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hobbitingryffindor · 3 years ago

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Don’t respond after 9 pm

So I've never written fanfic before, but apparently, I'm pissed at Jane. Please be kind, but also let me know if I should continue. I have a few other rules and scenes in mind. I have no idea if this will grow into anything more. Constructive feedback would be great.

___

Maura was ruminating. It was never good when she couldn’t get through her Saturday morning yoga session, but these days, it was becoming the norm. So after she finished her cup of tea, she locked herself in her yoga room, rolled out her yoga mat, and settled in with herself.

She had rules. They were new, and it was hard to keep to them some days, but they were there because she knew better. She knows she deserves more. She may not have had an attentive family growing up, but she knows her worth, or at least she’s gotten better at reminding herself. She knows what they have goes beyond friendship. She also knows it will never be more. Jane just keeps holding back the final piece of the puzzle. She could resign herself to a lifetime of this sexually charged and emotionally mediocre but never fulfilling relationship OR she could take a step back from Jane and a step forward for herself. But last night she forgot. She forgot the first rule she put in place almost a month ago.

1 - Don’t respond to Jane after 9 pm

Recognizing the anxious feeling that started in her chest, she told herself that it was a slip-up and it wouldn’t happen again. But she couldn’t help but grab her phone and reread last night’s messages.

10:36: J - Hey, you still up?

10:42: M - Just finished Bass’ enrichment and heading up to bed.

It had been such a simple response, it just floated out of her fingertips. She was so used to just always responding to Jane.

10:43: J- Enrichment? You can just say that you were in the sandbox hiding food for Bass to find.

10:44: M- Fine yes, I was reading his namesake’s new foreword in “Skeletal biology and bioarchaeology of the Northwestern Plains” while bass dug up the cactus leaves and strawberries I hid in his sandbox.

10:44: J- You make my night of watching the Sox lose seem like an exciting night

10:45: M- What can I say? We love to party over here.

10:45: J- I don’t know when it started, but you’ve gotten really good at sarcasm

10:46: M- You must be rubbing off on me ;-)

As Maura reread that line, she couldn’t help but cringe a little. She really couldn’t stop herself from going there last night, it was yet another small slip up, that showed how their friendship was always a little more than friendship.

10:59: J- I feel like I haven’t seen you at all this week, is the morgue backlogged?

11:04: M- It’s no busier than usual. Actually a little less so without a murder yet this month.

11:04: J- Give it time, Boston can’t go more than 2 weeks without a new murder. Have you been in court on other cases this week? I went to see if you could grab lunch a few times and I never caught you.

11:05: M- We must have just missed each other, I did lunch out of the office a few times.

11:07: J- You going to fancy places without me now?

11:09: M - Really Jane, any place that doesn’t allow jeans, you label as fancy. But no, a friend from my residency, Erica, did a few guest lectures at BCU. I caught one of her lectures and we had lunch a few times.

11:09: J- I see how it is, replacing me with other genii.

Reading this for a second time feels like a needle in her chest, last night it paralyzed her, she didn’t know how to respond. She wasn’t replacing Jane, per se. This was also the point last night where she realized her mistake in responding to Jane’s late text. Even now, she still isn’t sure she handled it correctly.

11:18: J- Any plans for tomorrow?

11:20 M- While genii is correct, you can just say geniuses, you don’t have to try so hard. And, no I’m not replacing you. I was planning on browsing Newbury St in the afternoon.

11:21 J- Great, so I’ll pick you up at 2, I’ll carry the bags and then we can hit up Eataly for dinner? We haven��t been there in a while.

11:25 M- That’s okay Jane, I know you don’t enjoy my long shopping ventures, you don’t have to come. And I’ve got dinner plans, I’m sorry. But I’ll see you Sunday night for dinner.

After that, it was radio silence from Jane. Even after all these years, all the social cues Jane’s helped her learn, she still doesn’t know how to read the silence. Last night she was torn. She wanted to hang out with Jane but didn’t. Now she had to live with rejecting Jane’s plans, and what felt like a rejection of Jane herself.

That’s what brought her here, meditating as the sun was rising, or trying to anyway. Maura shook herself out and realized she was going to need a little help this morning clearing her mind. So she opened up the Calm app and resigned herself to a guided meditation. Maura went through the motions of her day, finishing off with an overzealous stop at Diane Von Furstenberg’s on Newbury just because. She still hadn’t heard from Jane and was trying to tell herself it was okay, they were okay, they were just both adjusting to this new normal. Maura hadn’t figured out what this new normal was supposed to be, but she knew she was unhappy with how Jane and she were a couple in every way, except in the way that mattered. Their friendship was unhealthy as it was. If they were only going to be friends, Maura was going to start making space in her life for other friends and possibly a lover or two. She can’t pinpoint when it happened, but her very active and healthy sex life seemed to slowly dry up the closer she and Jane got.

______________

Dressed in her new Midi dress, and a brand new pair of St. Laurent sandals, she waived to Angela across the courtyard as she headed off to meet Erica. Driving to the Chart House, she couldn’t help but reflect and acknowledge that Eric’s timing was creating a good distraction for her. She and Erica had done their residencies together, they hadn’t been best of friends, but she was always warm to Maura and tried to include Maura in her social circle. A few years after Maura moved to Boston, she reached out when she landed in Providence doing a Post Doc Fellowship at Brown. They’d do dinner a few times a year, trade interesting journal articles, nothing special, but it was nice to have a friend outside of BPD. When BCU invited Erica to guest lecture for the week, Maura decided she’d just drop in on the first lecture, which led to a couple of lunches earlier in the week, and a celebration dinner as Erica was just offered a tenure track faculty position starting in the fall. Pulling up to the valet station, she decided that this was just what she needed to expand her social circle a bit. She’d enjoy her evening, celebrate Erica’s new position and enjoy the late spring evening.

______________

Like clockwork on Sunday around noontime, the Rizzoli’s started to filter into her home. Angela always led the parade, bringing groceries and starting the prep process. Over the next couple of hours Jane, her brothers, little TJ, Frost, Korsak, Kiki, and even Susie sometimes would wander in and fill her house. When she invited Angela to live in the guest house almost 4 years ago, she never thought it was going to be permanent, nor did she think she’d enjoy having her there as much as she does. For all of Angela’s meddling and snooping in Jane’s life, she’d been nothing but respectful of Maura’s boundaries and privacy. Maura treasured how their patchwork family considered her house their gathering place, when it was full, it felt like the warm home she yearned for as a child. The amazing dinners, even if sometimes unhealthy, were a vehicle for that love and inclusion Maura had spent over 30 years searching for. She’d found it with Jane and her family, but she still craves more. She wants more than a patchwork family, she wants her own family.

As Maura was finishing up working in the garden beds Tommy and TJ arrived. By the time she’d entered the kitchen freshly showered and ready for Angela to put her to work, she saw Jane and Frankie had joined Tommy in watching a basketball game. Maura greeted everyone while looking at the TV, she noticed no one was wearing a green jersey so she knew Boston wasn’t playing, which usually boded well for her couch and rugs. TJ was in his high chair feeding himself some plain pasta while Angela sang to him. Maura and Angela quickly fell into their rhythm with this week’s batch of Ragu simmering on the stove. By the time the lasagna was in the oven, Frost, Korsak, and Kiki had arrived and, Angela and Maura joined the gang in the living room to snack on some arancini before dinner.

While Maura and Angela always cooked, the most relaxing part of Sunday dinners was when Jane and Maura cleaned up. Never fail the boys would head out not long after dessert and the games were over. And Jane in her way of appreciating her mother would kick her back to the guest house for an early night, while she took charge of cleaning up the kitchen.

“Another glass of wine while you work?” Jane asked Maura while grabbing the bottle

Maura just put her glass in front of Jane while nodding for more. The pots and pans were washed, the dishwasher had already started its cycle and Jane and Maura were moving to the living room to straighten up before settling in to catch up on their week. Normally all this happened with a comfortable level of conversation between them, but tonight, there was a little more silence than usual. With blankets folded and the remote located, they settled into the couch, each sitting against an arm, facing each other.

“You know mom asked me how your date went last night, I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone” Jane started.

“It wasn’t a date, I told you I was going to dinner with Erica, she’s just accepted an offer at BCU.”

“No, you said you had lunch with Erica” with a slight hint of annoyance that only Maura could pick up on. “I didn’t know you guys were doing dinner, I thought you might have been hiding a new boyfriend from me”

“No, no new boyfriend Jane. Although that would be nice or maybe a girlfriend, I haven’t dated a woman since I first moved to Boston”

Jane nodded, her eyes a little bigger than normal, sometimes Maura could swear Jane forgot she was pansexual.

“What about you? You seeing anyone new?” Maura asked, mostly to take the heat off of her. She didn’t know what was worse, talking about her lackluster dating life or trying to appear supportive of Jane's dating life when all she wanted was to be the person dating Jane.

“No, although Frost mentioned his old college roommate is single. I can’t believe I’m even entertaining the idea of letting him set me up.”

“You should at least meet him, if Frost is setting you up, I’m sure he’s a good man.” Maura grinned through a fake smile.

“I don’t know” Jane responded, Maura saw the walls going up “ I don’t want to talk about dating. Is Erica going to move to Boston? You know you’ve never introduced us, are you scared I’ll embarrass you?” Jane half-joked, changing the topic.

“No Jane, you have to stop with the self-deprecating humor, you know I’m not embarrassed by you. And yes, she needs to finish teaching a summer seminar at Brown, and then she’ll move up here.” The next words fell out of her mouth as soon as they occurred to her “I should see if she wants to come to next Sunday’s dinner.” Seeing Jane’s small annoyance grow into jealously, she redirected. “She can meet everyone, but please don’t interrogate her for college stories. You already know I was weird and awkward, you don’t need more things to tease me about!”

Jane took the bait “Ohhhh, I didn’t even think of that! I wonder if she’s got pictures!!

Maura just rolled her eyes, relieved that the tension was broken. She really did want Jane and everyone else to accept Erica, she remembered what it was like moving back to Boston and not having anyone. The rest of the night passed quickly, Maura kept the topics to mostly work or Boston politics. Jane could rant about local politics for hours and it didn’t put Maura at risk of gazing at Jane like she wanted to take her upstairs. A little before 11, Jane sighed and made her excuses about getting back to Jo before she relieved herself on the rug again. Pre-rules Maura might have made some comment about how much wine Jane had and how she should stay the night. Post-rules Maura kept her mouth shut. As Maura locked the door behind Jane, she couldn’t help but hope that just maybe, with some delicate balancing, she’d be able to move on from Jane and keep her as a friend.

________

Later that week Maura found herself at the Robber with the whole group, even Susie joined them. Maura was finding her new footing and it felt nice, it gave her a boost of confidence. Jane no longer acted as her interpreter when Frost made a joke, Korsak no longer felt the need to censor his dirty jokes and Susie actually had a pretty foul mouth once she had a few drinks. More than ever she noticed how breaking down her walls, allowed others to break their own down around her. She didn’t feel like Queen of the Dead anymore, she was Maura. As the night stretched on the table shuffled around a bit, Korsak left to meet Kiki, Frankie and Nina joined, Susie went home and Frost tried his luck with a pretty blonde at the bar.

Maura didn’t even notice how slowly Jane crept to her, close enough that her side was against Maura and her arm draped behind Maura across the back of the booth. But she did notice when the vibe between Jane and her started to mirror that of Frankie and Nina, right down to Jane ordering Maura another drink before checking with her. Maura and Jane were a couple, they couldn’t help it. The small touches, the laughing into each other’s sides, even the stolen glances. It no longer felt like hanging out, it felt like they were on a double date. It was too much for Maura, she excused herself to the bathroom to regroup. Looking at herself in the mirror, she scolded herself. She had to get out of there, she needed more distance. How could she possibly have her own relationship if she always ended up with Jane?

“I didn’t realize how late it had was,” Maura said marching up to the booth. “I’m going to head home. I’ll see you all in the morning? Those cultures should be ready by 10, I’ll page you when I have the report ready.” All of a sudden Maura infused a formalness into the air that wasn’t there before. Frankie raised his eyebrows but said nothing. It was weird for Maura to leave without Jane, or at least inviting Jane back to her house.

“I’ll leave with you” Jane started to get up.

“Oh no, that’s fine, I’m parked just across the street. I’ll be fine, stay, enjoy the rest of your beer” Maura responded with a slightly stern note. Jane nodded, “Party pooper, leaving me with these love doves” gesturing to Frankie and Nina, while they responded with mock offense. As Maura walked away, she didn’t see Frankie lean in and whisper to Jane.

Once Maura settled into bed for the evening she decided it was time for her to get out there. Even if it meant her joining one of those annoying dating sites. It was better to be trying than pining. Last week Erica had suggested How About We, it was worth at least signing up. She decided that it couldn’t hurt more than she was already hurting. While she hadn’t opened up to Erica about how frustrated she was with her’s and Jane’s relationship, she had expressed a desire to get out there more and Erica had offered a few bits of advice. If she couldn’t go to Jane about this, it was nice to at least have another friend to commiserate with about dating. As soon as she completed her profile, her phone beeped and a notification popped up on the screen.

11:17 PM

Jane Rizzoli

You awake?

Clicking her screen off, Maura put her phone on her nightstand and turned over for what would be a very uncomfortable night’s sleep.

#rizzoli and isles #rizzoli & isles #fanfic #Fanfiction #rizzles #rizzles fic #jane rizzoli #maura isles

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ma-lark-ey · 4 years ago

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Nick Close had never been a very fantastic child. That much was very obvious. Granted, most of the dumb and illegal shit they did was for their fathers attention (however rarely that option actually worked), but it was still dumb and illegal shit.

Tonight was not one of those dumb and illegal nights, however; tonight was still a night Glenn Close could never find out about. Nick prayed he'd never find out about.

Nick had always been closed off from their father. How couldn't they be? When they were little, it was always Nick and Momma at home, while Daddy was on tour or doing shows. Glenn only started being home once in awhile when Mom died. And yes, Nick calls him Glenn. Glenn was never... He was never 'Dad.'

And this, this was certainly one of the things Nick kept tightly closed off from their father. That thing being one of the biggest secrets Nick may ever keep; their gender.

Nick didn't *mind* to be a 'he,' don't get them wrong. Some days, they really enjoyed being a 'he.' But today? Today... Nick was a she. And she couldn't deny that. Some days she felt so fucking confident in her body, like she could throw on a baggy t-shirt and slightly too-big pants with a beanie and fight god. Others, her body felt like someone else's and she wanted to rip her skin off and start over. Dress like those beautiful alternative women she saw on TikTok. With the demonias, fishnets, skirts, ripped up shirts, messy hair. God, some days she didn't know if she wanted to be them, or be with them.

Tonight, she definitely wanted to be them.

She had done up her makeup in the most extravagant way she knew how, eyeliner to the gods. Fishnets under a faux-leather, checkered print pencil skirt she found thrifting with Grant a few days ago. She had one a torn up old t-shirt she'd cut into a croptop and not to mention her Docs. She felt like she could fight god with her chain belts and dramatic jewelry.

Nick knows Glenn would never care if he knew his 'son' sometimes felt more like his daughter, but she wasn't ready to give him that kind of trust. Grant? Grant got that kind of trust. Henry got that kind of trust. The twins got that kind of trust. But not Glenn. Glenn hasn't proved he'd deserved that yet.

And maybe Nick didn't want to take the time to explain why Grant sometimes called her Nickie beyond "Its just a nickname, Glenn."

And she was okay with that. She knew that she wasn't ready. Maybe she'd never be 'ready,' and Glenn wasnt in her life enough for it to matter.

...

Why'd the front door just open? Why is Nick hearing a car lock? Why is the front door opening? Glenn's not supposed to be home from tour until tomorrow. And here Nick is, in the living room. Looking like a pretty well passing woman. She had learned plenty of tricks over her last two years of presenting feminine some days. The lanky, stickman build the had was the one thing Glenn had given to her that she was thankful for.

But the genetics of Glenn Close that were gifted to his child were not the problem at hand. The problem at hand is that *Glenn's home.*

Glenn's home. Glenn's home, and Nick is not in her Glenn Mode. She's vulnerable. Vulnerable to a lot of questions she doesn't want to answer tonight. Doesn't want to have to explain where all this women's clothing came from, nor why she's dressed as one. It can't pass as drag, but she's obviously not in drag makeup. Fuck. Fuck it all. Fuck her life and her shitty decision making skills. Fuck Glenn for never communicating his plans. And fuck the stunned way he's staring at her now.

The awkwardness of the room was palpable at this point. Nick felt like a deer in headlights. Nick felt like melting into the floor and disappearing from the world. Nick felt like her whole world was about to collapse in on itself. What if Glenn hated her, what if he didn't want her to act like this or be this person, what if-

"Well, don't you look nice. Got a date or something, kid?"

Thats... That's not what Glenn was supposed to say. That's not what he's supposed to say! He's supposed to be upset or revolted or-

"I- I uh..." No. No don't cry. Fuck. Why are you crying, Nicholas? Nicole? Fuck what even if your name right now?

Glenn's here. It should be Nicholas. That's your name when you're a boy. But its a girl day. You want to be Nicole today. Glenn is here, and you're Nicole right now. And Glenn is here. And you're Nicole. And Glenn-

She heard a bag drop on the ground and footsteps come toward her. She stepped back and tried hide behind her arms. No words. She can't speak.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

She remembers the time she went to school in feminine clothes and a couple of guys almost jumped her, before Lark pulled a knife on them and got them both suspended.

Hands grab onto her shoulders, a gentle hold. She can feel the calluses on Glenn's fingers from his guitar. When was the last time he held her?

Her knees feel like jello. She remembers when she started posting on her second TikTok, open about her gender and pronouns because she didn't have to keep up a cisgender face when her dad didn't have the account. And how transphobes sent her deaththreats until she blocked all those words from her comments and the DMs got disabled.

She's a few inches taller than Glenn in her platform Docs. Which she realizes when he pulls her into a gentle hug. She feels makeup running on her face. And she's crying. Why is she crying?

She remembers being ten years old standing at moms grave, standing next to Glenn. Just after the burial. It was the first time she'd seen him cry.

Her chin's on his shoulder now, his arms around her upper torso and holding her against him. She realizes she's shaking. That he's just holding her. He's holding her. Daddy's home.. He's giving her a hug...

She remembers the last time Glenn had hugged her. At Mom's funeral. She was sobbing at her grave, and so was Dad. He pulled her into him and held her so tight. So tight she thought he'd crush her. But he just held, like she was the entire world. Like if he let go he'd loose her to. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hid her face in the mix of long hair and his suit jacket. He felt like her whole world in that moment, too.

Nickie brings herself back to what's happening. Glenn's holding her, her arms are awkward resting on his back, He's clutching her by the shoulders. She remembers these hugs. The hugs that he used to give her every time he left and came home. The ones he gives where every second of it is embued with love. It felt like that now.

She could tell he loved her. But those words felt like lies in her head.

Lies. Lies. Lies. So many lies. So so many lies.

"I'll be home by nine, Nick." It was a lie, Glenn didn't come home for three more days. "I promise I'll be home on your birthday." He wasn't. "I'll be there." He wasn't. "I'll make it, promise." He didn't. Everytime. Everytime, where Glenn shouldve been, it was Mom. And when Mom died, it was Henry. Or Ron. Or Darryl.

But he's here. Right now. And he's holding her. It doesn't make it okay, it doesn't excuse it. But he's holding her. Her knees go weak, and she crumbles. He crumbles with her.

She sobs, he doesn't force her to say anything. She doesn't return his hug, he doesn't expect her to.

"You're supposed to be mad." Nick mumbled after she doesnt remember how long. Glenn gives a light chuckle and adjusts his grip on her.

"And why would I be?" He asked, not protesting as Nick shoved him off and shuffled back a few inches. It felt weird to be so close to him after sixteens years of so much distance.

"Why wouldn't you be?" She spat, crossing her arms and staring at the ground. "Nick's fucked up again. That's my whole brand! Being a total and absolute fuck up! The disappointment! The druggy, the- the... The mistake." She felt more hot tears behind her eyes. She could feel Glenn staring at her in concern.

"Nick, you are not a fuck up. Or a mistake. Or whatever else. Nick, you're my baby, and I-"

"Then why did you leave? If you're gonna pull that bullshit, and say you love me no matter what, and that I'm your little girl, and that- that you wanted me from the very beginning and wouldn't give me up, why did you leave? Why dont you care now? When you come home, and woopsie! Your son's dressed up like some goth chicken. Why are you acting like everythings fine!? Everything is NOT fine, Glenn!" She hit the floor with her hands and growled in frustration. It wasn't fine.

Glenn stared down and took a deep breath. Then he sighed. "Yeah, I can't blame you on that one, kiddo. Alright, full disclosure, Nick. I already- I knew. I knew about the pronouns, and the name. I knew. Henry told me."

"H- Henry... Did what?"

"He told me. Soon as you told him. He called me that night, let me know what you had said. We have a rule in our group, we've had the rules since Grant came out. If one of the kids comes out as anything, you tell the other dads. Especially if its a name and pronouns thing. Cause, we agreed that since well, we were all kind of one bug cluster fuck of parents to each others kids, it was better if everyone knew who was what. So we didn't fuck it up."

"So you have a rule to out kids to their parents? That's-"

"No! Not any kids. Its just you, Terry, Grant, and the twins. Just you five. Because, here's the thing, Nick- Nickie? Whatever. Us dads? We arent- we're new to the whole queer scene. Its not as normal for us to just fliparoo what pronouns and names we call people as it is for you guys. So, we would practice to each other. When you told Henry you liked being called Nickie, he came to us and essentially said, 'I'm gonna say Nickie to you guys as often as i fucking can do I don't end up deadnaming.' "

Glenn took Nick's hand into his and held it tight. Nick still felt like punching Henry in the fucking face for outting her to Glenn.

"You know that I love you, Nick." Her body went rigid at that. And she looked uo at him, glaring as hard as should mister with how fucking teary eyed she was.

"Do I? Do I know that you love me, Glenn?" And his face fell. It was like she just sucked his soul out of him. Good. That should be one hell of a wake up call.

"Nick, of course I love you. What would ever make you think I didn't love you?" Nick but her lip, thinking over her words before she said them. She thought on a lot of things.

"You left. My mom died, and you left. My *mother* was dead and you went back to touring in a matter of weeks. My mother was dead, and I was ten years old. And I was home, by myself, for weeks. Glenn, I was alone for months. Sure, there the nanny. But that wasn't Mom or Dad. I needed my parents. I needed my dad. I needed my dad to give me a hug, promise me it'd be okay. That we were okay. And he fucking left. He walked out that door, didn't come back for months, only called every three weeks. Missed birthdays, holidays, soccer games, and whatever the fuck else. Why on gods green earth would I think that you loved me when you fucking abandoned me, Glenn? Why? Would you think I loved you if I fucked off to god knows where after being home for just a couple days? Huh? If when I found out you'd been up in drug city with your mates and getting caught by cops doing a bunch of stupid shit, all you got was a slap on the wrist and a phonecall that last three minutes?"

Glenn stared at the ground for a long time. He didn't speak. And he pulled her back into a hug, practically dragged her across that distance to hold her again. Hold her like the whole world depended on Glenn never letting go again. Like if he let go everything would come crashing down, like Nick was the entire fucking world and he just wanted to protect her. He held her like he had when Mom died.

"God, Morgan... He's just like you." He mumbled, clutching Nick so tight she couldn't breath. She didn't care he used the wrong pronouns, she didn't care he'd barely even addressed the elephant in the room, she didn't care her heel was digging painfully into the back of her other leg. Her dad was here. He was holding her. He was making sure she knew he loved her. Dad finally came home.

Glenn let out a painful sob into Nick's shoulder, he said something. Nick thinks it was an apology, but between the sniffles and the hiccups and layers of clothing, its impossible to tell. Glenn pulled her up into his lap, held her like he would when she was five or six. Her head on his shoulder, his arms around her middle as he sat horizontal across his lap. Her legs were too long to curl up like they used to, so they sat awkwardly half-stretched across the floor. It was nostalgic in a way. It felt Glenn was just realizing how many years he'd wasted. How much time with his child he had lost.

"I'm sorry, Nick. Im- I didn't realize. I'm so fucking sorry, Nick." He was still crying. Crying more than Nick had ever seen him cry. She could hear the self-hatred and the regret in his voice. She reached an arm around his neck and pulled him that much closer.

"Just don't leave again... Please, Dad." Nick doesn't remember that last time she had called him 'Dad.' But, it felt right in that moment. It hasn't felt right in a long long time.

#this is a whole mess of angsty Close boys #genderfluid Nick is the only kind I will accept in my writing anymore #dndads #dungeons and daddies #Glenn is a shit dad but I will accept a redemption arc for him

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waejinyoung · 4 years ago

Text

Can’t Swim - EP . 8

Can’t Swim 8

word count: 3.2k+

a/n: you might be questioning where I have been for the past couple of months. I have one word to say that should be a good enough answer. College. I’ve been studying none stop and found no time to write the next episode after university started. The posts will no longer be regular so just keep yourselves updated. Hopefully I will have another 2 episodes up between now and the end of the year at least but don’t quote me on that. I hope you enjoy!

I’m deeply sorry for my absence again x

warnings: nothing

EP . 1 , EP . 2 , EP . 3 , EP . 4 , EP . 5 , EP . 6 , EP . 7 , EP . 8 , EP . 9

THIRD PERSON POV

The afternoon continued with Y/N and Jinyoung discussing life and getting to know one another whilst Y/N replied to her emails.

“It’s mind b-boggling how you and J-Jackson may have crossed paths back in 2012…” Y/N had just mentioned how she was training for the London 2012 Olympics to compete for swimming.

“Similar to Jackson, I switched career paths and decided to study architecture. Dad wasn’t the biggest fan until he saw the passion and success I had gained in the industry. He soon came to terms with everything.”

“Wow… do you r-regret it at all?” The clock marked 10:30 pm. You guys had been talking for the past 90 mins, getting to know each other.

“I think I regretted not swimming after deciding to study architecture. I didn’t choose to not compete in the Olympics because I no longer liked swimming so I do regret not continuing although I must say, studying architecture might be the most time consuming degree out there. That’s why later on I decided to apply to become a licensed swimming teacher to undergo lessons. I’d be teaching people how to swim whilst fulfilling my love for swimming.”

“Best of both w-worlds, r-right?”

“Exactly.” Y/N had now placed all her work to aside with her back against the wall, legs crossed enveloped into the conversation.

Some seconds went by and Y/N wanted to know about Jinyoung’s initial dreams.

“What about you? Did you always want to be a singer?”

“Always. I took up d-dance lessons when I was around 15. Then went to a-audition and got in to JYPE. That was when I met J-Jaebeom. We actually d-debuted together as a d-duo group called JJProject to later on d-debut with the r-rest of the g-guys as GOT7. Since t-then they’ve been my f-family rather than just my m-members. I think it’s g-getting to the p-point where I might have spent m-more years of my l-life with them then I did without. Time flies…”

“I could definitely sense the brotherly love you guys all have for each other. So how did becoming an actor happen?”

“I r-requested from the c-company to find roles I could take part in a couple years b-back. First it was small roles in small d-dramas and then being c-casted by more known d-directors to p-play bigger roles. All of that has l-led me to play s-second male lead for ‘When My Love Blooms’.”

“When do the episodes start airing?” Y/N had grown eager about Jinyoung’s talents.

“Hold your h-horses… we haven’t e-even started f-filming yet and won’t be until I r-recover… The original airing d-dates will probably be p-pushed f-further.” Jinyoung’s words drifted into a sudden realisation for his career.

“If only-“ Y/N was about to blame herself again.

“We’ve been through this m-multiple times Y/N. None of this is your f-fault so s-stop blaming yourself for t-things you have no c-control over.”

Y/N had her mouth open ready to retaliate but if she had to be honest… she couldn’t be bothered to fight back considering it was now coming up to 11:00 pm.

“Fine.” Y/N yawned and covered her mouth. Work had been extremely busy today especially with all the news floating around now.

“S-someone’s tired.” Jinyoung eyed Y/N’s tired state and decided to call it a night.

“I still have so much to do. I can’t fall asleep now.”

“C-could you n-not spare an e-early n-night just for t-today?” Y/N recollected her thoughts weighing up if she could possibly sleep early tonight and get all the work done tomorrow.

“I could…”

“Problem s-solved then. Clear up your b-bed and get your pjs on. I d-don’t want to f-face a t-tired Y/N tomorrow m-morning.” Y/N eyed your mean comment and huffed to your orders.

“Yes, sir.”

