition of moving in together has been a challenging one for us and we appreciate any and all prayers you send our way if you so feel led to.

I’m looking forward to being able to finally write the way I have been wanting to on tumblr and I’m happy that God has made this wonderful man such a deeply embedded part of my life that I don’t think I could or should really do this off on my own little blog in some other hole in the wall of the internet. He’s just as funny, if not more than I am and if I can manage to put a smile on a single face through this screen, I’d like you to experience him too. Its just how it is. Its a soulmate thing. Because we’re a powerteam. (Yep, its all one word. And yeah, I’ll probably get to explaining that sometime. But its pretty much what it sounds like.)

Work at five am. So I should probably sleep.

But I hope your day is easy and restful and you find God’s peace as you lean on His presence.

Later c:

-K

[starfated]

I decided to write a little. Normally, I would just write in my journal, but today I wrote it on here.

 Sanctuary

Sanctuary: It means something different to every one of the seven billion people here.

To some, it may mean a beach at sunset.

To some, it may mean a drive through the country.

To others, it may mean a big city somewhere.

The Book of Words says a sanctuary is a place of refuge.

The same book says a refuge is a place safe from danger or trouble.

While these are very good representations of a sanctuary, it's not mine.

Recently, I realized where my sanctuary lies.

It lies in my bed, buried under mounds of heavy cloth, in my most comfortable clothes.

It lies away from the world and all it holds.

It lies with stacks upon stacks of faraway places within arm’s reach.

Some may ask, "Why do not leave this place?  It's so dull and gray."

I will answer, but with disarray.

"Do you not read?" I will ask, "Have you not experienced the places a tale can tell?"

When the answer is no, I will sigh and climb back into my burrow.

"I hope one day, you know of the places a story can take you, my dear friend."

With that, they will leave, more confused as ever.

Many do not understand why I find sanctuary in my burrow, but somewhere else entirely.

Many do not see that my reality is nothing to brag about.

Many do not see that my reality does nothing but tear me down.

Many do not see that my reality push towards a cliff over a dark, deep culvert.

Many do not see that the tales pull me back.

Many do not see that the tales keep me from falling off the edge.

Many do not understand that authors give the best medicine for hopelessness.

Many do not understand that my sanctuary isn't actually in my little burrow.

My sanctuary lies across the country and deep in outer-space.

My sanctuary lies in the arms of a boy far, far away.

My sanctuary lies in the black and white, behind the binding.

So this was really, really personal and deep.  Thanks for reading it.  Feedback would be neat.  Don't feel obligated to though.  And don't worry about me.  I know what I need to keep myself far, far away from the edge.  Turn your attention to someone who really needs it.  Again, thanks for reading it. <3