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erimeows · 1 year ago

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Burnt Out

Working at Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital is brutal, to say the least. As the head of the cardiology department and a member of Gregory House’s diagnostic team, your job is not only hectic but also underappreciated. You spend most of your days cycling between helping your patients, helping your coworker’s patients, pouring over paperwork, being scolded by Cuddy, and being shat on by House, who insists that you stay on his team while constantly dismissing your ideas and implying that you’re an idiot like he does with damn-near everyone else he works with.

So, yeah. Life is great.

Currently, you’re sitting in the diagnostics conference room at the corner of the table. Chase, Cameron, Foreman, and Wilson are also sitting with you. Meanwhile, House is standing at the whiteboard, bouncing his tennis ball with one hand and using the other to write down your most recent patient’s symptoms.

“Eleven year old caucasian female, admitted two days ago after falling unconscious during her first ever track meet. Her family’s medical history is totally clean from what we can tell and she’s had no problems prior to this, though they seem to be way behind on taking her and themselves to the doctor for regular visits. However, since being admitted, she’s only displayed more symptoms and seems to be getting worse,” House explains, seemingly unenthused. You wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already figured it out. He likes to do that- to pretend that he has no idea what the patient’s affliction is and then rag on everyone else for not being able to figure it out. “So far, we’re dealing with high blood pressure, a one hundred one degree fever that refuses to break, hives, bloodshot eyes, and swelling across her entire body.”

“Rheumatoid arthritis?” Cameron suggests, eager to be the first one to get at the new case. “I know she’s young, but she could’ve developed it early and had it go undiagnosed.”

“Before we start discussing the possibility of chronic diseases, shouldn’t we test for strep and scarlet fever?” Chase questions. “If her parents are so bad about getting her medical care, it could have just been a minor illness that’s developed into this.”

“What about you two? (y/n), Foreman?” House pipes up, calling the two of you out since you’ve been totally silent since he started. You can’t help but notice that he doesn’t do the same to Wilson, who hasn’t said anything either. “Nothing to say?”

Foreman shrugs.

“This isn’t my ballpark. I’ll let you figure it out, House. I’m sure you’re just playing with us anyway. Compared to the last few cases, this seems like child’s play.”

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, House turns to you.

“And you?”

“Kawasaki disease? She has some of the symptoms,” You half-heartedly answer.

“Just because you’re a cardiologist doesn’t mean that every patient that comes through these doors has a heart disease, you know,” House scoffs with a roll of his icy blue eyes. “And she only has some of the symptoms for that. She doesn’t fit into the main demographic for it either. That’s the worst answer I’ve gotten out of you for a case all month. Are you even trying anymore?”

When House first hired you, you were excited- always trying your best and working after your already long hours to solve cases. As the years have gone by, though, you’ve lost your enthusiasm and frequently find yourself dreading the mornings where you and House’s paths have to collide. You know he’s only so cruel because he has problems of his own and because he has a motive (just like he has a motive for every other crazy thing he likes to do), but the fact that he picks on you so often when all you’re doing is trying your best gets under your skin.

A couple years ago, you might’ve tried to argue back with him. Now, all you can do is avert your eyes and stare at the table as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. You’re praying for a hole to just appear underneath you and suck you into the vacuum of space- or at least for everyone to continue chatting until the embarrassing situation is long forgotten- but instead, Cameron pipes up to defend you.

“Dr. House, was that really unnecessary? They’re trying their best and you’re being needlessly cruel.”

“What, are you jealous that I’m paying more attention to them than I am to you?” House snarks back at her. You hold your head in your hands and sigh. “Because next time, I can include you, too. Now do any of you have any better ideas than the crap you’ve just given me or am I going to be handling this case by myself?”

With that, the meeting continues. House ends up deciding that he’s going to order labs to see if the patient has strep or scarlet fever before doing anything else, leaving you to finish out your work day.

You rush out of the office the moment he dismisses you all. Cameron tries to catch up to you to ask if you’re okay, but much to your relief, Chase stops her and tells her that you probably just need your space. You rush to your office, shut the door, sit down in your chair, and- for the first time in a long time- bawl your eyes out.

House being a dick to you is typical, but on top of everything else that you have to deal with at your job, it pushes you over the edge. With the ungrateful patients, admin, and coworkers, the long hours, the physically and mentally draining work, and all of the drama that happens in the hospital, it’s almost impossible to keep going. The only thing- or, person- that makes it somewhat worth the turmoil is your partner, James Wilson, who you’ve been dating for some months now.

He’s a great comfort to you, and he’s always kind, unlike a lot of the people you find yourself surrounded by at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Your relationship is surprisingly healthy despite the amount of problems between the two of you. You don’t want to miss out on more time with him than you already do, though, so you find it hard to quit or even ask to be moved off of the diagnostics team.

Conflicted and tired, you bury your head in your arms and cry even harder, glad that the walls are soundproof until you hear the sound of your doorknob turning.

And that’s when you realize that you forgot to lock the door.

You pop your head up, tears still covering your cheeks and welling up in your eyes. You probably look like shit and your partner has just walked in to see said display.

There, right in front of you, in the entryway of your office, stands James Wilson, looking at you like a deer caught in the headlights. The worst part is that you’re sure you’re looking at him the same way. The happy expression he walked in with has fallen completely.

