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alfredosauce50 · 1 year

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One more night

[Boxer! Denmark x reader] 11

Wordcount: 4, 365 Rating: M for strong language and mature themes

The reader is referred to as she/her

One more night - 11

Off to the races

Mathias rolled his fists against a speed bag, getting it to bounce back and forth rhythmically. A sheen of sweat had glazed over his skin from head to toe, but he never faltered. He was finally back in the zone.

He also lost everything he gained, revealing his past triumphs. Bulging shoulders, a six-pack, and strong legs for a muscular body. He swung into the speed bag one last time, making it rock to and fro.

And he was just getting started.

“You’re in a good mood today,” You commented from the kitchen, sipping a warm cup of coffee. Everyone slept in on Sundays, Allen included, but he got up at nine to do nothing but scribble in his sketchbook.

“Am I?” He lifted his eyes to you, only to look down at his page again. “What gave it away?”

“You’re drawing.”

“I can’t channel my inner negativity sometimes?”

“I think we both know how you actually do that.”

“Okay, fine. You got me.” He mumbled, moving his pencil around for a few finishing touches. Once he was satisfied, he held up his drawing with a proud, toothy grin. “Look. It’s a fortress.”

“Wow,” You mouthed. A smiling stick figure with black shades stood on top of a castle, raining machine gunfire and grenades on the masses below. “And who’s that guarding the fortress?”

“Me.”

“What about all the people down here?”

“I think you know.” He put his sketchbook down.

Now that Mathias moved back home, Allen was the happiest he’d ever been. Even though they were on better terms, this was his home, and he had a very particular idea of what that looked like.

“You guys realize Hammy has been roaming outside his cage for a while.” Amy sauntered in with a squint.

Allen flew off the couch and scrambled into the hallway. With his spot vacant, she plopped down next to you and kicked her feet onto the coffee table. When he came back with his pet, he scowled.

“Hey, you stole my spot!”

“Didn’t see your name on it.”

“I was literally just there!” He stuck out a hand.

“Well, you weren’t for a second.” She hummed.

The three of you, just like old times.

“To think I used to complain about people bringing their babies to the theater,” Amy muttered, collecting her popcorn from the snack bar. She spun around to reveal Bob strapped to her torso. “Now I’m people.”

“And you’re seeing Captain America of all movies.”

“I must be crazy.”

“I mean,” You made a face. Amy was the one who suggested this, but now that she was here, she had to be persuaded. “It was either here or the gym. It’s not your fault Malena couldn’t take him tonight.”

“That’s not even the problem,” She sighed.

“Then what is?” You asked, confused.

“I don’t wanna leave Bob with anybody right now.” Amy hugged him close, face falling slightly.

She still had a hard time being away from her baby after that incident. She didn’t have a choice while working, but now that she was off-duty, keeping him around was always at the back of her mind.

“Then I guess we’ll have to get him used to these kinds of places.” You pulled her along, watching her expression closely. She let you, albeit reluctantly. “There’s a first time for everything, you know?”

“I guess,” She fixed his earmuffs. “Sorry, Bob.”

“When was the last time you went to see a movie anyway?” You asked, walking inside with her.

“Beats me.”

Two hours later, you both emerged from the theater.

“That was fucking amazing,” She let out, smiling from ear to ear. “Bob fell asleep halfway through!”

You and Amy swung by Whole Foods after.

“Do you think he’s gonna win?” She asked, watching you add several bananas to the shopping cart.

The question had been looming over your minds ever since Mathias brought it up. Heavyweight boxers from all over the continent fought under one arena for the belt.

“It’s hard to say,” You shook your head, falling deep in thought.

“Yeah.”

“I’m just relieved he didn’t give up.”

“Me too.” She furrowed her brows.

“Whatever happens, I’m really happy that he’s kinda himself again,” You added, smiling briefly. Because even after everything that happened, he didn’t quit. And that couldn’t be more fitting for who he was.

“Well, I’m glad he’s back.” Amy hummed, though her expression came off as more bittersweet than anything. Your face fell slightly when you picked up on it. “I wouldn’t be telling you this otherwise.”

“Telling me what?”

“That Mat told me,” She inhaled a deep breath before revealing what had been on her mind forever. “He wanted you to move out with him. And I just want you to know that I’m a hundred percent for it.”

“What?” Your heart sank. “He told you?”

“Ages ago, actually. I just never had the chance to bring it up. Didn’t wanna cause any more drama,” Amelia explained, pushing the cart along as she spoke. “What, with everything that went down?”

You turned away, eyes darting restlessly and mind racing with a million thoughts. This whole time?

“Allen would’ve gone nuts.” She widened her eyes.

It was no secret that he loved you dearly, going so far as to use you as an emotional crutch. To leave was to put him in a vulnerable headspace, but you couldn’t be there for him forever, not even if you wanted to.

“Not that he won’t freak out if you told him now, but he might not fly off the handle when you do.”

“But what about the apartment?” You asked, voice faint. Now that moving out was on the table, every doubt you’ve ever had flooded your mind in a rush of anxiety. “And what about Bob? I can’t just leave.”

“We’ll be fine,” Amy assured, holding your shoulder. It was a blanket statement at best, but how else were things supposed to be? “Allen will have to get a job someday. And Bob won’t be small forever.”

“But he’s only six months old.” You uttered.

“He can sit upright and eat scrambled eggs, now. That’s pretty big if you ask me.” She nudged you.

You laughed some, thankful for her lightheartedness.

“But, point is,” She went back to pushing her cart, as reflective of the continuation of the conversation. “You’ve already been there for the most crucial part of his life. And nine months before that too.”

“Of course I was, Amy. That’s a given.”

“What if it’s not supposed to be given?” She asked, much to your dismay. “You’ve already done so much for us, and I can’t just force you to stay forever. That would be the most selfish thing I could do to you.”

“Maybe,” You replied stiffly. Everything she just said was a stark reminder of what you told Allen once, and you always regretted it from the bottom of your heart. “But you aren’t forcing me to do anything.”

“Really?”

“I love living with you guys,” You let out, voice faint to hide the sadness in it. “You’re my best friend.”

Amy stood perfectly still, overwhelmed by a rush of emotions. Then, she turned to you, eyes wide. When she saw that you were barely holding it together, she did something completely out of character.

She hugged you as tight as she could.

“I know.” She shut her eyes. “But you have to go.”

You hugged her back, lips pursed tightly in a frown. She knew what you really wanted, and would go to great lengths for you to have it. Even if it meant letting you go, the hardest thing she could ever do.

“Do you think Bob will remember me?”

“He will if you visit,” She released you with a content smile, knowing she managed to convince you. So, she took in your face for what felt like the last time. “So don’t go somewhere I can’t get to, okay?”

Getting Amelia on board with the idea was easy because she was already all for it. Allen, on the other hand, would be a completely different story. But you had to tell him someday, even if that wasn’t today.

You pushed the door open to the local boxing gym.

When you got inside, you saw Mathias doing mitt work with Allen. Their brewing friendship was the most unexpected development yet, and you had to cover your mouth to hide your enthusiasm.

They had more in common than they looked.

The sun was almost set when you three walked home together. Allen had his arms folded behind his head, his dark eyes staring into the distance. Mathias had your hand in his, which squeezed you here and there.

“So,” You began, breaking the comfortable silence with a query. “Are you two friends now?”

They both made a face, brows raised and squinting.

“I don’t think Allen would be comfortable with that.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Oh, alright.” You sighed, stifling a laugh at their synchronization. “I was just curious, is all.”

“Saying we’re friends would be putting him on the same level as you. And that’s gross.” Allen mumbled.

“There’s always distinctions you make with different friends you have,” You glanced at him and watched his expression intently, which didn’t seem to change. “Surely you have friends you’re close to, or not at all.”

“Not really,” He shrugged. “I mean, I used to.”

A brief silence followed, and you were left to put the pieces together. Mathias didn’t have any idea what he implied, but you knew better. He must’ve been talking about his pals from Afghanistan.

“It’s fine.” Allen grinned at you. “I have you guys.”

You didn’t say anything more, only bringing his arm down to hold it. He appreciated the gesture, the discreteness of it, and smiled warmly at you to prove it. You smiled back as if to tell him he was right.

He had you, Amy, and Bob.

Slowly, but surely, Mathias could make the cut too.

“You told Amy,” You began, staying in the doorway as he shuffled through his things in his bedroom. Allen waited outside in the front yard, giving you both a moment of privacy, however brief that may be.

Mathias stopped for a moment, back turned to you.

“Are you mad at me?” He murmured.

“No,” You neared him, gaze softening. He glanced over his shoulder, surprised. But that dissolved into relief as soon as you said this. “I’m actually glad you did. I don’t think I would’ve been able to tell her.”

“I’m glad,” He smiled, taking your hands.

You smiled back, warmed by his touch.

“She loves you more than you know.”

Out of the four of you, Mathias was the least afraid of change. It took a lot of faith to carry himself the way he did, and he did so naturally. Without him, you would’ve been stuck in the same place for years.

“So, what did she say?”

Allen kicked a pebble off the pavement. When he glanced up at the apartment again, he saw you two having a conversation. About what, he didn’t know. But he could make a judgement from afar.

The way Mathias looked at you, laughed, then picked you up in the tightest embrace had him wondering if this was the end of everything he knew. It was a huge jump from point a to b, but he wasn’t stupid.

He looked too happy for it to be anything else.

You did too, talking excitedly about something he wasn’t a part of, and never would be. When that dawned on Allen, he turned away, heart in his hand. That night, he walked home by himself.

Out on the balcony where he always was, he knelt over his plants and tended to them. Basil, thyme, sage, and parsley—all Summer herbs. He snipped off the stalks and harvested them for the coming Fall.

“Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“I thought you were staying at his place.”

“If I was, I would’ve said that.” You stepped outside with him. When he didn’t respond, you instantly knew he was bent out of shape over something, but what, you didn’t know. “What is this really about?”

“Nothing,” He kept chopping his plants, but his movements grew less and less controlled as he continued. His front was already crumbling, and you just got here. “Everything’s just nice and peachy.”

“Okay, Al.” You relented, turning to the sliding door.

The sight of your back was all it took.

“If you don’t wanna talk about it, you don’t have to.”

What remained of his hard exterior was all but gone. You broke him down all over again, and simply by letting him be. He couldn’t take it anymore. Not the distance, or the reality that he could never have you.

“Wait.” He stood up, sighing. “Don’t close that door.”

You stopped halfway through the door frame, your eyes softening at his change of heart. If he had something to tell you, you did too. And your concerns were realer than what he thought he saw out there.

“I wanna talk.”

Mathias knocked on the doorframe of his coach’s office. In his hand was the slip of paper he’d been itching to get for the past month. He handed it to his mentor, who scanned it before tossing it on his desk.

With that out of the way, the old man stood up and brushed past him in a slight hobble.

“Get your wraps. We’re gonna start with the basics.”

Allen stood with you on the balcony, his arms draped over the railing. He stared into the night as he tried to think of the words. After a few minutes of mulling it over, this was the best he could come up with.

“So, what, he propose to you or something?”

“No!” You shot him a heated look, watching his brows go up. “Is that what you were upset about?”

He pursed his lips, hands raised in denial. But seeing that you were unconvinced, he just sucked it up.

“Yeah.”

“Well, he didn’t propose, okay?”

“Then that’s all I wanted to know,” He grinned, voice rich with satisfaction. He went back to his usual self almost instantly, hopping back into the living room. “Now all I’m missing is a kiss for good measure.”

“A kiss?” You stifled a laugh.

“You know I’m only kidding.” He scraped the bottom of his flip-flops against the entry mat to clean them. When Allen faced you again, he leaned against the door frame. “You don’t have to if you don’t wanna.”

He might’ve said one thing, but the gentle smile on his face meant another. And since you couldn’t give him what he really wanted, you gave him the next best thing. You leaned forward and hugged him.

Allen’s arms went around you on instinct, like a reflex he didn’t need to think about. There, he nestled his chin on your head, closing his eyes in the embrace. Then, his smile grew out of a deep sense of peace.

Now this wasn’t so bad. He also got the assurances he needed, so why was he still so sad?

“Listen, Al.”

Mathias raised his gloved fists, bright red in color.

“I have something I need to tell you.”

With his head low and eyes up, he looked intensely focused as he jabbed the sandbag in front of him. Only they were nothing but light taps, hitting the same spot on the leather, over and over.