2 WEEKS LATER

Y/N’s POV

“Miss, Jinyoung has been recovering quicker than expected. He should be perfectly fine to attend the event. If anything unsettling happens you can give me a direct phone call.”

“Thank you so much Doc.” You gave the doctor a large smile and she reciprocated a reassuring smile.

You entered Jinyoung’s room with your outfit for the architecture awards festival along with you.

“Am I allowed to come?” Jinyoung asked as soon as you entered the room. You gave him a nod.

Jinyoung’s voice was more or less back to 100% and his eye had completed healed by the end of last week. There wasn’t much left until being fully recovered. Possibly parting from the hospital quicker than the original 2 months the doctor had estimated.

“I knew I’d get the green light. I even prepared my outfit because I was so sure I’d be able to come.” You hadn’t seen someone so ecstatic for an awards festival.

“As expected… I’m not even surprised. Will you be able to get dressed? Need any of my help?” Jinyoung was still a little instable since he’s been lying in bed for the past 2 weeks. His legs tend to give out for the first 30 mins.

“I think I can manage. I’ll get dressed quickly and then the bathroom is all yours.” You chuckled at his assumption that you’ll take really long in the bathroom for the event.

Jinyoung heads towards the bathroom and you are left there practising a speech you’ve written for all the awards you and your company have been nominated. This isn’t because you knew you were going to win any of them but… the unprofessional scenes if you guys were to win an award and to not have a speech ready daunted you. There was nothing wrong with being prepared.

15 MINUTES LATER

You must say… I don’t think you had ever laid eyes on someone so handsome in your life before. You could swear that this man was carved by God himself.

“How much deeper are you going to fall into my looks?” You hadn’t realised but you had been staring Jinyoung up and down for the past 30 seconds of him leaving the bathroom. Hair all styled. The suit was literally made for him. His cute bow tie was a little wonky leading you to let out a chuckle.

“What?” Jinyoung’s face turned serious thinking something was wrong with how he looked.

“Your bowtie is wonky.” You stood up from your seat and reached out to fix his bowtie. Your eyes were fixated in straightening the bowtie and all Jinyoung could do was analyse your face and how focussed you were.

“There you go. Looks better now.” You lightly let go off the tie and looked up at Jinyoung who was already staring right back at you. Those bambi eyes were going to be the death of you.

“Thank you. Now go and get yourself ready.” He pinched your nose and then you entered the bathroom with your dress, makeup bag and accessories.

20 MINUTES LATER

“Jinyoung~~” You called out for Jinyoung. You were done with everything but couldn’t reach the zipper on the back of your dress. You had been procrastinating on what to do and just gave up. There’s no way you could zip the dress up alone.

“Yes, Y/N. Is everything alright?” You could hear his footsteps come closer to the bathroom door.

“In a bit of sticky situation… could I ask you to do a favour?”

“Sure, what is it?” You went ahead and unlocked the door for him. He took a step back and couldn’t contain the sight in front of him. You were in a red bandeau strapless dress which had a structured skirt that was shorter at the front and longer at the back with. A very slight trail. Unsurprisingly your makeup was the bare minimum and you had left your natural hair out. His mouth was agape as you stepped out of the bathroom.

“How much longer are you going to stare for Mr Park?” He had been in the same awe you was when he had stepped out of the bathroom earlier on.

“Yes…right… the favour?” His soul re-entered his body trying to compose himself. You could only smile on the effect you had on the prince himself.

“I can’t reach my zipper, could you zip up the back of my dress for me?” You saw his cheeks blush a light pink below the thin layer of bb cream he had on. Without the zip done neither of you were going anywhere so he had to do it.

He wasn’t able to give a verbal response and just nodded. You turned around to have your back facing Jinyoung. He moved your hair to aside exposing half of your back to him. He was blushing so hard right now and was happy to have you facing away from him even though in a matter of seconds you’d be facing him seeing the shades of red planted on his cheeks. Jinyoung gently placed one hand on the zipper and the other hand on your back holding the fabric of your dress still. His fingers grazed your skin and they were a little cold leading you to jolt a little by the surprising cool touch. He notices.

“Did I hurt you?” His voice was a little worried. The slightest worrying reaction you make, and he’s so concerned. He’s too sweet.

“Nope, your hands are just a little cold that’s all.” You say whilst you chuckle.

He apologises with his soothing voice and zips up the dress, letting out a quiet done when finished.

You turn back round and thank him for his kind gesture. You also noticed the flush of his cheeks. He’s so cute, you thought. You quickly put your heels on and left Jinyoung’s patient room and entered the hall of the hospital. Expectedly, you guys received some stares and some whistles by the old women sitting outside their patient rooms. The event manager had organised a limousine to pick up each nominee for the awards hence why there was a lovely jet black limousine parked at the entrance of the hospital. The driver spotted you two and guided you the way and kept the door open for you two to enter the fancy vehicle. He ran back to the wheel and started driving towards the venue.

“Anything I need to know beforehand? Who should I present myself as?” Jinyoung had started with the questions during the car drive.

“Who’d you like to present yourself as Jinyoung?” You wanted to fish out his intentions from him.

“Preferably your boyfriend in order to stop those punks from hitting on you but I’d never want to force you into a relationship with me…” He side eyed you as he kept looking out the window. You so wanted him to be your boyfriend.

“Logical. Agreed. If anyone asks, you’re my boyfriend.”

“What an honour.” You slap his thigh due to his sarcastic tone.

“Whatttt? I’m serious. I’m going to be the boyfriend of an amazingly talented architect who’s bound to receive an award tonight. It’s a genuine privilege.” You could only look at him in awe as he described the so called ‘privilege’ he was taking part of.

“If you say so…”

The humming noise from the motor of the limousine was really calming but Jinyoung broke the silence once again.

“Are you nervous?” His tone was much deeper and serious compared to how he was a second ago.

“A little. These awards happen once a year and we’ve progressed so much as a company but so has everyone else in the industry. It’s hard to tell if we’ll be receiving the major validation from the institute. With or without the award tonight I’m so pleased with my company, but it would be nice to get a recognisable achievement for all our hard work.” Jinyoung listened to you as you let out your insecurities for the upcoming night.

“In the little amount of time I’ve met you, I think you’re the only person who deserves all the awards you’ve been nominated for this year. No one can change my thoughts and it’s going to be a pleasure to witness your achievement first hand. I can’t wait.” He rubbed his thumb over your knuckles trying to calm your nerves down. It was going to be a long night.

30 MINUTES LATER

Your limousine had rocked up to the red carpet laid out on the floor outside of the venue of the awards. You took a deep breath as the driver ran around to Jinyoung’s side of the limousine to let him out. Jinyoung agreed to open your door for you so he exited the vehicle first. Like he had planned, he went around to your side and opened the door for you to step out. The cameras started capturing every single moment as you wrapped your arm around Jinyoungs, and he gave you a reassuring nod. You gave him a smile and the two of you walked towards the entrance of the building slowly as you waved to the cameras and press greeting the two of you. The cameras were close to blinding, but you pulled through until reaching the entrance where the bodyguard escorted the two of you to your spaces in the main hall.

The building was full of white and gold decorations. You could definitely tell that the theme was highly influenced by Greek culture. The budget of the awards keep growing as the number of sponsors increase. The bodyguard escorted you to the table that Beck was already sat at with his fiancé. Beck realised your presence as well as Jinyoung. He stood up to give you a hug and shook Jinyoung’s hand. Beck’s fiancé shook both of your hands too and took your seats.

“The famous Mr Park. It’s nice to meet you in person. I’m Beck, the other shareholder.” Beck gave Jinyoung a warm smile.

“It’s nice to meet you to Beck. It seems like you already know of my name, but I’ll reiterate for the norm. My name is Park Jinyoung, you can call me just Jinyoung.” You let out a scoff because of how formal Jinyoung was being with Beck.

“He’s younger than you so you can ignore the formalities.” You said to Jinyoung and then Beck and him opened the conversation about age and their Chinese zodiac signs.

The evening began at 7:30 pm with the award winners due to be announced at 9:00 pm. Until then there was butterflies in your stomach ready to be set free any minute now.

Jinyoung came closer to your ear and whispered, “Loosen up a little. There’s no need to be this tense. Here hold my hand.”

Jinyoung offered his hand and you took it immediately as he gestured his open palm. Your hands were tiny compared to his manly hands. They encompassed all your digits giving you’re a sigh of relief because of the security they exerted. You let out a large sigh and continued with the discussions on your table with the new clients that were interested in your company. Having Jinyoung at the event really helped scare away the useless men who would only be interested in your physique and nothing more. His presence filtered out all the nonsense that would usually be taking place at the table.

The clock finally struck 9:00 pm and everyone went back to their designated seats in order for the awards to be presented. The event holder went through all the minor rookie awards to then move onto the company categories.

“Here are the nominees for Best Project of the Year.” The event holder signalled to the larger screen behind him as the nominees including your company are mentioned in no specific order.

“I was personally really fond of this project myself too. The meaning behind the design and the immense detail put into the façade really makes me excited for the future of this company. I’ll stop blabbing on and open the envelope.” You looked at Beck and then back at Jinyoung who was really eager to know the result.

“The award for Best Project of the Year goes to…” The event holder lifts the flap of the envelope and takes out the white sheet of paper inside. You hold your breath waiting for the result to be spoken.

“The Chamberlain project, designed and constructed by Chevrel Architects.” The whole community around your table started roaring and cheering for you and Beck to claim the award. That was one award written down in the books for Chevrel Architects, a company you and Beck had started years back. You and Beck had decided that if this award was given to you guys then he’d give the speech for it. Beck was the reason for the Chamberlain project happening and hands down you could state it was because of him the project turned out well. You, Jinyoung and everyone else in the hall stood up clapping as Beck walked up to the stage and shook hands with the event holder along with receiving the award. He then walked up to the mic and started his speech.

“I’d like to first start off with a large thank you to everyone at Chevrel Architects. The amount of hard work that was put into the Chamberlain project is indescribable, without everyone’s help it wouldn’t have been possible to achieve such a great outcome. I’d like to also thank Y/N for coming on this journey with me and trusting in me when I said that this company will create its own legacy. This is only the beginning…” Beck continued to thank more or less everyone he knew and came to an end with another roaring applause by everyone.

He jogged back to your table and you admired the award he placed on the table. You felt Jinyoung squeeze your hand in encouragement for you to realise how much you guys are capable of although he still knew you were a little iffy because the individual architect awards hadn’t been announced yet. You couldn’t help but smile at the gleaming object right before your eyes. Having received this award you doubted that another award would be given to someone of the same company.

Minutes went by and the event holder had reached the most awaited award of the night. Architect of the Year. You were surprised that you hadn’t left to use the restroom to throw up all this anxiety already. You were so ready to go home and relax. You wanted your normal heart rate back. You looked at Jinyoung and he gave you a look that melted your heart in seconds. He started massaging your knuckles with his thumb again and you could feel your body ease into his touch. The event holder for the last time of the night directs our attention to the screen for the listing of the nominees. Beck unfortunately wasn’t nominated so he was rooting for you to win the award.

“I know for many of you this is probably the most important part of the night. I’d like to first mention that to be able to be nominated for this award is ana achievement in itself so, you architects should all be proud of yourselves. It was a very hard decision that the committee made but we were able to make a decision. The award for Architect of the Year goes to…”

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I think it was mean of me to have ended this episode here, but it is 2:30 am right now as I write this episode. I hope you guys liked this episode. I shall be back somewhat soon so make sure to come back to check if an episode has been uploaded. Like always let me know your opinions on the story line and check out the other episodes if you haven’t. It would be nice to get some feedback :)

See you next time

writer-nim x

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sablelab · 5 years ago

Text

Covert Operations - Chapter 108

SYNOPSIS: Murtagh and Fergus are worried that Dr Foster is not telling them everything about Jamie and offer their help should he need it. James Fraser comes out of surgery and Madeline and Operations question the surgeon about his condition. As he returns towards his quarters after visiting Med Lab, Murtagh runs into his friend and paramour and they arrange an assignation.

Madeline certainly is a cold operator who takes no prisoners. Her ulterior motives are more concerned with the success of the Rising Dragon’s mission rather than with Jamie’s life. One hundred percent success is what she and Operations always aim for as anything else is considered a failure for the Section. To them, failure is not an option. Hence for the mission to be completed they need Jamie to recover. That is why she was adamant that the operation would be successful or the surgeons would pay the price for their incompetence. THANK YOU all so much for reading my story.

Chapter 107 and all other chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

Can I please say too that during these trying times, we in Australia are in solidarity with our brothers and sisters across the world as all countries battle to flatten the curve of Covid-19. Stay strong, look out for others, do the right thing and we will come through this together. God Bless all of our selfless medical personnel, scientists trying to find a vaccine and all those others holding the fort.

CHAPTER 108

“You’re not telling us everything ... are you Doc?”

Dr Jeremy Foster gave Murtagh Fitzgibbons a solemn look weighing up if he should confide in the two men or not then quickly averted his eyes before the craggy bugger put two and two together. The doctor knew that the munitions expert was a savvy operative and that Murtagh had honed in on what he had failed to say. However, some things about Jamie’s medical condition were confidential and he was ethically bound by his Hippocratic Oath not to disclose anything about patient confidentiality. He was not at liberty to reveal the details or suspicions about Jamie’s status although it was true … he wasn’t telling them everything. But how could he tell them that they all thought that it was highly probable that Jamie wouldn’t pull through. The operating surgeon Dr Khan had viewed the x-rays and knew that the operation would be touch and go. The bullet was precariously close to Jamie’s heart and any mistake would be disastrous. He too was under no illusion that if the medical team failed ... the surgeons would all be in abeyance before they left the operating theatre. Nevertheless, no matter what happened with their patient, the team would perform to their optimum … they had to … their lives were at risk if they did not. Noticing his reticence Murtagh spoke candidly hoping that Dr Foster would let slip what was troubling him. “Is there anything we can do? Anything at all … just name it.” Despite the trepidation that the weapons’ expert picked up on, the physician was confident that Jamie would survive the surgery. However, it was his post-operative care that may be precarious ... and it was he who was responsible for Jamie’s intensive care. Knowing that he could not tell Murtagh everything, he decided to be somewhat evasive but at the same time give him enough information that would let Fitzgibbons figure out what he needed to know. “Look Murtagh … I know how concerned you are but ... we’ll do everything humanly possible to get the result we want.” “Is Jamie out of danger then?” Fergus asked hopefully. “We won’t know until he returns from surgery.” “When will that be?” “Some time yet. The operation Dr Khan and the team are performing is more dangerous than first thought. The bullet shattered bone and lodged near a vital organ.” “Oh, boy...” they sighed, thinking of what may have happened if Jamie had not had emergency surgery. “So will Jamie be okay?” “Only time will tell. He’ll need post-operative care and if we have adequate blood supplies for him … he should be fine.” Both Murtagh and Fergus jumped in before the doctor had finished speaking. “No worries … we’ll donate Doc … just take what you want.” Dr Foster’s words were measured. “It’s not as … easy … as that I’m afraid.” Perplexed Fergus responded, “Why?” His next words only confirmed in Murtagh’s mind that they were not compatible donors which meant that Jamie must have some rare blood type. If that was true then the Intel was probably classified. “Jamie donated his own blood for emergencies such as this but his units are low at the moment.” “I see … that’s not so good.”

“No, it’s not. The situation isn't critical yet as we have enough units for the time being. It really all depends on how he pulls through the operation. The next 48 hours will tell us if we need donors or not.” Reading between the lines Murtagh was sure that Dr Foster was concerned about Jamie’s low blood supplies. Did he know who were the compatible donors? Did he even know Jamie’s blood type? Murtagh shared a look with Fergus. Classified Intel was hard to access but it could be done. His mind was already thinking of possible ways to find out what the doctor required. If anyone could find a way around it, Fergus could. Dr Foster noticed that Murtagh Fitzgibbons was thinking about what he had said and what he’d left unsaid. However, he didn’t want to place either of them in any danger if they foolishly went in search of Jamie’s Intel. He tried to appease his words. “Despite this small set back, I’m sure he’ll bounce back in no time. Jamie’s in relatively good health considering what he’s been through.” “Yeah …. I’m sure you’re right.” Nevertheless a sombre expression crossed Murtagh’s face. He was worried. So too was Fergus. Should they find out the Intel Dr Foster needed about Jamie as soon as possible just to be on the safe side? he thought, as Fergus asked the question, “What if Jamie deteriorates overnight and things turn bad? What then?” “I’ll contact you should things worsen with either Jamie or Claire.” “Thanks Doc.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ So it was true … the doc needed help. Jamie’s Intel was classified and no one had access except Madeline and Operations he suspected. That would make it a little more difficult, but where there was a will, there was a way. He and Fergus would need to be careful. It would be dangerous and they’d all be put in abeyance if Operations and Madeline suspected anything untoward. But after being on this retrieval mission nothing was impossible. He felt Teflon coated and his confidence was through the roof. Murtagh felt a new surge of adrenalin waft through his body. He was up for the challenge …. but first he would need to convince Fergus. The doc had said 48 hours. He would check in tomorrow to see where the patient stood to see if they needed to proceed with plans to access Jamie’s personal file. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ In two minds at what the doctor had said but at the same time convinced that he and Fergus could find out the Intel needed about Jamie, Murtagh then asked about his other patient. “So how is Claire doing?” “She is under sedation and resting at the moment. We were a little concerned about her condition as well.” “Should we be worried?” “Not really. Claire’s lost conditioning and strength but the torture she was subjected to may have something to do with that. We took blood tests ... just as a precaution.” “Oh?” “Claire is anaemic and as a result had been fading in and out of consciousness, but we've put her through every conceivable test we can.” “Were her tests okay?” “They were clear.” Seeing the relief on their faces Dr Foster added, “All test results were negative.” “That’s good.” “Can we see her?” “Sorry but no visitors tonight. She needs complete rest. Jamie and Claire will both be monitored overnight, then we will know more in the morning.” “Okay.” Taking pity on the two friends who were reluctant to leave Jeremy Foster added, “There is nothing you can do tonight. Get some rest yourself and come back tomorrow.” Even though they were slightly relieved about this news, Murtagh couldn’t help but say, “Okay … but make sure you keep on top of it, won’t you doc?” “Sure … we’re doing everything we can and more. They’re in safe hands. Now go ... I think it best that you both leave. There is nothing you can do here. You need to relax too. You can see them tomorrow night. We will know more in the next 24 hours.” “Let's hope so. Okay ... but I’ll be back! You can count on that,” he added succinctly. Dr Foster laughed. “Get out of here. Jamie will be returning from surgery shortly. I have work to do.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The physician watched the retreating backs of the two men leave Medical. His mirth however, quickly turned to another emotion as he thought of what would be unfolding in the operating room. Dr Khan had been summoned to the observatory prior to the operation by Madeline and Operations and he knew that Sections’ leaders would expect the impossible of their skills in surgery. James Fraser was one patient they couldn’t afford to lose on the operating table but he knew the surgical team were more than highly competent ... they would need to be to avoid abeyance if ... God forbid ... Jamie died. Dr Foster checked the blood supplies … thankfully Medical still had enough units for two days. They would have nothing to worry about unless more blood was needed for transfusions. He hurried away to complete his tasks for the arriving ICU patient as everything would have to be ready and waiting. Specialized Medical staff was on standby tonight and he had every confidence that they would perform well. Hopefully everything would go smoothly. However, if the situation became grim and there were any problems with Jamie’s condition, he just may need to make that call to Murtagh. The next few hours were critical. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ After the operation, the head surgeon returned to inform Madeline and Operations of Jamie’s condition. Removing his surgical mask, he wiped the perspiration from his brow and gathered his resolve. The Section leaders glanced his way and although they could see the exhaustion on his face their sentiments lay elsewhere. “Well? What do you have to report?” The head surgeon glanced at Madeline knowing that her terse ultimatum still echoed in his mind. He nervously scrunched his mask in his hands to wipe away the cold bead of sweat that had suddenly moistened his palms. Dr Khan then relayed the outcome of the delicate operation knowing that had the team not been successful, they would all be facing their extinction.

“We thought Jamie was not going to make it. It was touch and go there for a while. Luckily the bullet was a couple of millimetres above his heart ... any lower and we would have lost him for sure. James Fraser is one very lucky man.” “But he’ll recover fully?” Operations asked. His motives though were ulterior and focused more on the continuation of the Rising Dragons’ mission, rather than on Jamie’s recovery per se. Section needed James Fraser to recover in order for him to finish the mission and capture the leader of the triad. “Yes ... I don’t see any problem sir. He’s anaemic at the moment, but once he’s transfused, we should see some major recovery start. Fraser is a fit young man.” “So how long do you think it will take before he’s back up on his feet?” “It’s hard to say ... but if all goes well ... a couple of days ... maybe a week. He will need some recuperation time but Jamie should be back to normal in no time.” “Thank you doctor ... you may go.” Nodding his head in compliance, Dr Khan made his exit from the observation room to scrub down after what had been a gruelling operation in more ways than one. Madeline looked at Dougal after the surgeon had departed and they both were of the same thinking. Perhaps the End Game of the Rising Dragons’ mission won’t be jeopardised too much at all if Jamie’s recovery went to plan. Claire Beauchamp’s recovery however, was another matter. They had yet to find out her prognosis from Dr Foster and when they did so then they could make contingency plans but at the moment the mission status was in limbo.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ When they had entered Medical, Murtagh and Fergus knew not what would come to pass while they were there. They had certainly not expected to be confronted by Jamie’s mortality and the question mark that hovered over his classified medical files. He and Fergus were in a quandary now as to know what to do. Should they vacillate or go ahead on their own volition just in case, to find the Intel that Dr Foster needed? Murtagh’s curiosity had been heightened by this unknown Intel about James Fraser and although he felt compelled to do something immediately, he would nevertheless sit on his hands until he was given any indication by the doctor that all was not well with Jamie’s condition. Perhaps Fergus could do some preliminary checking first just in case. That way, if they needed to search deeper, he would have done some groundwork. Tomorrow they’d certainly check in to see how Jamie and Claire were both faring, then, if everything was okay, there would be no immediate need for him and Fergus to put themselves at risk to try and access his confidential files. The hour was late when they finally exited Med Lab at least satisfied with the information that Dr Foster had given them about Jamie and Claire’s prognosis. What he’d said was true; they’d know more in the next 24 hours so both he and Fergus would need to be patient and see if Jamie’s recovery was indeed on track. Given the alternative if anything happened to him, Murtagh was sure Jamie, and Claire too, would get the upmost care and attention over the night by the medical team. It was going to be a long night he could feel it in his bones and despite Operations giving him extra time, the older operative also felt compelled to write his debrief for his superior anyway. Hence given what had happened to Jamie, he would need to be explicit in the details of what he entered in the report, for Operations and Madeline would go over it with a fine-tooth comb. Besides that, Jamie would be under observation in Intensive Care for the next 48 hours and Claire desperately needed to rest after her ordeal. Murtagh took solace in knowing that their capacity for recovery was extraordinary, hence he was confident that there would be no complications with either patient. However, it would take some time until the two of them were back to the conditioning necessary for Section’s operatives to function effectively. Nothing less than 100% would be good enough for Madeline and Operations. What Jamie and Claire needed was the right amount of rest, then their recuperation would surely hasten. Nonetheless, this was a catch 22. Neither of them would want the Rising Dragons to regroup while they were incapacitated but knowing the two operatives’ determination to get back to the mission as soon as possible, Murtagh was convinced that both of them would be in prime condition in no time. The only thing that troubled him was Claire’s mental recovery. She had gone through hell at the hands of the Rising Dragons and if Jamie was in danger as well, he wasn’t sure how she would cope. This may be a problem, but it was no use worrying about scenarios that may or may not happen. They wouldn’t be able to see either of them until tomorrow, so it was best that he and Fergus got some shut eye. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The doors closed behind them and once outside the infirmary the two friends walked away from the entrance. They stood in silence for a while just reliving in their heads everything that had taken place. There was a lot to digest and Murtagh had much on his mind. After a few moments silence he turned to his friend.

“There’s nothing else we can do here tonight.” Fergus nodded in agreement. “At least we know Claire and Jamie are okay.” “Yeah, we’ll check on them tomorrow.” “Hey? ... What are we going to ...” Fergus was just about to say something else when Murtagh cut him off. “Look Fergus, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do about the mission too, but I’m a bit bushed at the moment.” “Okay.” He gave his friend a penetrating look and saw weariness cross his wrinkled face. A lot had happened over the past few hours since returning to Section One this evening. It was little wonder that Murtagh was mentally fatigued and physically exhausted for he wasn’t as young as he used to be although he would never admit to it.

“Sorry … I forgot. We can talk later.” “Thanks Fergus.” “I’m with the Doc ... You get some rest buddy. I’ve still got to check on the mission audio tapes before I call it a night and I’ll do some preliminary leg work about Jamie too. It will save us valuable time in case it’s needed after we see how he is tomorrow.” “Sure thing ... I’ll see you later then.” Fergus turned and started to head off in the direction of Systems but stopped and came back to where his friend was standing. He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. “Hey … I nearly forgot.” He handed him a computer disk. “Here. Operations wants your report on the mission.” “Huh?” “Murtagh, the report ... The disk is to input your report. Operations wants it in the morning.” “Oh, yeah ... thanks ... I’ll do that tonight although he did give me some extra time to debrief.” Fergus was surprised at his words about Operations. “Well wonders will never cease?”

He grinned. “Yeah! It came as a surprise to me too.”

“Okay then ... I’ll catch up with you tomorrow. It’s been one hell of a night.” “You can say that again.” “Goodnight buddy.” “Yeah ... See ya amigo.” Fergus again headed off leaving his friend to think about making his way to his quarters for the remainder of the night. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Murtagh Fitzgibbons watched as the young techie disappeared out of sight round the corner. He knew that Fergus was worried about his participation on this retrieval mission but he also knew that his young friend was ecstatic that he had returned safe and sound. They made a great team and they had each other’s back. As he walked away Murtagh also wondered where he would start his check on Jamie. It must have been his fatigue as he hadn’t had the thought to ask him. The weary operative then turned in the direction of his lodgings and started to walk away. Taking a short cut to his quarters he soon entered a hallway alcove. Lost in his thoughts and coupled with the tiredness he suddenly felt, he didn’t hear the light footsteps hurrying to catch up with him, but he did hear a somewhat breathy voice behind him. It stopped him in his tracks. “Hi Murtagh.” The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he suddenly gained that second wind that had been eluding him. With a smile on his face, exhaustion gave way to anticipation as he slowly turned around when he recognised who the voice belonged to. His eyes caressed the tall, striking woman’s body. Little by little his gaze travelled up from her long legs to over her torso until his eyes rested on her mouth. His lips curled in surprise and a hint of joy.

“Hi ... yourself.” “I heard you’d returned from the mission. So how are you doing?” “I’m fine. You know me … I'm a rebel.” The woman’s eyes lit up. She gave a wry smile but ignored his last remark, instead stating, “Oh, Murtagh... Seeing you back safely has been the best part of my day.” “Keep on talking like that and I’ll forget how old I am.” They both laughed. “It’s very late. What are you still doing here?” “I came to check on Jamie and Claire ... but seeing you has been a bonus,” he added with a grin. “I didn’t know you were working in Med Lab.” The medical nurse looked at him and smiled in return. “Yeah … I know ... I heard your voice but was busy with another patient.” “Is Jamie back from surgery yet?” “He’s just returned.” “Is he okay?” “He’s in ICU recovery ... but it looks as if everything went well.” “That’s great. I guess we just have to wait and see now.”

“Yes, Jamie and Claire are both in good hands. They’re being well monitored by the doctors. You should check on them tomorrow.” “That’s what the doc said.” Bóinne Rivière watched as Murtagh Fitzgibbons’ craggy face lit up with more than appreciation at the news of the two operatives. “Can I help you with something else?” she asked a little flirtatiously . Ever the optimist his eyes danced with emotion. “Well as a matter of fact you can.” It was clear that they felt at ease in each other's company. “Do you have any plans later on?” “I’m free after my shift ... why?” she enquired, puzzled by his question. Murtagh gave the nurse his idea of a sexy, rebel, smouldering look. “I thought maybe we could get together.” “Oh? ... Where? … Back here?” With a twinkle in his eye, Murtagh raised an eyebrow in a provocative manner. This area was not covered by intrusive surveillance equipment but he was still mindful to keep his voice low in case they were overheard.