“Did I come at a bad time?” He tentatively asks.

“No, sorry,” You answer and rush to wipe your tears away. You try to make yourself look presentable, probably to no avail considering the look of disbelief that James shoots your way. “What do you need?”

“Are you sure? I can leave if you want-” James starts and steps back towards the door.

“Don’t,” You interject, shaking your head. “Please. I know we’re at work right now, but…”

James sighs, then shuts and locks the door behind you. He quickly approaches your desk and sits on the edge of it, facing you.

“House really got to you today, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, I guess he did,” You shrug. “I don’t even know what to do about it anymore, James… I’m considering just quitting and going somewhere else. I feel so burnt out. It’s not even just House, it’s everything else, too. He’s the least of it.”

James nods.

“...I understand.”

“Do you really?”

“Well, maybe not in the exact same way. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice that House is a little less harsh on me than he is on the rest of you, but him and I have been friends for a long time. He knows what I’m capable of. The only reason he pushes your buttons so much is because he’s testing to see what your limits are. In a weird sort of way, he’s trying to get to know you,” James explains, though both of you know that isn’t much of a comfort to you. “I’m sure things have been difficult for you lately. You do a lot, and it goes unappreciated, but I promise you that you’re doing a good job and that there are people who appreciate what you do.”

At that, you smile. You don’t feel completely better, but the weight on your shoulders does feel a little lighter.

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

“I love you,” James says.

“I love you too.”

Hours pass. You work on paperwork while James responds to patient emails for you. The two of you knock out most of what’s been piling up on your end, much to your relief. You try not to think about the fact that James has probably neglected a lot of his day’s duties to help you out with this.

“Should we head out?” You ask, looking at the clock.

“Probably… It is getting pretty late.”

Just then, the doorknob turns, only to go back since James had locked it just moments before. A second later, you hear obnoxiously loud knocking. Wilson goes to open it. Standing there is House, who’s holding a stack of papers.

“All the other tests came back negative. You were right,” House admits, looking straight at you. “It’s Kawasaki disease. Good job.”

Then, as fast as he came by your office, House leaves, just as elusive as ever- and all you and James can do is laugh.

#james wilson x reader #House #house md #House M.D.#House M.D #gregory house #reader insert #self insert #gender neutral reader #oneshot #oneshots #fluff #drabble #drabbles

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kutner-elegist · 24 days ago

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this will be kutner related bc i love my idiot indian man. make him make thirteen eat spicy food. she dies. kutner doesn't even have a particularly high spice tolerance thirteen is simply white

apologies for not following your request exactly but lest we forget Kutner was raised by white parents eating white people food and to me Kutner is likely Gujarati and/or Punjabi gleaning from his late parents' names and also the fact that Kal Penn is Gujarati and those regions have less spicy foods compared to southern India and also Thirteen seems like she can take some spice (for a white person) so this is gonna be a bet (Hot Ones style if you've ever seen them) that comes close but Kutner wins only because he is more committed to the bit and masochistic than Thirteen (the end part got sad just so you know)

Kutner and Thirteen sat across from each other, both their countenances intense. They each had ten pieces of buffalo wings neatly lined up before them, with cold bottles of beer on the side for palate cleansing. In the center were ten different bottles of hot sauce. Quiet severity emanated from their staring match.

House towered over them at the head of the table. Foreman, Taub, Wilson and Cuddy were on the opposite side.

Foreman broke the silence. “What exactly are they doing again?”

Taub tilted his head, his eyebrows still raised. “They’re playing chicken with … chicken wings, I guess.”

“Hot wings,” Kutner emphasized.

“Kutner is Kutner, but why are you doing this?” Foreman said to Thirteen.

“He thinks I can’t handle spice because I’m white.”

“Why do you care—”

“Ask questions later,” House cut him off. “The game is on. Ante omnia, we must ensure that they haven’t used any performance enhancing drugs. Their blood was screened for painkillers, and Wilson watched them until the results came back all negative. If they used local anesthetics that might be undetectable such as Cetacaine, its effects should have worn off by now, but we still need to make sure.”

“You let them do blood tests for this?” Foreman asked Cuddy.

“They paid for it.” Cuddy shrugged.

“Shush.” House scolded Foreman. He then commanded, “Kutner, say ‘Imagine an imaginary menagerie manager managing an imaginary menagerie.’”

“Imagine an imaginary menagerie manager managing an imaginary menagerie,” Kutner obliged effortlessly.

“Now Thirteen.”

“Imagine an imaginary menagerie manager managing an imaginary menagerie,” Thirteen glided through the tongue twister as well.

House held up one of the hot sauce bottles, the label facing the spectators. “We shall begin with Cholula Original, around 1000 in the Scoville scale. On your mark, get set, eat!”

They bit into their chicken wings. In the blink of an eye, they were both holding defleshed bones.

“This isn’t even spicy.” Kutner put down the bone.

“It’s regular stuff,” Thirteen agreed.

They raised their beers, clinked their bottles together and took a small sip.

“Next up, Valentina Black Label, 2100 SHU. On your mark, get set, eat.”

They quickly ate them up again, and licked the sauce off their fingers.

“This is nothing,” said Kutner.

“Nothing,” Thirteen repeated.

Again, they had a sip of beer just to cleanse the palate.