“Okay, then tell me.” Allen was a little unnerved that you even had to announce it. What he saw tonight, how he always felt around you, and your anxious demeanor only seemed to validate that fear.

“I’m moving out with Mat.” You finally let out.

“Oh.”

A few seconds of painstaking silence went by.

“When?”

Mathias tightened the strings of his hoodie until only his face was left uncovered. Now that Summer was ending, he could feel a cool breeze on his morning runs. The seasons were changing, and so was he.

“I don’t know, but probably sometime after his tournament. We haven’t decided on anything yet,” You answered truthfully, scanning his face for something, anything. But he gave you nothing.

“Does Amy know?”

Or so you thought.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “I told her last week.”

“Right.” He looked down, eyes darkening. It was inconceivable that anybody could be so hurt over something so minor, but Allen wasn’t just anybody. “Why am I always the last one to know things?”

“I was gonna tell you, Al. I promise.” You spoke softly, taking his arms. “I just had to find the right time.”

“Why is it always Amy you go to when you know something will affect me most?” He rubbed his eyes with one hand, choking back a sob. “You guys are always keeping things from me and leaving me out!”

“We only do that because we don’t wanna hurt you!” You flushed, making him shake his head bitterly.

“You’re gonna hurt me anyway. So you might as well just say it.” Allen muttered, staring dead into your eyes as a single tear fell from his. His words were cutting, and the way he looked at you, even more so.

“I’m sorry,” Your voice broke. “I never mean to.”

He was right about being excluded, and he had all the right in the world to berate you for it. It was also selfish to expect him to react any different, especially when you’ve always known of his greatest fear.

Being isolated, physically or mentally.

“And you probably already knew that, too.” He shook his head again, turning away to get to your bedroom. But before he could lock himself in it, you grabbed onto his wrist. “You just didn’t wanna freak me out.”

“Of course I didn’t wanna freak you out,” You let out, tone desperate. “That’s the only reason why I have a hard time telling you about these things. Not because I don’t love you, or don’t feel close to you.”

“And how’s that turning out for you?” He faced you, eyes burning with truth. “I’ll find out anyway. I always do. Then I’ll find my own time to freak out. Because that’s just what I do. That’s what I’m the best at.”

Usually, he was the one making compromises in conversations, taking the fall for his faults.

“Losing my temper. Because I’m a fucking manic.”

“That’s not true!”

But right now, he was as quick as a whip.

And he was right about everything.

“It is, though. If it wasn’t, we wouldn’t be here having this fucking conversation.” Allen glared, but his anger with you only lasted so long. “And since we’re here, you wanna know why I flipped out in the first place?”

“Why did you flip out, then?” You uttered.

“It’s not just because I have a thing for you, okay?” He exclaimed, chest heaving and face reddening.

“Then why?” You flushed, eyes darting restlessly.

“Because if you get married, you’re gonna go away.” Allen said shakily, voice faint with unbearable hurt. “You’re gonna go somewhere I can’t get to, get busy, have a few babies, and you won’t have time for me.”

Your face contorted.

“Then you’re gonna forget about me,”

It was unthinkable that you could ever cut him out of your life, but he was already treating it like reality.

“And I won’t be a part of your life anymore.”

“You’ll always be a part of my life, Allen.” You reached up to caress his face, currently streaked with tears. “Even if we won’t see each other as much, I’ll always be thinking of you. And I’d still call and visit you.”

“But that’s not good enough,” He choked.

“I won’t be far, I promise. I promised Amy that too.”

“But you won’t be here.”

“You have to learn be independent from me, Allen.”

He shook his head, breathing too hard to manage a verbal protest. You were asking way too much of him, even if it was just to live out partially separate lives. You were his rock, and he wasn’t ready to let you go.

“But you also have to trust me.”

A string was tied across the ring like a washing line. The gym was dark, save for the spotlight they stood under, coach and pupil. The pupil in question stood next to the line, his shoulder barely just grazing it.

Then, he ducked under it to the other side.

He repeated the motion, bobbing under the line from side to side. By bending down and moving quickly from left to right, he could dodge anything thrown at him. But the timing and range had to be perfect.

“I’m so jealous of Mathias,” He squeezed you, eyes shut tight as he whispered frantically into your neck. “He’s got everything going for him. When he wants something, he just gets it. I can’t do that.”

“I think we’ve all felt that way before,” You admitted, holding him closer. “He’s the best of all of us.”

Mathias rolled under a punch, dodging it like second nature. When he rose, he jabbed his opponent twice, getting them to back up. He was a speed demon, taking advantage of their mistakes on the fly.

With the newly-established distance, he threw his fist up for a killer uppercut. It collided with their jaw, throwing their head back in a splash of saliva. And just like that, his partner fell on the mat, defeated.

“But there’s something you have that he doesn’t.”

“And what’s that?” Allen murmured, pulling back.

“Mathias and I can fight, argue, or even break up one day, but not us,” You answered, frowning deeply. “And I know that sounds bad, but there’s nothing in the world that could change what we have.”

He smiled and bowed his head at what he’d already known, a truth he constantly needed reminding of. But you always knew the right thing to say. And for that, everything felt like it was going to be okay.

“You’ll always be my family.”

“Maybe that’s why I never tried anything,” Allen said. He’d been so hung up over what he could’ve had, he never realized this was what he really wanted all along. “Because I didn’t wanna ruin what we had.”

“And what did we have?” You smiled.

He gazed up at you, eyes twinkling.

“Something perfect.”

He was your best friend, and maybe a little more than that, but he made it a point to never cross that line. What you had with Allen was incorruptible, the kind of love people spent their entire lives looking for.

“Something pure.” He kissed you on the forehead, the most innocent kind of affection one could give. And you leaned in, basking in the warmth of his soft lips. “And I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Allen stayed with you all night. With your body next to his, he never fell asleep so fast. This may only be for so long, but he couldn’t be upset about it forever. You were moving on, and he had to accept that.

“That makes seven rompers and five pairs of pants,”

You sorted through the baby clothes in the basket Mathias held. He insisted on tagging along with you to ‘help you hold things,’ but you had a sneaking suspicion he came for another spending spree.

“Anything else we need?”

“Uhhh,” He scanned the shopping list with a focused expression. “Four pajama outfits… And a tank top?”

“Oh. That’s for Allen,” You pointed at the bottom of the note. “See how the handwriting changes?”

“Oh,” Mathias mumbled. Now that you mentioned it. When he glanced up again, you were off to look for those items, so he did what he thought would be the next best thing: doing some browsing on his own.

When he approached you for your opinion, you were still in the baby section, picking out sleepers.

“What do you think?” He held two outfits in front of you and moved them up and down. “Blue or yellow?

“Those are for newborns, Mathias,” You answered, going back to the rack. “They’re not gonna fit Bob,”

“I know they’re for newborns.”

“If I say ‘blue’ and see the blue one in your dresser, I’m seriously gonna murder you,” You sighed, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. And frankly speaking, you were a little nervous.

“Okaaay. Does that mean you’ll spare me if I buy the yellow one?” He hummed with growing smile.

“Mat,” You shot him a heated look, embarrassed out of your wits. “The bear was cute, but this is crazy.”

“But these are cute too!”

“No, I meant you,” You sighed, stifling a defeated laugh at his outburst. “We haven’t even moved out and you’re already thinking that far ahead. Imagine what Allen would do to you if I ever got pregnant.”

“You don’t have to wait for his approval, you know?” Mathias grumbled, putting both outfits back, blue and yellow. “I know he’s close to you, but what we do is none of his business. So he should stay out of it.”

“Still,” You shook your head. “You’re going too fast.”

“I know, I know. I just got excited,” He sighed, noting how worried you looked. And it was a fair reaction given the kind of person he was. Tenacious, self-indulgent, and apparently, family-oriented.

But he’d be damned if he didn’t already learn his lesson. So he stopped you in the aisle, hands on your shoulders. “I’m not rushing you into anything. Especially not something this important, okay?”

“Good,” You softened your gaze, peering up at him. “Because I don’t wanna fight with you anymore.”

If anything, he’d save this for after the tournament.

“I wouldn’t wanna fight me either.”

You were about to give him an earful for being so unserious, but you let it slide this time. After overcoming a roadblock and months of preparation, he was finally in shape for his biggest event yet.

“Are you nervous?”

“A little,” He grinned. “But I’m ready.”

Next chapter: Finale Part I

Tag-list: @sunnysssol @chicha027 @javelintine @sport-lova @archive-of-bones

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verbforverb · 1 year

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Welcome one and all to my Eurovision ranking, something that as many as one person has been waiting for (@docholligay here you go) As ever, feel free to comment, tag, share with people I know, but please don't reblog.

This is a less exhaustive but probably higher precision ranking than last year, due to my decision to say screw it and accept that I have four basic categories of Eurovision entry:

Positive - I enjoy this song, and would go out of my way to listen to it!

Negative (respectful) - I don't necessarily like this song, but I do appreciate what it's doing! Songs in this category are ones which bounced between "do I like this? maybe?" and "I am just straight up not enjoying this" This is a lot closer to positive for me than...

This Sure Is A Eurovision Entry, Huh - ... a broadly forgettable song which, while I don't mind it, I would probably never choose to listen to.

No - I would actively avoid listening to this song

You're not getting rankings within each category except for positive, because all the others bounced around so much there seemed very little point.

Today, the bottom two categories, "no" and "I guess"! With slightly under half the entries.

Cat4: No.

Denmark: Almost impressively twee. I find the synth effects in the chorus of this song physically difficult to listen to.

Armenia: Kind of unsettling to listen to, lyrically sort of like someone shuffled a bunch of dark academia hashtag aesthetic posts. Oooooh drink smoothies in new cafes.

Malta: When we first listened to this my wife went "they brought a saxophone!!" like that made it automatically good, proving that I am right in all things. Unfortunately funk throwback is very win or lose for me and, combined with the line "I feel better in my sweater", here just makes me wish to do violence.

Cat3: Yep, a song.

Netherlands: It's fine? Kind of forgettable? Nice to have a duet that isn't romance-only. I am a little grouchy about the lyrics, which alternate between really quite striking and The Blandest.

Lithuania: A great singer - though wow, a demanding song also, it gets away from her a bit a couple times. The song itself is kind of repetitive, the performance has a sort of haunted gospel cult feel to it that I don't hate, it's just not that compelling to me.

Italy: A little forgettable for me, but a great performance from a clearly really charismatic singer. He has the energy! Italy seem to exclusively enter songs that are lyrically quite interesting but in Italian, and we have that here yet again.

Switzerland: Obvious points first, this guy is a great singer. The song faintly reminds me of something by Sia, which is mostly distracting but not unpleasant. Do the country-specific associations put me off? A bit? I mostly find it kind of funny.

Azerbaijan: Another truly fine and generic song. I would have this on in the background! Sorry to anyone still reading, this is definitely the less fun half of the ranking.

Greece: My only note for this song is "almost impressively forgettable", which is still in evidence as I remember literally nothing about it, except, like, a guy in the rain?

San Marino: My love of fun, riffy rock is fighting very hard with my confusion over what the hell is going on here lyrically.

Albania: First: Wow, you can sing. What a voice! Second: What is going on with your family situation, anyway? This may be the first Eurovision entry to ever make me seriously ponder that, so congrats.

Iceland: The song is fine! Very 90s, which I don't hate. I love that she has a comfy outfit and seems to be having a good time. I do sort of want to give her a blanket or perhaps a friend, alone in the fog. The high notes are definitely getting away from her.

Ireland: Beyond my vague musings over whether Ireland singing "We are one" in a UK-hosted Eurovision is an extremely ballsy republican promo move, the song itself sure does take place. I don't mind it! It's fine! We see a pattern emerging here.

Estonia: A ballad with apparently no staying power in my brain.

Latvia: A pleasant enough indie rock type piece with a really unsettling music video. Does some fun proggy things with the time signature, but just a little too low-key to really stick with me.

Georgia: Before Doc made me look up the lyrics, I wasn't one hundred percent sure they were in English. Having looked up the lyrics, I am still not sure the lyrics are in English, although they are certainly English words. Somehow the song does still kind of work as sounds layered together, but it's not, how would you say, good.

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encomium-emmae · 2 years

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U said ask anything so here it goes.. Hey, no u were not the only one that skipped to find King Canute and Emma scenes! I wanted this so bad, what you described in the attached photo. I was wondering, is there any book u Can recommend/ shows u Can recommend that gives off King Canute and Emma vibes. I love how ruthless, smart and in love he can be. And I love how she can easily be his weakness but also she can stand on her own. I love everything u described here. P.s i love Hannibal, black sails, interview with the vampire, penny dreadful, dexter. Not a fan of supernatural. Just for some context. Thanks

Thanks for the ask!