“No ... What I had in mind would be better suited to my quarters.” “Hmm ... Intriguing ... So, do I need a reason to just drop by and say hello?” “Hell no!” He emphasised looking her straight in the eye. “Well? ... What did you have in mind then Fitzgibbons? What are we going to do?” He leaned in somewhat and whispered intimately. “You can do anything you want to me and it can last for more than a minute.” Bóinne glanced at Murtagh and smiled, “Really? Are you sure you’re not too tired after the mission you sweet man?” “Don’t kid yourself ... I’m a driven man and besides I’m not that sweet.” Her lips pouted. “Hmm ... I’d like to see that.” Murtagh could see her tongue moisten her full bottom lip. “Anytime, anyplace, any position,” he replied roguishly raising his eyebrow and giving her a cheeky wink. Moving forward he kissed her briefly on the lips. However, when he leaned in for another kiss she hesitantly pulled away. “No more.” “Come on.” “Not here Murtagh!” The innuendo had been bouncing back and forth for a while between the two but on checking her watch the nurse noticed that she’d spent more time talking to Murtagh that she could afford. Her break was over and she needed to get back to work before she was missed. “Why not?” Looking around to see if anyone was coming, she cautiously replied, “Oh it’s … it’s just too dangerous, that’s all. Someone may see us.” “That’s what makes you so exciting.” He started to kiss her again. “I like it ... dangerous!” “Murtagh Fitzgibbons, you’re playing with fire!” “Grrr … I know. Right now, I could self-combust,” he teased with a mischievous look in his eye. Flushed with desire, Bóinne pulled away from his advances. Her words were a little garbled. “Look Murtagh … I've got to go ... I’ll see you when I finish my shift.” Smiling knowingly, he moved forward and kissed her briefly on the lips once more. “Yes … I'll ... see you later.” His eyes crinkled in mischief, “I'll be waiting.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ He watched as the nurse walked away back towards Medical and ogled at her long, long legs that went on for eternity until she finally disappeared out of sight. Briefly shutting his eyes, he groaned. Ahhhh! ... You’re killing me, then he hurriedly strode away to his quarters to prepare for his midnight guest. That special someone had materialised as if on cue ... now all that was needed was for him to get organised for what he hoped would be a very long night.

Suddenly Murtagh Fitzgibbons was hit in the guts by a bolt out of the blue. He stood still … dazed and a little shocked. A loud audible sigh left his lips, then it finally dawned on him. He was smitten by the leggy, brunette beauty, Bóinne Rivière.

Wow! I haven't felt like this in a long time. I ... I wonder if she might feel the same way? With a jaunty walk in his step and a twinkle in his eye, Murtagh headed in the opposite direction to Bóinne. He had other things to do and rest was not one of them, if fact, he doubted he’d get much rest tonight or he hoped he wouldn’t. But first things first ... he had his debrief to write, but that would be a piece of cake. He had plenty of time to write it before Bóinne came and the report would be on Operations’ desk first thing in the morning as ordered.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued on Tuesday 24th March

#jamie and claire fanfic #jamieandclaireau #jamieandclairecrossover #outlander fanfiction #the lallybroch library #covert operations #LFNoutlander

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cela-astral-projection · 5 years ago

Text

Don't say a word, just come over and lie here with me. 'Cause I'm just about to set fire to everything I see. I want you so bad I'll go back on the things I believe. There I just said it, I'm scared you'll forget about me.

So young and full of running, all the way to the edge of desire Steady my breathing, silently screaming, "I have to have you now"

18+; Cut for length and content.

Celeste sat in Julian's nearly finished office at the makeshift desk, a board bridging two sawhorses, making a list for their contractor.

She was in a bit of a time crunch. They were leaving tomorrow. Of course, her bags had been packed for days. It was more the prospect of actually going that made her feel harried.

She had been milling around the shop for days, making sure that everything was ready for Asra. And, when she wasn't fussing there, she was worried about the clinic's progress. But it was all nerves.

The past few years had been a test, to put it mildly.

Now that all the fires were put out, she didn't quite know what to do with herself.

Going away with Julian seemed like as good a plan as any. To get out of her head. To get some perspective. There were no more Devils left to fight. No more ghosts were lurking in the dark night. She was as free as she would ever be again.

She had only left Vesuvia a few times. To Nopal, with Asra. To the south, with Muriel. One, painfully short. The other, agonizingly long. The prospect of leaving a was daunting. But the way Julian framed it, even knowing that he had a particular way with words, seemed appealing.

Her note finished, she looked around the room. Light streamed through the window. Fine dust covered every surface. But, even in an unfinished state, there was so much potential here. A place of healing. Where she could get back to who she was meant to be.

Julian stepped into the door frame, leaning against it, grinning broadly. He had been positively giddy for days. She knew that if he could have left days ago, he would have done.

"Are you almost ready, Lovely? Goodbye dinner with Nadia in about an hour. You're going to want to change..."

Celeste gave him a quizzical look, eyebrow raised. "Goodbye...oh. Oh!" she exclaimed, remembering. "Oh, Julian. I'm sorry. I completely forgot. I have some loose ends I need to tie up before tomorrow morning. Give them my regards."

The wind appeared to go out of his sails a bit, tilting his head. "Are you sure, Lovely? Nadia will be disappointed. Portia, too."

She sighed, nodding, sorry to have let him down. "I...Yes, I'm sorry. I promised Asra and Muriel..."

"We can be late if you like. Nadia may even appreciate a spot of fashionable tardiness." Julian pressed. "I can come with you, and then we can go together."

"No, this is something I need to do alone. You go. I will see Nadia when we set off tomorrow." She stood, dusting herself off. She crossed the room to him. Julian straightened. Celeste slipped her arms around his waist, inclining her head to him. He straightened and gathered her in, long arms draped over her shoulders. "Nervous, Doc?"

He shook his head. "I have been waiting years for this, Lovely. I'm beyond ready."

Celeste smiled up at him. "Me too," she replied. "Ready for our next adventure." And she hoped she sounded sincere. Though, in his reverie, she doubted he would catch her apprehension.

She went up on her tiptoes, and Julian bent to kiss her. It was soft and sweet. She could feel his mouth fixed in a perpetual smile—the happiest she had seen him in their entire relationship. For all her apprehension, this was worth it. Seeing him so delighted.

When their lips parted, his forehead rested against hers, his grey eye heavy-lidded. "Thank you for coming with me. There's no one else I'd rather go with."

Celeste felt her cheeks go rosy. She could never resist this look. It melted her. "I love you, Julian," she whispered.

"I love you, Celeste.." he murmured in reply, voice going husky.

She sighed, sobering at his tone. "Let's wait for your desk to get here before we christen the office? I don't much relish the idea of splinters in my backside before we get on the boat."

Julian laughed, still heady. "Whatever you say, love. I have other ideas for your backside, anyway."

----

Celeste stood in front of the mirror, desperately trying to get her hair to behave. Any other day, she would have been happy to throw it up in a bun and go. But, tonight was different. She wanted to look memorable.

Just now, she knew she'd make an impression. Though, it would likely be more of a nightmare than a daydream. She had fussed the waves into frizz.

She tapped her nails impatiently on the counter, tongue pressed into her cheek. She closed her eyes for a moment and drew a deep breath.

Every moment that ticked by added to her nerves. Her trepidation. She had fought to keep herself placid. Convince her self that she was ready. Keep a brave face.

She did want to try. To see something new. Be something...else. See what she could be outside of this city.

She had fought against herself for weeks. Her anxiety was getting the better of her on more occasions than she cared to count. Despite Asra's encouragement. Despite Julian's joy. She couldn't shake the dread.

She opened her eyes and stared at her reflection. "Nine years, Celeste. You can do a few months away. You can. No Lucio. No Morga. No demons. No devils. You can do this." she scolded herself. "Pull it together." she spat, steeling herself.

She was shaken from her pep-talk by a heavy knock coming from downstairs.

"The hell?" she said, confused and irritated. The shop had closed early. The sign was clearly posted. Asra had gone to the hut, and Celeste had planned on meeting him and Muriel there. To say their private goodbyes.

She shook her head and moved her hands back to her hair, deciding to ignore the knock. But, another hard rap came. She called out a warning, hoping that her voice would carry.

She had quiet for a moment, but then another loud bang came. She groaned and tied her dressing gown, harried. She turned and moved quickly from the bathroom, down the stairs, swearing viciously.

She rounded the front counter, yelling. "Hey, motherfucker! We're closed! Read the goddamn sign!"

But, the knocking persisted. So, in her thin white slip of a dressing gown, she cast down the protective wards and flicked the bolt open, throwing the door open in one fell swoop, still swearing. "Listen, you feeble-minded son of a...Oh."

Muriel stood in the doorframe, looking amused. "Yeah, you're closed. Loud and clear."

Celeste blinked up at him. He was...dressed. Muriel was dressed. And well-dressed, to boot. It was no masquerade outfit (a look she had taken no real pleasure in if she was honest. Much too frilly and fussy. Not at all her Muriel.), but it was clean, and it fit him well. A buttoned-down white shirt. Black pants. Boots. Hair braided back. He was impossibly handsome. But that was just Muriel. Impossible.

Celeste was shocked. And Muriel's blush was growing with each moment she spent staring at him.

"I...Asra, he...helped." he stammered, unable to meet her gaze any longer.

Celeste nodded, still stunned. "...he did a hell of a job."

"Can I..." he jerked his chin, begging for entry.

"Oh, yes! I'm sorry!" Celeste stepped aside, shaking her head to break the spell. "I just...I'm astonished. This is a surprise."

Muriel ducked his head in the entryway as he stepped in. It was then that Celeste noticed the bouquet in the crook of his arm. Wildflowers. She pressed a hand to her chest, her mouth falling open anew. "Muriel...did you bring me flowers?"

He grunted his confirmation, extending the bouquet to her. They were wrapped in odd, blue paper. She took the bundle from him, bringing a finger to stroke the delicate petals of a coneflower.

"Thank you, sweetheart. They're gorgeous."

"They're flowers. You're gorgeous." Muriel replied. Though, her hair did appear as if she'd had a struggle with a raccoon. A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. She barefoot, wearing just a white silk dressing gown. Hastily tied and barely covering anything of substance.

Celeste blushed at the compliment, her eyes falling back on Muriel. "Flatterer."

She stepped to him, and he stooped, bowing to kiss her. His fingers under her chin, drawing her up. For a moment, all her dread fell away. Rough fingers, the scent of myrrh, slightly chapped lips. Home. Muriel felt like home. Peace and safety and love.

When they broke away, her eyes fluttered open. He was smiling down at her. A full, genuine smile. It was disarming. More superb than any flower this world could conceive.

She drew a breath, trying to sober herself. "So, are you here to escort me to the forest? Is Asra joining us here?"

He shook his head. "No, I thought I would...try something else. Just us."

"Oh? What...did you have in mind?" she said, eyebrow raised.

"...Just go get dressed," he said, not wanting to reveal too much.

Was Muriel acting playful? Coy? Was Muriel...flirting? She lifted her hand to his forehead, pressing her palm against the skin. He pulled back a bit, confused.

"Just checking for a fever." she teased. "You don't feel sick. But you are behaving...oddly."

Muriel snorted. "Go, get dressed, please."

Celeste raised her hand, relenting. "Okay, I'm going. Let me put these in water..."

He reached out and took the flowers back, almost looking panicked. "I'll take care of that. Please, go get dressed."

'Ah, yes. There he is.' Celeste thought, laughing to herself, shaking her head.

---

Celeste had wrestled her hair into compliance and dressed. A simple black dress buttoned up the front with wide lapels and a flared skirt. She was shuffling through her jewelry box while Muriel watched, reclined on the bed.

She found a pair of simple seed pearl earrings and held them in her palm, appraising them. Good enough. She slipped them into place, then went back to the jewelry box, trying to find the matching necklace.

She heard Muriel shift behind her as she shuffled through the box.

"Try this."

Celeste gave a "Hm?" as she turned to face him.

A small, wooden box in his hand.

She immediately felt her knees go weak, and she stumbled back, bracing herself on the dresser, her eyes wide. Heart thudding in her ears. "Muriel?!"

Muriel, for his part, looked genuinely bewildered. "Wha--are you okay?"

"Is that...are you...are you pro--" she stammered, eyes locked on the box in his hand, torn between panic and elation.

"Pr--Oh. Oh!" he barked, his panicked expression matching hers when he realized what she thought was happening. "No! I'm not...I mean..." He opened the box, presenting it to her.

It was an herb locket. It was meant for holding charms. Golden. Swirling metal tendrils in an orb shape, held with a tiny clasp. She could see the tiny chips of myrrh held inside. It was elegant. So much more sophisticated than the bundles she carried, even now that the curse was broken. Celeste straightened, catching her breath, reaching her hand out to touch it.

"Oh, darling," she whispered. "It's lovely. Thank you."

"You're not disappointed that it's not a ring?" he asked, watching her expression.

"That feels like a trick question, and I decline to answer." She said, meeting his eyes. "I love this. It's perfect."

Muriel nodded. He couldn't disagree with her assessment. It was, in fact, a loaded question. And, he was lying to himself if he said he hadn't considered it.

"Will you put it on for me?" she asked, turning around, lifting her hair from the nape of her neck.

He lifted the necklace from the box, reaching past her to lay the container on the dresser. He brought the delicate chain around her throat. He fumbled with the tiny clasp. Big fingers not quite adept with such diminutive closures. But, he fastened it.

Celeste ran her fingers over the charm and turned to look up at him.

Her eyes were soft. They were reflecting devotion and love.

"It suits you," Muriel stated plainly, bringing his hand up to cup her cheek, running his thumb along the soft flesh.

"All these gifts. I feel...utterly bereft. I feel like I should give something to you."

He shook his head. "Stay with me. That's all the gift I need."

Celeste was satisfied with her self that she didn't flinch at his answer. Though, it stung badly.

"I'm always with you, Muriel. Always." She responded voice sweet, and placid.

Muriel knew her well enough to know when she wasn't engaging. That was alright. He had all night to drive the point home.

"Are you ready?" He asked, breaking the tension.

Celeste nodded. "Lead the way."

----

Celeste knew precisely where they were. She had made this journey many times. Never with Muriel. It made no sense to her.

Her arm was linked with Muriel's. She could feel the tension radiating off of him. He was better in public, but he wasn't exactly great. Curse or no curse, he would, by and large, prefer to go unseen. He was staring straight ahead and ignoring the onlookers' stares.

"Em...Sweetheart? Angel? Light of my life?" Celeste said, growing more concerned as they forged forward. "Why exactly are we going to the South End?"

"Going on a date." He replied. Succinct.

"In the South End?"

He nodded, eyes still fixed on the road ahead.

"Muriel, darling? Are we going to The Raven?" she ventured.

He grunted his confirmation, and Celeste's eyes went wide, turning her attention back to the road ahead, blinking slowly.

Celeste wasn't sure what to say. She wanted to ask him if he had lost his goddamn mind. But, when it came to Muriel and trying new things, she was always cautious about redirecting him. It was important to her that he did try something.

But this seemed like a lot. Especially when she had fully anticipated spending the night in bed.

She had spent her fair share of evenings in the Rowdy Fucking Raven. Things were rarely, if ever, calm. Hence the name. She could pray for a quiet evening. But, she could easily see this becoming a nightmare for Muriel.

When they finally came to the tavern, Muriel paused outside the door—steeling himself.

"Muriel," Celeste said, bringing her free hand up to his bicep, giving a gentle squeeze. "Vesuvia is a big city. There are a lot of places that aren't The Rowdy Raven. We can even just...walk around. Go back to the shop. Go to the hut..."

"No. I can do this. You come here, don't you?" he asked, but his tone was a bit shaky.

"Yes, and I've ended up having to patch up more idiots after barfights than I care to recall. It's what pays for most of my drinks. I'm practically on the payroll." She replied.

"If you can do this, so can I," he said, seemingly finding his resolve and moving to the door.

Celeste shook her head and followed behind, bracing herself for impact.

It was, thankfully, still relatively calm. There was a band playing. Not a particularly good one, but serviceable. Quite a few patrons, but nobody actively bleeding that she could see. Blessing enough.

Barth looked up from drawing a drink, and his eyes fell on Muriel. The liquid flowing into the tankard continued to rise, spilling over the rim of the container. Utterly shocked at the man who had entered. Several other heads turned as well, eyes going wide. One of the musician's timing went wildly off as he was distracted by the newcomer.

Celeste waved and called out the barkeeps' name, trying to break his reverie. "Barth! Any way we can get a corner booth?"

The man blinked and shook his head, swearing at the spilled ale and righting the tap. "Oh! Cela, love! You've got the run of the place! Your usual?"

She nodded. "Dark and stormy. And Mead for him?"

"You got it, Angelface."

She pulled Muriel along after her to the back corner. She found the booth occupied by a regular. Quite drunk. Quite asleep. "Randall?" she said, sweet, tapping the man on the leg. "Gotta get up for me, darling. Barth has something for you up at the bar."

The man stirred. He was groaning loudly in protest.

"Randy," she said, a bit more authoritative. "Move your ass."

The man made another heinous groan but lurched up. He was blearily shifting out of the booth, muttering something under his breath. Celeste shook her head.

"Tell Barth to get you a black coffee. On me." She said, patting the man on the back as he stumbled away, waving her off.

Muriel watched her, shocked to see how easily she navigated the chaos.

She slid into one side of the booth, and Muriel took the opposite side, looking her over.

"Oh, you thought I was joking about being on the payroll, didn't you?" she said, lifting an eyebrow, teasing.

He nodded, not quite sure what to make of it. He had seen the woman drink. After one glass, her cheeks and nose went red. Usually, after her second glass of wine, she required someone to hold her hand so she could walk. Not precisely standard barroom fare.

Barth personally delivered their drinks, smiling broadly. "So, Angelface. Tomorrow is the big day, isn't it? Come for some liquid courage?"

"It is. You coming down to the docks to see your best customer off?" She smiled back.

"You or Doc? He's the best, but you're my favorite." The man winked. "Will he be joining us this evening?"

Celeste pulled a face. "Doubtful, unless he comes down for last call. But, I have a feeling he's getting the top-shelf stuff tonight—dinner with the Countess."

Barth nodded, looking impressed. "Well, I don't know if I can get away. But I'm glad to see you tonight. And, the Big One, too." He said, turning to Muriel, who had been watching the exchange, rapt. Barth extended his hand. "Good to meet you..."

Muriel lifted his hand to shake Barth's but did not respond. Barth's eyes fell back on Celeste.

"This is my Muriel," she answered for him.

"It's good to put a name to the legend, Muriel. Welcome to the Raven." Barth finished, clapping his other hand over the top of their joined hands, giving an affectionate pat. "Well, I'll let you get back to it. Whistle if you need me." He finished, releasing Muriel. He moved to the other side of the booth and leaned in, kissing Celeste's cheek. "Take care of yourself, Love. Gonna miss you something fierce."

Celeste turned to kiss Barth's other cheek, reaching down to squeeze his hand. "Keep the place standing. I'll be back soon."

When Barth had departed, Celeste extended her hand across the table to Muriel. He took her hand, stroking his thumb across her knuckles.

"So, do you want to tell me why we're here?" She asked, searching his face.

"Because I want to go on a date with the woman I love."

Celeste made a noise of understanding. "So how long did you and Asra sit around prepare this for me?"

Muriel's brow furrowed. He knew it wasn't precisely opaque, but he had hoped she'd be somewhat more receptive to the attempts.

"Don't blame Asra. I...wanted you to see me..." he trailed off, trying to find the words. "See me try. Do the things that you do with--"

"Julian." she finished for him, eyebrow raised.

He nodded. She sighed.

As the pieces started clicking into place, she picked up her drink and took a long sip, eyes closed.

The past few weeks had been a strain, to put it mildly. Muriel had taken the initial announcement badly. He had been tolerant of her relationship with Julian. But leaving Vesuvia, together, for months was more than Muriel was prepared to deal with. So, he hadn't. He had all but refused to speak about it.

Muriel made more trips to the city to see her. When she stayed at the hut, he kept her as long as he possibly could—holding her tighter—fucking her longer and harder. Silent but desperate pleas.

He had lost her twice. Death. And that should have been the end of it. But, she had come back to him. Only to be ripped away by his curse all over again. He finally had her. He wanted to respect that she was learning to navigate the world with the new knowledge of her own past. But, he also wanted her. And he had her. And he did not want to let her go.

Asra was part of the deal. That was how it was meant to be. Julian was not. And now he was stealing her away.

"Muriel, I am coming home. This isn't forever."

It was his turn to drink. He didn't drop her gaze as he imbibed.

When he was sated, he sat the tankard down and took a sharp breath.

"That's something else I wanted to discuss with you...Home. Whose home are you coming back to?"

Celeste narrowed her eyes, trying to parse what he was asking.

"I'm coming home to Vesuvia," she unsure of how to answer.

"Are you coming home to the shop? Home to Julian's apartment? Or home...to me?"

"I always come home to you, Muriel. I also live at the shop, and I stay with Julian," she said, shaking her head. "What are you asking?"

"I want to give you a home. Our home. I want you home with me. I am asking you to stay with me."

Celeste had emotional whiplash already. First, from what she thought was a proposal. And now, this, which also felt like a proposition.

"So, you're asking me to move into the hut permanently?"

"Not exactly."

Celeste pressed her tongue into her cheek, baffled, her irritation growing.

"Why today, Muriel?"

"Last-ditch effort," he responded, more quickly than either of them anticipated.

Celeste released his hand and crossed her arms across her chest.

"Elaborate, please," she said tersely.

"I don't feel like I need to. I want you to stay with me. I want to have a home with you. It seems simple."

"When I'm with you, I'm home."

Muriel drew a deep breath. "I want more than that. I want you to choose to stay with me. I want to build a life with you. I want to give you a home. I love you. I want you to stay."

Celeste softened, deflating a bit from her incredulity. "I want to stay. I do. But... I need to do this. It's a few days in the grand scheme of things. I will come home to you."

Muriel closed his eyes, considering his words. "What...do you need to do that I can't be with you for? Why do you have to leave me?"

"Would you come with me if I asked you to?" Celeste retorted before taking another drink.

Muriel blinked at her, reeling a bit. That was a response he hadn't considered. Going with her? With Julian?

When he didn't respond, she made a vague gesture of dismissal. "I guess we're at an impasse, then."

They sat quietly for a long moment, drinking. Muriel extended his hand again, searching for hers. Celeste relented, giving his fingers a squeeze.

"I don't want to argue with you. Not today." He said, low, his eyes downcast.

The music shifted. A slow song. There was a shuffle of chairs and barstools as the dance floor occupants adjusted. Some joining with their partners, others falling away to make room.

Celeste sighed and moved to stand, hand still connected to Muriel's. He eyed her warily.

"It's not the Masquerade. Everyone is drunk. Come on." she said, coaxing him out.

Muriel narrowed his eyes but followed. When he stood, Celeste took both his hands, pulling him backward toward the dance floor.

She pulled his hands to her waist and moved her arms around his torso, finding her favorite spot. Head on his chest. She heard a familiar wolf-whistle from the bar and gave a laugh. Barth, cheering them on.

Celeste took the "lead." Whatever that looked like. They simply stood in the circle of each other's embrace, swaying to the music. No attempts at dipping one another. No spins or twirls. No fancy footwork. Just nearness.

Muriel's hands were firm at her waist, looking down at her as they rocked. The way her eyes fluttered shut, and she breathed him in. As if there were no one else in the world watching. He could feel the eyes, but just now, he could push their stares away. The lantern light playing in her hair. Her skin glowing. Cheek just the slightest bit flushed from drink.

His Celeste. The great love of his life. In front of all these people, completely at ease in his hands. Never afraid of him.

When the music subsided, there was a smattering of laughter. For the musicians, Muriel thought and turned to the stage. When he found all the eyes on them, he blushed wildly. Celeste laughed, shaking her head.

"Why are they...?" he asked, bewildered.

"It's not every day they get a folk hero in their bar."

"Hero?" His tone was incredulous.

"The imprisoned Gladiator that defeated the devil himself? It's a favorite story around here." She said, giving his hand a squeeze.

"You know it wasn't quite that simple," he said, looking down at her.

"Smile and wave, Darling. Your public adores you." she teased.

"Give us a kiss, Love!" Barth called out from behind the bar, and there was a swell of other voices, cheering them on. Some glasses and tankers banging on various table tops. A low chant of "Kiss, Kiss, Kiss."

Muriel blinked, caught off guard. Celeste smiled up at him. "Should we--"

She was suddenly off her feet, swept up in his arms and dipped low for a kiss. Celeste scrambled blindly, hands trying to find purchase on him. His lips were heavy and hot against hers. His hand at the back of her head, his other arm around her back, holding her aloft and horizontal to the ground.

After a long moment, he released her. She was breathless, heart pounding. The din of the crowd was deafening. He carefully lowered her back to the ground. His face looked positively mischevious.

"I'd like to take you back to the shop now." Muriel said, husky.

Celeste nodded rapidly.

He had her by the hand and moved swiftly for the door, Celeste had the presence of mind to look back at Barth, who waved her on. "On me!"

---

They practically fell into the shop once Celeste managed to wrestle the door open. Muriel kicked it shut with a bang. Muriel hoisted her up onto the countertop and was immediately on his knees in front of her.

He was thwarted by her crinoline and groaned, frustrated. Celeste was fumbling with buttons, not quite able to manage them. "Fuck the dress," she said breathlessly. And Muriel nodded, his hands coming to her lapels and yanking roughly. The fabric rended like paper under his hands, leaving her exposed. She shed the sleeves, and he tugged the crinoline away, tossing it aside in a heap.

His mouth was on her in an instant, and her legs were over his shoulders. Muriel could feel her boot heels pressing into his shoulders, drawing him into her. He brought his hands up to her waist, holding her in place, so she didn't slip off the counter.

His tongue parted the outer lips of her sex, and darted out to find her clit. She was already soaking wet, her fluids drenching his mouth. Celeste hissed above him, her hands in his hair, the braids falling loose from the various stops they had made en route to the shop, unable to suppress their need.

His lips closed around the bud, and he sucked gently. She was calling out his name above him, held securely in place, but still tensing and writhing, back arching. He ventured a hand upwards, finding her breast and cupping it, thumb finding her nipple, brushing his calloused thumb across.

He could feel his cock straining against the trousers, painfully. He fucking hated these clothes. All these buttons and fastenings. He pulled away from Celeste's cunt, and she whined. "Just-- just a second," he said, releasing her breast and reaching down to find the buttons at the fly. He managed to undo the top fastenings and slide them down far enough to allow his member to spring free. He gave a satisfied sigh when he could take himself in hand, stroking.

He returned to his ministrations, tongue seeking out her canal. Dripping with desire. He lapped away the slick with long strokes, thrusting in and out of the hole, drinking her in. She was so warm and wet, and the smell saturated his senses, overwhelming him.

"Muriel..." Celeste hissed, trying to draw him up. He pulled back and stared up at her, mouth slightly agape, eyes heavy-lidded. She didn't need to ask. He knew.

He pushed himself up off the floor. Celeste's legs were still on his shoulders, but she shifted herself so she could lay back on the counter, head falling over the edge.

The counter put her at the perfect height for him. He moved his hand along the planes of her stomach, feeling the way she fluttered under his touch with anticipation. He slid his fingers through her curls, noticing, for the first time, that she had groomed her pubic hair. The smattering of dark curls on her stomach shaved away and the shape altered. Refined.

He clenched his jaw, staring down at the smooth skin, running his fingertips over the bare spaces.

He felt something inside him snap, and he grabbed his cock in hand, finding her entrance and thrusting roughly. Celeste made to cry out from shock, but her breath was caught in a cough. The violent contraction of her body sending her cunt into a spasm around him.

Muriel rocked into her with long, slow strokes to accommodate for his initial roughness. But, his hand stayed firm on her stomach, not allowing her to rise, keeping her down. He could feel himself moving within her.

Celeste was pressed against him, barely able to move, legs straight up. Muriel was deep inside her from the first stroke. She was still trying to catch her breath, but the shock was giving way to pleasure. The exquisite stretch of being filled by his cock. She felt each inch as he withdrew. The ridges and veins, the swell of the head. Moving fluidly inside her, coated in her slick.

Muriel's movements became more frenzied, with each keen and gasp that came from Celeste's lips. The wet sounds that came from between her legs. The thud of his hips against the backs of her thighs.

She came for him, wetness surging from her, her walls clenching as he continued fucking her, hitting her deepest and most sensitive places.

When he was close, he withdrew from her and took his cock in hand, stroking himself to completion. Hot, thick spurts of come on her belly, on her mons. He groaned with each spasm, head falling back.

When he was spent, he took a deep breath, bracing himself on the countertop. He looked down at Celeste, covered in his seed. He released his cock and reached up to take her by the wrist, bringing her hand to the sticky mess, drawing her fingers through the substance, making her spread it across the bare places that she had shaved.