“Third, Tapatío, 3000 SHU. On your mark, get set, eat.”

“It’s alright,” said Kutner.

“Uh-huh,” said Thirteen.

Thirteen drank a little more beer than Kutner.

“Tapatío is hot,” said Taub.

“To you.” Kutner looked at Taub with his smug grin.

“Quaker Steak Buckeye BBQ, 5000. On your mark, get set, eat.”

Kutner devoured it quickly. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Thirteen took a little longer, but finished it soon enough. She held her sip of beer a little bit before swallowing it.

“Tabasco Habanero, 7000. On your mark, get set, eat.”

“Ooh, it’s starting to hit,” said Kutner.

Thirteen’s pale skin was flushed, but she remained composed. They both had a gulp of beer.

“We are only halfway there. The sixth is Crazy Jerry’s Brain Damage, 11,000. On your mark, get set, eat.”

“Why are you eating something called Brain Damage?” Foreman stepped forward. “It will certainly hurt your GI system.”

“Only a little, and temporarily at that. These are all FDA approved for retail,” said House.

Neither Kutner nor Thirteen responded to Foreman. They managed to finish the wings, but not as easily. Kutner silently drank his beer. Thirteen fanned her face with her other hand while she drank hers.

“You can stop anytime you want, you know,” said Kutner.

“You wish,” Thirteen retorted, but she was a little out of breath.

“Dragon Repellant Knightmare, 15,000. On your mark, get set, eat.”

Thirteen hesitated before biting in. Kutner gobbled it up, as if he wanted to get it over with as fast as possible. They emptied their beers, and House replaced the empty bottles with new ones. Thirteen fanned her face with both of her hands. The redness spread to her neck. Kutner was getting flushed as well, just not as noticeable on his deeper complexion.

“They’re FDA approved for a little dip, not whole chicken wings covered in them.” Foreman approached Thirteen. “Remy.”

Thirteen dismissed Forman with the wave of her hand. “I can take it, okay?”

Foreman turned to the rest of the spectators. “This is stupid!”

“Which is why it’s funny,” said Taub.

Wilson nodded in agreement.

“Why are you allowing your employees to endanger their health?” Foreman asked Cuddy.

“They’ll do it even if I tell them not to, and I’d rather be present in case damage control is needed.”

“Foreman is trying to dissuade Thirteen, which is only going to motivate her more. He’s interfering with the competition by giving unfair advantage to one side,” said Kutner.

“Yes. Foreman, shut up. Taub, say something discouraging to Kutner to make it even,” said House.

“I don’t think the guy who willingly electrocuted himself can be discouraged from anything,” said Taub.

“True, and that statement would have the desired effect, so good enough. Blair’s Jalapeño Death, 20,000. On your mark, get set, eat.”

“Whoa.” Kutner recoiled after eating it, breathing rapidly. He chugged the cold beer. He took off his hoodie.

Thirteen coughed. She tried to drink beer to cool down, but ended up choking on it a little. Foreman leapt toward her. House barred him with his cane. “No entering the ring if you’re not playing.”

“You know what,” said Thirteen, coughing and breathing heavily. “You win, Kutner. I give up.”

“Technically, he has to complete the next round to win. Otherwise, it’s a tie.” House looked at Kutner.

Kutner’s face was distorted with agony, but he muttered, “Bring it on.”

“Very well. Blair’s Original Death, 30,000. Whenever you’re ready.”

Kutner took some time to regain his composure, and ate the ninth chicken wing. He immediately washed it down with the rest of his beer.

“We have a winner!” House exclaimed.

Wilson and Taub clapped and cheered. Cuddy rolled her eyes. Thirteen finally calmed down from her coughing fit and she kept drinking the beer. Kutne, however, remained seated. His eyes were fixed on the last remaining wing on the plate.

“Come on, you won. It’s over.” Taub tapped Kutner on the shoulder.

Kutner reached for the last hot wing. Everyone felt their own bodies growing tense as he painfully finished it off. House handed him another beer, and he chugged it down. He panted, and his skin glistened with sweat.

“You’re insane!” Thirteen yelled.

“That one was called Pain 100%, 40,000. This proves my hypothesis that you are a masochist.”

“I’m not a masochist!” Kutner protested between gasps.

House leaned over toward Kutner. “You already won. You didn’t have to touch that last one. You love to gloat, but right now you’re in too much pain to do that. You want pain more than you want victory.” House stepped away from the table and walked over to Wilson.

“This wasn’t as entertaining as I thought it would be,” Wilson said to House.

“We didn’t do it for your entertainment,” said Kutner. He was still recovering from Pain 100%.

“What did you do it for?” Taub asked.

“It’s not a dare if there’s a purpose,” Kutner replied.

“So you did it for nothing.”

“Pretty much.”

Taub sighed. “Have fun digesting all that. I’ll see you tomorrow, unless you need a sick day.” He walked out.

“At least this is over,” Cuddy grumbled before she left.

House and Wilson left as well. Kutner and Thirteen cleaned up the table. Foreman stayed behind to help.

“It’s still pretty impressive that you lasted as far as you did.” Kutner’s gloating smirk was back.

Thirteen laughed. “My insides are already burning.”