You were wondering if there were any books or shows I could recommend that have Canute/Emma vibes, and I wish I could list a bunch off, but sadly, there's not a lot that come to mind! I think the awesome thing about Emma and Canute — and what had so many of us so very excited after Season 1 — was that this was a relationship of equals, where they began as enemies, in a battle of wits (and armies) against each other, and then became allies and finally lovers. And even though Canute bested Emma on the battlefield, he recognizes her innate skill at strategy and planning, and leaves her to rule England while he's fighting his enemies in Denmark (after marrying her, of course). This dynamic was so refreshing — a man (a king!) recognizing a woman's ability and wanting a partnership with her — I think mostly because it's so lacking it today's media landscape. (Which I think is part of the reason I have so little to offer you, alas!)

Anyway, rather than leave you with this non-answer, I'll ask anyone who's reading this and can think of a book or show with a similar dynamic to leave their ideas in the notes!

Edited to add: I've gotten two responses, but as asks, not replies. So I've you're interested, they're posted on my blog right after this post.

#vikings valhalla #vikings: valhalla #vikings netflix #king canute #emma of normandy #canute x emma #ask and answer #mmklsn

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oneiriad · 2 years

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I just saw your post on juror enrollment. Huh, guess I'm one of today's lucky 10,000. would you be willing to elaborate on the system used? in my nation its literally voter rolls randomly picked. #i was picked twice in college (which is an excused profession so I just got a form and didn't have to show up, but since then when it would be interesting to do and my profession isn't excused service automatically, I've never been called

Denmark does not have juror rolls. For that matter, technically, we don't have pure jury trials. I say juror, but the Danish word is lægdommer, a lay judge, and you serve alongside at least one legally educated judge in the actual trials.

You serve as a juror for a period of four years. When the juror list opens, each municipality has to submit a list of citizens. Back in the day they used to be selected from local members of the political parties, but these days that's either entirely done away with or only used in part. Instead, anybody can - within a limited period of time - submit an application to become a juror.

I say anybody, but of course there are restrictions. Citizenship, age, sound of mind, have not committed serious crimes, and there's a number of excluded professions, mostly any that deal with any aspect of the legal system themselves. Well, and priests of any religion - not sure why that one.

Anyway, you apply and the municipality makes a list of x number of potential jurors (I believe these days they try to match to demographics, so if you are of a demographic less likely to apply (young people, for instance), it increases your chances to get on the list). Once the list is done, they submit it to the court system. The courts then take the lists and do a random draw - well, two draws. One draw to pick the jurors for the municipal courts (which usually cover several municipalities) and one for the two appeal courts that share the country between them.

If you didn't make it on the list or your name is not drawn, you'll receive a polite letter saying thank you, but you didn't get in. I got one of those last time, when I tried to apply.

If you did get drawn, congratulations, for the next four years you are a juror. You will be asked to on average serve four trials a year, most of which take a day. Some trials take longer - the case against the submarine murder asshole was set to 12 days, I think - but most last a day. You are legally obliged at this point to show up when summoned, unless you notify the courts upon receiving the summons that you've got a scheduling conflict, like exams or literally not being in the country on the day. Work is not a scheduling conflict, your employer has to give you time off for this. They don't have to pay you - some do, some don't. The courts pay a daily stipend - not huge, but is it ever?

#denmark #I think I'll apply again

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egcarlos · 10 months

Text

Why I'm Here

It's always wet and muddy here in Bukavu

This week has been slower than what I expected my first week back with MSF would have been. I am still in the capital of South Kivu, Bukavu. I had a meeting yesterday with the medical coordinator of the project and she said that I will likely be out into the projects hopefully by Tuesday, but most likely Thursday of next week, depending on when I will get my work visa approved. Nonetheless, I am making use of my time here in the capital by trying to improve my French with the other ex-pats in the house. I’ve made another friend, his name is Mamadou, a nurse from Niger. At least three times a day he sits in the balcony to smoke his shisha. I take this opportunity to sit next to him and blab out whatever French I can muster. He doesn’t seem to mind my broken French and we’ve had conversations about religion, family, and politics here in the DRC and in his home. The Head of Mission, Sebastian is from France; despite the rapidity of his speech, I find it a little bit easier to understand. He is usually pretty busy so I catch maybe 10 minutes with him in the morning. Juan, who also goes by Jose is from Spain. Initially, I got very self-conscious talking to him in French because I couldn’t really comprehend what he was saying. Come to find out, his French was no better than mine, which is the reason why I couldn’t understand him.

But anyway, outside of my French speaking ventures in the house, I finally got to speak to the doctor that I will be replacing. Her name is Alexandra from Denmark. I received a text message this morning on my Whatsapp asking if I wanted to talk to her today. I of course agreed without hesitation because I am hungry for more knowledge and to gain at least whatever familiarity I can about the projects. Around 9 AM I walk to the MSF office and find her waiting for me with another ex-pat. They both speak English to me, which was not completely welcomed because I want to improve my French, but I go with the flow and to build rapport, continue to speak in English. Alexandra and I walk out of the MSF office and into a hidden coffee shop just about a 10-minute walk from where we were. The coffee shop is a gem here in the neighborhood; it is called Bazima Coffee. It’s a rather popular place for NGO workers as I notice we were not the only foreigners enjoying a drink. I ask for a hot chocolate as she orders a cappuccino and an ash tray as we grab a seat. Her story is quite interesting, and I enjoyed the conversation I had with her. Aside from the formalities in the beginning about project details that seem more or less verbal diarrhea for now as she was naming abbreviations, I was not familiar with and names of nurses and doctors that flew by my attention, we got into the conversation about stigma and its continued harm in the community. Because of the problem of stigma and gossip that eventually comes with it, sharing the HIV status of a person, even among health workers, is risky, especially if the health worker is part of the community. For the project, only the clinician and the health worker performing the test will know the result. From what I was told, rarely will it be written in the person’s hospital charts, nor will it be known by all the medical teams involved (for instance, if the patient is also getting a surgery, it is up to the surgeon to ask if that patient is HIV positive, if relevant for him/her). To me, this is inefficient and creates even more of a stigmatization of HIV, but at the end, this is it. Long-lasting change is going to be a long and tedious process in a context where the ministry of health is almost non-existent, where war and poverty are the norm and where health education is lacking. Change can happen, but it will not happen in the way that I want it to. This is one of the things that I learned working in my first project working in a similar context in South Sudan; MSF, more so NGOs are not going to be the answer to the situation in where they are currently working. We are here to help and to contribute in the best way that we can, but it will not be perfect, nor should we expect it to be. Alexandra has been working with MSF for the past 30 years, both as a field worker and as a referent and she gave me an interesting representation of what NGO and humanitarian work is like. She had me imagine several boats that were trying to get across a body of water. We, as the field worker, are at the beginning with all of the boats as their captain. We can try to push one of the boats forward- if the boat is ready, prepared with everything it needs to move, it’ll start moving forward at the pace it wants to. If it is not ready, no matter what I do as the captain, sometimes it will just not move. My job for this mission is to observe what boat I can start moving in the projects when I arrive.

I know the table above is in French, but just to summarize, the current positivity rate for HIV in Kalole is 3.59%. To put this into perspective, the positivity rate of HIV in the United States according to the CDC is 0.5% in 2021. The positivity rate in Kalole is about 7 times higher than it is in the United States.

But anyway, she leaves to go back to Denmark Sunday morning. She tells me that she has two teenage boys waiting for her when she gets home. She will also be back to her regular job as a pediatric infectious disease specialist in a local university and she will also be practicing medicine in Greenland for a little while as well.

At the end, this is why I’m here. My work as a humanitarian worker will just be a tiny drop in a vast ocean and it is up to me to make my time here significant. I’m here because I am an optimist; I'm here because i know that the tiny drop that i can contribute, although miniscule, is necessary for things to keep afloat.

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russell-crowe · 2 years

Text

mentions of suicide under the cut (in a... reflective kind of way, i am not thinking of anything drastic)

the very first funeral i ever attended was of a friend.

it was beautiful. the walls of the church were covered in a photo exhibition of her last big trip. she went to mongolia with the idea that she could find the key to happiness there. she could not find happiness in the hurry of the western world, so to her mongolia had a promise of deserted steppe and people who escaped the misery of her home.

the pictures were some of the best i had ever seen, but in the context of their exhibition i knew that none of the contained the thing she was looking for.

a couple days earlier, she had sat down at the gate of the horses their field and taken her final breaths in her own terms. the kind of thought through suicide that makes me believe in the saying of greeting death like an old friend.

as someone who has struggled with depressive episodes for half of my life now, her story just... follows me. whenever i feel the waves licking at my feet i come back to her peaceful decision to leave life and i start contemplating whether it is a path i am heading towards. and if yes, how to avoid it.

because see, i have never actively wanted to take my own life, bar the ‘a beautiful mind’ incident in 2013. but passively i have always been at peace with the idea of death for myself. indifferent. perhaps partially because there’s a shit ton of diseases running in my family, so the idea of growing old seems foreign to me anyway.

but sometimes i just wonder why life doesn’t click for me at these moments. and i try to do the things i always do. i love strongly (my obsessive behaviour with actors kinda goes hand in hand with depressive episodes), i take walks and watch people meet each other with excited hugs, i try and exercise so i feel better about my physical state.

and i give myself little promises. “when you live in denmark, everything will be fine.” “when you find a partner, you will find the love and the way of living you crave.” “when you start growing a beard, you’ll learn to love yourself.” “fucked up emotions are a part of being a teenager, when you hit your 20s everything will be fine.” and now i am in denmark. running away from the shit towards a country i like. and i have waves where im on my bike zooming past old shops in amagerbro thinking: fuck, i love living. i feel alive. but then there’s moments like today where i am afraid denmark is my mongolia. and im afraid i will reach a moment where i, too, will sit down and take my last breathe and think: “you know, it was a good time, but there’s nothing keeping me here.”

#text #there are people who praise me for having had an interesting life #and it is true #i have played guitar on stage with U2 #I've met most of my favourite actors #I have seen quite some beautiful landscapes #and I can find joy in trams and planes and the sea and dogs and cats and the every day #but sometimes all the things i do and have done #do not feel like peace but like i am running away from things instead #and i am just afraid of what will happen when i get tired of running away #or what will happen when i run out of things to run into

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getting-messi · 3 years

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lmaoooo

#yeah im gonna sign off for this match #this place and twitter are going to be a mess #i wouldnt mind it if Denmark won but ive always said that England is my guilty pleasure #i hope they are able to pull through today #theres so much anti-england discourse here but i completely get it #i used to clown them too...#ill only be back if England win...#if not....you will not hear from me for awhil......#anyways au revoir mes belles <3

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alexhogh7137 · 3 years

Text

A Perfect Accident

Part One..

Pairing Alex Høgh Andersen × The Reader

Story Summary: You and Alex have been together for two years and it has been the best two years of yours and his life. But when you find out that you are expecting, you feared that he would be upset..

Warnings: a little angst but mainly fluff, cursing

Word Count is around 1k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two Years Ago..

You and your sister have moved from New York City to Denmark for a peaceful change of scenery. It has always been a dream for the two of you and it has finally come true. Her and you got settled in, everything unpacked, everything beautifully in place and nothing could make this time in your lives any better. Your career path has always been photography. Another reason to move to this beautiful place! Everywhere you look is pure beauty. You are in your element. Your sister, on the other hand, is more on the tech side of things. You and her run a business together and she takes so much pride in the company, as do you. It has been the two of you against the world since day one. So the fact that you and your sister are finally living your biggest dream, is absolutely surreal.

"Are you going to the coffee shop today?" She asked you as she watched you grab your car keys.

"Yeah, you want anything?" You asked as you put on your converse shoes.

"Mm, surprise me! You know what i like!" She said excitedly, grabbing her laptop and her plate of food.

"I do, i love you. Call me if you need anything while I'm out. I might go exploring a little-take some photos. It's so sunny today."

"Okay, if you do, i can't wait to see em'!" You hug your sister goodbye, give her a kiss on the cheek and then you were off. You got into your Jeep Wrangler, rolled down all of the windows and put on your favorite songs. It was absolutely gorgeous this morning with the temperature just right. You breathe in the fresh air and think to yourself, finally..