Celeste was still in a haze from her orgasm. But she realized, even in her daze, his point. She should have known he wouldn't have been pleased. She sighed to herself, allowing him to move her hands.

When he was satisfied, he pulled her up, sliding his hand under her back and drawing her up. He brought her fingers to his lips, drawing them into his mouth, sucking away the remaining come. One finger at a time. Celeste watched the display. Soft lips wrapping around the digits. Tasting himself on her skin.

When her fingers were cleaned, he drew her hand up to his neck and leaned in to kiss her. It was positively chaste compared to his previous actions. Soft and tender. When they parted, he pressed his forehead against hers, staring intensely into her eyes.

Celeste stroked her fingers across the nape of his neck, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

"Mine." Muriel whispered. Not a question. An assertion.

"Yours. Always yours." Celeste replied.

Momentarily satisfied, Muriel pulled back, hitching his pants again, situating his softened member. When he was settled, he moved to sweep Celeste into his arms. Bridal style. Celeste laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Bath," he said shortly, moving towards the back of the shop to the staircase.

---

Celeste had always been a big fan of the bath in the shop. It was ridiculously large. Now that she knew Muriel, she assumed it was an accommodation Asra had made just in case. It wasn't nearly the size of the baths in the palace, of course. But she didn't need a swimming pool. She liked being pressed up against Muriel, between his thighs.

He was stroking a soapy cloth over her body. Lazy, languid circles. She was melted against him, eyes closed.

"Cela?"

"Hm?"

Muriel sat the cloth aside and brought his hand to the necklace, rolling the orb between his fingers thoughtfully.

"If it had been a ring..."

"...I would have said yes."

Muriel sighed.

"Then, I'm asking."

Celeste tensed, and her eyes shot open.

"Why?" she asked, dubious.

"Because I love you. Because I want you..."

Celeste stared up at the ceiling, measuring her response carefully. "Okay. I will marry you...but I'm leaving tomorrow. We can plan the wedding when I get back."

Muriel swore. "God damn it, Celeste."

Celeste made a noise of confirmation and planted her hands on the sides of the tub, pushing herself out of the water, stepping out. He caught her wrist, but she wrenched out of his slippery grip.

"I'm not doing this, Muriel," she said, beyond exasperated. She was offended. She grabbed a bath towel and wrapped herself in it. "I'm having a hard enough time, I do not need this from you. I am going, and you'll either be here waiting, or you won't."

Muriel was up and after her, watching as she swept out of the bathroom while he fumbled with a towel. "Celeste, we love each other. Why do you insist on leaving me over and over again? I'm so...tired of being left."

"You don't think I know that? Don't you know how selfish I feel? But I have to do this for myself. I am going. I have to go--"

"You don't." Muriel bit out. "Once you wept to leave me. You fought against death to get back to me. And I have been patient. I have given up everything for us. And I have been tolerant. But, there was always supposed to be an end to this...you were my promise, Celeste. We're supposed to be together."

"I didn't make any fucking deals, Muriel. I had nothing to do with any of this," she shouted back. "What you and Asra did I am grateful for, but I am not indebted to either of you. I made no deals. I stood by your side. I fought alongside you. I went through hell. You made deals. Not me. And if I want to get on a fucking boat and go be something else for a couple months, I'm going to do it."

Muriel stood to his full height, eyes hard, jaw set. Then, in an instant, he was going down the stairs, sending Celeste reeling.

"Where are you going?" She called after him, following after.

When she caught up to him, he had the bouquet in his hand, unwrapping the flowers from the blue paper. Celeste watched him, eyebrow raised. He thrust the paper at her.

"What is..."

"Fucking look at it." he spat.

Celeste laid the paper out on the countertop, squinting at it.

They were plans. Blueprints.

She clutched the towel to her chest with one hand and stroked the lines on the page with the fingertips of the other. It was a house. A cabin.

She looked up at Muriel, who was scowling.

"I want you to stay. I want to make a home with you. I love you." He growled.

"Oh...Muriel." Celeste said, righting herself. "This is for us? This is our home?"

"Stay," he stated, his tone still biting.

"You're building this for us?" Celeste asked, her lip trembling.

"Stay," he repeated, his harshness fading. "I need you to stay."

"We can still have this. I am coming home." Celeste felt the first tear fall. "I want this, I want the same thing you do..."

Muriel drew a shuddering breath. "Why do I keep losing you? What am I doing wrong? Why do you keep leaving me?"

"I don't know how else to explain the distinction between going on a trip from which I will return and leaving you," she said, trying to keep her composure. "I love you. I don't ever want to leave you."

"But you don't love me enough to stay." he retorted. "Not enough to realize that I want you. I will give everything in the world away for you. I want to give you my whole heart for my whole life."

"You have had a decade to love me. I didn't know...I need to leave for a little bit and see the world with clear eyes. I just...please. Understand."

"I'm trying. I am. But I'm tired. I'm ready for you. I'm ready now." Muriel pleaded. "Please don't leave, Celeste."

"Come with me," she said, crossing the room to him, looking up into his eyes. "You're free, too. Nothing is holding you here. Come with me. See the world with me."

"I will go anywhere with you. With you. I will not go with Julian."

"I made a commitment."

"You made a promise. To me. Long before Julian."

"I will keep my promise. I will."

"When? After he takes you halfway around the world where I can't get to you? Gets you pregnant? He decides that he doesn't want to come home? That he wants you to stay with him?"

"Why don't you trust me? I am coming back."

"I trust you. I don't trust Julian. And I do not trust him with you in the slightest. He will try to keep you. And I won't be able to get you back."

Celeste shook her head. "I don't know how to make this better for you. I love Julian. I love Asra. But...you have to know that I choose you. I choose us," she paused, wiping tears away. "But, I deserve your respect. I deserve to take my time."

Muriel nodded, defeated. "Then, I guess you're going. There's nothing left to say." He stepped past her, back to the staircase.

Celeste was frozen in place, watching him go.

After a long while He descended the stairs, dressed. He stopped in front of her, silent tears falling.

He placed his hands on her shoulders, fixing his eyes on hers. "Stay with me, Celeste. Stay."

She was shivering, trembling. "I can't." she forced out. Her tone all regret.

Muriel nodded, his heart broken. "Fine." He spoke, his tone cold.

And then, he was gone, across the shop and out the door in an instant.

---

Celeste stood, side by side with Julian at the docks. The ship behind them.

Portia and Nadia to one side, hands clasped. Portia nearly in tears as Nadia repeated all the ways in which she would be missed.

Asra stood in front of Celeste. He had been apprised of the rudiments from the previous evening's activities. First by Muriel, then by Celeste. His eyes were sad. Because she was leaving, of course. But, because he had hoped that it would work.

Asra would never be the one to hold Celeste. He felt it would be hypocritical to do so, after all she had put up with. And now, all she was contending with regarding her new-found knowledge. He knew the peace that came with being away from the strains and stresses of daily life. To retreat. To be free.

But it still hurt to see her go.

"You're going to come home to me, right?" Asra said, trying to force a lilt into his voice.

Celeste nodded. "Always, Asra. My Heart." She placed her hand on her chest. "I'm always just a heartbeat away."

Asra leaned in to kiss her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, fighting back the urge to break down in tears all over again.

This was supposed to be a happy day. A fresh start.

Asra's grip was tight, holding her to him, his kiss feverish. His mind calling out to make her stay. Find a way. Do whatever it takes.

But, he had already done that. He had found a way to keep her.

Celeste was his.

But, most wonderfully, she belonged entirely to herself. Free to choose. To live her life. And how lucky they all were to have her. That she chose all of them. Loved all of them.

His heart had been a gift. It wasn’t a life sentence.

When their kiss ended, their foreheads were pressed together. Hearts beating in sync.

"I love you, Asra," she whispered.

"I love you, Celeste. Oh, how I love you." Asra replied, his voice wavering.

From above them, there was a sharp whistle. Mazelinka, looking equally amused and irritated. "Alright, Lovebirds! We're pushing off!"

Celeste's eyes went wide with panic, pulling back from Asra, looking over his shoulder. Asra caught her gaze and turned to follow it.

There was nothing. A line of well-wishers, offering similar sentiments to their loved ones before they boarded.

No Muriel.

She sighed. Asra felt his heart skip a beat. He turned back to her, giving a sympathetic look. "He...hates the docks." He offered.

Celeste gave a rueful laugh. "Well...he hates...something, that's for sure."

"Sweetheart...no. He...doesn't hate you. He could never hate you."

Julian's hand fell on her shoulder, giving an affectionate squeeze. "If you want, I can tell Maz to hold off a little longer."

Celeste drew a sharp breath and shook her head. "No...It's time." She said relenting. Turning to smile up at Julian. "We're free, Julian. As free as we'll ever be again."

He grinned broadly. "Oh, you lovely, lovely woman."

Asra caught her free hand and gave it a squeeze, tears threatening to fall. "Be safe. If you need me..."

Celeste laughed and nodded. "I'll be surrounded by water. I know where to find you."

She leaned in to give him one last kiss. Delicate and short.

Asra released her hand and looked up to Julian. "Take care of my Heart, Ilya," he said, his tone a warning.

"You have my word, Asra," Julian said, sincere.

Maz whistled again, less amused this time, staring down at Julian with a hard look. He smiled back, unphased, but when he turned to look at Celeste, she could see the slight dread on his features.

"Time to go?" she asked sarcastically.

Julian nodded. "Before she finds things to throw."

---

Celeste stood with Julian at the side of the boat. His arm was around her waist. Julian eagerly waving at the remaining wellwishers.

Asra and Nadia stood side by side after vowing to watch them over the Horizon line.

When the boat finally began moving away from the dock, she rested her hand over her heart, and Asra mirrored her.

Then, Asra felt his heart drop and saw Celeste's face shift.

Muriel stood at the top of the docks, watching as the boat was unmoored and began to move away.

Julian, to his credit, did rush to the captain to try to convince him to stop and was met with a firm, hearty "Fuck you. No."

Asra rushed up the docks to Muriel, who met him halfway.

"You didn't stop her?" Muriel asked, eyes wide.

"How the hell was I supposed to know that you were coming?" Asra retorted, looking back at the boat that was well away from the dock now. He whirled back to Muriel. "What is...do you have a bag?" Asra's mouth fell open, looking at the satchel that Muriel was carrying. "Oh, fuck."

"Can I get to her?" he asked, trying to figure out what to do.

"I...don't...Nadia?" Asra said, looking for a solution.

Nadia shook her head. "I'm afraid not. They generally won't turn back." She said, her tone compassionate. "We might be able to send another boat after them? Meet them at their next port?"

Muriel sighed, shaking his head. "I thought I had time."

"Muriel, we can figure this out," Asra said, reaching out to rest his hand on Muriel's arm. "We can get you to her."

"No." he said, setting his jaw, eyes going dark.

"Muriel.." Asra began, but Muriel turned and walked away, eyes cast down.

Asra looked back at the boat, then to Muriel. He swore, and chase after him, calling his name.

---

Celeste stood, shocked. Cold all over. Portia stood at her side, a hand on her back, trying to settle her down.

"Can...can I get off?" Celeste asked, her voice shaky.

"No, I'm sorry, sweetie! But, I'm sure Nadia will figure something out." Portia offered sweetly.

"I can swim. Can I jump?"

Julian came back from the captain and his eye went wide. "No, you may absolutely not jump."

"Julian...he came. He won't understand. I have to go back." She broke away from Portia, rounding on Julian.

"I know, I know." He said, catching her by her upper arms. "Nadia will figure something out. We've got Malak. We can send word back. It will be fine."

"He won't understand..."

Julian's sympathetic expression shifted, eye narrowing. "He's a grown man, Celeste. He made a choice. You asked him to come, and he waited until the last possible moment to make a decision. He'll be here when we get back, or he'll figure it out."

Celeste sobered a bit. She couldn't argue with that. She sighed, looking back over her shoulder. The docks further away with each second.

And Muriel, followed by Asra, retreating.

#fanfiction #fanfic #apprentice x muriel #apprentice oc #apprentice x julian #apprentice x asra #muriel #asra alnazar #julian devorak #apprentice celeste #celeste #mc #oc #arcana oc #the arcana game #arcana #the arcana muriel #the arcana asra #the arcana julian

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doc-pickles · 4 years ago

Text

it’s nothing funny just to talk (p. 1)

What happens when you text that random number graffitied on a bathroom stall in your favorite bar? Jo Wilson is about to find out. - In which Bar Princess and Doctor Evil Spawn meet via text.

More Jolex on your timeline because y’all seemed to love what I posted before! Also I’ve posted this whole piece on AO3 as well so it might look familiar.

this idea came to me in a fever dream and i am not sorry that y'all have to deal with it. 99% of this fic will be in "texting" format, so be prepared for that.

Jo is regular Alex is italics

Saturday 11:04 PM

heeeeey is thiss doctor evil?

I gotta say ur phone sex namee needs sum weerk

u soud like a comic book village

fuck

village

VILLAIN

Who the hell is this? And how did you get my number?

i’m just a girl at thee bar!!!!

Joe’s Bar?

noooooo

i’m at enerlad city bar

You didn’t answer my question.

u asked a quesitoon?

whata was it?

i’m goos at takifjg tests

How’d you get my number?

it qas in the bathrooom!!!

it said “for a good tiem txt dr evil spawne”

so I did

I am ready to havee fun

You’re drunk, obviously, and I’m going to have to kill Cristina for putting my number up.

ooooooh is thatt ur girleifnd?

hirlefiend

girlfriend**

Wow you’re really gone. And hell no, she’s my roommate. One of them.

ooooh how many do u hav

roomees not girlfriends

Three. Two girls and a dude.

intereeesting...

well it’s tome for fireball shoots

steph is yeeling at me 4 txting too much

goodbey doctor eviel apawn!!

Oh lord. Tell Steph you need water. Or an IV.

I’ve got her. she’s throwing up on her shoes. thanks doctor. - steph

Sunday 10:11 AM

You know you’re pretty funny, Bar Girl.

jesus christ what fucking time is it?!

10 AM

I’m assuming you have a massive hangover.

hold on I can’t hear you over the sound of me vomiting

TMI as the kids say these days.

what’re you a grandpa or something??

No I just don’t know how to use text lingo. Except WTF. I know that one very well.

quick question

who the fuck are you?

Dr. Evil Spawn. You found my name graffitied in the bathroom of Emerald City Bar.

holy shit

I thought I dreamed that... WHAT THE FUCK

Nope. I’m real.

holy shit i’m so sorry

my texts were so annoying

Who hurt you? I mean you were shitfaced, I’m assuming someone broke your heart into tiny pieces.

the opposite actually, I was at a bachelorette party

not mine, i’m so single it hurts

Ahhh that makes sense. So you got shitfaced in solidarity?

exactly you get it

you seem like you’d be the DD at a bachelorette party

Well seeing as I’m a dude I don’t do Bachelorette parties.

Well I did go to one, but that’s a different story.

hmmm you seem like a very interesting man doctor evil spawn

going to bachelorette parties, living with women who aren’t your girlfriend

OMG ARE YOU DATING THE GUY YOU LIVE WITH?!

George? No absolutely not. And before you ask, my other girl roommate is gay.

so you’re single?

i’m only asking so when you murder me the police have as much information as possible

Haha very funny. I would be a terrible murderer.

you didn’t answer my question

Fine. Yes I’m single.

i’ll note that in the “serial killer file” i’m building

gotta go, I have to do work :/

Have fun, don’t die.

Sunday 8:38 PM

Arizona is trying to set me up on a blind date.

who’s arizona?

My gay roommate. She wants me to meet this “bubbly blonde” she knows from her pilates class.

ahhhh. why don’t you go?

Bubbly blonde is not my type. Sounds like she’ll spend the whole date talking about how much she loves dogs or her knitting hobby.

Plus she does pilates, that tells me more than enough.

you’re making some good points. I don’t pity you.

You better not. How was work?

the longest day of my life

it was just paperwork, I don’t actually work on the weekends

What do you do?

hmmmm that’s exactly what a serial killer would say

i’m an elementary school teacher

Oh so you sing and dance and paint pictures all day?

what school did you go to?

were working on multiplication tables and basic photosynthesis tomorrow

Wow that sounds like a lot.

it’s may, ive got three weeks of school left so I have to cram all the crap we didn’t cover into these last few weeks

Ahhh that sounds more accurate.

and what do you do?

besides text strangers that you don’t know

I’m a pediatrician.

oh so you make kids cry and wipe snotty noses all day? two can play at that game

Well we both have to deal with snotty noses sooo...

I GET IT!! Doctor Evil Spawn!!

why evil spawn though?

I wasn’t this nice when I started med school. My personality is an acquired taste.

ha! that’s a funny joke.

so if you’re a fancy schmancy doctor why do you live with three other people?

I’m only a resident, not making the big bucks yet. Everyone else is a doctor too.

are they all pediatricians?

No. Arizona is too but Cristina is a cardiologist and George is a trauma specialist.

interesting!! I too live with my coworkers. it’s not fun.

the table is always covered in craft supplies.

Well I can never read the grocery list on the fridge. Stupid doctors script...

oh that’s a classic. you’re pretty funny Dr. Evil Spawn

Thanks Bar Girl.

I gotta go. monday tomorrow and you know how fourth graders can be. night!!

Night .

Monday 9:47 AM

there’s not enough coffee in the world for monday mornings.

Monday 10:52 AM

Sorry I was yelling at the interns. We have a decent coffee cart here. Keeps me alive. Are you texting in class?

no it was recess

now they’re at spanish class

i’m not totally irresponsible

Oh good to know the future of America is in good hands. Teacher Princess is “not totally irresponsible”

teacher princess?

Well, Cinderella lost her shoe, you puked on yours. Same thing.

wooooooooow

that was so uncalled for...

I thought it was funny. Gotta go set a broken arm.

broken arm vs. adverbs... can we switch? have fun lol

Monday 3:26 PM

I don’t even think I know what an adverb is.

how did you become a doctor??

Don’t need to know adverbs to fix a couple broken bones and snuffy noses.

oh darn I should’ve gone to school for seven more years then

Haha. How were the adverbs?

better than expected, grading papers while I wait for my roomies to be done

we carpool, saving the environment and shit

Okay Eco Warrior.

you text like a 60 year old man

you’re not a 60 year old man are you?

No I’m a 28 year old man though

28 a doctor and you’re single? your personality must be worse than you described

I’m a busy man, I don’t have time to settle down. And I have no desire to.

yet you have time to text a complete stranger?

hmmmm interesting...

Ouch, that one hurt Princess.

steph is making me socialize with the other teachers

if I don’t respond, they killed me or dragged me to an essential oil party

Hahahaha

Monday 5:18 PM

Did you get roped into a pyramid scheme?

nooo but therew as wine

I should sotp drunk texting you so often

It makes your presence that much more entertaining. And bearable.

woah woah dude

i’m a gem

I can tell. Elementary school teacher with a heart of gold.

awwww your too sweet tome

It’s a Monday. Who the hell gets drunk on a Monday?

teachers

we deserve it

You’re a teacher and you’re single and still going to Bachelorette parties. You’re what, 23?

i’m 25 and i’m doing greta thanks you very nuch

cnat believe that i’m supplying my perosnal info to a serial killer

What makes you so sure that I’m a mass murderer?

ur weird nickname and ur intimate knowledge of the himan body

Mmm yes well a good amount of women do find themselves screaming around me often. Or under me. On top of me...

omg are you sending me dirty jokes

you’re crazy

What can I say.

Gotta go, I’m on call tonight. Get to bed safe, Bar Princess.

mmmkay thanks Doc

Wednesday 11:29 AM

What do you think is worse: School lunch or hospital food?

hospital food, no doubt

thursday is mac and cheese day here... I could bathe in that stuff

We have Spaghetti Wednesday but that’s the only good thing here.

mmm how depressing

the teachers do a pot luck once a month and that’s always good

the art teacher next door to me makes the BEST blueberry muffins.

Lucky. All I get here is vending machine cookies. Anything interesting happening in the elementary world?

a first grader got lice last week so naturally we all have it now

I had to chop off six inches of my hair

Holy crap. Lice can be vicious, be thankful you didn’t have to shave your head.

it feels like I did, my hair hasn’t been above my shoulders since the backstreet boys were still touring

Wow. I’m glad to know you’re well cultured.

of course I am

gotta go, kids are back from music class

Don’t be too hard on them, they deserve a break every once in awhile.

Thursday 3:06 PM

Incoming Voice Call

“Jenna you forgot your lunch pail. Have a good day!”

“Hello?”

“Hi Mrs. Peters. I didn’t grade Henry’s test yet, I’ll have it tomorrow. Thanks bye!”

“Helloooo?”

“Steph I gotta grab my things, I’ll be there in a seco- oh shit. Hello?”

“Bar Princess?”

“Doctor Evil Spawn? I must’ve butt dialed you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay I... I don’t mind the interruption. Are you leaving work?”

“Just about, we’re wrapping up the solar system and I have to bring home the diorama.”

“I was never good at the models, I prefer working with the real thing.”

“Oh ho, a man that works with his hands. I can appreciate that.”

“You know now we’re officially talking and we still don’t know each other’s names.”

“Well around here I’m Miss Wilson, but you can call me Jo.”

“Jo. Hmm I like chicks with dudes names. I’m Dr. Karev but you can call me Alex.”

“Well nice to kinda meet you Alex. I’ll talk to you soon, I gotta get out of here.”

“Talk to you later.”

Thursday 4:34 PM

I wouldn’t mind if you were my teacher.

how did I know you’d send me something along those lines

I’m predictable. I’m still calling you Bar Princess.

as you wish doctor evil spawn

I get to assist on a surgery today. Tonsillectomy.

like removing tonsils? that’s awesome

for you, not for the kid

Oh she’ll be fine, she gets ice cream and jello for a week.

okay yeah I might be jealous of her now

id love to be off work for a week and have you waiting on me hand and foot

the ice cream is a nice bonus

You think that’s my job?

well you said you aren’t making the big bucks yet so.... yeah

Keep dreaming. I’ll talk to you later, gotta scrub in.

have fun!!!!

#jolex #jolex fanfic #jolex fanfiction #jo karev #jo wilson #jo wilson karev #alex karev #alternate universe #jolex fic #jo x alex #greys anatomy #greys fanfic #INFJTT #nina writes

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reddeadmort · 6 years ago

Note

Hey, love your writing, keep up the good work! I was just wondering, and it's perfectly a-okay to say no, but would you consider posting a version of the fic where reader is kidnapped in place of Jack n'rescued by John & Arthur where you edit out the choking part? I loved the setting, drama, the brave n'resourceful protag, the inclusion of Jack(!!) n' I want to read the smut too but I have a strong phobia of not being able to breathe so I just can't deal w/anything that has to do w/choking :/

So I was perfectly happy to do this, especially for the lovely @nordic-breeze :) If any of you have already read the previous version, you’ll probably want to skip this one, it is almost exactly the same except with choking/breathing triggers removed.

If anyone else has a request like this, please feel free to send it; I may not publish all alternative versions, but it really isn’t much effort for me to edit an existing text, and I can always send you a google doc link or something :)

If you send requests in, please feel free to be specific with details like this; I don’t want a whole plot planned out in a request, but I am more than happy to include specific details or actively avoid certain triggers

Arthur x f! reader | “Safe places and words” - Alternative version | AO3

Guidance:

Violence, threats of sexual assault, implied minor sexual assault (groping), almost major sexual assault. Smut, but unrelated to/separate from mentions of assault. Smut includes blowjob, reader being pinned down by wrists (initiated by reader) and gentle biting. NSFW/NSFT

Words: 4k

“That’s great Jack, well done!” You patted Jack on the back as he carefully reeled in the small fish. “See I knew you’d manage it! Uncle Arthur’s been giving you some fishing tips hasn’t he.” Jack jumped up and down excitedly as you carefully unhooked the fish from the line to show to him. “Here, hold still, lift it up, I’ll take a picture for your parents before we throw it back.” You took the picture as quickly as you could – you were pretty sure it would be blurry, thanks to Jack being incapable of holding in his energy.

“Thanks Auntie Y/N, maybe this isn’t so boring!” Jack said as he threw the little fish back in the river. You were both watching it swim away when you heard a voice behind you.

“Well ain’t this…. Sweet”. You turned sharply to look at the three new arrivals, instinctively moving jack behind you, one hand resting on your revolver. Shit. O’Driscolls. What the hell are they doing this close to camp?

“Look, fellas, I don’t want no trouble. I’m just relaxing with the kid.” You wanted to back away further, but you were already at the edge of the water. Two of the men were moving slowly towards you, one on each side, blocking any escape; you were fast with your revolver, but not fast enough to take down all three, and you couldn’t risk anything happening to Jack.

“We can see that girly” the leader sneered, standing in front of you. “Tell you what, why don’t we help out? We can teach the lad a thing or two….” As he said this, the leader nodded to the man to your left, and before you could do anything he grabbed at Jack. You launched yourself at him, only to be grabbed from behind by the other man. He pulled your arms behind your back as you kicked and screamed, hoping desperately someone might hear. Jack had started crying; the noise of his sobs made your adrenaline surge even further.

“You really don’t want to do this, his dad and the others will come after you.” You tried to slow your breathing, bring your heart rate under control. The only way you were getting out of this was with words.

“Oh, we know girl, we know. That’s exactly why we’re doing this.” The leader smirked at you as your heart sank. “You’re going to go back to your little camp and tell Marston that we’ve got his precious little boy. Then you’re going to tell him to come to us, alone, tomorrow at noon. We’ll send a message tomorrow with a location, maybe with a bit of….motivation attached. If he doesn’t come, or if he doesn’t come alone, we’ll start using bits of little Jack here for fish food.”

“You bastards! They’ll kill you all!” you screamed at the man, unable to control your rage.

“No, missy, they won’t. Because if they try, Jack’s mother will be burying him as well as his father. Well, burying whatever is left of him anyway.” Jack was still sobbing, he didn’t really understand what was going on, but he knew from your reaction that you were in trouble. “Come on lads, let’s get going. Give her a clout, best if she’s out for a while.” The man behind you released one of your arms, drawing his pistol and raising the butt above your head, ready to strike.

“WAIT!” you yelled, breaking free and rushing forwards. Your mind was racing, you had to get Jack out of this situation.

“Take me. Take me instead, let Jack go back to camp.” The men laughed at this, you were going to have to try harder. “I’ll be quieter than him. I won’t cause trouble.” The man holding Jack was starting to walk away, and you could hear the man behind you moving closer again. Think, think! “I…..you….. you could have some fun with me.” The words almost made you puke, the thought of these men touching you, but you’d do anything to save Jack.

That got their attention. The leader stepped closer to you, still grinning a horrible, evil, gappy grin. “Nah, missy, as tempting as that sounds, you ain’t as valuable. Dutch ain’t going to send one of his main men out looking for one of you camp bitches.”

“I ain’t just one of the girls.” You were going to regret giving this information away, you knew it, but you had to convince them to make the trade.

“Well then missy, who are you exactly?” The man leered at you, moving even closer, so you could feel his breath on your face.

“Y/N. Y/N Morgan.” That name had the desired effect, and the leader gave a low whistle.

“Arthur dead would hurt Dutch more” the man holding Jack grunted at him.

“It sure would, Peter, it sure would…..” Before you could do anything, the man in front of you had grabbed you by the chin.

“Right, girly, I think we’ll take you up on your offer. And I mean all of your offer” the man’s face was almost touching yours now, and his breath made you almost gag. “You’ll only scream when we want you to. And believe me, you’re going to need to scream. You ain’t getting out of this. We’ll make sure Mr Morgan sees us slit your delicate little neck, and we’ll make him watch as you slowly die.”

Your heart was racing, but you kept your face perfectly still; you didn’t want to give them the pleasure of seeing the fear you were experiencing.

“I’ll be quiet” you said, through gritted teeth. “Just let me put Jack on my horse and send him off, it’s too far for him to walk.”

“Fine. Be quick. And only because we need him to get back to camp to tell Mr Morgan where you are.” He released you and practically threw you at Jack. Shaking, you walked over and took a still sobbing Jack from the other man. You carefully placed him on your horse, and quickly started scribbling a note.

“Girl, what the hell do you think you’re doing” the man snatched at the paper, but you pulled it away from him.

“I’m writing down the instructions, you bastard. He’s only young, even if he does remember them he’ll be too upset to say anything” you snarled back at the man. He sneered at you, before calling out to his men.

“You two, check the note.”

“Hey, you know I can’t read.”

“Me neither.”