“I’ll finish cleaning up. You go get some rest. Drink water,” said Foreman. His eyes followed Thirteen through the window until she was out of sight. Then, he hissed, “Why did you put her up to this?”

“House and I ironed out the details, but having a match was her idea.” Kutner shrugged, his eyes wide open.

“You provoked her first.”

“I didn’t mean to provoke her, okay? It was an off-handed joke.”

“You should have said no when she wanted to do a match! You know she has—”

Foreman stopped mid-sentence because Kutner stepped closer, almost getting in his face. “She has a fatal neuromuscular degenerative disease. You think you know where it goes because you’re a neurologist, but you don’t. Neurologists just refer them to rehabilitation and follow up every now and then. You don’t even do that, because you work for House now. You confirm a diagnosis and your work is done. I did my residency in rehabilitation medicine. I’ve seen where it goes, many times over. Lifestyle changes are helpful, but it doesn’t change the destination or the course. It hardly even delays the inevitable. If she wants spicy chicken wings, she’ll have the goddamn spicy chicken wings. I’ll do whatever she asks to make her day exciting. I care about her. Maybe not in the way that you do, but I do. I won’t apologize for her decisions to you.” Kutner stormed out of the room.

Foreman continued to wipe the already-clean surface of the table.

#house md #house md fanfic #lawrence kutner #remy thirteen hadley #eric foreman #flash fanfic request

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eliotquillon · 29 days ago

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fuck marry kill but it's divorced/stabbed/dean of medicine. but still for the og trio

make dean of medicine/fuck: cameron because she kinda ate that during her s5 trial run and also i want to see her in a power suit. fuck because i love her and she’s beautiful showstopping and talented but also we have the exact combination of overlapping/different neuroses that would doom a marriage faster than you can say ‘dibala’. we’re so romeo and juliet…

stab/marry: foreman. absolutely rogue cos i know i barely every foreman post compared to the other two but i loveeee him i have such a soft spot for him and also we have similar backstories/fears. i did not steal a car or get arrested as a teenager but yknow. apart from that. stabbing him because he’s scared of turning into house anyway and it’d be funny watching him spiral over being on crutches. and also sometimes he needs to get a grip. nothing gets a grip faster than a knife.

divorce/kill: chase. the divorce is really a kindness to make up for the fact that im killing him because while foreman may need to get a grip sometimes chase, to quote a term my friend coined, ‘is not even in the market for a grip’. sorry chase i don’t like men and you would not provide me the intellectual stimulation of a 6 hour long argument about politics that foreman would because i don’t think you even know who the australian prime minister is. at least if i divorce him he’ll go down with a funky haircut and a few more notches on his bedpost first

#asks #house md #tee hee hee

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bonemarrowrites · 6 months ago

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Good, Stable, Hands II

Contents: M/M, M/M/M, Monster sex (Humanoid/Troll/Elf), Dubcon, edging, public sex, rough sex, dp.

Explicit short story. The young half-elf gets called into his employers' mansion.

It has been a week since I was sent to that stable to clean it. To the Master’s surprise, the centaur had been very calm when he showed him to the buyers. So calm even, that he had decided to keep him after all. They had no idea how he had become so calm but knew it had something to do with me. As such, it was now my duty to take care of his stable. The centaur had promised to stay on his best behavior as long as he had the opportunity to breed me every now and then.

I honestly didn’t mind it. My salary was raised and now I had earned some prestige among my peers. Besides, I can’t say I didn’t enjoy our little nightly meetings. I was seen as a dedicated worker. I had even caught Master’s attention. I had seen him shooting glances at me while I worked in the fields, but something told me he didn’t like me at all.

I had previously talked with him only once and it was very brief. Most of my introduction was handled by the Foreman. The Master’s only words to me had been the warning about the farthest centaur stable, which I had obeyed.

Until that one fateful night.

During my morning routines while I was washing my dishes alone in the workers' house the Foreman came to me and told me that the Master wanted to see me after I had finished the day’s chores. Fear started to creep up to me beneath my skin. The Foreman was a large humanoid man, I couldn’t pinpoint his exact species, I was sure he had some human in him. He had been a blacksmith before losing his left arm in a tavern brawl. Compared to my slender size, he still had the muscles of one. Sometimes I wondered how he tied his dark green hair so neatly without his other arm. I was not sure if the calluses on his hand had come from his time as a smith or did the work on the farm made it so.

“Why?” I asked, “He’s not going to fire me, is he?”

The Master rarely met workers and going to him usually meant he had decided to let you go. He might have hired me and given me a raise, but I knew he didn’t like elves.

“How should I know?” The Foreman said with a slightly annoyed tone. He kept his distance from me, yet I could still smell the whiskey bottle he had downed after waking up.

“You elves bring nothing, but trouble.” He spitted at me, like even talking to me was well below his level.

“Half-elf.” I attempted to correct him, hoping in my mind that maybe our perceived connection might win some goodwill, but my attempt only led to an annoyed huff from him. Figuring he would leave as soon as he had given his piece, I turned around and continued to wash my dishes only to feel a large hand grabbing my throat from behind. The smell of his breath increased even more when he whispered to my right ear.

“Half the breed, half the harm.”

He pinned me against the sink with his hip and started to slowly grind his crotch against my rear.