Once you get into the coffee shop, you order for yourself and for your sister, pay and sit down at the corner seats for two. You scroll through your phone to pass the time until you hear your name to grab the two drinks to-go. You thank the baristas and turn back to your seat. But what you didn't know was that another man took your seat and there was no other places to sit.

"Um, excuse me?" You said quietly to the man.

"Yes?" As soon as you saw his face, you lost track of what you were saying, thinking, even the time.

"Oh uhm, i was sitting there.."

"Oh! I'm so sorry, i can move.." he said kindly but once he stood up and looked around, he realized that that wouldn't even be possible. "Uh.." he said as he starts laughing.

"It's okay, i was going to leave anyway-"

"No please, stay! Drink some of your coffee. I'm about to get mine, you can join me, miss-"

"Y/n!" You said as you place your coffee tray and your phone onto the table.

"Y/n, I'm Alex." You shake his hand and your heart started to beat really fast. "Are you going to take me up on my offer?"

"Uh yeah, why not?! I was going to go find a new place to take some photos but i can manage to spare some time."

Alex "Oh, are you-"

"Order for Alex!" The barista shouted at the counter. He looks at her and then back at you.

Alex "I'll be back.." you giggle as you nod and sit down. What is happening right now? Why am i on a little date right now with a man i don't know? I should just leave. Those thoughts kept pondering in your mind but when he returned to you, all of those thoughts and worries just faded away. "So, what was i saying?"

"You were going to ask me a question."

Alex "Oh yeah, i was going to ask if you are new here?" He asked as he took as sip of his coffee.

"Yes. I've only been here for a month or so. I moved here from New York with my older sister."

Alex "I love that!" You smile, "how do you like it so far?"

"I absolutely love it here. Everywhere i go is so beautiful."

Alex "It is definitely beautiful here. But please, tell me about yourself!" And you do just that and he does the exact same. The two of you lose track of the time to the point where your sister texted you, worrying if you were alive or not because you did not text her that entire afternoon.

"Oh shit.."

Alex "What is it?"

"I forgot to text my sister," you said to him as you try to type as quickly as possible, "she's really worried."

Alex "Oh I'm sorry, what time is it?!"

"3:56 p.m."

Alex "Oh my god, we've been talking for five hours!" You two burst out laughing at the realization.

"It doesn't feel that long.. i just lost track of time!" You said as you finally pressed send.

Alex "Do you need to leave?" His tone was different then. As if he was saddened at the thought of you leaving.

"I don't need too but i really should get going. I have to order her another coffee too because this has to be awful by now." You say as you take a sip of it and gag, making Alex chuckle.

Alex "Let me pay for her new one." He offered with a warm smile.

"Alex, i can't let you do that."

Alex "Why not?! Y/n, you just gave me the best morning and afternoon..it is the least i can do." You can't protest before he grabs the cold coffee from your hand, tosses it in the trash and orders the exact same thing, and pays. "It'll be done soon."

"Thank you..you really didn't need to do that, but i appreciate it so much."

Alex "I know that you do. Will i ever see you again?"

"I would hope so.." you offer him a warm smile and kiss his cheek. You walk up and grab your sister's new coffee and make your way to the door but Alex stops you.

Alex "Here's my number. I have off for the next month or so-" he told you about his film project that he is working on, but he has a time period where he can be home for a little while before finishing the film that would take a month or two to fully complete. "Call me-text me..I'll be waiting." He kisses your cheek in the same spot that you did to him just moments before. And then he opens the door for you, walks you to your car and watches you drive off. As soon as he was out of your sight, you called your sister with the news that you didn't know would change your life forever.

_____________________________________

Present Day..

You and Alex have lived together for five months now, in his little cottage-like apartment. He asked you to officially be his three months into knowing each other. Truthfully, the two of you haven't been apart since you met him in that coffee shop two years ago. He has been your world ever since that day and you have been his. You know that you will marry him one day, but why rush into things right? Even if you know that he is the one and he feels the same, why spend so much money on one day when you both can do so much together beforehand? Your sister has been noticing how different you have been acting lately. You haven't been able to keep anything down. You've been sleeping a lot more than usual, and you have been extremely cranky.

"Just take a damn test Y/n! If it comes back negative then i need to take you to the doctor's!"

"Why will you not shut up about this, I'm not pregnant!"

"If you are so fucking certain than pee on the damn stick to prove it." She throws the box into your lap as you sit on the bathroom floor, with your head over the toilet bowl. You know that she is not mad at you, she just cares about you and she hates seeing you sick like this. But you are so afraid that if it comes back positive, than Alex will not be happy. You two aren't even married yet, this can't be happening. Alex has been on a boys trip for the last few days but he is supposed to come back home tomorrow. And now you might have to tell him that you're pregnant? No way.

"What if it's positive sis?" Your tone of voice is calmer now, more fear than anger.

"Than i will be the happiest big sister in the entire world. You know that i will be the best auntie, we've talked about this our whole lives!" She said as she sat down next to you.

"I know, it's just-" you take a deep breath, "now that it could be true, I'm so fucking scared."

"You don't have to be scared Y/n. We are all in this together, whether you are or not. I'm not gonna go anywhere and neither is Alex. He loves you almost as much as i do!"

"But we aren't even married yet and this is happening.."

"Mom had me before she got married! What's the difference?" You don't answer her because you can't think of a good enough answer, "Exactly. Alex loves you and you love him. Can you see yourself being with him for the rest of your life?"

"Of course."

"Than why are you so scared babe?"

"I don't know. I just don't want him to leave me if i am.."

"He would never do that Y/n. You see how he is around kids..he loves babies!"

"Mmm."

"C'mon, take the test. I'm right here." You take a deep breath and you do as she says. She waits with you. "Only a few more seconds and we should know." She said to you as she looked at the timer ticking down on her phone. "There is nothing to worry about Y/n.." and in seconds, she stopped what she was saying and her naw drops.

"What?!" She turns the pregnancy test to show you and you are in fact, pregnant. "Holy shit.."

"I'M GOING TO BE AN AUNT!" She grabbed your arms and started jumping up and down with tears of joy in her eyes.

"I'm gonna be a mom." You mumble.

"And you are going to be the best momma Y/n. The best mom in the world."

...

Your sister helps you figure out a cute way on how to tell Alex the news; you got a tiny onesie that says 'you got this dad' on the front, to go along with the four different tests that you did to make absolute sure that you were pregnant.

"He just texted, he's like five minutes away.."

"Okay, that's my cue to go! Good luck baby, i love you. I'm so happy for you." She gives you the most warm embrace and then she leaves before Alex gets home. You put on a skin tight dress to show the very small bump that you have and make sure that everything was in order. Once he comes through those doors, your emotions got the better of you.

Alex "Hi my beautiful, did ya miss me?"

"Mm, so much!" You say as you kiss him. "I have a little surprise for you." You mumble in between kisses.

Alex "Oh yeah?" You nod, "What is it?" He asked with the biggest smirk on his face. You knew what he was actually thinking but, there is plenty of time to do that later.

"It's on the dining table.." there was a little yellow balloon hanging on top of the box with the gifts inside.

Alex "Why did you get me anything baby?"

"Well, it is kind of a spare of the moment thing..i hope you love it." He smiles at you as he starts to unwrap the box. Your heart was in your throat and your eyes started to water with anticipation. As he opens the box, he see's the onesie. He takes the small piece of clothing out of the box and he flips it to see what the front of it says.

Alex "You Got This Dad.." he looks at you with confused eyes. "Who is this for?"

"It's for you baby."

Alex "But you're not-" and with him saying those words, your tears started to fall on your cheeks. And in that moment, he knew that it was for him. "Baby.."

"There's a few more gifts in there, keep lookin'." You blurted out before he started rambling. He does as you tell him too and he falls into the seat next to him as soon as he see's the pregnancy sticks. He takes all four of them in his hand and reads them all: positive, pregnant, the double lines, and a (+).

Alex "Is this true?!" He asked before he started to cry. You simply nod because your crying prevented you from actually saying yes. "This isn't a prank right?"

"It's not a prank babe." You sniffled. He gets off of his chair and rushes over to you, cups your cheeks and crashes his lips on to yours. He doesn't let you go until the both of you needed a break for air. "Are you happy?"

Alex "Am i happy?" You nod, "baby, this is the best news that i have ever gotten in my entire life!"

"So you're excited?" He doesn't say anything to you. Instead, he gets down onto his knees and he grabs the little bump that's trying so desperately to grow.

Alex "Hello little one..i can't wait to meet you. Thank you for making me a daddy. Your momma and i love you so much already." He said poetically in such a soothing tone as he held on to you. "I love you so so much." He said before planting little kisses on your belly, making you cry even harder. He rises up from his kneeling stance, to kiss you deeper and with pure lust. Once he pulls back, he whispers in your ear, "what a perfect little accident." He lifts you up and takes you to bed. You spent the rest of the day in each other's arm's and you could finally breathe. Alex cannot wait to be a father, and you, cannot wait to be a momma.

@hvitserkmarcosource @youbloodymadgenius @readsalot73 @heavenly1927 @saldelys @herestherealproblem @chaotic-shadow-witch @xceafh

#alex hogh andersen #alexhoghandersen

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tatooedlaura-blog · 3 years

Text

Max 2.0

post-Max. Because the car is the best place to deal with crises of being and pseudo-bad grammar ...

Our Moment Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts) Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori) Chapter 3: Interim (floating somewhere around Unrequited) Chapter 4: Max 2.0 (post-Tempus Fugit/Max)

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

Out of her bed and halfway down the hall before she opened her eyes, she stopped by the couch, realizing she had no idea why she was out of bed. Vague notions of her gun crossed her mind but then she heard a knock. Wavering for another moment or two in full-on sleep mode, she shook her head lightly, tried to pry her eyes open, then regretted it, eyelids stuck together, burning, dry; another knock.

She wondering in passing how long he’d been out there but finally summoning the brain power to move her legs again, she made it to the door. Peering out at him through the peephole, she yawned, then unlocked the door, pulling it open, squinting at the glaring hall light, “you okay?”

Now, he’d known she would probably be asleep, had to be asleep given it was nearly 1am, but that didn’t stop him from being surprised by her pillow-creased face and unfocused eyes, “yeah, um, I’m now realizing this was stupid. You’re asleep. I should be asleep. I’m sorry.” Not turning away, however, hoping if he stood there long enough, she’d invite him in, “I’m sorry.”

Scully knew him like no other and stepping aside, “come on in.”

He did, leaving shoes and coat on, standing, filling, overwhelming the area he stood in, doorframe small behind him, “thanks.” Folding arms, not in that annoyed way of hers but in the ‘I’m trying to hold in a yawn so I will stupidly think that crossing them will keep it from rising to the surface’. It did not work and Mulder sighed, apologizing again, “I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?”

“I just … I can’t stop thinking about Max and the plane and just … he was me, Scully, and that’s bothering me more than I thought it would.”

“Would you like some tea?”

Reaching out, he touched her hand, the one not tucked under her elbow, proceeding to play with her knuckles, the hem of her sleeve, twisting the thermal fabric between his fingers, “I was actually wondering if maybe you’d like to go for a drive with me?”

It had been over a month since their Tennessee drive but the memories were clear and nodding, she gave him a small smile before extracting herself from his fingers, “just let me go grab a coat.” Disappearing, then reappearing quickly, she had one of his zipped sweatshirts over her shoulders, thick socks firmly in place and feet shoved in soled slippers, “ready.”

“Do you steal all my clothes?”

“Only the good ones.”

Soon in the car, they were off, quiet between them broken a minute later, “your car’s clean.”

“It happens.”

“Not often.”

Shrugging, he turned right, then left, the left again, the city night passing by them in an unnoticed blur. He seemed to have a destination in mind and asking if he did, Mulder told her, “no. I just want to get out of the city and I know this is the fastest way.”

“Understood.”

Because it was late and dark and she was tired and loose-limbed, she folded her legs under, folded hands in her lap.

She baited the hook to see if he’d bite.

He did, his hand sliding across the center irritation of a console, fingers wedging once again in the fold between bended knee and adjacent thigh. He knew she’d done it on purpose.

Neither cared.

The connection made them both feel better and Mulder, squeezing her leg lightly, “sorry I don’t have a moonroof for you.”

“It’s cloudy anyways and there’s no moon, so I’ll forgive you this time.”

“Thanks.”

She gave it awhile, the pair of them well out of the city lights, darkness prevailing before, “you’re not like Max. I mean, you are, but not in the ways you’re dwelling on.”