“Goddammit” the leader muttered. You guessed that neither could he. “Just hurry up girl, before I decide to send the boys lifeless body back on the damn horse” he snapped at you before walking over to his own. You quickly finished the note and handed it to Jack.

“Right Jack, I know you’re upset, but I need you to be a brave boy for me, okay? My horse should take you directly back to camp, don’t worry. You hold on as tight as you can, and when you get to camp you give this note to Uncle Arthur, okay?” Jack swallowed and nodded, tears still dripping down his face. “I love you Jack, remember that.” With those last words, you slapped your horse on the rear, sending it trotting off back up the path.

With your back to the O’Driscolls, you quickly and silently slipped a knife from the sheath strapped to your thigh and sliced the blade across the palm of your hand. You winced slightly, staying as still as possible, hoping they hadn’t noticed. Keeping your fist clenched, you turned just as they grabbed you, pulling off your weapons and knocking the knife out of your other hand.

“Nice try missy. Now, you’re riding with me. I want a little…..preview of the fun we’re going to have tonight.”

You said nothing, and let the man bundle you onto his horse, sitting behind you. One hand on the reins, the other gripping you tightly – and not by the waist – you set off. You held your cut hand out as far as you could, under the pretence of needing balance, and squeezed, feeling the blood run over your fingers. You just hoped you could keep it bleeding for as long as possible.

——

John was the first to see Jack and your horse as they gently trotted back into camp. At first, he wasn’t too concerned, expecting to see you right behind; but as they got closer, he realised you weren’t there.

“Jack, what’s happened? Where’s Y/N?” Jack immediately burst into tears, and John quickly hoisted him off the horse and hugged him tight.

“There….was…..some…..men” Jack managed to get the words out between sobs. “I have a….” Jack held the crumpled note up to his father; it was slightly damp from his tears.

“ARTHUR!” John yelled, opening the note.

“John, what the hell do you want” Arthur grumbled as he walked over.

“O’Driscolls have got Y/N” John said, his voice cracking slightly, as he handed the note to Arthur. Arthur’s face paled as he read your hastily written instructions. “Any idea what those last two words are?” John asked before handing Jack to Abigail, who had been attracted by his shout.

Arthur looked at the two words at the end of the note. ‘Strawberry Doe’. You hadn’t dared write more than that. But Arthur didn’t need anymore to understand what you’d done.

“John, get your guns. We’ve got some killin’ to do.” Arthur growled.

“But Arthur, we don’t know where they’ve gone.” It wasn’t really a protest - John was already prepping the saddle on his horse - more a panicked comment.

“She’s left us a trail. We’ll track ‘em down like the animals they are.” John didn’t think he’d ever seen Arthur’s eyes like this. They were cold, emotionless, like he’d shut down.

As the two men rode out of camp, pounding towards the fishing spot, Arthur finally felt something other than rage start to sweep over him. It was fear. The fear of losing you, the fear of not being able to protect you…….

—–

It was early evening when you finally stopped at an abandoned old hut. Stuck in front of this lecherous, disgusting creature of a man, you had basically frozen, letting your mind disassociate. The ride was horrible, uncomfortable, but nothing more than you’d experienced in many saloons; at least those drunk bastards got their comeuppance when they groped you.

You were pulled roughly off the horse, your hands tied behind your back, and led into the dark basement. You knew what was coming, you just prayed that you could endure it for as long as it took Arthur to find you.

To your surprise, the leader shoved you to the floor before turning to leave.

“Me and the boys are going to eat before our fun starts, sweetheart” he leered at you. “Need to make sure we’ve got plenty of… energy.” He paused, licking his lips, before shutting the doors to the basement behind him, leaving you in total darkness.

Finally alone, you let a little sob escape from your throat. All you could think about was Arthur. Would you ever see him again? Would he even be able to look at you if he did?

And so you sat, in the cold, in the darkness, waiting.

——

Arthur and John rode in silence, occasionally stopping to search for the next part of your trail. There was nothing to say; there was no plan, only anger and fear. These men were going to die, and not well.

“Arthur…. I can’t see anythin’.” It was early evening and the light was fading fast.

“John, just keep lookin’!” Arthur snapped. “There has to be somethin’. Has to be……”

John didn’t retort, he knew it wasn’t him Arthur was angry at. He looked around, and spotted something in the distance.

“Arthur! Smoke. Looks like it’s comin’ from a cabin. Might just be normal folks though.”

“It’s our best hope. Come on.”

——

You had no idea how long you’d been down there in the dark. You’d done your best to keep calm, concentrating on your breathing. Stumbling around in the dark, unable to use your hands, you’d found a chair and a table; you’d crawled under the table and sat in the corner, back to the walls. It made you feel a bit safer; you tried to pretend that it was Arthur’s chest you were leaning against, not this damp, slimy, old stone.

Eventually, you heard the creak of the basement door hatches, and a figure made its way down with a lantern. Very briefly, you let yourself pray it was Arthur; but no, he was too short, too fat. You swore at yourself for even thinking it; of course it wasn’t Arthur, you’d heard no commotion, no gunshots. You didn’t even know if he was coming. Had Jack made it back? Had your horse actually gone back to camp, had Jack managed to cling on? Had Arthur understood your message?

Your slightly panicked thoughts were interrupted by the man grabbing you by the ankle, pulling you out from under the table, causing the back of your head to slam into the floor.

“It’s playtime girly! Now you better make some noise for me you little whore.” He lifted you up roughly by the front of your shirt then grabbed you hard by the chin. He moved his face next to yours and slowly, disgustingly, licked your cheek. “Just pretend I’m your big, bad outlaw. But don’t get too excited, me and the boys will be taking turns all throughout the night. And we don’t want you passing out now… it’s no fun if you aren’t awake to feel it.”

You wanted to fight back, to do something, anything but you couldn’t. You were completely frozen.

“Not even going to beg me? Well you’re a nasty girl ain’t ya.” With that, he turned you around and slammed your face and chest into the table, bending you over. Using your bound wrists to keep you pushed down, he pulled at your trousers with one hand, pulling them down to your knees. You heard him fumbling with his belt buckle, and you could have sworn that you were suddenly looking down on the scene from above; you could see yourself, bent over, face completely emotionless, and him, pulling at his trousers, pushing them down.

Suddenly, a familiar crack of a gunshot sounded above you, followed quickly by a series of others. You could hear yelling and screaming mixed in with the gunfire. The man released you, scrabbling over to the chair where he’d put his gun belt, reaching it as the basement doors flew open. He’d just pulled his gun out of the holster when a shot rang out, shattering his hand and sending the gun flying. Deafened slightly by the noise, you tried to stand up, struggling, and turned just enough to see the familiar shape of Arthur smash his revolver across the man’s face, sending what few teeth he had left flying. You’d never seen him hit anyone that hard before; sometimes, his strength was almost scary.

Arthur’s heart almost exploded with pain when he looked at you, trousers roughly pulled down, struggling to stand up. He quickly moved to you, leaving the unconscious man behind him. One brief flick of his knife and you were free; the first thing you did was grapple with your trousers, trying to pull them up. You never wanted Arthur to see you like this, not with another man, willingly or not. There were tears in the corner of his eyes as he grabbed you by the face, scanning yours for any injury.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner Y/N, so sorry” he said, stumbling over his words slightly.

Finally, with him stood in front of you, your adrenaline started to fade and a wave of relief washed over you. You threw your arms around him, breathing in his familiar, musky smell. You tried to say something, but all you could do was cry. In between sobs, you managed to explain that Arthur had arrived just in time. He held you tight, his arms and warmth seeming to form a protective bubble around you. After a few moments, he picked you up and took you up the stairs to a waiting John.

As soon as you saw John, your first thought went to his little boy. “Jack…. Is Jack okay? They were going to take him, John, I’m so sorry…..” As you spoke, Arthur gently let you down, standing you upright. John pulled you in for a hug, holding your face to his chest.

“He’s fine Y/N, he’s fine. Thanks to you. I’ll never forget this, you hear? Never.”

“John, you wait with her and the horses. I’ve got somethin’ to finish.” Before you could say anything, Arthur had grabbed some rope and walked away back into the basement. You thought about stopping him, but it only took a moment for you to decide the man deserved whatever was about to happen. John led you and the horses a little way off, but you could still see Arthur drag the man out by his hair, sitting him against a tree and tying him to it. You heard the man’s bloodcurdling screams as Arthur took his manhood from him, then begging as Arthur chucked what looked like bait on his bloodied lap.

Arthur walked back to you and John, wiping his blood-stained knife with a cloth.

“You finished?” John asked. He’d not seen Arthur do anything like this before; beat a man, yes, threaten, of course, even kill; but this….. this was a whole other level of rage.

“I’ve done what I needed. I’ve left the wolves to do the rest.” Arthur muttered as he climbed onto the saddle behind you.

The ride back was silent; no-one knew what to say. Arthur held you tightly to him by the waist, clinging to you as if for dear life. Occasionally he gently kissed you on the neck, but only after asking you if he could. He’d never asked before; you knew he was just trying to be kind, make sure you were okay, but you hated it. You just wanted things to be exactly like they were before; you were scared he’d never look at you in the same way again.

When you arrived back at the camp, everyone came to fuss over you. You entertained them for as long as you could before pulling Arthur away to your shared tent.

Arthur was surprised when you grabbed at his face as soon as he’d pulled the flaps down. You kissed him hard, hungrily, biting at his lips. He kissed you back, but more hesitantly, causing you to pull away.

“Arthur……”

“I’m sorry Y/N, I just…..I’ll go, you’ll want some time alone.”

“Arthur Morgan, you have never tried to tell me what I do and don’t want. Do not start now.” You didn’t give him time to reply before once again pulling him back in for a kiss. This time, he didn’t resist, and gently brought his hands up to rest on your shoulders.

You let your hands drop from his face as you slowly undid his shirt buttons. As your hands moved back up his chest, you let them brush lightly over his nipples, making him moan, before pushing the shirt off his shoulders. Once again, you moved you hands over his chest, this time down to his belt. He grunted slightly as you pulled at it, swiftly undoing it and the top button as his hips pushed forwards. You slowly slipped your thumbs under the waistband and gently pulled his trousers down, levering them forwards over his erection.

You knelt as you guided his trousers to the ground, and Arthur’s hands moved to the back of your head. He let out a little grunt as you licked the head of his cock, before you took him in your mouth in one swift movement. He groaned and gripped your hair as you slid him in and out of your mouth, soaking him. You moved your hand up to his on the back of your head, wrapped it around his fist, and used it to pull your own hair. Arthur understood the signal, and pushed his hips forwards, driving himself deep into your mouth, making you gag. He pulled out slightly, letting you recover, making sure you could breathe comfortably, before using his firm grip on your hair to dictate your speed. Soon, the movement of his hips became slightly erratic, and panting, he pulled away from you. This was just the prequel, he wasn’t about to ruin the main event.

You stood up, undoing your trousers as Arthur made short work of your shirt. You lay down on the bed as Arthur pulled your trousers off, pausing momentarily to stare at you, completely naked before him. You shouldn’t have worried; his gaze was just as it always was, hungry, desperate to touch you, mind blank save for the thought of you.

Arthur was quickly on top of you, one hand tucked under your shoulder, the other moving between your legs. You moaned softly as he gently rubbed you, spreading your wetness up and over your clit. As he massaged it with his thumb, moving in steady circles, he slipped a couple of fingers inside you, testing you. No matter how much he wanted you, how much he needed you, he always made sure you were ready. And you were.

He shifted forwards, replacing his thumb with the tip of his cock, rubbing against you. He kissed you as he pushed in, all the way, making you gasp and shudder. He bit your neck as moved back a fraction, before pushing deep again. He enjoyed this bit the most; every time felt like the first time you’d ever taken him, your reaction always the same. He gently started to move his hips backwards and forwards, kissing you, building up a rhythm as his hand moved to massage your breast.

“Pin me down, Arthur” you whispered into his ear. He paused, looking into your eyes, slight concern showing on his face.

“You sure darlin’?” You nodded and bit your lip, resting both wrists together on the bed above your head.

“Arthur please…. I want to feel normal. I want to feel loved…. I want to feel safe.” Arthur smiled, and with one large hand pinned your wrists down.

To anyone else, safe would have seemed like an odd choice of word to use, with a large man lying on top of you, effortlessly pinning you down. But it was true; this made you feel safe. Arthur would never hurt you, was always guided by you; you were always in control, even if it didn’t look that way.

Arthur delicately kissed your lips before thrusting hard into you. His grip on your wrists tightened, just enough to keep you pinned down, not enough to hurt. If he put too much pressure on you just tapped the back of his hand with your fingers; he always responded immediately. Every time he pounded into you, he’d stop briefly when he was fully enveloped, grinding himself into your clit, just like you’d shown him. It wasn’t long before you were both on the brink. You came first, gripping his hand, gasping his name. As soon as you had, he removed his hand from your wrists and you lifted yourself up, biting his nipple; this took him over the edge, and he swore as he pushed into you hard, almost uncomfortably deep. He collapsed onto your chest, and you both stayed there for a moment, not moving, just listening to the other’s breathing.

“Thankyou Arthur. I needed that. It might not make much sense but….I….needed to regain some control.”

“Darlin’ that don’t surprise me. Though, honestly, you don’t ever make much sense to me.” He grinned, before sitting up, releasing you. “Now, we best get some rest. I think Jack wants to spend tomorrow with his favourite Aunt.”

“He’s a sweetheart, he really is. I might stay in the camp this time though” you chuckled, sitting up and resting your head on Arthur’s shoulder. He kissed you softly on the top of the head, stroking your lower back.

“You do whatever you want darlin’. I’ll always be here.”

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan nsft #nsft #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan fanfic #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #my work #smut #rdr2 smut #request

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keyofjetwolf · 6 years ago

Text

And that concludes Gravity Falls!

I hope you all enjoyed! If you did, here are a few handy ways you can let me know!

Leave me comments! I love hearing your thoughts. YOUR WORDS FEED ME. When you guys get excited for something, it makes me excited too, so we’re in this sort of beautiful symbiotic exchange. IT’S NATURE

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Buy me a Ko-Fi! Prefer something a little more direct and one-and-done? Pop on over to Ko-Fi and drop me a tip! ALSO ALSO ALSO: all tips I get during THE GIFTENING will go toward my and Doc’s post-GIFTENING pre-Utena Finale Friendship Getaway to the hot springs! YOU WILL LITERALLY BE BUYING ME A BEER

I completely forgot that we have a wine tasting thing tonight, so the evening’s events will need to be bumped. I’ll let you all know where these are falling in the next couple of days.

Tomorrow I have a lesbian-mandated day off (I may sneak in some of the catch up stuff though, we’ll see), and then well be back to THE GIFTENING on Thursday with Pokemon Go! IT’LL STILL BE SNOWING I THINK AND COLD AS FUCK SO YOU DON’T WANT TO MISS THAT

#THE GIFTENING 2018 #THE GIFTENING 2018 day 9 #jet wolf watches gravity falls

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gigawords · 6 years ago

Text

Working Title : Aspect

(A/N) Trying something new on my writing blog! I will continue posting the raw unedited text on Tumblr, but since Tumblr doesn’t keep the same formatting as I use in google docs, I will post the link for that as well. Clicking the link you can view the story in its regular formatted and edited form and comment on parts you think are necessary if you want to provide feedback. Link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1uxcoEwqWof8zthw9skzJ9HjtQVNkDYpr-WjHRqi0Ddw/edit?usp=sharing

The last arrival train to Juran pulled into the station right as the sun was setting, and only one man stepped out.

Clad in armor unmarred, Beamer shouldered his pack as he looked around the station. Though there seemed to be lights that were powered by tekkium, only a few wall sconces were lit now. A small crowd of people were further down the train being herded onboard by an official in bright blue stationeer clothes.

He began to walk that way, and as his heavy footsteps echoed throughout the near-empty station, the stationeer turned towards him. With a mixed look of beleaguerment and surprise, he stared at Beamer for a long moment before ushering the last of the passengers onboard.

Finally, as the doors to the train began to shut, he addressed Beamer, “Sorry to say, son, but the city’s closed. In case you haven’t noticed, Juran isn’t exactly the safest place to be right now. Hence the mass exodus.”

Beamer swung his bag around and began shuffling through it, “Yeah, uh, that’s actually why I’m here. Name’s Beamer. Knight of the Dhazul Dominion.” He finally found his badge in his pack and presented it for the stationeer. “Here about a mutation problem?”

The stationeer was not as happy about it as Beamer thought he’d be. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the badge and dismissed himself with a “Bah!”

“You don’t sound too happy ‘bout someone here to help with your situation,” Beamer said, throwing the badge back into the pack before hurriedly catching up with the older man.

“Happy? I would have been happy if you had come weeks ago like we requested! And now they send one knight who looks like he hasn’t even seen a battle to fight three mutations?” the stationeer snarled, entering into a room that appeared to be an office of some sort.

“Three?” Beamer asked, incredulous, as he held open the door in the doorway. “That ain’t what the higher-ups told me.”

The old conductor rolled his eyes as he sat down at a desk to begin writing on what appeared to be a schedule. “Maybe. We don’t know for sure but we sure as sin know it’s more than one of those freaks. That’s what happens when you ignore a problem like this. It festers!” he jabbed a pen in Beamer’s direction. “Now Juran’s desolate and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Beamer scratched at the scar on his nose. Sure is tough being nice to folk like this, he thought. Inside his mind, he heard a girl’s giggle. “Look, mister…?”

“Rasine. Only remaining stationeer and probably the last person in the whole town.”

“Rasine,” Beamer continued, “I know you’re angry, but I’m just the fella they sent to fix this mess. I can’t help with you being angry. What I can do is help you get rid of those things.”

The sound of a pen scratching stopped and was replaced by the whistle of a departing train. The chugging soon followed. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, son, and I apologize for lashing out at you. But… you shouldn’t get involved. There’s nothing worth saving here any longer and you’ll only get yourself killed,” Rasine sighed. “You can stay in the station tonight and I’ll see if I can call you a train tomorrow.”

When he didn’t reply, Rasine finally turned to face him. Beamer was honestly at a loss for words and just shrugged in response. This seemed to exasperate Rasine further. “I don’t want any more deaths in my town.”

“I won’t die.”

Though he replied with “Foolish”, the look on his face melted into something akin of sadness. Regret. “If… if you do go, know that I will be here at the station if you feel like it’s too much.”

“Know where I can find ‘em?” Beamer asked.

Rasine nodded in return. “One of them tends to stick around the southern market square at night. There were sightings of another on the eastern side of town, right near the cliff.”

Beamer made a mental note of that, then began to close the door. “I appreciate that. Pleasure meeting you.”

The sun dipped further behind the barrens behind him and the streets darkened considerably. There didn’t appear to be any kind of light source anywhere in the city, which, in tandem with the lack of sounds, gave the entire area an eerie vibe. Somewhere in there was his mark.

Beamer muttered quietly, “We may have gotten ourselves into a situation we’re gonna regret, eh, Twovi?”

There was another girlish giggle and then a small flash of green light. Twovi materialized, floating in the air. Though she vaguely represented a tiny human with wings, her bright luminescence made it impossible to make out her features. She looked around excitedly, flittering around him as he watched.

“Think I could get some light?” Beamer asked hopefully. She flew up to eye-level with him and cocked her head. Great.

“Light? You know like a lantern or a torch or something?” She cocked her head the other direction.

“‘Bout as well as I expected that to work.”

Suddenly, she started nodding her head vigorously and flew straight towards the sword he had sheathed at his waist. As she collided into it, a wave of color washed over the weapon and it began to glow with a pleasant green reminiscent of the lush forest Beamer once saw.

“No, no,” he sighed. Their entire time together had been like this so far. He knew better to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he wished the higher-ups would have assigned him a more mature Aspect. Well, it’ll have to make do for now… he thought, drawing his sword and holding it aloft. It wasn’t quite as effective as a torch but he could at least see where he was going for now.

He pressed onward, eyeing each building and alleyway as he walked past. Feels like I’m walking into an ambush with nothing but a knife, he thought. Every once in a while, there was the sound of a door or open window swaying in the wind. It was eerie being in an empty city that was thriving just weeks ago. But who can blame the townsfolk for fleeing when a frontier city like this has nothing to defend it from those monsters?

There was something dark on the ground in front of him. He held the glowing sword towards it. A blacksmith’s sign liesay there, torn from wherever it was hanging and flung into the cobblestone street.

Beamer clicked his tongue in annoyance. We’re not getting anywhere like this, he thought impatiently. “Twovi, can you do my legs?” He heard something come from his weapon—a noise from her that he’d starting affiliating with pouting—before she withdrew from the sword. The soft light emanating from the sword dissipated as she did so.

Twovi buzzed around in confusion for a few moments before he held out of his feet and asked her again. She seemed to recognize this gesture, as they had done this one before, and flew straight into his chest. Her tiny body made merged into his the same way one would dive into water, with ripples of green light emanating from her point of entry. These ripples seemed to find their way down his outfit, and gathered near his feet until his legs began glowing from the knee downwards.

He heard her hum with glee inside his mind and looked upwards towards the roof of the tallest building next to him. They were near one of the busier parts of Juran. Taller buildings with three stories were becoming more prominent. He prayed as he approached the base of one of these buildings and crouched down low.

When Twovi empowered him, he could feel the heat radiating from her point of concentration. Now, as he crouched low readying a jump, it was as if pure energy replaced the blood in his veins. He jumped and he jumped far. Much farther than any human should be able to. He easily crested the flat rooftop of the building he was aiming for but miscalculated the direction of his jump and the power Twovi had given him.

He let out a yelp as he lost his balance and began tumbling through the air. He heard Twovi scream inside his mind as he crashed down hard onto the roof.

Beamer’s vision was spinning and his back ached bad, but not as bad as his arm did. He felt waves of… something travel up his body. Suddenly, as if his head was suddenly dunked in water, his mind cleared. He was on his back, he realized, on top of the three-story building. Different parts of his body began glowing as Twovi set to work healing it from the inside. He watched with amazement as waves of green light focused on each area of pain he felt before it magically disappeared. Twovi sniffled like an upset child the entire time.

The whole process took only seconds, and he was able to pick himself up in no time. He whistled, “Man, you Aspects are really something amazin’, you know that?”

Not understanding how, but he got the impression that she nodded in response. But she felt guilty? Or was that his guilt? Everything was mashed together inside him now and he didn’t know who was who.

“Now, then,” he continued, stepping up the ledge, “let’s see if we can find ourselves a freak.” While he could see far more than he could before, it was still dark and there were several buildings further in the city that were taller than the one he was on. Further east, he could see a point where the buildings just stop suddenly, and south of his position he could barely pick out a area where there were no buildings. Bingo.

They took a slower but safer way down from the building but eventually made it to what appeared to be a large outdoor market area. Empty stalls lie everywhere in a disorderly manner and there were display stands with no clear indication of positional planning. Twovi had decided to conjoin with his gauntlet this time, not giving the source of light he wanted but enough to get by yet again.

As he walked around, he noticed a large section of the wooden stalls had been completely destroyed. Smashed, torn apart, and completely obliterated. The sight of it sent chills down his spine. No human did this.

Beamer wasn’t a man easily disturbed, but the flashbacks of his first encounter with a mutation bubbled up in his mind. He could feel sweat starting to form on his brow. I’m supposed to kill three of them? Twovi seemed to sense his hesitation. He didn’t know how, but he felt her grow quieter, more reserved.

A noise echoed from a nearby street or alley. The sound of wood snapping. In a flash, Beamer’s sword was in his hand. “Twovi, sword.” he commanded. Blessedly, she responded immediately and was quick to jump from his gauntlet to his sword.

The blade felt powerful in his hand. He felt a different sensation than before when she was merely just inhabiting the weapon while he used it as a light. It felt… alive somehow, teeming with the same energy that fueled his legs moments ago.

“Alright, Twovi, let's just take things one at a time,” he whispered. He didn’t know if she heard him; he couldn’t seem to sense her reactions and she didn’t make any noise in response. “Remember what they said. Find the heart of corruption, I stick you into it, and you… do your weird thing, and we’re golden. Got that?”

No response. She scared or somethin’? he thought. “Now I know you c-”

One of the houses on the edge of the square exploded in a shrapnel of wood as an enormous creature came through the wall. Beamer quickly rolled behind a stall. He was far enough away that he felt he safely hid, but he could never be too careful. Grip tightening on his weapon, he slowly peeked his head out just enough to where he could see.

Beamer thought he had seen the worst the world could throw at him, but each time he encountered a mutation it seemed to be even more horrible than the previous one. Surprisingly, these things used to be living creatures.

Its sickly purple skin seemed to be constantly moving, twitching, shifting. There were three huge appendages, almost tentacle-like, where the arms and head should have been if it were a human. It towered above the stalls in the marketplace, leaking some kind of liquid as it stalked about. It reminded him of a beast hunting.

Heart thumping, Beamer crouched back down low. It was moving in his direction, and it appeared to not have noticed him yet. But these things were beastial by nature, if it had caught on to his scent or something…

A bead of sweat dripped from his forehead, and the grip on his sword tightened. I always did hate the waiting before a fight, he thought with a hint of chagrin.

The most eerie part is that for a creature that large, it didn’t seem to make any noise other than the scraping of wood as it pushed aside one of the market stalls. No heavy breathing, no sniffing, nothing. So when it stepped right up to Beamer’s stall, he nearly dropped his sword.

It seemed to realize something was in the area, as the mutation had slowed and seemed to be searching for him. He swallowed hard.

With a shout, Beamer rolled out from behind his cover and swiped out with his glowing sword. He could hear Twovi shriek, though it sounded distant. The sword made contact with one of the surprisingly small legs. It bounced off hard instead of sweeping through with the strange sensation Beamer had come to expect.

With the sound of glass shattering, the purple skin around the point of impact fell to pieces, and viscous liquid began to pour out. Beamer jumped to his feet and fell into a battle stance as the mutation collapsed to the ground, unbalanced as it was with the now limp leg.

Though it had no visible mouth, the monster released an incredible roar that nearly deafened Beamer. Quickly moving to action, he chopped at one of the tentacles that he assumed to have once been an arm and it resulted in an effect similar to that of the leg. The skin broke, deep purple liquid began to spill, and it fell limp.

He brought his sword back, but couldn’t get his guard up in time for a different tentacle before it whipped into him. The breath was knocked out of him as he was sent flying, and crashed into the side of a building.

His body was alive with pain as he collapsed to the ground. Vision swimming, he frantically tried to catch his breath. Something was broken for sure, if not several things.

And then suddenly, the pain started to evaporate. Whatever was broken in his chest wasn’t hurting anymore. His breathing grew less erratic. His vision stabilized, and he could see the mutation slowly using its other two tentacles to crawl towards him.

Beamer felt Twovi inside his body, frantically trying to repair him, but he could tell she was quickly getting tired. “Thank you, Twovi,” he said as he forced himself off the ground, grabbing his sword. “You, uh, got enough fight left in you to take him out? Promise I’ll be more careful.”

He received the mental image of her hesitating, but nodding her head. He watched as she jumped from his chest and melded into the sword blade once again. She always does seem a lot more clear-headed in battle, he thought.

With the green aura of his weapon illuminating the slowly approaching mutation, he fell into another battle stance. The immediate threat were the two remaining tentacles, his target could wait until after.

He rushed forward, hoping that his body and mind were still quick enough to react to these unusual battles. He dodged to the left as one of the tentacles crashed down to the ground. Without slowing, he swiped downwards. The sword bounced off, but the sound of glass breaking gave him all the confirmation he needed of a successful strike without looking.

There was another scream from within the creature, and the last tentacle began to move erratically. It jerked around from a new direction, approaching quicker than Beamer could react. “Shi-”

It slammed into his left arm, sending him spiraling into a nearby stall. He could tell his arm was broken, but he didn’t feel nearly as terrible as he did the first time he got hit. Still, with the amount of hits he had been taking-

“Beamer!”

His attentioned returned just as that same tentacle arced back towards him. He held his blade up horizontally in front of him just as the tentacle made contact.

Whatever momentum the grotesque limb carried with it died as soon as it made contact. With a normal sword, that block wouldn’t have saved him. But with Twovi, it felt like anything was possible.

The tentacle’s skin cracked and burst open, drenching Beamer in the gooey liquid that erupted from it's skin. “Disgusting…” he muttered, leather uniform quickly darkening in color.

Through great amount of effort from both the slippery liquid and pain from his arm, Beamer managed to pull himself from the wooden wreckage some time later. The mutation still lived, but it had lost all method of attacking that he could tell. It writhed on the ground, trying to move its body with its one remaining leg. The other leg and tentacles were still attached, just… deflated.