“Hey, you can’t…” My words stuck to my mouth as he slid his hand over my lips. I could feel his member becoming harder and harder with each passing grind. It was nothing compared with the centaur’s cock, but it still felt sizable. With each push, he grunted louder. The foreman’s weight was crushing me and my soapy hands didn’t let me grab anything worthwhile to reach.

He let go of my throat and unbuckled his belt, dropping his pants to the floor. Fearing he might do the same for me, I closed my eyes, only to realize he slid his only working hand under my shirt and began to squeeze my nipples. The unwanted attention made me whimper, which made him grind even harder. I took a peek behind me and saw a large swollen head grating my behind through my linen clothing. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen before, a slightly purple, sharply shaped tip ramming my buttocks. The sight of it and the constant grinding aroused me. I bit my lip and chose to enjoy.

Just as I started to enjoy myself, he let out a howling moan and came all over my clothing, shooting rope after rope of cum all over my back. Without any words, he took a dishrag I had just used and wiped himself clean. Throwing the rag back into the sink after using it. My hardened nipples begged for more care, but the foreman just dressed and left me where I stood.

Horny, annoyed, and slightly disgusted with his abuse of a kitchen textile, I threw the dishrag away and left to continue with my daily chores.

During the day, I tried to relieve myself several times, but to no avail. My annoyance had taken over. The rough surface of my clothing did not help me at all. Every time I turned or bent down to pick something up, my nipples and my crotch felt arousal. Working with my fellow stablehands, I was happy with how the linen was thick enough to hide my body. Through my ever-craving mind, I thought about a few things.

First, even if at first I wasn’t fine with how things had gone. I realized I’d started to like how the centaur and the Foreman had abused me.

Second, I hoped my parents didn’t know what kind of a child they had raised.

Third, I really had to clean the centaur’s stable tonight.

Finishing my daily chores felt like agony. A sudden shipment came in and we had to take it in. Every now and then when I thought nobody could see me, I tried to grind my hips to any smooth enough object I could find. A day’s worth of sweating made me feel only worse. I thought how I was glad no one saw what the Foreman had done with me. It wasn’t unheard of elves becoming the group’s bitch. To be used every time someone needed to be relieved.

I bit my lower lip.

No, that’s not what I want. I’m just horny. I really had to pull myself together.

After spending almost a month on this farm, I had seen some of my fellow workers having sex together. Someone told me the Master only hired men and more masculine folk because he thought women would distract everyone from work. I’m sure he knew sex was going to happen anyway. Had he been a tad smarter, he’d have everyone wearing a chastity belt, unlike the invisible one I seemed to carry with me today.

The sun had already set when we finished our work. The Foreman came to tell me again that the Master wanted to see me. He seemed unbothered about what had happened in the morning. Grudgingly, I started to make my way to the Master’s mansion.

The house was very large and far from the workers' house and the stables. To get to it, you had to take a small path that took you through a small batch of a thick forest. With a lantern on my other hand, I picked a few moist leaves and wiped myself as best as I could from the day’s muck and sweat. The small wood wyverns croaked in the trees while waiting for the moon to rise. During flight, their tiny emerald scales twinkled in the fading light. Sometimes the workers tried to catch them and fry the meat, making small little trinkets from their skin to send back home or sell at the market. The evening air and scent of the moist leaves and moss filled my nostrils.

I felt at peace.

Following the small path I finally reached the Master’s house. The rising moon made it glow slightly, making the gorgeous decorations even more so. The house might be pretty, but the creeping feeling inside told me otherwise. Going to the house was nothing good.

The large stone doors were opened to me by a young foxling servant. I had always liked how their reddish fur looked. He looked well kept as one serving such house should be. I felt inadequate in comparison. The foxling led me to another grand door through the house. I’d have liked to stay and watch all the dazzling decorations, but I knew my place.

As I stepped in, the Master was just finishing his meal. He let out a booming belch and wiped his mouth on a cloth napkin as his fat hairy belly shook underneath him. The room was lit by a large hearth and candles too many to count. The hardwood floors felt nice even through my paper shoes.

“Come in.” The Master said, “I was expecting to you be here earlier.”

I stepped closer and looked at him. The Master was a huge mountain troll. Large features on his ashen face were framed by even larger tusks and curved horns. One of his hands could easily cover my whole face. He was a lot older than me, but still in his prime. Underneath all that fat was pure muscle. He looked well-kept with his braided hair and beard. He wore a large red robe and furs over his broad shoulders.

“I apologize, my lord. Our work took longer than expected, but the shipment of gears arrived today and we managed to put them into the stockpile.” as I said it, I dropped my gaze and looked down. I knew my place.

“Humph, good.” The Master said after taking a long swig from his wine. “I’ve heard you work well with that devil of a centaur. I’ve even heard I gave you a raise for it?”

Startled, I answered “Yes, he is very calm with me. I’m not sure why, but maybe his last owner was an elf.” My voice sounded hesitant. How did he not know he had given me a raise, did he not pay any attention to how we worked?

“Come here, I want to see you better.” as he said it I took swift steps towards him and stood next to his chair at the end of the table.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Lumi” I answered curtly, unsure of his intentions. My eyes avoided his stern gaze.

Master took a moment, looked at the table, and then back at me.

“Does it mean anything?” he inquired.