“But I am like him.”

“We’re all Max in our own ways. I mean, we have passions and hopes and problems and dreams but some of us fixate on them to the point where it’s their only hope, their only passion and it becomes their biggest problem.”

He moved to pull his hand away but she grabbed it, holding tight, as he spoke, “I am the poster boy now that he’s gone, Scully. I am Max 2.0.”

Twisting, she refolded her legs so they both vee’d in his direction, able to look at him better that way, turn to see him easier. Putting his hand back between her knees, she moved to hold his lower arm, firmly, trying to get her point across with words as well as tactile pressure, “if you were anything like Max, obsession-wise, I’d be long gone. You have passion, Mulder, he had fixation. There’s a vast difference.”

“Not that vast.”

“There is in my mind. Max wouldn’t be here right now, taking a midnight drive with his … partner,” that was an odd hesitation she wasn’t expecting, “he’d be in his trailer, trying to decode the conspiracies of the universe.”

“The Gunmen are probably doing that as we speak.”

“But Langley also cooks a mean prime rib, Byers plays Majhong on Friday nights with a group of semi-normal people, Frohike crochets blankets for the Veterans Hospital and has a 22-year old penpal in Denmark. These people have other interests. From what we saw and heard about Max, while he was a very nice man, he didn’t do any of that.”

“You know about the crocheting?”

“Have you seen the granny-square afghan on my couch? The one you like to snuggle with when you’re tired and don’t want to drive home? That’s Frohike’s handiwork from last Christmas.”

Suddenly, the world didn’t seem quite so down on him after all but he still felt something he couldn’t shake. Ignoring that, however, for the moment, he scoffed, “he’s never made me a blanket, that yarn-wielding bastard.”

“I’ll drop a hint next time I see him.” Feeling the tension leaving him slowly, Scully began moving her left hand up his arm, around the back, to lightly rub the underside of his bicep, other hand splayed around his wrist. It was an unconscious thing at first, then, noticing it, she decided she liked it and stayed. “Do you think there’s any hot chocolate out here in the sticks?”

Looking at the houses still visible from the road they were on, more spaced apart than a few minutes ago but still numerous, “you’ve been living in the city too long if you think this is the sticks.”

“You call it the city; I call it a severe lack of 24-hour dining possibilities with hot chocolate necessities.”

“You’re wordy today. Did you snack on a dictionary before going to bed?”

“Is that your polite way of telling me to quit mouthing off?”

And now her mouth was foremost on his mind.

Dammit.

“I have M&Ms in the glove compartment. Is that a good enough compromise?”

Retrieving the candy post-haste, she popped one in her mouth, then offered him one, “sugar?”

“Sure. Why not?”

Both chewing, Scully returned to her previous position, “peanut. I approve.”

Continuing on, they covered all kinds of light subjects, music, family, things they visited often but both always enjoyed, especially hearing about the antics of Scully’s extended family, brothers, cousin, bevy of nieces and nephews. After one exuberant story about Sam, second oldest of the bunch, Mulder wiped his eyes, tears of laughter blurring his vision, “how did you land all these people? I mean, you have the cast of some off-beat comedy show and I’ve got my mother.”

He hadn’t meant to bring the atmosphere down and Scully didn’t want to keep it there but she had to tell him, in words he apparently didn’t hear the first seven times she told him, “you realize my mother has adopted you right? I mean, there may not be paperwork but there’s pie. Also, just to let you know, do you remember when you were asking me about my mom’s dentist appointment, about her infected tooth last week?”

“Yeah?”

“I had no idea she was having any issues but I pretended to know because, good Lord, Mulder, you knew about it and I didn’t.” Giving him that look that made his smile return, “does that tell you anything about the level of your acceptance into my family?”

“I mean,” looking almost sheepish, “she called to talk to you and I answered and we just …”

Patting his shoulder, “it’s okay, Mulder. My mother can love you more than me occasionally. I don’t mind.”

His eyebrow went up, about to bring down the grammar hammer on her, hard, “you love me? I had no idea. When did this happen? Was it after I introduced you to the Conundrum or, ooh, I bet is was around the time you were trapped with me in Alaska. That tiny room? Checking for murderous prehistoric alien worms?”

Total confusion all over her face, “What?”

“You said occasionally, your mother loved me more than you. So, I deduce that you love me most of the time and now I’m trying to figure out when that all started.”

Fuck.

Oh, hell, why not just play along?

“I’m pretty sure it was when you were about to head into the hospital with Modell: looking up at me with that camera on your head, Kevlar all tight, panicked look in your eye.”

Wait … was she humoring him? He was treading into the unknown now, not sure if he should keep going, “um … what?”

Her laughter bounced around the interior of the car, a happy sound, a light sound he hadn’t heard in awhile, “nervous, Mr. Mulder?”

Smiling himself finally, “just … left-field line drive came in a little faster than I expected.”

“Are we back to baseball again?”

He was going to crash the car in the next two minutes if this kept up, “I think we should just drive in silence for a minute. My brain did something and just … give me a minute.”

Fuck again.

She was pretty sure with one joke, two follow-ups and a mention of baseball, she’d quite possibly changed the course of their relationship in ways she had no understanding of. Silence nerve-wracking, she fumbled for words, “I’m just glad the two of you get along so well. It’ll make things easier.”

She’d never felt atmosphere shift like it did in that moment, the air hardening between them. Mulder looked at her, any trace of humor gone from his face, “make what easier?”

“If … if something happens to me. I’ll feel better knowing … you’d … have each other, I guess.”

Mulder steered roughly to the left, blew through a stop sign, then pulled them into a large, dark parking lot, a high school if Scully read the sign correctly as Mulder raced past. Hitting the breaks, he threw the car into park, got out and slammed the door, leaving Scully stunned. She hadn’t meant to make it sound as harsh as it did and sighing, she opened her own door, zipping up her sweatshirt as she did so. He’d turned the headlights off so the only light was from a parking lot fluorescents fifteen feet away. Coming around the front of the car, she tugged on his arm, “hey, look at me, please?”

“Have you given up already?”

With a genuine scoff in his direction, “I don’t give up on anything. What the hell kind of question is that?”

“You said when something happens to you.”

“No, I said if.” Taking him by the arms, she turned him around until his back was to the car, “will you sit down?”

“Why?”

“So I can look at you, and not up your nose, when I talk.”

He conceded, sitting down on the bumper, “nothing’s going to happen to you.”

“Yes, I know.” Coming in closer, she forced her way between his knees, “but I learned from you to plan for all eventualities. I have a prepacked suitcase for when you ring my doorbell at 5am telling me we leave in 20 minutes. I have $500 cash in my purse and another $500 in my carry-on for emergencies …”

“Bail money for me?”

“Some of it, yes.” Continuing, “I now prepare for all things, even if there isn’t a chance in hell they’re going to happen. You forced me to learn that and I have and that’s all my comment was. I will be fine,” moving her palms to his face, thinning fingers, delicate steel hands against his cheeks, covering his ears as she tilted his head up to look at her, “but I feel better knowing mom has you and you have mom. You became friends with her while I was missing. I haven’t been forcing you together to create some superficial bond to make my never going to happen, non-impending doom easier to accept. She invites you for pie. You arrive and eat pie. You go home with leftover pie. I have nothing to do with that but I’m glad it happens.”

By now, his hands were on her wrists, eyes glued to her, closing as she leaned in, mirroring that accursed hospital hallway not that long ago. Once her forehead touched his, she whispered, “you are not Max. You have so many people here who love you and need you and you have so much to offer them back and you do. That’s the difference between you and Max. He searched for himself. You search for me, Mulder. You search,” kissing his forehead, then quickly his mouth, “for me.”

Then she wrapped her arms around him and felt his go around her waist. Hugging him tightly, she let the world disappear, sinking against him, warm, solid, against her.

“Who knew this much angst could come from a misplaced modifier?”

“We know now. Never let it happen again.”

With a chuckle, he shifted his head, talking into her shoulder, “Modell? Really?”

She just hugged him tighter, staying quiet against him as he held her close.

&&&&&&&&&&

They may have stayed like that for two minutes. It may have been ten. Regardless, eventually, Scully had to whisper into Mulder’s neck, where her mouth had landed earlier when she turned her head, “Mulder?”

Just as quietly, “yeah?”

“Can you take me home to bed, please?”

“Should I comment on the structure of that sentence as well or just be quiet?”

Giving another kiss to his neck, she pushed back off of him, sly grin, “just take me home.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

&&&&&&&&

After a quiet goodnight/good morning at her bedroom door, he wandered to the living room, taking up residence on her couch, 3am sleepy as his head hit the spare pillow and his mind was finally calm.

#My writing #post-max #MulderNScully #Frohike's Granny squares #Byers Mahjong #Mulder's pie #Maggie Scully #xfiles #xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #txf fanfic #cancer arc

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fdq666roadie-blog · 2 years

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Gender Dysphoria

I've never told anyone before about this, until it came up yesterday while talking with a friend. Well, I told my parents obviously and I told my best friend at the time (she just laughed at me tho, not believing it) but I have my medical journal to prove it aswell. Anyway, I never felt like a girl. I never hung out with other girls cause I couldn't identify with them. It was always easier for me to hang out with boys. I always saw myself as one of the boys. As a little kid I always pretended to be a boy. As a teenager, I never wore feminine clothes or make up or anything like that. I looked and acted like a guy. To the point where people actually asked me if I was a boy or girl and I never gave them a straight answer, cause I didn't honestly know. I always felt uncomfortable referring to myself as a girl. It just felt wrong. I hated feeling so conflicted and not understanding what was wrong. So when I was a few months shy of turning 19, I contacted my doctor about the issue. I was referred to a Sexological clinic at the leading hospital in the capital of Denmark. Long story short, my journal says I have Gender Dysphoria. I never told anyone because I was scared how people would see me, but I guess in today's society, people are a lot more open about it. I never had the selfesteem or confidence to fully live as male or pursue any treatments. I always just said "My body is female, but my mind is male" I guess it's time I should talk about it after so many years of keeping it inside me.

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thedanceronthestreets · 4 years

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PEDRO PASCAL GQ GERMANY - OCTOBER 2020

Original text by Esma Annemon Dil

Fotos by Doug Inglish

Styling by Simon Robins

Translated by @thedanceronthestreets

Intro: A broken tooth could almost have been the reason for our meeting with Pedro Pascal to be cancelled - and with that our conversation about roots, his new movie and times of change.

Interview: It is almost eery how empty the streets of Los Angeles are under the gleaming sun. While Europe is finding its "new normal", people in L. A. are cutting their own hair even without being neurotics. Many of them have not seen their friends in half a year. The pandemic is out of control. So are the reactions to the situation. Inviting someone to a "distance drink" in the backyard can lead to the same consternation as proposing a relationship partner exchange.

All the more of a surprise was Pedro Pascal's immediate confirmation. To the drink, not the partner exchange. He is one of the winners this year - and if Corona had not forced the movie industry to go on a holiday, he probably would not have had the time for this drink. After "Game of Thrones", the series in which his head was squished, followed 2015 the leading role in "Narcos" as a DEA agent on the hunt for Pablo Escobar, and now the leap onto the big Hollywood screen. As of 1. October the Chilean will appear in the blockbuster "Wonder Woman 1984". Furthermore, the second season of the "Star Wars" series "The Mandalorian" will start in October with him as the main character - unfortunately underneath the helmet. But we all seem to be under the same helmet in 2020. It is this man we want to meet, who worked as a waiter in New York a couple of years ago. Whose parents are political refugees that settled in Texas, and one day their son decided to walk into a drama club in high school.

And then the cancellation. While we were preparing the house and garden for Pedro's drink and fashion shoot, which isn't an easy task under L. A.'s restrictions, his management called in with terrible news: Pedro has - no, not Corona - had to receive emergency surgery due to a sore tooth and is now lying in bed with a swollen cheek, making talking or shooting impossible. The sun shines onto empty streets. And our empty garden.

A few days later, he stands in front of the door anyway, no huge bulge in his face, but stitches in his gum. No limousine service that dropped him off, he arrived in his own car and picked up his makeup artist on the way. He helps her to carry in all the equipment and states first and foremost: "I've got time today!" What a star! It does not seem like we are about to ask him how he managed to become a Hollywood sensation, but rather him asking us that question. Pedro Pascal! So, what kind of star is he then?

Pedro Pascal: Sorry for ruining your plans. The operation was a total emergency.