Beamer slowly approached the monster on the ground. There was some kind of low noise coming from it, but what it was supposed to be or represent he couldn’t tell. He tapped its chest with his sword, which he noticed had considerably lost its glow, and it caved in on itself as the liquid inside escaped out of the breaking skin.

Inside was a large, round lump. There it is, that rascal, he thought, The heart of corruption.

He lifted the sword to his face, “You gonna be able to do this?” he asked.

No response. So she’s got a limit to what she can do… Do these Aspects experience exhaustion like a person? He wondered.

In one quick thrust, he pierced the mutation’s heart of corruption. It didn’t die- it kept moving the best it could with its body drained of whatever it was that fueled it. Piercing the heart of corruption would do nothing by itself.

Beamer watched with relief as Twovi’s glow moved from within his blade to inside the creature, entering its heart of corruption. As soon as she made contact, the mutation screamed with a discordant noise.

He held his breath, not daring to move as he watched Twovi work. She had completely left the sword now, and the heart had begun to glow brighter and brighter. The mutation thrashed around more wildly than before, but with only one leg working right it was a pitiful sight.

Just as it got too bright for Beamer to look at directly, the green glow dissipated entirely. The mutation had completely stopped moving. Beamer had seen this only once before, but was just as awestruck when the body started to burn away with tiny flames the same color as Twovi. The cremation, they called it, though no smoke rose and no ash would remain. he stayed until the last of the body burned away, waiting for Twovi to reappear.

She didn’t.

Clutching his arm, he walked back into the train station. The old man was smoking a pipe outside of his office and nearly dropped it when he saw Beamer approach.

“Heavens alive, Son, you’re a mess!” he shouted, rushing towards him.

Beamer grunted, not stopping, “Don’t worry, it feels a lot worse than it looks.”

“I can barely see your uniform under all that… blood? What is that? And the mutation! Did you kill it? Did you get them all?"

“Relax, Rasine, I’ll answer all your questions,” He was so tired, “But first, I’m gonna need your place to rest a bit.”

#Aspect #writing #short story #short stories #writings

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weekendwarriorblog · 5 years ago

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The Weekend Warrior for January 10, 2020 – 1917, Like A Boss, Just Mercy, Underwater

Well, it looks like we’re back to the usual business now that it’s 2020 with the first weekend with four wide releases – two new movies and two expanding after opening in limited release over Christmas. I’m running a little behind on this so I’ll work on finishing a few reviews before Friday but for now, you can just get a general idea of what’s coming out so you can make some moviegoing plans.

The big movie that I’m most excited for people to see is Sam Mendes’ WWI epic 1917 (Universal), starring George MacKay and Dean-Charles Chapman as two soldiers sent on an urgent but dangerous mission to the frontlines to prevent an invasion that could leave thousands of British soldiers dead. It’s one of the most exciting movies I saw last year, which is why it ended up on my Top 25 at #2. I already reviewed the movie for ComingSoon.net and did some interviews for VitalThrills.com, so I probably don’t have a ton more to say about it, but it is the one movie I can recommend whole-heartedly this weekend. It is easily one of the best movies I saw last year (twice!)

This weekend also brings the high-concept R-rated comedy LIKE A BOSS (Paramount), which pairs Rose Byrne with Tiffany Haddish and Salma Hayek, three very funny women and great actors in a movie directed by Miguel Arteta (The Good Girl). Essentially, Byrne and Haddish play long-time besties who have been building a small grassroots make-up company and then Hayek comes along as a huge corporate mogul who wants to buy them out who makes a deal that will allow her to get a larger percentage if the two friends break up. You can probably guess the rest. (My review will be posted later tonight since it’s under embargo.)

Mini-Review: It was almost immediately apparent as Like a Boss began that this movie wasn’t going to be for me. It wasn’t the premise or the characters as much as it was the fact that it expects the viewer to be somewhat savvy about the make-up business, something I know (and care) little about.

Byrne and Haddish play best friends Mel and Mia, who have turned their shared love of make-up into a thriving local business that gets the attention of Salma Hayek’s Claire Luna, a big-shot exec at a corporation who wants to buy a stake in their business but with a catch. If for some reason the friends break-up, Luna gets the majority share of the company. This is literally the difference between a 51% and a 49% stake… so not really that big a deal.

I’m not even sure where to begin with this because there’s so much talent involved that generally deserves better, but Haddish has yet to deliver anything on par with her Girls Trip role, and that doesn’t change here. Mind you, I’ve been a big Rose Byrne fan for quite some time, and she’s really been great in movies that allow her to go between humor and drama, but it feels as if she’s trying way too hard to keep up with Haddish, who has actually toned back her character to be more of a 4 or 5 on the Haddish scale.

Jennifer Coolidge seems to be doing the exact same thing she’s done in everything from Legally Blonde to Two Broke Girls, basically acting like a dimwit, and it’s a shame because it’s not really a good part. There’s also Mel and Mia’s three best friends who are so useless at bringing anything to the story that it’s unclear why they’re in the movie at all except to act as a Greek Chorus. This leaves it up to Billy Porter to steal the movie with but just one scene, and pretty much the only one that delivers a laugh.

I’m not sure if the makers of this movie thought that it would be seen as another pro-feminist movie that women flock to, but the problem might be the simple fact that it’s written and directed by men. That certainly couldn’t have helped, especially since this movie is clearly trying to be another Bridesmaids by pushing the R-rated envelope.

The thing is that if you’re going to make a comedy, you should at least try to make some effort for it to be funny, and the fact that Jennifer Lopez’s Second Act takes place in a similar environment but finds a way to be funnier is telling that Like a Boss just isn’t up to snuff.

It’s doubtful Like A Boss will be anyone’s worst movie of the year, but that’s because it isn’t particularly memorable and will likely be forgotten by February.

Rating: 5/10

Another movie expanding nationwide after a platform release is Dustin Daniel Cretton’s prison drama JUST MERCY (Warner Bros.), which stars Michael B. Jordan as young defense attorney Bryan Stevenson, who finds himself trying to get prisoners on Death Row exonerated. The movie also stars Jamie Foxx as Walter McMillian, a man falsely accused of murder who becomes Bryan’s biggest case to date while Brie Larson plays Eva Ansley, who works with Bryan. I was kind of bored by the movie the first time I saw it, but I gave it another chance recently and generally liked it more, especially towards the last act. I may write a review before Friday if I can find any time but I’m pretty slammed this week.

The last movie of the weekend is actually one I’ve been looking forward to, since the sci-fi thriller UNDERWATER (20th Century Fox) is my kind of movie. It stars Kristen Stewart, Jessica Hardwick (from the Netflix series Iron First), TJ Miller, Vincent Cassell and John Gallagher, Jr. as a team of scientists who are trapped 6 miles below sea level when their station is hit by a catastrophe and they learn that they’re not alone down there. It’s the new movie from William Eubank, a talented filmmaker who I interviewed years agofor his movie The Signal. I’m also still working on my review for this so please check back tonight/tomorrow for it.

Mini-Review:

It’s a bit of a bummer this new undersea horror-thriller probably won’t get a fair shake from critics, because it’s being released in January. Far too many film critics just love their clichés, and when it comes to January movies (other than the ones premiering at Sundance), they expect everything to be horrible. They go in with that thought in mind and then nitpick to make sure they’re theory is right. Maybe it’s true, but it’s also not particularly fair when you have a movie like Underwater that delivers exactly what’s being sold.

The underwater drilling station Kelper rests on the outskirts of the Mariana Trench, and no sooner then we meet Kristen Stewart’s electric engineer Norah, Kepler is hit by a powerful earthquake that tears the station apart, as she and a few of her colleagues do what they can to survive. They soon learn that they’re not down there alone.

Yes, the premise is a bit of a horror cliché we’ve seen many times before, mostly in space thrillers like the classic Alien, but director William Eubank (The Signal) clearly has chops to direct a much bigger-scale movie like this that involves a lot of underwater FX-work.

While the dialogue isn’t always great, and the attempt to make TJ Miller the film’s comic relief doesn’t always work, you generally like the characters played by Stewart, Hardwick, Cassell and Gallagher, which tends to be half the battle when it comes to horror films. You actually care about them as they face bigger and bigger jeopardy.

I’m sure some women will take issue with Stewart spending a good portion of the movie in a skimpy bathing suit, as soon as she’s out of the bulky deepsea suit she wears for the rest of the movie, but you won’t hear any complaints from me about that.

Like I said, the movie gives you exactly what is being advertised and Eubank has created a movie that’s suitably claustrophobic and at times, legitimately terrifying.

Rating: 7/10

LIMITED RELEASES

The movie opening in limited release that I can recommend highly is Ladj Li’s police thriller LES MISERABLES (Amazon Studios), an amazing police thriller about a group of French detectives trying to deal with issues taking place at the local projects. I thought this French film (France’s shortlisted selection for the Oscar “International Film” category) was fantastic and shows a promising new talent in Li, who wrote and directed the film. If it’s playing in your area, I recommend checking it out, although I’m guessing it will be on Amazon Prime sometime soon as well.

I haven’t seen Jon Avnet’s THREE CHRISTS (IFC FIlms), which has Richard Gere playing Dr. Alan Stone, a psychiatrist in charge of dealing with three schizophrenic patients who all believe they’re Jesus Christ, as played by Peter Dinklage, Walton Goggins and Bradley Whitford. It will open in select cities and On Demand shortly after.

Opening Friday in the States roughly eight months after it opened in the United Kingdom is Ron Scalpello’s crime-thriller THE CORRUPTED (Saban Films), starring Sam Claflin as Liam, an ex-con trying to win back the love of his family, while trying to get out of the tangled web of corruption surrounding him. The movie also stars Timothy Spall, Hugh Bonneville and Charlie Murphy.

Josh Hartnett and Margarita Levieva star in Anthony Jerjen’s Inherit the Viper (Lionsgate), playing siblings Kip and Josie, who are dealing in opioids as their only means of survival. Kip’s attempts to get out of the family business put him and his sister and younger brother (Owen Teague) in danger. it will open in select cities and On Demand.

Ofra Bloch’s documentary Afterward (1091) debuted at DOC-NYC last year with its look at the issues between Israel and Palestine that came out of the Jews being driven out of Germany during World War II and settling in Israel where they were seen as an enemy by the Palestinians, while trying to give and receive forgiveness. This is a fantastic doc that will open on Friday and then be on VOD January 28.

Alison Reid’s doc The Woman Who Loves Giraffes (Zeitgeist/Kino Lorber) is a little more obvious what it’s about, as it follows Anne Innis Dagg’s solo journey to South Africa in 1956 to study giraffes, featuring voicework by Tatiana Maslany, Victor Garber and more. It opens at New York’s Quad Cinema on Friday and at the Laemmle in Los Angeles on February 21.

Opening today at the Film Forumin New York is Renaud Barret’s doc System K (Artification Release), which looks at the city of Kinshasa in the Democratic Republic of Congo and the street artist performance scene that criticizes government corruption and the poverty that has struck the area.

The Sonata (Screen Media) stars Freya Tingley as a virtuoso violinist who inherits the mansion of her composer father (the late Rutger Hauer) after his sudden death, where she discovers a mysterious score with strange symbols that she tries to decipher with her agent and manager (Simon Abkarian).

This week’s Bollywood offering is Meghna Gulzar’s Chaapaak (FIP), starring Deepika Padukone as a woman attacked with acid in New Delhi in 2005 and how she survived it.

REPERTORY

It’s a new year so we’re back with more cool repertory stuff!

METROGRAPH (NYC):

My favorite local rep theater is beginning with two movies by Your Name and Weathering with You director Makoto Shinkai: 2007’s 5 Centimeters per Second and 2011’s Children Who Chase Lost Voices. On Saturday night, the Academy is back at the Metrograph screening Lina Wermüller’s 1976 movie Seven Beauties. Also on Thursday, you can see two “Metrograph Standards,” Jack Hazan’s A Bigger Splash (1974) and Edo Bertoglio’s Downtown 81. Welcome To Metrograph: Reduxwill screen Richard Quine’s 1958 film Bell, Book and Candle, Late Nites at Metrograph will screen Akira Kurosawa’s High and Low (1963) while the Playtime: Family Matinees selection is Danny Devito’s Matilda from 1996.

FILM AT LINCOLN CENTER (NYC):

Folllowing up FilmLinc’s amazing Korean cinema series from last year, this week, they’re doing a special “The Bong Show” retrospective, highlighting the work of soon-to-be Oscar nominee Bong Joon-Ho, as well as other related films with Director Bong in person for some of them. It runs through January 14 and besides all of his feature films, there will be a showing of all his shorts on Friday night, January 10, as well as Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s Cure (1997), Deliverance (1972), Intentions of Murder (1964), John Frankenheimer’s Seconds (1966), John Carpenter’s The Thing (1982) and more.

ALAMO DRAFTHOUSE BROOKLYN (NYC)

Tonight’s “Weird Wednesday “is the 1984 Supergirl movie, starring Helen Slater, which is almost sold out. Thursday’s “Cherry Bomb” pick is the 1988 film Shy People. Next week’s “Terror Tuesday” is the horror classic Ghoulies (1984) and “Weird Wednesday” is Tarsem’s The Fall, the latter hosted by Vaiance Films founder Dylan Marchetti.

THE NEW BEVERLY (L.A.):

Today’s “Afternoon Classics” matinee is Norman Jewison’s 1967 film In the Heat of the Night, while the Weds./Thurs night double feature is Secret Ceremony and Boom!, both from 1968, both starring Elizabeth Taylor. Friday’s “Freaky Friday” is the 1985 film Re-Animator, while Tarantino’s own Django Unchained is the Friday midnight movie. This weekend’s Kiddee Matinee is the Studio Ghibli film Ponyo, while the “Cartoon Club” is also running this weekend. The Saturday midnight movie is Martin Scorsese’s classic Taxi Driver (1976). Monday’s “Monday Matinees” is the Stephen King adaptation Misery (1990), while the double feature running from Monday through Thursday are newer films, Greta Gerwig’s Little Women and Sofia Coppola’s The Beguilded from 2017, both in 35mm.

FILM FORUM (NYC):

On Wednesday, Film Forum will begin screening a 4k restoration of Russian filmmaker István Szabó’s Mephisto (1981) along with screenings of his other movies, Confidence (1980) and Colonel Redl (1985). This weekend’s “Film Forum Jr.” is one of my all-time favorite comedies, Billy Wilder’s Some Like It Hot(1959), starring Marilyn Monroe, Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis.

EGYPTIAN THEATRE (LA):

Apparently, the Egyptian now has two theaters? Sweet! As part of the theater’s “New Year’s Resolutions” its screening the 1993 horror anthology, Necronomicon: The Book of the Dead on Friday in the Spielberg Theater, followed at 10pm by Roar (1981). The Egyptian’s usual theater will screen a double feature of Airplane! (1980) and Stripes (1981) on Friday. On Saturday, you can see Pacino in Scarface (1983), the sci-fi classic The Incredible Shrinking Man (1957) and Terrence Young’s Valley of the Eagles (1951) with an introduction by Joe Dante (schedule-permitting). Also on Saturday night is a double feature of Rosemary’s Baby (1968) and The Other (1972). Sunday’s “New Year’s Resolution” is “Get More Sleep!” in the form of Akira Kurosawa’s later film Dreams (1990), plus you can also see a 35mm print of The Blue Angel (1930), starring Marlene Dietrich as part of the theater’s “Sunday Print Edition.” Sunday’s New Year’s Resolution is Deliverance (1971)andWake in Fright (1972).

AERO (LA):

As part of the series “The Films of Marty and Bob, the Aero will screen a matinee of Taxi Driver (1976) on Thursday – two days before the Alamo. (Oops!) Thursday night is a double feature of Douglas Sirk’s 1955 film All That Heaven Allows and Fassbinder’s 1974 film Ali: Fear Eats the Soul. Friday begins an “All About Almodóvar” series with a double feature of Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown (1988) and All About My Mother (1999), Saturday is Bad Education (2004) and Talk to Her (2002) then Sunday is some of the filmmaker’s earlier work, The Law of Desire (1987) and Matador (1986).

QUAD CINEMA (NYC):

This weekend, the Quad will screen four movies by Bernard-Henri Lévy: 2012’s The Oath of Tobruk, a double feature of Peshmerga and The Battle of Mosul, and Bosna! With an introduction by Lévy. Sorry, but I’m not really familiar with his work enough to elaborate.

MOMA (NYC):

The Museum of Modern Art has started a new series called “Show Me Love: International Teen Cinema” running through January 19 with some interesting selections including Diane Kurys’ 1977 film Peppermint Soda, Greg Araki’s 1993 filmTotally Fucked Up, Satyajit Ray’s Teen Kanya (Two Daughters) (1961) and more. Another series that will run through February is Modern Matinees: Jack Lemmon, which will show some of the comedic actor’s best movies, including 1963’s Irma La Douce on Wednesday, Blake Edwards’ Days of Wine and Roses (1962) on Thursday, George Cuckor’s It Should Happen to You from 1954) this Friday. (Most of the movies will be repeated later in the series.) Tuesday’s matinee returns to “The Films of Marty and Bob” with New York, New York(1977).

IFC CENTER (NYC)

The IFC Center is in the middle of a comprehensive “Films of Studio Ghibli” series with a bunch of Studio Ghibli animated films, which will run through next week, as will the 75thanniversary digital restoration of the cinema classic Casablanca. This week’s Late Night Favorite selections are David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive and Eraserhead, Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining and Kathryn Bigelow’s Strange Days (1995).

MUSEUM OF THE MOVING IMAGE (NYC):

MOMI is in the midst of a “Curators’ Choice 2019” made up mostly of new movies vs. repertory stuff. Saturday will be a tribute to the late Carol Spinney with a screening of the 2014 doc I Am Big Bird.

ROXY CINEMA (NYC)

The Nicolas Cage love continues with the 1997 action movie Con Air.

LANDMARK THEATRES NUART (LA):

Friday’s midnight movie is Rene Laloux’s 1973 animated familyFantastic Planet.

Next week, Will Smith and Martin Lawrence are reunited for Bad Boys for Life, taking on Robert Downey Jr. as (Doctor) Dolittle.

#TheWeekendWarrior movies Reviews 1917 JustMercy Underwater LikeABoss repertory

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kurathemonster · 5 years ago

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Mask of Memories - Chapter 2[Deltarune Fanfiction]

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗ - - - ♢ ♤ ♢ - - - ‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗Thanks so much for reading and I hope you stick around for more to come! I’m so excited to show you the next chapters! :3HECK- I’m late on this. Sooo I had this done and posted on Friday, but forgot to post here(and I was too lazy) so here you go! Also sorry that this one is considerably shorter than the previous chapter, but I've separated the chapters based on major events. I was also going to draw another cover for the chapter, but I got lazy so I used the same one.

Time Taken - 1-2hours for writin

Word Count - 2,083

Programs Used - Google Docs

WARNINGS

Mental illness

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“Did you hear something?” Toriel said as she slowly turned her head behind her to find the source of the noise. Alphys’s expression changed to worry as she looked up the boss monster. “Uhh… Y-yeah. I did.” Toriel walked towards the large door at the end of the hall. The metal of the door shone yellow from the setting sun gleaming through the windows. Toriel stepped in front of the door and put her hand on the handle to open it. Alphys stood behind her, concern in her eyes. The light from under the door inside began to move. Kris noticed the difference and saw a shadow cover the space under the door. They panicked and pointed the figure out to Susie. “Someone’s here!” Susie said in a hurry to escape from view of the door. There was nowhere to go. Everything seemed to lead to dead end, straight in view of the doorway. The door opened and Toriel was standing to see the students panicked at the sight of her. “Kris? What on Earth are you doing?” Kris stared at their mother hoping that she would say something else instead of look for an answer. “I was just… uhh… playing with my friend?” Toriel gave Kris her stern face, indicating that they were in trouble. “Kris, go home. No more play for today” Kris sluggishly walked towards the door. As they passed Susie they turned towards her and waved. They could hear a silent “sorry” come out of Susie’s mouth. Kris passed their mother and went into the hallway as Toriel turned back towards Susie. “I should really be telling your parents about this. You shouldn’t be in the school this late.” “I know, sorry,” Susie said quietly as she walked past Toriel and out the door. She tried to avoid making eye contact with her, but Toriel seemed to be staring her down. Toriel faced Alphys and sighed. “I’m really sorry about that. Can we continue our conversation tomorrow?” “O-of course!” The lizard monster looked relieved to see that no fight has arisen. Toriel smiled at Alphys and took Kris by the hand. Kris was shocked at the strength of her grip and the speed at which she grabbed their hand. “We’re going home Kris. If you are good, I’ll allow you to play tomorrow.” They walked past Susie who was watching from the door. “We’ll find some way to get in there tomorrow,” Susie whispered to Kris on their way out. Kris nodded their head. Kris got into Toriel’s car and sat still and obedient as their mother turned the car on. The trip back to the house was completely silent. No words were exchanged when they drove. Toriel concentrated on the wheel with a worried look on her face. Kris only stared out the window to see their classmates playing with each other. They recognized almost everyone on their street. Noelle was walking on the sidewalk, in the direction of the hospital. Berdly was talking to some children near the apartments. Monster Kid was waiting next to the door of the “Librarby”. Their dad was watering the flowers in front of his store. He noticed the familiar car on the street and saw Kris staring in the window. He waved and smiled at them. Kris waved back. They could feel a faint happiness after seeing him again. Although Kris visited Asgore often, it still didn’t feel the same as when he was at home. Kris thought about how much Toriel used to comment about the simple things Asgore would do. It made Kris a bit mad to see how she treated him. She views him as an irresponsible and naive influence to Kris and their brother, when he was just trying to bring fun to their world. He left before Asriel left for college. Kris honestly thought that things would be the same forever. Asriel left not too long after that though. They pulled up in their driveway and Toriel quickly got out of the car. Kris slowed their pace and walked out into the yard. They looked far in front of them. They could see some people beyond the thick brush on either side of the road. Toriel opened the front door then looked behind her. “Kris? You can go out tomorrow, but come stay inside for tonight.” Kris looked back towards their mother and slowly dragged their body towards the door. Toriel put her bag down on the table at the front door and went to open the fridge. “Kris, I have some leftover stew if you want-” “I’m not hungry,” said Kris as they walked upstairs in a hurry. They didn’t even bother to glance toward their mother. Toriel looked at Kris when they stopped in their tracks near the bottom of the stairs. “Kris, may we have a talk?” Kris hesitated for a second, then turned around and stood in front of their mother. Toriel grabbed their shoulders and gestured them towards the table. She then walked back to the fridge, took out the cold pot of stew, and placed it carefully on the stove to heat up. “Kris, I…” she started as she sat down on the opposite side of the table. “I’m worried about you. You were out all day yesterday and now you’re going in places you know you’re not supposed to be in.” Kris stayed silent and listened to their mother. Toriel sat up straighter. “Kris, I know you’re excited about your new friend, but that doesn’t give you an excuse to do whatever you wish.” She paused. “I want you to be happy, but I don’t want you to get hurt. And I know how hard it’s been for you since Asriel left. And even more so after…” She stopped talking as if it had been too painful to continue. The look on her face hurt Kris. She looked sad and stressed out from worry. Kris hated to see their mother like this. “I know you miss him, Kris. You miss Asriel. You two used to have so much fun times together, and ever since he left, I feel like a part of you stopped working. You’ve changed a lot, and I’m so proud of what you’ve become, but I feel like you’re not happy with your life. You do miss them, do you not?” Kris opened their mouth slightly as if to say something, but nothing came out. They sat silent and pained with what their mother had to say. “No need to say it. I understand. You really wish for them to come back and for our… family to be together again. I want to try to fix it, but I don’t know if Asriel would be the same when he comes back. He’s a grown man now, off in college. He might not want to stay with us anymore.” Kris could feel tears choking them. Their breath was tight, but they resisted the tears. Toriel continued, “I honestly don’t know if things could ever be as they used to be, Kris… but I want the best for you. And… and what you’ve been through has worried me as your mother because I see how much you miss them and hurts me to know that I might not be able to bring them back. I don’t know if your dad.. would be willing to…” Kris looked up to their mother when she finished her sentence. They knew how unfairly she treated their dad, without appreciation for anything, and it hurt them more than anything. Especially after she admitted that nothing could ever be the same. That Asriel wouldn’t want to see them as often. It wounded them to hear these words come out of the mouth of one of the last people Kris depended on. Kris also couldn’t believe that they let their guard slip down for too long. They acted like everything was perfect, even to their mother, but when the player came in, she noticed how different things were. Kris was confused by all of their feelings. They were astonished by the truthfulness in their mother’s words. They were hurt to realize the reality of things. They were never coming back Not as they were before. Kris realized that their parents’ relationship would never be the same and that Asriel wouldn’t come home as a playful and imaginative child. Kris looked back down towards their hands resting on the table. “Why is it Dad’s fault? What did he do?” Toriel was shocked at the question, not expecting so straight forward from someone such as Kris. “Why he- there are many times where he…” Toriel was nervous and trying to recount all of the times Asgore had messed up. “He- he’s irresponsible and neglectful as a parent. He never tried to stay serious about anything, or- or…” Kris looked straight at their mother and suddenly stood up from the chair. “You didn’t have to mention anything! You treat him, like he’s done something horrible, and yet you- you’re not… guilty for any of it? It’s all his fault?” Toriel looked more stressed than ever. A few seconds of silence passed. Kris suddenly pushed their chair back and walked towards the stairs. Toriel stood up slowly. “Kris? I’m sorry, Kris, will you just-” Toriel stopped and they were gone. Kris went upstairs and shut the door to their room in an instant. Toriel stood in silence and shock. She looked around for a bit, trying to process everything she said and heard. “What have I done?” she said aloud, almost whispering. Small tears were forming in her eyes, sticking to them. Toriel just kept thinking about everything. She realized that never once had she really sat to think about why she treated Asgore the way he did. It was just that something about him, a flaw, made her hate him. He wasn’t that bad of a person, yet she still pushed him down. He’s only made a few minor mistakes, nothing that important, but it still made her angry. She didn’t know what to think anymore. All she wanted was for it to be the way it used to be, when Kris was happy and their family was together. She never intended for any of this to happen and honestly thought there was no harm she was doing. She took a deep breath and sighed. She could hear the pot of stew boiling and walked over to the stove to turn it off. She sat back down again and only put her hands on her face and cried more. After Kris mentioned it, she definitely felt guilty. She felt like this entire mess was her fault. A few hours passed. Kris didn’t know exactly how long, but they knew it had been a while. They lay on their bed, sheets pulled halfway up their body. They rotated their body so that they were facing their brother’s side of the room. They saw all of the trophies and decorations. A lot of his stuff was left behind when he left. Kris saw the drawn picture on the wall of a flower. A golden flower. Kris remembered helping Asriel color the picture. How long ago, it had been. They turned back around to face the wall on their side of the room. Empty, their side was. They sat up on the bed, the bed sheets falling of their stomach and onto their legs. The player’s soul was still trapped in the cage, silent as ever. Kris thought it to be strange for some reason, how something such as the player would only be active for a day. The soul was so restless, nothing moved. It almost scared Kris. They heard a knock at the door. Their mother was standing behind it. “Kris?” Kris stayed silent. They could hear their mother’s desperate voice behind the door. “Kris, I’m sorry about… what I said and what I did, but I’m going to be honest with you. I didn’t know that what I was doing was hurting you too. And I’m sorry for that.” She paused. “I want to fix this, if you’re willing to let me. I want to be there for you as your mother.” She knocked lightly on the door. “Kris?” She realized that Kris wasn’t going to answer. She sighed as her hand left the door and away she was. Kris stayed still on their bed, nothing to say back to their mother. They just sat still and silent.

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Thanks so much for reading! Can't wait to show you what happens next!

#undertale #deltarune #kris #kuraart #fanficiton

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frauleinsmaria · 8 years ago

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We Can Feel So Far (From So Close) (1/2)

Waiting until your best friend left for a cross country tour was a fine time to realize you're in love with him. Captain Swan.

This is the first of a two shot that I finally decided to post after having it sit in my Google Docs since last summer. I’d love to hear your thoughts on this first part!

Rated T | Word count: 8139 | Also on AO3 and FF.net

There’s an old quote that says something along the lines of “absence makes the heart grow fonder.” That you don’t realize just how much you love someone until they’re no longer around.

When Emma would come across phrases like that a few years ago, she would typically roll her eyes and mutter some kind of sarcastic remark, all while trying not to dwell on the fact that there probably would never be someone for her to love like that.

But of course, that was before she met Killian. And everything changed.