“It means ‘snow’ in my culture. My father said my pearly hair reminded him of his homeland. Honestly, I’ve never seen snow myself.” I felt like I was oversharing. My hands moved nervously.

Suddenly, the troll grabbed my face and forced me to meet his gaze. He observed my panicked face carefully. When I glanced down I realized he was naked. His fat cock peeked under his fat belly freely out of its sheath.

“I do not know what you’ve done to my stallion, but I know what you can do for me.” He growled as he slightly moved his chair to face me in all of his hanging glory.

“Kneel.” He demanded and I fell to my knees, looking straight at his chubby member. It wasn’t long, but thicker than a large piece of ham. I couldn’t help but stare.

“My foreman says you might have a good mouth, so show me,” he said as he grabbed my hair and pulled me closer to his shaft. With his other hand, he pushed it against my red cheeks. It felt warm and pulsing. The shaft was full of small and large bumps ending with a hefty knot and balls. Seeing it my surprise turned into arousal, licking my lips I knew I had what I’d craved all day long. I gently took both of his sizable balls into my hands and caressed him.

“I also have good hands,” I said before teasingly licked the tip of his cock. Master moaned as kept licking him, carefully circling the hole I would get my treasure from. He pulled my hair tightly and I let out a small whimper. He knew he was in control and I knew my place.

He smelt like honey tobacco, sweat, and smoked meat.

I began to stroke his shaft as my other hand found my nipples. He pushed his member against my mouth and forced me to open it. Every fingerbreadth he forced in hurt my jaw. I could feel his tip teasing the back of my throat making me gag. His cock filled my mouth completely, making me unable to even move my tongue. He pulled out a bit and then rammed the whole thing in again. The bumps on this shaft were surprisingly hard. He pulled out again and let me catch my breath before making me take his cock in again, plowing into me in a frenzy, making me choke every time, pulling out right before I was going to gag. Both of my hands now caressed my nipples. My reaction made him smile in a mad delight.

He pulled his glistening cock out of my battered mouth. Still hard as ever.

“What a delightful little toy you are,” he said as he quickly got up and pushed me against the table, clattering the fine pearlescent tableware onto the floor. His large tusks locked me in place as he began to lick my neck with his rough tongue, while his hands were spreading my legs apart. My whimpers were smothered under his fat body. He gently nibbled my left ear and slid to lick my already hard nipples and started to undress me.

My cock was nothing compared to him. His pinky was far larger than it. Master started to gently stroke me, enjoying the view of me struggling in pleasure. My cries echoed through the otherwise empty hall. I came quickly and shot strings of warm cum onto my belly. With his fingers, Master wiped some off and spread it against my own lips before giving me a long and forceful kiss. He forced his tongue inside my mouth. I felt worn, but I knew the night was not over yet.

Without warning, he pulled himself away from me and lined the tip of his cock to my hole. With one hand he lifted my hips and forcefully pushed himself inside, making me let out a sharp cry. My spit and whatever else he had used lubricated the entrance of my tunnel while he pomelled into me, stretching me beyond my limits. His fat body heaved on top of me as I panted in pleasure below him. His large knot battered my hole, not letting him enter any deeper and making him frustrated.

Somewhere behind the veil of my pleasure and passion, I heard the door, someone stepped in. Master kept pounding while he exchanged words unknown to me with the stranger. The whole lengthy table resonated in rhythm with his powerful thrusts. Only slightly slowing down with his pistoning, he took a few side steps and made me lay across the table and before I knew it, another cock was placed right over my aching face.

The Foreman had come in to give the Master some sort of a nightly report, only to find him defiling my rear. With a smirk on his face, he slapped his cock against my cheek and pulled my mouth open. Master kept on thrusting as I laid on my back on the table. I obediently let the Foreman’s hard tip inside, playing with it with my tongue as he slowly started to match Master’s rhythmic pace. Foreman’s cock pulsed and throbbed inside my mouth when I let out a loud gasp. Master had deepened his thrusts and managed to get his knot inside of my hole. Now ramming me even harder. The moment of my gasp was cut short, when the Foreman rammed his member back into my mouth, silencing my wail. A centaur might fill one hole, but getting battered forcefully by two chubby cocks was something completely new and I wanted more.

Master let out a roar as he lunged deep into me and released large clumps of cum, filling my bowels completely. He let his knot stay in place as the Foreman gave my mouth a few more thrusts and let his seed shoot straight to my throat. It felt slimy and slightly salty against my tongue. The Foreman pulled out but clamped my mouth shut with his hand to make sure I didn’t waste any of his seed. Master’s cock pumped in another load and pulled out. I swallowed all of the foreman’s seed and he looked satisfied.

“You’ve done good. I will see to it that your time under my rule shall be satisfactory.” The Master said. I could only nod out of depletion.

Shivering, I lay on a table as they left. The foxling servant came in and helped me to get me back on my feet. He wrapped me in a robe and helped me to get to the guest room. A warm meal awaited me on the table, but I was too tired to eat. Maybe even too full. I didn’t even have the energy to clean myself. As soon as I laid on the bed, I fell asleep with a smile on my face, hoping that the centaur wouldn’t mind if I missed one night with him.