GQ: Really? We were wondering whether the swelling was the result of a secret trip to the plastic surgeon. Apparently, because of the quarantine in Hollywood, their schedules are packed.

Sorry to disappoint you. A few days before our appointment I raced to the hospital with a tooth fracture and the worst pain I've ever felt - a hospital where the severe Corona cases are treated. I was unable to contact any dentists! Right before I parked, a specialist called back. I'll spare you the details of the surgery, gruesome. The pain was excruciating despite the 10 anaesthetic shots. The doctor said I wasn't the only one going through this, a lot of people grind their teeth at night thanks to stress.

What are you most afraid of at the moment?

The way the government is handling the pandemic scares me more than the virus itself. The lack of intelligent crisis management is a moral disgrace. The leadership crisis makes orphans out of all of us - we're left to fend for ourselves.

How have you spent the last few months?

With frozen pizza in jogging trousers in Venice Beach. I live in a rear building that's in the garden belonging to a family. In reality there are enough good takeout restaurants around that area, but for some reason I like salami pizza from the supermarket.

That doesn't exactly sound like the movie star lifestyle. What does it feel like to be forced from top speed to zero?

Considering the things happening in this world, my own state really isn't the top priority. But I would have to lie, if I said I wasn't disappointed. The entire cast and crew of "Wonder Woman 1984" put so much heart and soul into the production. We had so much fun on set. I had hoped to carry this feeling of exuberance around the globe to the openings of this movie.

You are part of a political, socialist family that fled the Pinochet regime in Chile. What do you remember from back then?

My sister and I were born in Chile, but I was only nine months old when we claimed asylum in Denmark. From there, we moved to San Antonio in Texas, where my dad worked as a doctor in a hospital.

Texas isn't exactly considered to be socialist utopia. How well did you settle in?

San Antonio isn't a cowboy city but rather very diverse with large Asian, Afro-American and Latino communities. In my memory it's a romantic place, culturally inclusive. The cultural shock only hit when we moved to Orange County in California later. Suddenly, the environment was white, preppy and conservative.

How were you welcomed in California?

To this day I'm ashamed when I think about how I let my classmates call me Peter without correcting them. I'm Pedro. Even without growing up in Chile, the country and language are part of me. I was quite unhappy in that place. At least I was able to switch schools and visit one in Long Beach, where I felt more comfortable. With its theatre programme, I found my path.

Could you visit your family's homeland as a child?

Yes, after my parents ended up on a list of expats that were permitted to re-enter the country. First, there was a big family gathering, then me and my sister were parked at some relatives' place for a few months while my parents returned to Texas. They probably needed a break from us. They'd had us at a very young age, had a vibrant social life, and my mother was doing her doctorate in psychology.

Was your mother a typical young psychologist that tested her knowledge at home?

You mean whether I was her lab rat? Absolutely. I can remember weird sessions camouflaged as games, where someone would watch my reactions to different toys. Even though I couldn't have been older than 6, I knew what was happening. My favourite thing was to be asked about my dreams. That was always a great opportunity to make up fantastic stories.

Was that your first performance?

Definitely! My strong imagination alarmed my mother, because I'd rather live in my fantasy world than in real life. I didn't like school. I ended up in the "problematic kid" category. At some point the subjects got more interesting and my grades improved. So many children are unnecessarily diagnosed with learning disabilities without considering that school can be daunting. Why is it acceptable to be bored out of your mind in class, when there are more stimulating ways to convey knowledge?

With everything happening in the world this summer: Do you believe that social hierarchy structures are genuinely being reconsidered?

Hopefully. After the lockdown my first contact with people was at the Black Lives Matter protest. The atmosphere was peaceful and hopeful until the police got involved and provoked violence. At least during these times we can't avoid problems or distract ourselves from them as easily as we usually do. It seems that the pandemic provided us with a new sense of clarity: we don't want to go on like this.

The trailer of "Wonder Woman 1984" represents the optimism of the 80s. That almost makes one feel nostalgic nowadays.

That holds true. It's two hours of happiness. Patty Jenkins, the director, managed to make a movie full of positive messages. We shot in Washington, D. C., then in London and Spain - which now sounds like a different time.

Do you miss travelling?

I've only now realised what a privilege it is to just pack up your things and fly anywhere. With an American passport you can travel freely. And that's why the small radius we live in now is kind of absurd. Over the last few years I often retreated in between takes, because I was always on the road and overstimulated. Friends complained about how comfortable I had become. We all took social interactions for granted and realise now how reliant we are on human connection. Now, I wistfully think about all the party and dinner invitations I declined in the past.

In L. A., people spend more time indoors or in nature than in other metropolises. Could this city become your safe haven after New York City?

My true home is my friends. Ever since I was young I've lived the life of a nomad and haven't set roots anywhere. Until recently, my physical home was a place for arriving and leaving and hence I didn't want to overcomplicate living by owning lots of things. The opposite actually: Without having read Marie Kondo's book, I got rid of all the stuff that was unnecessary and lived a very minimalistic lifestyle.

Is there something you collect or could never say goodbye to?

Books! I still own the literature I read during my teen and university years. Recently I found a box of old theatre scripts and materials back from my uni days at NYU. I can't separate from art either, same as lamps or old pictures. Furniture and clothes are no problem though, they can be chucked.

Do you remember any roles that were defined by their costumes?

Yes, "Game of Thrones" comes to mind immediately. During that time I first understood what it means, as an actor, to be supported by a look. I owe that to costume designer Michele Clapton. She developed these very feminine robes and brocade cloaks for my role that looked very masculine when I wore them. I felt sexy in them. And very important were of course Lindy Hemming's power suits and Jan Sewell's blond hair for the tycoon villain Maxwell Lord in "Wonder Woman 1984". Relating to the style, I couldn't really see myself in the role since the shapes and colours of the 80s don't really fit my body. My type is the 70s.

Do you adopt such inspirations into your private closet?

At this point in time, I'll choose any comfortable outfit over a cool look. Sometimes I mourn the days when I defined myself with fashion. It's a bit mad when I think about how, in the 90s as a teenager, I would go to raves; a proper club kid with crazy outfits: overalls, chute trousers, soccer shirts and a top hat like in "The cat in the hat knows a lot about that!" by Dr Seuss. Later in NYC I was part of a group that placed immense value on wearing a certain style. The fact that I only walk around in joggers nowadays is actually unacceptable!

Normally, actors who work on comic screen adaptations become bodybuilders and eat ten boiled chicken breasts per day. You don't?

My body wouldn't be able to handle that. I find it difficult enough to maintain a minimum level of fitness. As of your mid 40s, you suddenly need a lot more discipline. Until the tooth incident happened, I worked out a couple of times a week with a trainer to keep the quarantine body in shape.

What would annoy you the most, if you were your own roommate?

I can be very bossy. I have to gather all my goodwill not to force my movie choice on to everyone else. When I want something, I'm not passive aggressive about it, I attack head on. Also, I can get caught up in tunnel vision: When i feel down, I can't imagine that I'm ever going to feel better again. I have difficulty with seeing the bigger picture when experiencing problems or emotions. Method acting really wouldn't be my thing. That's why I try to only work on projects that feel good and where people encourage and lift each other up.

While you were trying on the outfits you pointed out a lack of self-esteem. How does that coincide with your career?

Isn't it interesting how traits and circumstances go hand in hand? Self-esteem comes from the inside, but it's also influenced by what society believes. We use critical stares from the outside against ourselves. I lived in New York for 20 years, I studied there and worked as a waiter up until my mid 30s, because I couldn't live off acting. It was always so close. The disappointment of always just barely missing a perfect part or opportunity is exhausting. When is the right time to stop trying and what's plan b? That's not just a question actors ask themselves, but anybody who struggles to earn a livelihood - unrelated to how much potential they have or how close their dream may seem. We are beginning to see now how our narrow definition of success is destroying our communities. At the same time, it's becoming obvious that, until this day, your family background and skin colour determine your chances of living a dignified existence.

What are the positives of becoming a leading man later in life?

I have the feeling that I've got control over my life - without the pressure of having to accept projects or be a social media personality. That surely also has to do with the fact that I'm a man. Women are surely pressured to appear quirky at any age.

Life is always a management of risks - especially at this time. For what would you risk losing something?

Usually, if you don't play the game you're not going to win anything. That applies to friendship, love, work, creativity. Anything that really means something to me, is worth the risk.

Wonder woman 1984 will appear in cinemas 01.10. The 800 million dollar earning DC comic franchise is moving into the New York 80s with its sequel. It looks spectacular - only Pedro Pascal with blond hair in a three piece Wall Street suit looks better.

#pedro pascal #gq germany #Gq

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sergeant-donny-donowitz · 4 years

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The First Basterd: DonnyxFem!Reader

requested by @marlenemarauders

A/N *Reader is Polish & Jewish, but you don't have to be either to read it :D

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tammykelly @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders @what-the--curtains @taikawho @spookybearlandtaco Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :) _________________________________________ ***November, 1943***

You huffed as you walked through the dense forest. A puff of cool air forming a cloud before your lips as you marched through the winter. Your sniper was slung over your shoulders. You gave the bright grey sky a rare glance with a sigh, before returning to the constant scan of forest floor. You were once a lone sniper, far from home. You had been, since 1939. Lone sniper or not, you quickly learned that in order to survive in war, you had to make a few allies. By late 1942, you had more than a few. Things would change then, though you hadn't anticipated that just yet. By late 1942, you had made a name for yourself. Now, none of your enemies quite knew your name. All they could call you was the Basterd. A composite sketch of you from descriptions from nazis who'd barely survived your gaze was sent halfway around Europe and back. By late 1942, every nazi west of the Vistula River knew your face, and knew you as the Basterd. By 1943, they'd learn you were only the first basterd.

Back in November of 1942, just before the basterds left England to jump over France, they were informed at the last minute that a special agent working undercover in France would be guiding them when they landed. They were expecting an older, more experienced, serious, mysterious agent. Probably a British spy, or a rogue Soviet. The kind of thing they saw in old movies. They got you, instead. And they loved you... Maybe a little too much, you'd say. It had been a year since then, and you loved them all to pieces, honestly. But, you were a little more than a little annoyed by now. Each and every basterd loved you in his own way...and consequently, became overprotective. Every time you had to risk showing your face to nazis, Aldo hung around dangerously closely, which only made it all riskier. Smitty tried to convince you to only use your sniper, and never even get close enough to have your face seen at all. Omar called him all sorts of names over that, but then acted even more ridiculously by making a Robin-esque kind of mask for you. Hirschberg ceaselessly and shamelessly flirted with you, and stole your kills, insisting you shouldn't waste your time. Wicki was a little more...mature about it. He was still overprotective, but quiet about it. None was more head over heels than Donny. You liked to hang around with him a little more because he made you feel less like a liability, and more like a basterd. Still, it took every ounce of patience and strength to not remind them every waking moment of your life that you were once the Basterd. Until today. Donny took a bullet for you. Well...it was meant for you, but it was a whole meter away from you. The bullet grazed Donny's shoulder, but it could have been so much worse. When the scalping and interrogating was over, you were fuming as you paced back and forth, gathering all the supplies you needed to take care of Donny. "The basterds need you, Y/n. I need you." He knew exactly what you were thinking, and it scared him. What scared you more was that this was not the first time one of the basterds had done something stupid like that. And, you weren't so sure it would be the last. You were tired of it, and you were tired of thinking that if some day, something happened to them, it would be because of you. "Not now, Donny." You shook your head, and clenched your jaw, knowing that if you didn't, you would raise your voice and all hell. "What?" "Not like this," You were exasperated, shaking your head, "Not now. Not in the middle of a fucking war." You were livid. You and Donny had joked about it before. As time went on, you had to actually talk about it. It kept you both up till two am. It got you both through gunfire, through rain, through sleepless nights. But you'd both come to the same conclusion. This was war. This was no place for love. "Fuck a duck," Donny reached for your hand, but you pulled away as he called out, "I couldn't fucking let them hurt you! Y-" "I was a whole meter away from the bullet! I am not a child in need of protecting." You did your best at cleaning the wound, focusing directly on the blood. If you looked at him, at that smirk you knew he had, you would probably punch him. "When you Americans were still arguing about joining the war, I was already out here, alone, with a stolen gun, running out of bullets, far from home, and far from any allies. I've seen it all, done it all. I've survived." You muttered, "I don't know what more you expect from me." You finally looked at him, with a reproachful glance that stung him, "I don't know why you expect so little when I'm one of you!" He stammered for a moment, not able to find any justification for it. "It's not that we expect little from you, it's just that....we....I mean..." Donny wasn't the kind of person that stuttered, stammered, and stalled. Whatever he had to say to you, he was having a hard time putting into words, and you were not happy about it. You gave up, uncrossed your arms with an exasperated sigh, and turned away. "For fuck's sake." "It's just that..." You stormed out of the tent to grab some more bandages, and he followed you. "What? That I'm a girl? I should be sitting behind a typewriter on a fucking base? I should just stick to being a nurse? Let me re-fucking-mind you that I was not trained to be a nurse, I learned all of this out here on my own, years before you even fucking enlisted." All the basterds were sitting around, and could hear it all too clearly. It didn't matter to you, and it didn't embarrass you as much as it would have any other day. They could hear anyway, and...you wanted them to hear. You wanted all of them to quit it. Omar munched on a sandwich and remarked with a shrug, "...She has a point," not yet realizing how serious you were. "Omar!" Smitty put up his hands in exasperation, shaking his head. Aldo muttered, as he opened his tin of snuff, "Just keep your fucken mouth shut."