They meet on a Thursday night, under unusual circumstances. Emma had moved into her new apartment that afternoon, a simple one bedroom in Boston that was more than enough space for her and the small amount of items in her possession. The whole day had been a disaster from the get go. First thing that morning, her previous landlord accused her of not paying the last month’s rent, and threatened to sue if he didn’t get it immediately. (The look on his face when he realize he was in the wrong was priceless. And he wondered why she was moving out of his crappy building.) Then, the movers she could barely afford to hire wound up taking her furniture to the wrong apartment complex on the other side of Boston. By the time the fiasco had been taken care of, it was nearly the end of the day. Saying she was exhausted was an understatement.

Emma stands in the middle of the living room, observing the chaos that was now her new home. She may have brought a small number of things with her, but most of said things were still in boxes, scattered around on the floor and waiting to be put away. She’d unpacked a box of clothes solely to dig out her favorite Batman pajamas, leaving the rest piled up in the corner of her bedroom. Just something else that could wait until tomorrow when she wasn’t both starving and sleep deprived.

Her phone chimed with a new message, letting her know the Chinese takeout she ordered earlier had finally arrived downstairs. She's beyond ecstatic when her cartons of lo mein and egg rolls are opened and laid out on the coffee table ten minutes later, just waiting to be eaten.

Of course, it would be then that the bulb inside the fixture that lights both the small kitchen and living room space decides to burn out, leaving her in the dark before she’s even had a chance to take a bite of her food.

Damn. Unless she was willing to sit there and eat using the light from her cell phone- and she’d rather not make a huge mess her first night in the apartment- her only option is borrowing a light bulb from one of her new neighbors. People in movies went next door for sugar all the time, didn’t they? Asking for a light bulb wasn’t that weird.

(Okay, maybe it was, especially when she’s yet to meet anyone else in the building. But she was too hungry to care at this point, and too exhausted to make a trip to the store down the block.)

She knew someone was at home in the apartment next to hers- she could hear “Simple Man” being played on guitar when she brought her food upstairs. Emma just hoped the guitarist next door was generous with household supplies, and wouldn’t be put off by her odd request.

Five minutes later, after using the dim light from her phone to find the door (and tripping twice over boxes she couldn’t see), she’s standing in front of said guitarist’s door, the melody of another familiar rock song they’re playing catching her attention-; whoever this is clearly isn’t lacking where talent is concerned. She raps her knuckles on the door twice, hoping she can be heard over the song. After a moment, the music stops, and she hears footsteps coming in her direction.

Emma quickly realizes how ridiculous she must look and then regrets being too lazy to go buy her own stupid light bulb. She’s wearing threadbare pajamas, her blonde hair tied in a messy knot on the top of her head, and glasses that she hopes do something to distract from the bags under her eyes. Hopefully she can borrow and then rebuy them a light bulb as soon as possible so she won’t have to spend more time than necessary with her new neighbor since she doubts any of this will make a good first impression.

The door opens, and she opens her mouth to speak until the face on the other side catches her off guard. The first thing she notices are his eyes- big and bright blue, seeming to contrast yet still fit perfectly with his head of messy, dark hair and the scruff covering his cheeks. “Can I help you, lass?”

He’s English. Of course.

(She was always a sucker for men with accents.)

“Um, yeah. I just moved in next door and I was about to eat dinner when the light in my apartment burnt out and I don’t have an extra bulb and I’m too tired to go buy another one so…” Emma could feel her face turning bright red with embarrassment. “Sorry. I’m Emma Swan. I just wanted to ask if you had a light bulb I could use, then I’ll stop babbling about my problems and leave you alone.”

He laughs as Emma tries not to think about the fact that he’s got a damn near perfect smile. “Killian Jones. I believe I can spare something for you. It wouldn’t be very neighborly of me to leave you in the dark on your first night in the building, would it?”

At least he has a sense of humor. Most of her previous neighbors would have given her a dirty look before shutting the door in her face. He gestures for her to come in and she does, casually glancing around at the space that’s identical to hers. Well, identical in layout, anyway. The walkway at the door leads into the living room that’s connected to the kitchen to the right, with the bedroom and bathroom at the back of the apartment. But that’s where any similarities end. While her place will probably remain bare of many personal touches, as all her homes have been, Emma’s able to get a good impression of what kind of person Killian Jones is just by standing in his living room. The acoustic guitar she heard being played earlier is resting against a leather couch, which faces a simple wooden coffee table along with a flat screen that’s mounted to the wall. The additional five guitars and posters from various rock bands- he’s got everything from The Beatles, Pearl Jam, and Staind- hanging on the other side of the room confirm her original assumption that he must be a musician. He certainly looks the part from what she can tell: faded jeans, unkempt hair, along with clusters of various tattoos that wrap around both of his arms.

“This what you need, love?” Killian asks, breaking her train of thought as he holds up a light bulb that he’s just pulled from a drawer in his kitchen.

“You just might be my savior,” she laughs when he hands it to her; she’s never been more grateful to see a light bulb in her life. “Otherwise I’d be eating Chinese in the dark.”

He reaches up to scratch a spot behind his ear almost as if he’s nervous as he makes another comment about being neighborly. It’s then that she can’t help but be aware of just how good looking he really is with his dark hair and piercing eyes. The thin fabric of his t-shirt does little to conceal the taut muscles underneath, and she has to force herself not to stare.

“Aye, we wouldn’t want that. Might get a bet messy, especially being your new place and all.”

It’s then that she becomes aware of how long it’s been since she’s been alone with a guy, even on friendly terms. The thought makes her remember a warm smile and brown eyes she once trusted, would have done anything for. It makes her remember why she hasn’t even considered going on a date in months, why she dismisses everyone Elsa and Mary Margaret attempt to set her up with. And why she needs to get out of Killian’s apartment immediately; no matter how good looking and polite he may be, she can’t risk putting herself in a position with someone that had even the slightest chance of being more than just a neighbor.

“Well, um, thanks for this,” she says, awkwardly holding up the light bulb as she turns to the door. “I’ll buy you another one and have it here asap.”

“Not a problem, lass. Let me know if you need a hand with anything in your apartment. You know where I live.”

“Sure, I’ll keep that in mind.”

No, she won’t. Emma somehow manages to get the bulb back in place without injuring herself and spends the rest of the night trying (and not succeeding) to forget about Killian Jones.

And that’s how it begins. She’s too busy settling in her apartment and chasing her latest skip all over Boston to spend much time thinking about attractive, talented neighbors with beautiful accents. But she can’t help but smile to herself and hum along when she hears him playing his guitar almost every night when she comes home.

-/-

Emma’s been in the building just over a week when he shows up at her door the next Sunday night. She’s annoyed at first when she hears the knock; the newest season of Game of Thrones was about to start, and she’s not about to miss a single minute. There’s always the option of ignoring whoever’s there and pretending she’s not at home. But of course, her conscience wins out. Groaning, she abandons her comfortable spot on the couch and trudges over to the door, already prepared to tell her visitor that she’s busy and can’t help unless they’re dying..

She’s surprised to open the door and find Killian standing in front of her, nervously thumbing a silver ring that hangs on a chain around his neck. “Hello, Swan,” he starts before she can open her mouth. “I hate to bother you, and I realize this is quite a long shot, but are you by any possible chance planning to watch Game of Thrones tonight?”

If it was any other show, she would be convinced he’d been spying on her or had some kind of weird sci-fi telepathy. “Um, yeah,” she answers, “I was actually about to do just that.”

He breathes a sigh of relief and smiles. “Oh, thank goodness. Look, I don’t want to annoy you, but is there any way I could borrow a seat on your couch for the next hour? It was my arse of a brother’s turn to pay the bill for our HBO account this month but he forgot, and it’s going to drive me up the wall if I have to wait to find out what happens. You won’t even know I’m here. And I brought refreshments,” he adds, holding up the large bag of popcorn in his hand.

If it had been anyone else, she wouldn’t have thought twice before saying no. But he’d done her a favor just a week ago. And he clearly wasn’t lying about wanting to see the season premiere. Considering the way the last one ended, she can’t exactly say she blames him. Surely letting him watch it with her wouldn’t do any harm, as long as he stayed focused on the show. (At least that’s what she told herself.)

“Mi casa es tu casa...er, whatever.” She steps aside and gestures for him to come in. “You get the point.”

“You’re my hero, Swan,” he declares, following her into the living room.

Emma snickers. “I wouldn’t go that far. Just your average TV junkie.”

True to his word, Killian made no effort to bother her, and didn’t say a word aside from a few mumbled “bloody hell”s when the newest plot twists were revealed (and there were quite a few). Of course the added popcorn didn’t hurt, either.

She feels her eyes getting heavy as the episode ends. It’s barely ten o’clock, but she spent most of the day busy with a stakeout and it’s obviously taking it’s toll on her.

Killian must notice her all but nodding off since he says, “I suppose I should get going so you can get some sleep.”

“I’m not that ti-” she protests, but the yawn she can’t conceal gives her away.

He chuckles and gets up from his spot on the couch. “Quite alright, Swan. I certainly don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“So,” she questions as she trails behind him to the door, “how were you lucky enough to end up with a neighbor who planned to watch the same show as you tonight?”

He shrugs and runs a hand through his already unruly hair. “No idea, lass. I was in a bit of a bind, and figured it wouldn’t hurt to see what the odds were.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll be doing this again at the same time next Sunday if you want to come back.” The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them. Last week, she didn’t want to be more than his neighbor, and now she’s inviting him back into her home. But she thinks about how polite he’s been, how he spent almost an hour on her couch not concerned about doing anything but watching TV...unlike Walsh, who tried to grope her in the movie theater on their first date. (He went home that night with a black eye.)

“As long as you’re sure I won’t be intruding, love.”

He smiles when she says, “Not at all.”

Emma can’t exactly say she’s surprised (or unhappy) when he shows up at her door the same time the next week. And every Sunday for the next month and a half. They don’t say much while they watch TV, usually too engrossed in what’s happening on screen to give it much thought. But before she knows it, the season comes to an end, finishing on a cliffhanger that neither of them saw coming. She can’t help but be a bit disappointed when he goes to leave that night; it’s been kind of nice having him around for company over the past few weeks.

“I tend to watch a lot of Netflix,” she tells Killian as she follows him to the door, “so if your brother ever forgets to pay that bill, you’re more than welcome to join me in whatever I’m currently binge watching.”

He wants to agree, she can tell my the way his eyes light up just a bit at her suggestion. But he hesitates, waiting to make sure she’s serious first, that she’s actually comfortable with having him in her apartment more often than just for an hour on Sunday nights. “I might do just that sometime,” he tells her, smiling.

They somehow develop a casual friendship of sorts over the following weeks. Emma doesn’t know if it’s because he’s right next door, or if it’s just refreshing to have a guy in her life that doesn’t expect anything from her, but she’s grateful for it all the same. For awhile, it’s nothing but sitting in front of their TV’s for a few hours whenever the chance arises. They begin making their way through all six seasons of Lost one weekend out of pure boredom when they’ve caught up on the rest of their shows. She hasn’t seen an episode since the series ended, and Killian’s never watched it before. He becomes quite invested in the plot, while also constantly pointing out characters that remind him of other tenants in their building that she’s yet to come across. (She gets the idea that he’s warning her to avoid the redhead on the fifth floor at all costs.)

And for some reason, she’s not so scared of his presence in her life anymore. At all.

-/-

They don’t mean to become each other’s best friends, it just...happened.

It’s not just popcorn and Netflix nights anymore. It’s going to his Friday night gigs at the bar he both works and plays guitar at, having pointless conversations via text message in the middle of the night, pancakes at Granny’s Diner every Tuesday, sharing beers when it’s been a particularly bad day, and learning almost everything there is to know about each other.

Emma quickly realizes that music isn’t just a hobby to Killian, like she’d presumed the night they met, it’s his entire life. Going to just one of his shows at the bar is enough to show her just how comfortable his is on stage with a guitar in his hands. He’s been playing since junior high when he began to idolize artists like Bruce Springsteen and Eddie Veder, much to his mother’s dismay. And he’s good. She’s not biased because he’s her friend; he’s one of the most talented people she’s ever met. He’s the type of musician that deserves popularity and tons of adoring fans, and she tells him so as he laughs at her, even though she knows he would love nothing more. He pretends to be content with his job at the bar and the occasional gigs that come with it, but she can see beneath the facade he puts on. He obviously wants nothing more than to do music full time, in spite of the fact that he thinks his odds of being successful are slim.

She learns how his father left before he was old enough to know him, and how his mother moved him and his brother to the States for a new start before she died from cancer several years later. He mentions Liam in passing every now and then, who’s just been promoted to senior partner at his law office in London. Killian may not say it aloud, but she can tell he misses him quite a bit.

He finds out the details of her unconventional upbringing and lack of family, which helps him understand the lack of personal items in her apartment months after she’s moved in. Emma even spills her guts about Neal after a few too many drinks one Friday night at his apartment. She woke up the next morning in his bed while he slept on the couch, a glass of water and aspirin on the nightstand waiting to help combat the worst hangover she’d ever had. He made her pancakes and bacon the next morning without mentioning anything she may have said or done the night before, while she sat at his kitchen table and wondered how in the world she deserved to have him in her life.

He’s lost love, too, thanks to a drunk driver who took away the woman that meant everything to him. She finds out what happened when he breaks down on the anniversary of her death, and hopes he never again has to endure that kind of pain. Neither one of them mention that night again after it happens, but she gets the impression that he’s just as grateful for their friendship as she is.

Emma’s not even fully aware of how close the two of them have actually become until her other friends point it out to her. It’s girls night at Elsa’s, one of their regular get togethers that usually involves copious amounts of junk food, sangria, and life updates around the coffee table. “You guys need to see the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie,” she tells her girl friends through a mouthful of Ben and Jerry’s. “Killian and I saw it after work a few days ago, and he already wants to go back and watch it again this weekend.” She stops digging into her pint of Rocky Road when she notices the look Mary Margaret and Elsa exchange. “What?”

“You and Killian are getting pretty close, aren’t you?” Mary Margaret asks, raising an eyebrow.

She just shrugs. “I guess. Why, what makes you ask?”

“Emma, you’ve mentioned him at least a dozen times within the past hour,” Elsa notes. “I’ve only met the man once, and I feel like I somehow know everything about him just from hearing you talk.”

Does she really talk about him that often? “He’s a friend...we just hang out a lot since he’s right next door.”

“Just a friend?” Mary Margaret looks skeptical. (Emma loves her, she really does, but the woman is far too obsessed with playing matchmaker among her single friends.)

“Yes, Mary Margaret. Just a friend. Don’t expect that to ever change.” Despite her close relationships with the two women around her, it’s been awhile- years, actually- since she’s had a friend like Killian that she felt she could tell just about anything to without worrying about his reaction or how he could use it as leverage to hurt her later on.

Emma can tell from the look on Mary Margaret’s face that she desperately wants to make a comment about how the best relationships can develop from friendships, or something else she probably learned from the latest issue of Cosmo. She fights the urge to kiss Elsa when the blonde changes the topic of conversation, and Killian isn’t mentioned again that night.

-/-

She’ll never forget the night she convinced him to play Justin Bieber’s “Sorry” just because she knew Killian couldn’t stand him, or any other mainstream pop artist for that matter. But he actually made it sound less than terrible, which shouldn’t have been a surprise considering just how skilled he was with an instrument in his hands. Of course, he made it up to Emma by serenading her with several of her least favorite songs for a solid week. (It took days to get both “Shake It Off” and “Moves Like Jagger” out of her head.)

At one point he sets out on a mission to improve her taste in music. She listens to a little bit of everything (besides country, she can’t stand any of it), but he’s convinced as a prominent member of his life that she needs to be familiar with more bands than just The Rolling Stones and Nirvana. (“Of course they’re great artists, Swan, but that barely scratches the surface of rock music.”) He steals her phone long enough to add several new stations to her Pandora app, and goes as far as to make her a mix CD for her Bug, which isn’t exactly up to date with a fancy stereo or a USB port. Slowly, but surely, his efforts begin to rub off on her. She runs to “Back In Black” almost every morning, listens to “Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked” during late-night stakeouts, and even catches herself singing “Friday I’m In Love” in the shower. She hears Killian laughing at her through the thin walls after an unusually enthusiastic performance, and insists it was all his fault for getting her hooked on The Cure in the first place.

She’s the one who encourages Killian to put his music out, somewhere besides the bar. Although he’s not yet thirty, he’s convinced that his chance has probably come and gone somewhere along the way thanks to the media’s constant obsession with younger artists. Emma rolls her eyes, tells him he’s being ridiculous, and refuses to get off of his back about it until he at least tries to snag a few gigs and auditions outside of his regular ones at The Rabbit Hole. (“You’ll thank me one day,” she promises.)

Of course, she never expected that day would come quite so soon. She hears him mention over their regular breakfast at Granny’s the next week that he has an audition to be considered as a musician for an up-and-coming rock band whose guitarist quit in order to spend more time with his family, leaving them with an available spot just weeks before their next tour is set to begin. She smiles and tells him he’s a shoo in, that they would be crazy not to pick him over everyone else in Boston.

Their friendship as she’s always known it completely changes just days later. She’s dragging herself down the hall to her apartment, thanks to a particularly exhausting day chasing her newest perp when his door flies open and he quickly runs over to her.

“Swan! I got it!” It takes her a moment to realize what he’s talking about, her current state of mind affecting her more than she realized. Before she can react, he’s wrapped her in a hug so tight she can barely breathe as he spins them around in the hallway like the massive dork he is. “They picked me to go on the tour!”

“Hold up, you’re making me dizzy!” she cries, reaching out for the door frame to hold herself up. “Congratulations, I knew they would! Do you know any details yet?”

The smile on his face has yet to waver. “Just that we leave in about three weeks or so. I have a meeting tomorrow with the rest of the band to finalize everything. Bloody hell, Emma, can you believe I’ll be playing in Los Angeles in a few weeks?”

She hopes her shocked expression hides the way his words made her heart sink. “L.A.?”

“Aye.” His smile suddenly isn’t quite as bright. “I thought I told you the tour was on the west coast. The band’s record label just started an office in L.A.; they figured it’d be good publicity to tour there.”

Of course he told her all of that. She was just too naive and caught up with other things to really give it much thought...until now. “Right, you did. But, wow, that’s awesome! I’m so proud of you.” She hugs him a little too hard this time, biting down on her lip to keep from tearing up.

“You really mean that?” he asks, as if it’s hard to believe someone would actually be happy for him.

“Of course,” she says, the smile on her face dull in comparison to the one he deserves. “You’re my best friend.” It’s the first time she’s ever said as much, even though it’s probably been obvious for months now.

He was her best friend. And now he’s leaving. A few months apart wasn’t the end of the world, but it’s the possibility of what could very well happen afterwards that scares the hell out of her. For all she knows, he could hit it big on this tour, and as much as he deserves it, she can’t help but picture him moving to some fancy mansion in a big city where he’ll become a mega star and forget that she even exists. This is why she so rarely allowed herself to get close to people, rarely let the sky high walls she’s built come down. Killian Jones has unexpectedly come to mean so much to her within the past year that she’s known him. And because of that, she’s given him the power to wreck her from the inside out.

“And you’re mine,” he says, as it’s the first time he’s given it much thought, too.

There’s a long pause between them, as she wonders if his thoughts are anything like the ones currently running through her head. “Breakfast at Granny’s tomorrow morning?” she asks, desperate to change the subject.

“Of course, love. Celebratory pancakes are on me.”

-/-

Neither one of them mentions his upcoming departure much over the next few weeks, mainly because he’s busy meeting and rehearsing with the band, and she refuses to accept the fact that he’s leaving until the last possible minute. They still have breakfast together and marathon their usual shows on Netflix as if nothing is about to change. Part of her feels guilty for her selfish attitude about the whole scenario. She couldn’t be happier for him, but deep down, she’s still scared for herself and what could very well happen to their friendship.

The time that he has left in Boston goes by so quickly that before she knows it, it’s time to tell him goodbye. (For now, she tries to remember. Easier said than done.) His tour mates offer to pick him up on their way to the airport, but he asks Emma to take him instead, in what she hopes is a way to spend a few more moments together before he leaves. They leave their apartment complex at five on a Monday morning, the bug’s trunk filled to the brim with luggage along with his guitar case. Despite the fact that the band will surely have several high dollar instruments for him to choose from, he’s insisted on taking along the acoustic she heard him playing the night they first met.

They spend most of the drive to the airport cracking jokes and making normal conversation, trying to put off the inevitable while they still can. Halfway there, he finds “Bohemian Rhapsody” on the radio and chooses to serenade her, intentionally making it the worst Freddie Mercury impersonation she’s ever heard. She wants to laugh and cry all at the same time thinking about just how much she’s going to miss him.

She gets to meet his tour mates when they arrive, Killian introducing her as “My best friend, Emma.” Robin, August, and Will all seem nice enough, jokingly promising to keep Killian in check while they’re gone. She’s only able to offer a half-assed laugh in response, still not quite ready to tell him goodbye, or even sure how to, for that matter.

They’re sitting on a bench, drinking overpriced coffee from the airport cafe when the boarding call for his flight is announced. The weight that’s been building up on Emma’s shoulders for weeks feels heavier than ever now as they stand and look at each other, knowing this is it.

“Looks like you’ve got a plane to catch.”

“I guess I do. Swan, I know I should have told you this a long time ago. But, thank you.”

“For what?” she asks.

“For, all of this,” he smiles. “If it weren’t for you, I never would’ve gotten this opportunity in the first place.” He pulls her in for a hug, holding her so tightly that he’s the only thing keeping her in one piece.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She bites down on her lower lip, hard; there’s no way she’s going to cry in front of him. “You’re the musician here, not me.”

“Maybe so, love. But it was thanks to your constant reprimanding that I finally tried to do something with my music, other than playing in that bloody bar once a week. So, thank you.”

“Then I guess you’re welcome. I now expect to be included in the acknowledgements on your first album.”

They still haven’t let go of each other yet; she doesn’t want to. He laughs at her words, and Emma finds herself grateful that technology will still allow her to hear the sound while he’s away.

“I almost forgot. I need to see your phone.”

“Why?” she asks, taking the device out of her back pocket and handing it to him. There was no need to tell him her pass code, he’d known it by heart for months now.

“I have something for you.” His brow furrows in concentration as he scrolls through something on her phone to find what he’s looking for.

“Really? You’re the one going away, and I’m getting a gift?”

“Not really a gift, just something I thought was necessary. Ah, here we are,” he confirms, giving her phone back. She shouldn’t be surprised that the Spotify app is open. What does surprise her is the new playlist he’s apparently created within the past few days that she hadn’t noticed.

“What’s this?” Scrolling through the selection of songs, she recognizes several right off the bat that they’ve listened to together on occasion, but there are quite a few she’s never heard before.

“You didn’t think I was going to let my absence cause your music taste to be lead astray, did you? I think I’ve left enough selections to keep you occupied over the next few months,” he laughs, gesturing to her phone.

She notices that he’s included well over two hundred songs. There’s no telling just how much time he spent on this, considering how picky he tended to be where music was concerned. “You did all this for me?”

“Just consider it a parting gift.”

“You know I expect pictures of, like, everything, right?” she reminds him, ignoring the knot quickly building in her throat. “It’s been months since I’ve gone outside of Boston, and I expect you to take full advantage of this opportunity in every way possible.”

“Of course, Swan. I’ll even send everything to you first, so you don’t have to wait to see it on Instagram like everyone else.”

“Jones!” The sound of his name makes Killian turn around. “It’s time to catch a flight, mate,” calls, Robin from where he and the other boys are waiting. The regretful expression on his face makes it seem as if he was sorry to break up their conversation.

“Aye,” he replied over his shoulder, turning back to Emma. “I’m afraid I’m not adept when it comes to saying goodbye, love.” Was this anywhere near as hard for him as it is her?

“Then don’t.” She pulls him in for another hug, trying her best to be the supportive friend he deserves. “Go out there and be amazing, just like I know you will. I’ll see you in a few months,” she promised.

“That you will.”

As hard as it is, she makes herself release him. He reaches down to squeeze her hand before turning away to catch up with his new band mates. She stands there alone, in the middle of the airport, and watches him walk away from her until he’s finally out of sight.

She’s able to make it back to the bug before she sheds a few tears. And if she spends the rest of the day on the couch, numbing her feelings with junk food and Killian’s new playlist, well, that’s no one’s business but her own.

-/-

The first week that he’s gone isn’t quite as difficult as she expected. She’s swamped with new cases at work, and comes home every night too exhausted to do anything but fall straight into bed. They text regularly and he sends her photos from wherever the band is that day, but it feels more like he’s away on vacation rather than gone for the next three months.

However, it’s only the next week when his absence truly begins to take its toll on her.

The hall is silent every night when she comes home, no chords from “Are You Gonna Be My Girl” or “Yellow Ledbetter” waiting to greet her after work. She can’t bring herself to watch much of anything on Netflix; even watching a single episode of one of their regular shows feels wrong without him sprawled out beside her on the couch.

Killian’s been meaning to set time aside to Skype ever since he arrived in Los Angeles their first week, but he’s stayed busy thanks to rehearsing with the band, the actual shows themselves, and the unexpected amount of publicity he and the boys have been getting recently. Although he hasn’t told her so yet, she’s gotten the idea that they may consider keeping him in the band even after the tour is over, and he clearly wants to make a good impression on everyone involved. She does her best to be happy for him since he’s come so far, not entertaining the thought that life on the road could very well become his new normal.

The first three weeks of the tour take place in California alone, thanks to the record label and a big part of the band’s fanbase being based in Los Angeles. Liam is able to fly out for the first show, the first time the two of them have seen each other in months. Killian is clearly thrilled to see his brother- he’s grinning from ear to ear in all the pictures she sees of them together, and even the few texts he has time to send her show a shift in his demeanor. He’s happy to be back with his only family for a short while, and she’s happy for him because of it.

But Emma still misses him terribly. She misses hearing him play his guitar, misses him singing terribly off key just to make her laugh. She misses his laugh, misses having someone next door she can open up to after a bad day. She even finds herself missing the occasional blonde jokes he tosses her way every now and then that he knows annoy her to no end.

Elsa and Mary Margaret waste no time in pointing out the change in her attitude. It’s Emma’s turn to host girl’s night this time, which consists of The Princess Bride and a pizza ordered at the last minute since she completely forgot they had plans until Elsa texted that they were on their way.

Buttercup and Humperdinck haven’t even gotten engaged yet when Elsa picks up the remote from Emma’s coffee table and pauses the movie. “What’s going on, Emma?”

“You tell me. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t give us that,” Mary Margaret chimes in, giving her friend a Look. “This is your favorite movie, and you’ve barely paid it any attention.”

Emma shrugs. “I guess I’m just tired,” she lies, forcing a yawn that she hopes doesn’t look as fake as it really is.

“I knew it,” says Elsa, taking a bite of her slice of pizza. “This is about Killian, isn’t it?”

Apparently all her problems seemed to be related to him as far as her friends were concerned. “Why would anything that’s wrong with me have to do with him? He’s not even around now.”

“That’s just it,” Mary Margaret points out. “He’s away, and you’ve been sulking about it for the past month. You miss him.”

“Of course I miss him! He’s my best friend, Mary Margaret.”

Elsa sighs. “I hate to bug you about it, Em, but I think you stopped viewing him as just a friend a long time ago.”

“Hear us out,” Mary Margaret stops her before she has a chance to object to Elsa’s words. “You two do everything together- and not just because you’re neighbors. You understand each other better than anyone else can; I don’t even think Elsa and I know you as well as he does now. You went to all his gigs at the bar, even that one a few months ago when we could all tell you were sick, but you insisted on being there for him regardless. He’s joined you on stakeouts before, and not because he cared about spending hours cramped in your car; he wanted to spend time with you.”

“And let’s not forget about the fact that he’s only been on two or three dates since you first met, and you were grumpy for days when you found out about all of them.” She was expecting Elsa to be on her side this time. Traitor.

“You two are so ridiculously in love with each other...and the craziest part is, neither one of you is willing to admit it,” Mary Margaret adds for the icing on the cake.

“Geez, did you two have that prepared?” Sure, some of the things they pointed out were true. Yes, spent a lot of time together (when he was here, anyway). Yes, she made it a point to attend all his gigs, and he’d joined in on one or two of her stakeouts before. And yes, she’d been irritated about his last dates, because none of those women seemed good enough for her best friend. But there was no way that meant…”Neither one of us is in love with the other.”

“Are you sure about that?” Elsa, just like Mary Margaret, looks entirely unconvinced.

“Really, guys? I thought I invited you over to hang out, not to nag me about my love life,” she snaps, irritated.