#gsh marrow #monster breeding #smut writing #my stuff #m/m fiction

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dailycharacteroption · 7 months ago

Text

Ley Line Hacker (Biohacker Alternate Class Feature)

(art by Lukas Marek on Artstation)

Today’s subject is… a weird one to say the least. It’s a biohacker, a character notable for their specialization in the bodily processes of living, undead, and mechanical entities… but also a magitech scientist testing how alterations to local conduits of magic affect reality? Couldn’t this just as easily been a technomancer option?

Ah, but that is the decision that they went with, so here we are.

To go into more detail, these so-called ley-line hackers specialize in analyzing and altering local magical fields in order to not only study the effects but use them to their advantage. The text compares them to a phlebotomist, but I’m not sure the comparison is a necessary one just to “strengthen” the conceptual connection between the class and the premise of this specialization.

Then again, magic is sometimes compared to being a living thing in many settings, so perhaps they are onto something after all, these scientists being doctors of magic itself.

While they get other traditional injections, these biohacker trade in the basic boosters and inhibitors for the ability to create “ley line hacks”, grenade like devices that discharge magitech compounds into the surrounding area to generate various effects. These include entangling terrain, causing space to warp to improve or reduce cover in the area, or even creating a magic haze that inhibits those affected. Additionally, they can choose formulate the hack to enhance a certain energy type in the area, making attacks made with that energy that much more deadly to targets within the area. With a bit of prep, they can tune such a device to affect a larger area too.

A simple option, and one that I still is a bit of a stretch, but if you’re looking for an almost witchwarper-like ability to not only debuff foes or buff allies but also bolster your allies’ favorite damage types, this option may be fun for you. All you really lose is your basic biohacks and the spark of ingenuity ability, making you less of a healer or effect combiner, but you still have access to more advanced biohacks and other abilities to customize your build.

I still don’t think this alternate class option is a bit of a stretch, akin to what a more comedic story would do to justify a scientist working outside their discipline, (jokes about literal rocket surgery abound). Still, if it works for you and the tone of your game, by all means utilize it.

For years, Dr. Phalter, a nihilist, has long rejected the Theory of Everything, instead opting to discover the Theory of Nothing, which posits that reality is born out of ideas shaping the Shadow Plane, rather than it being a dark mirror of reality. While his theory seems to have no basis, he has made great strides in incorporating shadow magic into his technology, perfecting substances that warp reality in a localized area.

An android rebellion has arisen on the mining world of Nakkan. However, with the superior resources of the company, not to mention the foreman’s love of toxins and magic-warping bombs, makes the effort seem doomed unless they get help from someone outside with the skills to take down the leadership.

The party is on the trail of a magadaz, or gambling devil, but the fiend is not making it easy. It seems that they have a favor to call on in every port to impede their pursuit from world to world, but even a creature of malign luck will find it running short, when the party gets to his next debtor first, a scientist researching the lifeblood of magic who unfortunately has a gambling problem.

#starfinder #alternate class feature #biohacker #ley line hacker #android #magadaz #devil #Galactic Magic

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jojojoanie · 2 years ago

Photo

When’s the last time anyone heard anything about JOANNE FOREMAN? Old friends remember them as SHARP & HUMOROUS but also DRAINED & ABRASIVE, no wonder they’re still known as THE MEDIA MACHINE around town. Today, in 2006, they are 38 and some people say they remind them of worry wrinkles far too deep for one’s age; an average of six cups of coffee a day; a cloud of smoke following your every step; an unquenchable thirst for peace of mind.

tw: death and injury

the artist formerly known as ‘joanie’, simply ‘jo’ or even ‘jojo’, now goes by her government name of joanne foreman. funny, how things change. had someone dared to call her joanne in 1988 rest assured she would’ve made them pay. but alas.

born and raised in hawkins, without ever having spent more than a few weeks away at christian summer camps and the like, joanie grew up with the firm belief that her parents had to have been the most boring people on earth. not that there isn’t some truth to it, it’s just that now she’s become equally boring, so what does it matter. she used to resent them for living that picture perfect life, with their little nuclear family in a big house on elm street, living the dream of their generation. the older she gets, the less despicable that idea seems.

joanie’s dreams used to be bigger than that, used to not fit anymore. no space in that big fucking house for her to let her imagination run wild. comparing her childhood home to that measly rat’s nest of an apartment she lives in in new york, well, she rather thinks she shouldn’t have taken it for granted.

growing up with a perfect older sister and a perfect younger brother, joanne’s the middle child so it was to be anticipated that she’d come out of that house a little fucked up, right? ‘who knows what went wrong with that one’ their neighbours used to wonder when she‘d storm out the house after another explosive argument with her parents. the way she dressed, her hair, the sort of music she listened to defied everything her parents deemed proper and good, everything they’d worked for, shattering their perfect image. not that jo was doing it actively rebel against their lifestyle - not that she wasn’t enjoying this unintended rebellion, either. it was the late 80s in the middle of buttfuck, indiana - well, what else was there to do except be a disruptor and nuisance to her parents? cause a little trouble?

despite being somewhat of an outcast she, amazingly, sailed through school with flying colours - the only reason her parents didn’t disown her, she suspects - and decides against college, scores a gig at the hawkins post. not that college is completely out of the picture, it’s just that she doesn’t know what to do with herself. like, at all. she’s been interning at the post since sophomore year - a classic case of her dad knowing someone who was friends with the wife of a guy who could put in a good word - so what’s the harm in gathering some work experience before she embarks on the long-awaited greyhound busride outta here?