"Unbelievable. After a whole fucking year..." you muttered, rifling through the supplies for at least one clean, spare bandage. Wicki turned to the others, whispering "So she's mad-mad..." "What else is new?" Hirschberg chuckled, and all the basterds glared at him, not wanting to collectively face your vengeance. Because, as much as they acted like big bad basterds around you and the rest of the world, they were just a tiny bit scared of you. And rightfully so. You shook your head, "I have a higher body count than all of you combined." That alone would have struck fear in anyone's heart. You finally wrapped a bandage around Donny's wound tightly. "Ow! Fuck, Y/n!" "When will you stop acting like I need saving?!" You put your hands at your hips, finally looking at them all, effectively terrifying them. The only thing more terrifying at the moment would be to lose you. "I'm sick and tired of this ridiculous shit. If this is as far as we can get without one of you biting a fucking bullet 'for me', then maybe I should quit." You were dead serious.

You turned your back on them, walking east, which terrified them even more, as they all jumped to their feet, and rushed toward you. "Where are you going?" Wicki asked, completely concerned. Honestly, that was his thing. Being a bit older than all the basterds, he was usually genuinely concerned for all of you. But...mostly you. "You were all ordered to be on this team. I chose it. Now I'm choosing to go to Frankfurt. If you want to come, be my guest. But don't ever do anything stupid, like that again" You gestured to Donny, and he only grinned, wanting desparately to believe that you were bluffing. But, even he knew better than that. "What the hell's in Frankfurt?" Aldo asked, packing up his few belongings, quickly followed by the others. You turned back to look at them, beginning to grin a little. "You ever hear of a man by the name of Hugo Stiglitz?" There was a resounding no. You sighed, "If you want to know, then walk and talk," you shrugged, slinging your sniper over your shoulder, as you walked east. The basterds trotted by, as you revealed a particularly interesting anecdote. _____________ It was 1939. Sirens had been blaring so long and so often, when they stopped, everything sounded as if you were underwater. There was nothing and no one left in Krakow that you could recognize. There were nazis in the streets. There was glass on the ground. People were missing. You had only one chance to escape. It was on the shore of the Vistula river, under the cover of the dark night sky, and the shroud of a thundering storm that you took that chance. You killed a nazi. You took his sniper, and you took off, hoping to make it to Denmark, which was still free at the time. Then, you were sure you'd find a way to help. You'd been running for days on end. When you finally had a moment to breathe, you were in a land you did not know. You didn't even know what day it was. It had felt as though years had gone by. But when you looked around in the dimly lit streets of a strange and small town, your hands shook, your heart stopped, and you watched as your world collapsed. You were in the middle of Germany, nowhere near Denmark. You were only beginning to panic... You had nowhere to go. You had no way to hide a sniper. You felt a thousand eyes falling on you accusingly. You had just caught the eye of a man in a gestapo uniform. He walked over to you, and people turned away. He had been alerted about a "suspicious figure." When he spotted you, he walked down the street, not raising any alarms or orders. He walked by you, ushering you to a side street, then to a quiet, isolated alley. He saw how terrified you were, and quickly began explaining he knew a place where you could hide. You looked at him, with wide eyes, and hardly breathing. You saw blood on his knife. (And years later, you'd learn he'd just killed one of his officers, minutes before finding you.) He smiled kindly, thinking for a moment, finding the string of Polish words he'd learned not too long ago. "Nazywam się Hugo Stiglitz." 'My name is Hugo Stiglitz.' You didn't know if you could trust him, but when you saw his eyes, you knew you had no choice. When you realized he was putting himself on the line for you, you spoke to him in whatever German you could piece together, "Ich kann von hier aus gehen. Ich kann es schaffen. Geh, bevor du erwischt wirst." You looked so frightened, he could hardly believe what you'd just said, "I can go from here. I can make it. Go, before you get caught."

Hugo simply shook his head, with an assuring smile. "Frag mich nicht Dinge, die ich nicht tun kann." "Don't ask me things I cannot do."

Hugo hid you in the home of a friend, and then another, and another. There was a chain of them. Some of them were hiding neighboring families, some were hiding childhood friends. Some were hiding complete strangers, like you. Hugo visited you every day, wherever you were hidden. He couldn't help you get to Denmark, but, France was an option. He warned you that part of, if not all of France would probably be invaded in a matter of time, and urged you to find a way out. Anywhere. As far as you could. You promised him you'd stay safe, and stay in France, but...he wouldn't find out, would he? He sighed as he escorted you himself to France, knowing you'd be safe there. But, something told him you wouldn't do as he'd advised you to do. No, you had that restless fire in your eyes that belonged to the rebels and the righteous. He smiled, knowing wherever you went after that moment was out of his hands. But fighters like you were never out of his mind. Only months later, he saw the sketch of your face, and he sighed. He wasn't surprised, but he wished you the best. _____________ Four years later, you studied the bloodied papers and 'wanted' picture in your hands. It was a warrant for Hugo's arrest. He was on the run, believed to be somewhere in France. He was to be brought in alive. You only hoped he hadn't been found yet. But if he had, you were going to do something about it. It was only fair, you smirked. Donny found your smirk incredibly cute, though he was undoubtedly a little jealous seeing you get so worked up about some guy. Some guy that wasn't him. He went along with it, trying to stay out of your way. He'd annoyed you before, but this time you were not budging. Every one of the basterds followed you without question. You broke them in and out of a high security prison all the way in Frankfurt. Aldo had his usual spiel ready, of course, being a slave to appearances and all. Now, he had you to thank for this new recruit. Hugo nodded briefly at Aldo. But, a faint flicker of his old smile graced that grim cell when he realized just who had led the basterds to him. When Hugo was free from his cell, you hugged him. He couldn't remember the last time someone had hugged him. Donny wasn't too thrilled, but you'd both laugh about it some years later in a diner, back in Boston, far from the war and all the ruins it left. It'd be a long time till then. And you were still upset at the boys. If leading them directly into Germany, and in and out of a high security prison, without loosing a single basterd wasn't impressive enough, you didn't know what was. Needless to say, it only took a few hours to find out. You walked at the end of the group, in case any nazis were still on your trail. You were, after all the best marskman they had. Hugo was just ahead of you, but barely. He was tired, more tense then when you had last seen him, which seemed utterly impossible. You spoke in broken German. Wicki was way ahead, he wouldn't hear. "Du bist verletzt." "You're hurt." When Donny heard your voice, he slowed down a little. You smirked, already knowing that basterd was jealous as hell. Still, he muttered something to himself about not knowing anything other than English, and some Italian. Hugo nodded, simply, acknowledging that though you'd known him briefly, you were the only living person who knew him at all. He said one simple word in your language, "Tak." 'Yes.' knowing there was no use in denying it. "If someone comes up behind us, leave me behind." You smiled and shook your head, "Don't ask me things I cannot do." He sighed, remembering that, but still shook his head, "You made it this far without me, why-" "Without you? That's a laugh." It was then that you noticed Hirschberg making a mistake you had made back in 1941. "HIRSCHBERG GET AWAY FROM THERE!" He was on thin ice. Literal, thin ice. Listening to the roaring bellow of the frozen lake. "HIRSCHBERG!" He was listening to everything but you. "GEROLD." He turned to you with wide eyes, knowing to be fucking terrfiied if you ever called him by his first name. "FOR FUCK'S SAKE, GET OUT OF THERE!" Just as he started to get up, the ice beneath his feet began to crack. Donny, through the throbbing, searing pain in his arm, instinctively flung forward, running, and reaching for Hirschberg. "DONNY DON'T!" He slipped away from your grasp, dropping his bat on the ground as he lunged to save his brother in arms. The ice, already fragile and shattered, could offer Donny less time than it had Hirschberg. Now both of them were flailing in the freezing water, in shock from the slicing and searing cold. "NOBODY FUCKING MOVE." You warned, thinking quickly, knowing all of the basterds were liable to follow without thinking. "BUT-" You turned to Smitty. You'd apologize later, but...there was no time to be sorry now. "SHUT IT." "Y/N." "SHUT IT." You turned to Hirschberg and Donny, calling out, "RELAX. FLOAT HORIZONTALLY, BELLY DOWN! BELLY DOWN, HIRSCHBERG!" Though you were shouting, your words seemed soft, and cut through the panic and adrenaline. They slowed down, and did as you told them to do, as you picked up Donny's bat, tying your jacket onto it, praying the knot would hold. You wandered to the edge of the frozen lake, holding on to the sleeve, and sliding the bat out to the boys, "GRAB ON." Donny made Hirschberg go first. "D-donny, I-I c-can't. I-" His teeth were chattering, as he shook his head, along with everything else. Donny stammered, "Th-that's a f-fucken o-order. Go." Your eyes widened, as you felt the ice beneath you pop. "Y/n, no-" Aldo stepped forward now, but you pushed him away. "It won't hold both of us." You looked back, as Hirschberg shakily grabbed on to the end of the bat. "Stay down, I'll pull you back here!" You slowly and steadily pulled Hirschberg. You would've loved to do it quickly, to save Donny. But, that would only make the ice even more unstable. You couldn't bring yourself to look at Donny yet. You could hear him stammering and chattering, trying to encourage Hirschberg through, with some colorful language here and there to keep himself awake. After what felt like an eternity, you finally looked at Donny. His face was blue, his nose was bright red. "DONNY COME ON!" He wrapped his stiff, blue fingers around his bat, as you pulled him over the edge, and close to the shore. The basterds gave up their coats and sweaters for them, and you looked around. You knew this part of the forest. No one would come near it. Not in this winter. Aldo knew that look in your eye. You'd been a basterd longer than they had. You knew what you were doing, and where you were going. He understood that look meant you were safe. He nodded, agreeing silently with you. "This here's a p'rty good place to stop, boys." Far from the eyes of murderers, hidden from gunfire and planes, you built a fire, and found a place to set up camp. When the sun set, only Donny remained by the fire. Hirschberg, and the rest of the basterds had gone to sleep. Even Hugo with fresh wounds, fears, and insomnia, was able to slip into a dream or two. "Hirschberg's doing ok. " You sat by Donny, smiling softly as you handed him some makeshift soup that Smitty was made. (There was a 50% chance it was edible, and 50% chance the OSS could use it as a torture device. But that's a story for another day.) "Y/n..." The way he looked at you was different. In fact, it was almost the way the rest of the basterds looked at you for the past few hours. There was a form of awe...An unspoken shield of respect. The only difference in the way Donny looked at you, was that there was a shade of love entwined there. "See, and I didn't have to get shot to save you," you chuckled, playfully leaning your head on his shoulder. He slowly lifted his arm, resting his hand on your head. "Where would I be without you..." He was serious, and spoke softly, which was not something you could say happened often. "Probably with a gangrenous arm," you shrugged, and he smiled a little. You looked into his eyes for a moment, and he looked into yours, and he kissed you. "What took you?" He raised his eyebrow, almost offended, as he raised his voice a little, "What took me?! What took you?!" You both laughed about it, your head resting once again on his shoulders, and his head resting over yours as you watched the dancing stars and the rising trees, as snow began to fall softly. There was a long road ahead to occupied France. And longer still was the road to the end of the war. But, in that moment, that was ok. You'd make it out together. All of you. Once, you'd taken pride in being the one and only basterd. You'd been proud of being the only one who's face could bring the enemy to their knees, and make them beg for mercy. But things changed in 1942. It took some getting used to, but you knew all along it was the only way for any of you to make it out. Together. You were reminded of that when you saw Hugo's face on that warrant. But here, in Donny's arms, it was clearer now more than ever. The only way out of the war, was just like that.