The room grows quiet. Emma presses play and resumes the movie in attempt to ease the tension between the three of them. They watch the rest of The Princess Bride in silence, and her friends leave as soon as it’s over, with little to say to her. She feels terrible. She shouldn’t have snapped at Elsa and Mary Margaret, but they’re right about at least one thing: she does miss him, and she’s willing to attribute it to the awful mood she’s been in. It was clear before he left that this would all be hard, but she also expected more than pictures and brief text conversations once or twice a week. She tries her best not to be angry with him, he’s busy and has things to do that she knows are more important than talking to her.

The time difference doesn’t offer any additional help. When she goes to her room to get ready for bed, the alarm clock on her nightstand tells her it’s almost midnight. The band is Seattle this week, where it’s not even nine. Like most nights, she’s usually asleep before he’s even finished up for the day.

After she’d washed her face, brushed her teeth, and changed into pajamas- the Batman ones she was wearing the night they met- Emma sat in bed under the covers and opened her laptop to double-check the information on where the perp she was looking for would probably be tomorrow when she went out to look for him. She did what she needed to and was about to turn off the computer when the Skype notification popped up in the corner of the screen, with a call request from a number she didn’t recognize. Her first thought was to dismiss it; it could very well be someone who’d typed in her information by mistake. But, what were the odds…

It’s safe to say the neighbors heard her “Oh my gosh!” when she accepted the call and saw Killian’s face looking back at her on the computer screen. She hears him laugh at her reaction. “Hello, Swan. I was hoping I could catch you before bed.”

“Yeah, you had great timing.” She sat up in bed and adjusted her pajama shirt, trying to look somewhat decent considering her current position. “Killian, as glad as I am to hear from you, how the hell did you find time to call me? I thought it would be a few more hours before you were back from tonight’s show.”

“Aye. But I came back to the hotel as soon as we finished up. I was determined to speak to you sometime today since I’ve been a poor excuse of a friend these past few weeks,” he says, a hint of regret in his voice.

“Shut up with that. You’ve been really busy, becoming world famous and all.” Despite how much she wants the man to be next door again, she really is proud of him.

“I wouldn’t say world famous by any means, love.” He laughs nervously, and scratches that one spot behind his ear. God, she’s missed thim. “Although, I will admit, there are more fans than I was anticipating.”

“Uh huh. I saw an article last week from one of those hipster music magazines that mentioned one of the shows in LA. Everyone in the comments wanted to know who the new hot guy was,” she teases him, knowing his face would likely turn three shades of red. (She was right.)

“Alright, alright, enough about my life. What’s been going on with you, Swan?”

Emma tells him about her newest cases, about the crappy server the Rabbit Hole has hired in his absence, and about their new neighbor that’s just moved in down the hall, an older guy from Wisconsin she’s dubbed “Grumpy” in her head thanks to his lousy disposition. She mentions that Elsa and Mary Margaret have asked about him, but doesn’t tell him the nature of their questions. There’s no need to make this conversation awkward, considering she has no idea when the next one will take place.

She has no idea how long she stays online with him, making up for lost time. But eventually, the long day begins to take its toll on her. It becomes harder to stay awake, despite how much she wants to, and Killian can tell. “I think it’s bedtime for you, Swan. Hard to catch criminals when you’re half asleep.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, I think you’re right,” she confesses, another yawn escaping her lips. “But I’m really glad you called me. I’ve missed you.”

“Aye, I’ve missed you, too. Will and August are staying in the room next door, and they aren’t quite as tolerant of my singing in the shower as you are.”

As hard as it is, she eventually tells him good night, and ends the call with a promise to hear from him again as soon as he’s given the time. She’s just turned off the lamp on her night stand and curled up under the blankets when she finds herself unable to stop thinking about him and their conversation. He had so much to say to her, and yet all she could focus on just him: those blue eyes she’d never realized were quite that bright, his hair tousled and looking even messier than usual. Those fans weren’t exaggerating when asking about the “hot guy” online. (She wasn’t blind. He was clearly good-looking, and she couldn’t find a single reason to say otherwise. But that meant nothing...didn’t it?)

She smiles at how nice it was to finally hear his laugh again, and to watch his face light up when he told her about his experiences on the tour so far. He’s finally getting to do what he loves most every day, and he’s never been happier. She doesn’t doubt that he’s also probably getting quite a bit of attention from the band’s fanbase; there’s no telling what kind of opportunities he’ll have access to once the tour wraps up. What could happen afterwards still scares her, even though she still wants whatever is best for him.

If she thought she missed him before, now it’s hitting her harder than ever. It’s not just his presence she wants back in her life. Before, she thought of the obvious things about him that made his absence hard, like his music, his voice, and his unwavering desire to spend time with her, no matter how difficult she made it. Tonight, she thinks of how he bites his thumb nails when he’s concentrating on something, whether that be the show they’re watching, or the new song he’s trying to learn. He can’t sleep without socks on both of his feet, and ninety percent of the time, they never match. He can’t bring himself to kill a bug, even the biggest of spiders. (He usually called her to come take care of it instead.) Despite his obvious passion for rock music, he loved musicals, and often sang songs from Wicked and The Book of Mormon while he cooked breakfast or cleaned his apartment.

She considered what Mary Margaret and Elsa had said to her earlier that night, and suddenly finds herself unable to deny any of it. She certainly couldn’t speak for him, but her own feelings are coming through loud and clear.

She was in love with Killian Jones.

And she picked a fine time to realize it.

-/-

ES: I think I owe you two an apology.

EA: No need. We should have left you alone about it.

MM: I agree.

Even though it’’s true.

EA: Mary Margaret!

MM: Sorry...

ES: Don’t be….I think this is the part where you say “I told you so.”

EA: Wait, why?

ES: You were right...I think I’m in love with him.

MM: I knew it!

ES: I’m so screwed.

EA: I know it sucks that he’s away, but at least you know he probably feels the same.

ES: Don’t be silly. Killian doesn’t love me... Not like that, anyway.

MM: Emma, are you blind?

EA: I’ve seen the way he looks at you. No way that’s not love.

MM: If Killian’s not in love with you, I’m willing to bet David’s not in love with me, either.

ES: Okay, now you’re serious.

#cs ff #meredith writes #captain swan #cs au #captain swan fic #cs fic #ouat ff #alternate universe #friends to lovers #musician killian #killian jones #emma swan

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autoirishlitdiscourses · 7 years ago

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Discourse of Tuesday, 26 December 2017

There are a couple of administrative announcements the most productive overall narrative about the way that time feels like you're currently thinking about specifics before you do a solid job here. I myself would like, in this contemporary world that we don't really know whether you want to recite: 5 pm or 6 pm McCabe page 84; are you using a Google Docs, too. If you have an A in the text in question. One of the class of what you're going, but they can also get you a bit abstract, through a bit flat it's a real pleasure to read Patrick Kavanagh, Eavan Boland, Muldoon, David Mamet, J. You picked a long way in this essay, say, and one category will consist of questions that you make any exceptions. I'll give it back to you. Most likely, but are intended to help you to engage in a nuanced argument. There is also very well elicit some comments even from people who already believe in the morning! I feel that you want to know if any of these have genuinely hurt you, and this is not just to post-Victorian ideals demands that they should have a strong second. All in all, I think they're worth correcting, because I think that this is quite strong. You Are Old discussion of a family member requiring that you are nervous about possibly having accidentally leaked confidential information, education, some options would be helpful.

One of these are just some possibilities for discussion to this explicitly when I cold-called on him for a few things would have had perhaps 500 students during that time.

Does he give a textually perfect. Discussion Section Guidelines handout, which was previously the theoretical maximum number of ways of reading closely, and problems with understanding and/or language that intimidate or negatively impact your grade, assuming there are some provocative hints in your hand. I had your paper actually manages to carry the weight of it will pay off for you. You also warmed up eventually, though, you will be no extra spacing between paragraphs or other layout elements, and your writing. Demonstrates that the degree to which you perform some complex and, provided that the violent, and it does mean that I didn't anticipate at the last few days, and overall you had thought closely about delivery and how she goes about getting it in then. 45 will that work? If you miss section during our first section meeting after it has a particular type of very good job on this. There are two students of my sections, so if you arrange them will depend on what specific structure you should definitely be there on time, so I'm re-inscribe Gertie into the wrong field but grad students see a good job of setting up your textual materials. You've been punctual this quarter, though I felt like did a solid job tonight, expanded and based on everything except the two or three people together may perform a close-reading exercise of your material you emphasize I think that there is no space for you to achieve this analytical depth and with your particular topic.

One would have gotten this to be tying the landscape and love as being defined will help your grade: You are perfectly capable of punching through to a more nuanced argument that passes naturally through all of this poem. Set up a fair point of analysis along some line between analysis and that taking this implicit interest of your argument effectively. You did a number of points in the earlier recitation, and has a pork kidney for breakfast, writes a letter grade per day, because in my experience it's hard to do is either of the text; just start writing. I think that you've got a very good job of structuring your comments are often primarily just due to my office with the rest of the several topics that you've chosen as a natural end or otherwise horrible; but if that's inconvenient for you. Let me know if you can find TA email addresses to which you could merge the recitation assignment or the introduction to Godot before you ask people to specific points in the sense that my office hours so that the overall goal is to add a class without a petition. The cost of a stretch. Maybe the student can find applications in the past that there are many places, and Ocean's Bad Religion was a sneaky kind of interesting course-related questions? Prestigious Academic Senate awards are now currently at a bad thing, and gave what was overall a very, very articulate paper here in many ways even though you got most of the recording and allow me to respond to each other. If you're thinking about how we react to Dexter may very well on the final exam, you have any further questions, OK? I think it will help to specify your own voice in the future. On the Concept of History, section VII, tr. The Mists of Avalon, which is also an impressive move on its own: I will be on the assumption that you get to it? Fair warning: getting an F, having hung them on these issues, or at least 84% on the make-up final on Wednesday prevents you from reciting, obligates you to follow up with it. At the same as totalitarianism, though it's probably not last unless some totally new narrative path suggests itself to me/. First: Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

It's OK, too in here. Does anyone have a middle-ish rooms available, that your basic point of analysis. In a lot of ways. Etc. It's often easier to get to all your material effectively and provided an interpretive pathway into one of my own notes for week 6. If you want to be more or less like a report. I'm giving a very good paper in on time will be able to comment on them is not unusual at this point in her blue book to the Irish nation is portrayed as a check/no-check system, myself, since it just so that you could consider the question? Your discussion and question provoked close readings of The Butcher Boy can best be read as anything other than the Dubliners' arrangement, personally, and also correlated strongly with how they related to the week of Thanksgiving. You've also picked a good job. I think that there was more lecture-oriented than it would be to start writing to be even more would probably be operating in an email no later than Friday afternoon. So you can spend about fifteen twenty minutes if it seems that it would be most helpful at this point, if you miss more than three sections, as well, but leaves important points, that a lot of ways that it has some notes on areas in which it could. Grading criteria The/MLA Handbook for Writers of Research Papers, Seventh Edition; there are a few days, I think that you have any questions, OK? Despite these problems, including pointing other students in the front of the pieces of writing to be useful for reviewing certain particular texts. Is that if you'd let me know if you want to say. Don't forget to bring a blue book. With Fergus and perhaps disagreeing with its use on unfair grounds. Think about what motivates us to experience non-passing grade but make sure that you're using as an active participant rather than yes/no questions because often those just elicit yes or no attempt to determine whether other parts of the text that you want to focus your thoughts in more detail; thinking about your main argument. Each of you is the perfect, one thing that would have been a good job of portraying Francie's voice and the way he never claims that you're thinking about such things about the amount you talk in detail than we can chat after lecture tomorrow. Thanks!

This means that an A-range papers often have a good place to engage with the but this document is an A in the grad student profile pages, and very engaging and often used the more likely he is the questioning of who goes with Ferbus sic I think I'll refrain, and lead to a large number of intriguing suggestions, but also to try to force a discussion about one or more of it, you should strive for as long as to avoid them entirely, etc. Perhaps one of three groups reciting from Godot is already an impressive move that would need to let me know what freedom was; remember you said, you can deal with this, and you are also movies that deal with this phrase in the day you recite because a common way of discussion. A-for-someone-else-to fifteen minutes, and then ask yourself what your most important to articulate as fully integrated parts of the novel with which you want to have a close visual reading of the text s and that your ideas. There were several ways in which the novel with which the concept of ideology and what question you're answering. On a totally different song when we talked about in class, and your readings of Richard III, The Song of the rhythm of the text as quickly as I said yes I said before, so if you're treating the text you plan your discussion tomorrow, and you really have done something that matters deeply and personally, and making it into Google turned up a fair point of view and the weird tenuous relationship that is also a complex and loaded as a whole.

Yes, I'm certainly not going to say when you type in a way that creates an excellent job of leading discussion in the first poor little naughty boy? You handled your material you emphasize I think it would help you with issues that I've gestured in margin comments are often sophisticated and that poetry is an impressive move, are excellent. Often a commemorative, not on me. Take a look at exceptions to these comparatively minor matters will help, as well as signaling that he made it perfectly clear: you're making photocopies of the term. You should spend at least twelve lines and each will receive a non-traumatized at least. All in all ways to do The Butcher Boy: discussion of the text s involved. Overall, this is not to say that nationalism was lessened mid-century Japanese cinema.

None of which is an arena for such thinking: a place where this is not because I don't have an awful lot to discuss you may not look at at it by email within forty-eight hours in advance that this is more complex than the syllabus, provided that no one talking but you came up to you as an organic part of the room, but there are other ways. I've gotten pretty good at picking up cues that this is a don't make a final decision on which it could. Change to attendance policy: the namby-pamby justice system that overlooks the horror of the whole class because. He's the only one who has made the largest overall benefit to the novel; and added and before the beginning of the grotesque.

Even just having page numbers you quoted it might not be surprised to get people to engage in a research paper was not announced last week of section/that it would be to do at this point in the third year in grad school. Truthfully, I think that O'Casey's portrayal of Rosie is perhaps not, but there are a fair response and said so on. My wild ballpark guess at this point and might be a place where people should only get naturally. Have a good student and absolutely earned it.

Another potentially productive. As I told you that time feels like it, so you have any breathing room. However, he said about his paper, just what I said above, you really do have some interesting and sophisticated and interesting thoughts, will be in a paper means that the Irish see femininity, rather than focusing on that for some of your paper by the main character. Let me know if you really want to switch topics. Grading criteria The/discussion performance for the actual state of food here and there are currently more than 100% in section is dealing directly with a position statement body of analysis into your recording early. All of these, if that works better for you is the distinction between individual memory? You did a very strong claim to prove a historical text, drawing out the issues that you're perfectly capable of this work is currently fine, or contact you personally about important thematic issues to say when you pick up the appropriate types that add to your presentation. Etc. /Ireland's/Irish literature's/your grade. Who use GauchoSpace to calculate grades and do the majority of the painting, too. Let me know what's going on in the course syllabus that reciting twelve lines would be necessary to start with major themes in a lot of very good paper that takes the safe position instead of seven on the specific selection that allows you to construct a nuanced critic of your overall goal is to engage in a way that you leave town. If it's not everyone's cup of tea. Hi!

I think that it needs to be more beneficial to both phenomena, then there are ways that are so stressful for you. As I said to other people talking more quickly for you, we could certainly do that if you run out of the above are bright lines—you either cross or do not make satisfying connections between the poem in any other questions, OK? Section attendance and participation, your readings profitable, but there are several possible productive reading of it next to each other in regard to this emotion and the English Language; Giorgio Agamben's Homo Sacer.

I believe; what this paper, and wanted to be more specific in the assignment, and wanted to be helpful, but miss the 27 November. A: Answers the question and being one of them were acceptable for purposes of your total grade, though it's probably not directly connected to the course of the Irish could reasonably be considered to be flexible so as to avoid the specificity of its stream-of-totalitarianism paper is due. I think that considering how best to surpass them; this counts everything including participation and attendance that is difficult, but that you're capable of doing, though: Some of Dali's work, and modeling this for everyone else so there are certainly other possibilities, and how is the issue constructed? This means that that is necessary to do. This, in part because it will be scaled to 100, so is an awfully slow recitation. I think that students have jobs and sports and family emergencies and about his own mother. One problem that I count the entire class in case of emergency, please let me know if you have questions about the course! You do a solid job tonight I'll get you the warnings. In other words, by love, for that week, believe it is necessary to somehow include a copy of the page number and the weird tenuous relationship that highlights something about love in course; I'm normally much more apparent to you. Here's a breakdown on your grade is worth/an additional five percent/for leading an insightful, moving delivery and/or taking the last percentage I sent to you. I myself am less than thrilled at this point. Where is the only copy of Ulysses that we didn't get any positive feedback and a bonus to your TAs about grad school with my seminar papers. I before think I did do all the grading email that I didn't anticipate at the moment, professor MacHugh said, how do you want so I hope you're feeling okay and getting a why you think that you accept the offer, OK? Good luck with grading or depressed about grad school. I. Hi! Anyone at all. 3:50 or so announcement to your copy of the recitation into a sophisticated move. At that point, if you'd like. Something I forgot to say anything at all to the students in your head that you're still listed as TBD, please email me and say exactly what you are one of the question fully by providing additional examples, resonances, counterexamples, etc. Let me know what works best.

#Irish literature #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Python #Markov chains

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chrisabraham · 7 years ago

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My giant wallet could be giving me sciatica!

Not long after I started this blog I pinched my sciatic nerve and then wrote Fighting sciatica and fascial adhesion with a massage stick. A couple months later, it happened again and I wrote Oy! My lumbago! So, tonight I have the third race in my 5-race 5k series, Crystal City 5k Fridays and am nursing a pinched nerve that I'll call sciatica again. I ran off to grab lunch with Bob Fine in DC on my motorcycle and realized that I sit on a giant natural leather Tanner Goods Utility Bifold wallet that sits in the right pocket of my jeans all the time -- pressing right on my sciatic nerve.

I was asking around and Tara Penelope Calishain told me on Facebook that the pressure of carrying a big fat leather wallet in your back pocket, and the resulting pressure on the sciatic nerve when compressed or otherwise irritated by the piriformis muscle, causes the sort of pain, tingling and numbness in the buttocks and descending into the leg. It's is called piriformis syndrome. I know that my weight is a major part of this and that I sometimes wear jeans that are too tight around the waist when my weight fluctuates that there's a lot of pressure and stress on that region. And when I am working out a lot, the muscles swell, further exacerbating the syndrome and thus the pain.

So, now I am wondering if I should still run the 5k tonight -- just 3-hours away. I have felt a lot better today so I might chance it. But if I do, I will surely need to make sure that I do a lot of rolling and massage sticking in order to fight the pesky sciatica and fascial adhesion. Not everyone thinks I should go for it. Here's the advice I have received from my lovely friends on Facebook: On the Sciatic Pain and Running the 5K:

Susan Decoteau-Ferrier: My husband had sciatic pain. He stopped carrying his wallet in his back pocket all the time and the sciatic pain disappeared. Also, get Turmeric capsules. They are a natural anti-inflammatory. Paul Monaco: I made the switch to a money clip, what a difference. Would never go back for both comfort and simplicity. Linda Ferger Pekunka: suggested I stand with your back to the walk, feet about a foot apart. Bending your knees slowly slide your back down the wall till the small of your back is flush with the wall hold for 15 seconds and slowly stand back up. Do about 3 times and repeat a few times a day. Also sleep in a fetal position with a flat pillow between your knees. Both these tips relieves pressure from your spine. Good luck!

Stevie Wilson: Chris Abraham in the short term, get a lumbar support cushion for car and chair. Also watch how you ride your bike. and slow down (and maybe stop) the rowing. That could be the culprit. Not saying (forever) .. just for short term. (worse outcomes possible if you don't. ) Stephen Dee: You're not going to find an overnight cure. You may find something topical to help ease the pain. Some athletes will not like the following advice: Take a couple of ibuprophen a couple of hours before the race. They'll help with inflammation and pain. Line up to run the race; it's short. If you find yourself a bit uncomfortable, carry on. If it's killing you stop. Anywhere in between is a judgement call. Beyond this, hie thee to a PT specialist.

Sidney Billingsley: Fill a camelback with Gatorade and vodka. You will finish the race, you might puke but your back won't hurt . Jerome Cole: Don't do the run. Not worth the risk. Wait until this problem resolves. And I am speaking from experience here. I had a pinched nerve, exerted myself against the advice of doctors, and suffered grievously for about a month. Don't do it. Stevie Wilson: You should do alternating ice and heat (Ice first to reduce inflammation, then heat) every 30 mins. You need to watch Sitting posture too. Do you have lumbar support? Take care tonight. Epsom salt bath, ibuprofen , ice & heat .see how you feel tomorrow . If you want definitive answer tonight, then take a pass and see a doc to get a referral to PT. You know the answer already ... right now

Stephen Dee: Stevie Wilson called it. If you're in agony, do NOT run. If you're a bit achy, line up for the start (having taken ibuprofen) and see how you feel. Sometimes aches will abate with movement and exercise and sometimes they'll get worse. If you find you can walk fine but can't run without serious pain, just walk the 5k. It's a judgement call that only you can make. Minna Aslama Horowitz: Been there. Don't stretch -- often that intensifies the pain and pinches the nerve further. On the Big Fat Wallet: Tara Penelope Calishain: This is apparently a thing: Piriformis syndrome Sidney Billingsley: I carry my wallet in my front pocket for this very reason. Jeff Lang: Stop doing that. Seriously, don't do that. Paul Monaco: I made the switch to a money clip, what a difference. Would never go back for both comfort and simplicity. Susan Decoteau-Ferrier: My husband had sciatic pain. He stopped carrying his wallet in his back pocket all the time and the sciatic pain disappeared. Also, get Turmeric capsules. They are a natural anti-inflammatory. And here's some advice from Reddit:

Astronomicca via /r/running: It's called the "iskias nerve" and that nerve goes between the muscles in the lower back and down through the back of the legs. When you work out, e.g. run, the muscles swell and are squeezing the nerve. This causes pain in the lower back and even down through the back of the legs. The pain will go away when the muscle is done being swelled. My doctor said that the construction of the iskias nerve going through those muscles is the only thing on the human body that is stupidly designed :) Reason is obviously that using you lower back muscles can squeeze the nerve. I've tried it and it's painful but it goes away. I don't believe it's more dangerous than many other things runners put themselves through :) Manytoedsloth via /r/C25K: It's not our advice to give. No one here can tell you for sure, let alone should you trust anyone to comment on something so important. If you can't contact a professional to ask, I'd advise to sit this one out. If you're determined to race, I have no idea at all about exercises but rest is better than doing an exercise wrong. Lastly, if the pain becomes worse during the 5k, don't be stubborn - you risk making a minor injury worse and it could even become something that plagues you for months or years. Why push? There will be more races in the future - be safe with this one and you'll be fit for the later ones! Sdr4wkcab via /r/running: I have sciatica and I have found a few stretches that help relieve my pain. I do them every morning and at night. I also try to do planks and lunges (this helps strengthen my core and my glutes) which I find helps with my lower back pain. This video was very informative. This one has a stretch that I feel helps a lot. I also do the cat/cow stretch. And the top 2 stretches here, I haven't tried the bottom 2 but they look interesting. As with everything like this stop if anything starts to hurt more or feels bad. And if it continues see your doctor or a chiropractor. Good Luck! Mauser98 via /r/running: I have been having this problem also for a few months now, im 5'5 140 pounds and when I get about a mile into my run I get the same lower back pinch. Its so frustrating because I love running but its become difficult lately. I don't know what to do, I hope its nothing serious. TesticlesMcTitties via /r/running: If I were you I'd do a lot of foam rolling and that's it. During your run, concentrate on keeping your hips flat (vertical) and your core tight to mitigate the pain. From Instagram: Danieljohnsonjr: I've been keeping mine in a front pocket ever since I began to get sciata. Hasn't been a problem since. Chris_december: I keep my wallet either in my messenger bag, cargo side pockets or in the front. Never been comfortable sitting on them. Later on, I read that wallets affect the spine if kept in the back pocket. Saved without realizing the medical reason :P Noguiltfitness: Unfortunately - not coincidence at all. My chiro had me move mine over a decade ago. I'll recommend a couple of good ones to you On FB - along with the link to a great hip mobility program. I can honestly say - best program ever - keeps me out of a lot of pain. Here's the original post I made on /r/Running, /r/C25K, and Facebook: I have a 5k tomorrow but I have a pinch in my lower back that goes away when I walk but come back when I sit -- do I rest it, stretch it, work it, ignore it? You advice needed. What my massage therapist said is true: once you get a lower back nerve pinch it might become chronic. Right now, I am looking for stretches or exercises that can help me work this out. Should I really just be relaxing it, let it relax, heal, and maybe the "swelling" or whatever is happening will go away. I have my 3rd 5k run tomorrow at 6:30 and I intend to run it. I run slow, that's for sure. And I assume I won't be making it work. Right now, I feel good when I am either on my back or side or standing up at my standing treadmill desk, whether I am just standing or just walking along at 2mph. I am not asking for medical help, I am just asking for your advice. Thanks in advance. PS: I do have both a long roller stick and also a black foam roller, if there are any stretches, yoga moves, or roller moves that have worked for you in the past. PPS: Yes, losing 80-100 pounds is probably the #1 best thing for me to do, but until then Upon more research, it looks like there's something called Walletitis:

The Claim: Keeping a Wallet in Your Back Pocket Can Cause Sciatica THE FACTS A wallet stuffed with business cards or scraps of paper might seem like more of an eyesore than a health hazard. But one old bromide holds that a thick wallet - or even one that's not so thick - can harm the lower back for those sit on it for too long. And while experts says the fears are probably exaggerated, the wallet can definitely carry some hazards. Although it was popularized by an episode of the "Seinfeld" series in the 1990's, the phenomenon was first described in a brief article in The New England Journal of Medicine in 1966, when credit cards were beginning to proliferate. The report, about a lawyer who suffered aches and pains in the left leg, not far from a wallet growing thick with charge cards, referred to the condition as "credit-carditis." Although that term never quite caught on, doctors say the condition has become increasingly common. Its onset is gradual, caused by an object that presses on the piriformis muscle in the buttocks, which is connected to the sciatic nerve, which runs down the leg. Over time, a person can develop radiating pain in the back and hip area. "Just the other day, I had to tell one patient with back pain to remove at least 20 years of stored data from his wallet," said Dr. Gerard P. Varlotta of the New York University School of Medicine. Wallets are not the only culprits. Numerous case reports have linked the condition to various back-pocket objects like large handkerchiefs and golf balls. THE BOTTOM LINE Keeping a thick wallet or object in the back pocket can gradually cause sciatica. By ANAHAD O'CONNOR, New York Times And here's the original New York Times article, The Claim: Keeping a Wallet in Your Back Pocket Can Cause Sciatica by ANAHAD O'CONNOR THE FACTS A wallet stuffed with business cards or scraps of paper might seem like more of an eyesore than a health hazard. But one old bromide holds that a thick wallet - or even one that's not so thick - can harm the lower back for those sit on it for too long. And while experts says the fears are probably exaggerated, the wallet can definitely carry some hazards. Although it was popularized by an episode of the "Seinfeld" series in the 1990's, the phenomenon was first described in a brief article in The New England Journal of Medicine in 1966, when credit cards were beginning to proliferate. The report, about a lawyer who suffered aches and pains in the left leg, not far from a wallet growing thick with charge cards, referred to the condition as "credit-carditis." Although that term never quite caught on, doctors say the condition has become increasingly common. Its onset is gradual, caused by an object that presses on the piriformis muscle in the buttocks, which is connected to the sciatic nerve, which runs down the leg. Over time, a person can develop radiating pain in the back and hip area. "Just the other day, I had to tell one patient with back pain to remove at least 20 years of stored data from his wallet," said Dr. Gerard P. Varlotta of the New York University School of Medicine. Wallets are not the only culprits. Numerous case reports have linked the condition to various back-pocket objects like large handkerchiefs and golf balls. THE BOTTOM LINE Keeping a thick wallet or object in the back pocket can gradually cause sciatica. [email protected] Well, it looks to me like I really need to stop wearing this amazing and gorgeous Tanner Goods Utility Bifold in natural -- so very sad. Read the full article

#Abdomen #AbrahamLincoln #Achillestendinitis #Analgesic #Barnes&Noble #Bitcoin #CentersforDiseaseControlandPrevention #Facebook #Lumbar #MarkZuckerberg #Muscle #Organizingprinciple #Pain #Piriformissyndrome #Sciaticnerve #Sciatica #Streamingmedia #UniversalSerialBus

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