#Inglourious Basterds #Donny Donowitz #donny donowitz imagine #donny donowitz x reader #aldo raine #aldo the apache #the bear jew #Omar Ulmer #Smitty #gerold hirschberg #Hirschberg #Wilhelm Wicki #hugo stiglitz #inglourious basterds imagine

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leafs-lover · 4 years

Text

Because Two People Got Drunk: 6

Series Masterlist

A/N: I know some airplanes actually have the option for first class “pods.” I have no idea what these look like but I read an article/interview Kaitlyn Bristowe did years ago after her and Shawn first got engaged and she said they had sex in one of these pods during a night flight.

Summary: You head to Denmark with Fred for a vacation and meet his family when something happens.

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, Public sex, Mile High Club, some cuteness, mentions of death and drunk driving (don’t be stupid folks), probably some swearing

Word Count: 2,621

July 25, 2021

You agreed to the trip to Denmark with Fred. Family is important and they will be half of your sons family. It will be good for you to know the people your son will be related to, you just hope it isn’t too awkward or that they don’t ask too many questions about your relationship with Freddie. You decided on 8 days, the first and last essentially were travel days and adjusting to the time change. You were going to spend a few days in Copenhagen doing sightseeing, with 3 nights in Herning visiting his family. Fred flew into Denmark with you but since he was staying longer you would be flying back solo.

You tried to book your own ticket in coach, but he argues that since you were only going because he asked he should pay for the flights and hotel. You tried protesting it, but eventually agreed but told him you’d be fine to just share 1 room if he was, it was likely that you would be spending your nights together anyways might as well save him some money, even though he likely didn’t care.

He opted for first class seats, you figured for the leg room but the seats actually had the option to convert to beds. You and Fred convert to beds and you lie down with a blanket over you both, Fred wraps an arm around you and place his hand on your stomach. You lie there watching step brothers as his hands stroke your stomach. You expect one or both of you to fall asleep at some point during the movie. Half way through you feel his hand slip lower to the elastic of your yoga pants. His hand slips under and rests on your lace underwear. He moves forward so you feel him pressed against you “can you be quiet skat?” you nod, a soft yes slipping from your mouth.

His fingers slide into you and begin to do wonders. A soft moan leaves your lips and he nips your ear “you need to be quiet" as he slams his fingers in harder and deeper. You feel his member harden against your ass as you grind back into him. He uses his other hand to bring your pants down slightly to expose your ass. He then pulls his sweats and boxers down. You reach back with one arm and give him a few strokes before he grabs your hand and pins it down in front of you. He shifts you to bring your knees toward your chest and he shifts down, sliding his hard cock in you. You look around the only passenger who could see you is asleep, but you adjust the blanket to ensure you are fully covered in case someone walks by.

He is thrusting in slowly but forcefully. Bottoming out each time, you bite your lip to suppress your moans. He is rubbing your clit, you know neither of you will last long. The thrill of sex in public, possibly getting caught. He continues his pace, and the hard thrusts have you seeing stars. You clench as your orgasm crashes over you, feeling his warmth fill you shortly after. He pulls out and returns your pants to their position as you begin to doze off for the rest of the flight.

The first few days you spend touring Copenhagen and some other cities. Fred shows you some of his favourite spots, takes you to restaurants always refusing to let you pay claiming you are his guest. You even found a market and did some shopping for yourself and the baby; once again you aren’t allowed to pay.

Now it’s time to go to Herning. As you zip your suitcase nerves come over you. This was the whole reason for the trip to meet his family but what if they don’t like you? Fred sees the wheels turning in your head, he comes up behind and he wraps his arms around you placing his large hands on your stomach, this always calms you down “stop worrying everything will be fine" you nod against him as he let’s go grabbing your suitcase. When you arrive to the hotel, you were expecting a normal hotel room with a bed, dresser and maybe a small table. You realize Freddie booked you guys a suite, with a full living room, and a separate bedroom with an over sized king bed.

Tonight is a dinner with his parents and siblings, you start getting ready a few hours in advance. Trying to take the nerves off by looking perfect; telling yourself by looking perfect they will like you more. You take a long shower listening to your favourite playlist, exfoliating every inch of yourself. When you get out you wrap your hair in a towel as you begin to do your make-up keeping it light and simple. You blow dry your hair and style it with some loose curls. Now it’s time to get dressed, you look through every item in your suitcase trying to figure out what outfit best represents “I’m the girl having a baby with your son. I’m not his wife or girlfriend, and I got pregnant after one night with him. Please like me.” You quickly realize you did not pack any outfits that say this, what was going through your mind before you left Toronto.

Fred walks into the bedroom and see’s you standing there wrapped in your towel staring at your clothes. “Doesn’t matter what you wear, you know that. We have to leave in 10 minutes or we’ll be late. That will influence their opinion of you for sure.” You laugh finally deciding on some jeans with a pink tank top and a flowy floral knee length cardigan, you pair it with some brown open toe boots. As you finish zipping them up Fred walks over “see? beautiful” he says before reaching around you to open the door.

You walk in to his parent’s house behind Fred as he greets his family. As you wait for dinner they ask basic questions, where are you from what do you do? His dad remains pretty quiet.

Dinner is served and the conversation shifts into some harder questions:

Do you guys have a name picked out? Is the child going to be raised with a religious background? Where is it going to live with you or Fred? You either answer “no or I don’t know” to these then IT comes: What if Fred doesn’t sign in Toronto how will you make it work?

You have been dreading this, you knew this would come but still you’re uneasy neither of you have answers to any of these. Fred finally chimes in “I guess we have some things to figure out, but we will sort it out"

You agreed somewhat, yes you could figure out a name and religion wasn’t that important to you. But what if he left Toronto, rumours are he will be.

Charlotte “You haven’t had discussions on the future? Fred’s career can be unpredictable, some things you can figure out as you go but of this baby is due in November. With you in Toronto and Fred potentially in a different country how does that work? How does he see his son and have a relationship during the season?”

“I guess I never gave much thought to Fred leaving” you lie. “But if that’s what he has to do because he thinks it’s best for his career I’ll support that decision. We’d figure something out, we’d have to" Fred squeezes your leg lightly with a soft smile. You take a deep breath before continuing “my parents died when I was young so I know the impact growing up without parents can have on a child. I don’t want my child to feel that way.” Everyone stares at you, but your eyes go to Fred as he looks softly at you but you can see through his facade to the shock.

That night you return to the hotel and get ready for bed. He pulls you in to his chest rubbing your shoulders “we’ll be fine dear, we’ll be fine" you nod and move away crawling in to bed. You roll onto your right side, facing away from Fred when you hear him softly say “I’m sorry about your parents.”

You roll onto your back saying “it was almost 20 years ago.”

He throws an arm over you “doesn’t make it better, or mean I’m not sorry because it was a while ago. You lost your parents.” You turn to face him as he pulls you closer, brushing some loose curls from your face.

“I know, sorry. I guess I have gotten use to deflecting when talking about it.”

“You don’t have to apologize, you don’t even have to talk about this. If you want to I am here though” he says looking into your eyes. Silence fills the air.

A few moments pass before you finally say “I was 12, they went to dinner in downtown Toronto. My grandparents were in town for a visit, they used to come for a few weeks in the summer and they were spending the night with me. They were on the drive back, 7 blocks from home and went to make a left hand turn. A car barrelled through the red light into the driver’s side. My dad was killed instantly, my mom was taken from the car to the hospital. She underwent emergency surgery and she shockingly survived the surgery, but the trauma was too much and she died in the ICU 12 hours later. Turns out the driver was drunk, more than twice the legal limit.” You have told this story so many times it’s almost robotic, but this time it’s different. You don’t know if it’s Fred’s soft brown eyes staring into yours or if it’s the pregnancy hormones but you feel so many emotions as tears fill your eyes and slowly fall onto your cheeks.

“I am so sorry (Y/N). You shouldn’t have had to go through that” he says wiping the tears from your face. It must be the pregnancy hormones because you begin to sob uncontrollably, you haven’t cried like this over your parents in years. He pulls you in tight stroking your head until your cries steady and you fall asleep.

You wake up and today is the annual Andersen Uno tournament with the cousins and a big barbecue. Two of his aunts smother you almost instantly.

“Yeah mushrooms it’s her thing.” Fred says “I made sure there was enough mushroom dishes for a small village today” you both laugh.

“So has the baby been moving lots?”

“No not yet which I find a little strange. My doctor said it can take up to 25 weeks. I’m at about 22, but I’m going to bring it up at the next appointment.” They both nod “my first was close to 25 weeks too” one says.

The Uno tournament with about 15 players and 5 decks begins. It’s a little challenging with some of his cousins speaking little to no English, and you knowing even less Danish but fun none the less. You sit with one card left in your hand and Fred beside you when he puts down a pick up 4. “No! I was so close!” you shout as he laughs. A few turns later his cousin ends up winning.

Later in the night people are scattered around the yard when you feel something in your stomach causing you to jump slightly. You look around for Fred spotting him by the food table talking with his mom. You practically run to him.

“Fred! Fred!” he looks up at you startled, fear reaching his face.

“Give me your hand" you grab it and place it on your stomach “give it a minute."

Then he feels it, a smile instantly spreading across his face “is that? Did he just?”

‘Yeah he’s kicking! He’s finally kicking!” you exclaim. Fred takes his other hand placing it on your stomach. “He’s kicking” Fred says softly looking into your eyes.

Without thinking you lean up, connecting your lips with his. It starts soft until he leans into it; you wrap your fingers in his hair. Its very passionate, as his hands move to the small of your back pulling you in closer to him. After a minute you separate from each other with your foreheads touching. Fred smiles at you as you feel his families’ eyes burning a hole in the back of your head. The rest of the night you spend around the fire, cuddled up on Fred’s lap with a blanket draped over you. Fred has his hand on your stomach waiting for your son to kick again.

People begin to dwindle as Fred’s hand begins to dip slightly lower. You adjust in your seat leaning into him more. He kisses your hair and whispers “want to get out of here?” you nod in agreement.

As you return to the hotel, you feel his hands interlace with yours as you wait in the elevator, resting your head on his shoulders. He unlocks the hotel room door, as you walk in he spins you around. His hands lightly graze your sides as he leans down capturing you in a soft kiss. You reach up tangling your hands in his hair, he slowly pushes you into the bedroom and over to the bed. Your knees hit the bed and he slowly leans you back onto it, pulling your shirt off in the process.

“So beautiful” he mumbles leaning down and attaching his mouth to your neck while undoing your bra. You slide your hands under his shirt and pull it over his head. His hand shift to your thighs sliding up, gently pushing your shorts up as your back arches, and you feel wetness beginning to pool at your core. His mouth is making work of your neck and chest as he undoes your shorts and pulls your underwear down with it. You manage to bring your hands around to his front and undo his shorts as he steps out of them.

He slowly leans down and places soft gentle kisses on your stomach before moving to your thigh inching towards where you need him most. You moan out causing him to slide his mouth onto your folds, he gently licks you for a few minutes before pulling away. You feel him stroke his cock across your entrance a few times, coating himself in your juices.

He begins a slow pace, gently thrusting in to you, bottoming out each time never breaking eye contact. You wrap your legs around his back as he continues his slow pace. You feel a sensation in your stomach as your orgasm approaches. Your hips buck up and Fred notices as a smirk creeps across his face. You shudder as you clench around him. He keeps up his pace before pulling you to sit in his lap, he gently thrusts up into you as you begin rocking your hips. You lay your head on his shoulder as he continues to thrust slowly up into you. You feel his dick twitch as he spills deep inside you. He collapses on you turning so you are laying on your side, him still inside of you. He presses soft kisses to your forehead “smuk kærlighed” he whispers stroking your hair.

Freddie has fucked you many times before but this felt different. He looked at you differently, he kissed you differently, touched you differently. And what did he say? Soon his hand is stroking your hair and his soft kisses cause your mind to turn off as you drift to sleep.

Next Chapter

#Freddie Andersen #Freddie Andersen Smut #Freddie Andersen Fic #Frederik Andersen #Frederik Andersen Smut #Frederik Andersen Fic #NHL Smut #NHL Fic #freddie andersen x reader #frederik andersen x reader #fred andersen #fred andersen x reader #fred andersen smut #fredzilla #because two people got drunk #my writing

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