it buys her some time, so wherever she decides to go, she won’t arrive as lost as she’s feeling right now. she even gets treated a little less shitty by her employers, so that’s a win. though she’s never been treated particularly bad, either. jo likes to think her more adrogynous nature and her ‘i won’t take any bullshit’ attitude contributes to that. maybe also the fact that she’s got pictures of tom holloway kissing his college aged girlfriend. a little blackmail never hurt anyone.

so there she is for a couple months, in charge of brewing coffee, sorting through the rough drafts of stories and news, discarding the many … batshit crazy clues people are calling in. those can go to the weekly watcher. she’s never bought the bullshit about the town being ‘cursed’ or whatever, it’s just a small town, there was nothing more to it. people were bored and inventing stories. it was getting ridiculous at this point.

especially in spring break of ‘86, the crazy seemed to reach a whole nother level of … well, crazy. first, the murders. jo had never talked to him much - yeah, she’d been a loner but, like, not a fucking nerd at least - but eddie munson had never seemed like the type of guy to brutally kill some cheerleader to get revenge on his bullies or whatever. but things weren’t looking good for him. even if you gave him the benefit of the doubt … well, there wasn’t much doubting. seemed pretty clear. munson murdered that cunnigham kid, for whatever reason. however, jo didn’t buy into that ‘he was leading a devil worshipping cult’ shit. it was dnd. just a nerdy dice game.

with things becoming more … well, for lack of a better word, interesting around town, jo was considering extending her break before college, maybe investigative journalism could be her thing. and so, to do some investigating - mainly to visit her neighbours’ elderly mother, whom they had asked jo to keep and eye on and who, living in forest hills trailer park, was increasingly worried about, well, everything - jo hopped into her more than busted car and drove down to the trailer park. stayed there until nightfall - she’d meant to leave by noon, had been talked into a second and third helping of cake - and wasn’t even gonna do any further snooping around when, on her way home, in the middle of the road, she came across fred benson. naturally, jo screamed at him to ‘get the fuck out of the way, moron! ‘ since he was blocking the way. soon, though, her protests died down when fred, unresponsive, began to lift into the fucking air, float there and then - there are shivers and cold sweat when she thinks about this now - proceeded to have his bones cracked by some … invisible force in one of the most gruesome scenes jo’s ever witnessed.

to this day, joanne just hopes her former neighbour’s sweet old mother laced that cake with something. hopes that she was simply going crazy, that this wasn’t real. deep in her bones, though, she knows it. feels that she actually saw what she saw.

that night she turned her car around as fast as possible, took a two hour ice cold shower and filled out a couple college applications. by the end of the following month, jo has packed up her shit and moved to new york.

denial is her method of choice of dealing with this, when it finally begins to sink in that all the clues she’s tossed out through the years might’ve actually had some truth to them. denial is good, she’s got no time to work through that stuff, anyway. so she just pretends it never happened. whatever the opposite of a crazy conspiracy nutjob is, that’s her.

the next few years are pretty uneventful, jo’s busy with her politcial science degree at hunter’s (she’s missed the application deadline for everything else), as well as busy with reinventing herself, finding her new york personality. also, finding the funds to fund her new york personality and general lifestyle. there’s a bunch of odd jobs, everything from waitressing to working coatcheck to being an usher on broadway, she dips her toes into every water available. it’s all about the experience, right?

it’s nothing but a stroke of pure, dumb luck that lands her the internship at snl. she’s never even considered working in tv before, thought she’d evetually just circle back round to working the front desk at some paper. she’s out with friends at a comedy club one night, drunk off her tits - she’d just failed an important exam, had fully embraced the fact that she was a failure and would probably be kicked off campus soon enough - when the owner had announced that it was ‘open mic night’. glorious, disastrous, everything in between. jo had swayed to the stage, tapped the mic and slurred ‘is this thing on?’ into it, and that’s all she remembers. the next morning there’s someone’s business card in her coat pocket.

the week after that she’s bringing coffee and sandwiches to the snl writer’s room. it’s funny how life works sometimes. her parents are less than thrilled that she’s dropped out of college but more than thrilled to hear that she’s met will ferrell.

when jo says she has little to no memory of the years that follow, it’s no exaggeration. it’s a blur of work, work, work, work and long nights spent in bars and seedy downtown clubs with the cast and crew of america’s favourite late night entertainment show. it’s when she’s finally managed to work her way into the writer’s room that jo changes, drastically. that rebellious, snarky young girl is gone, replaced by someone who always looks serious, who’s got deep dark circles under their eyes, who’s never taken a day off work and i mean, like, ever. she’s not so much fun to be around anymore, too professional for most of her fun loving friends. they sometimes joke that the infamous ‘debbie downer’ sketch is based off of her. jo’s not in on the joke.

the year is 2006 when things come crashing down. she never thought there’d be such a thing as working too much, after all this is her dream job (right?) or at least pretty good for someone who came to new york with no idea what they wanted to do with their life. she gets sloppier with the tasks she’s in charge of, her jokes rarely get used anymore, and it’s clear she needs a break - clear to anyone but her.

here’s a word of advice - if you want to make it to the top, work for it, maybe. don’t sleep with your married editor. which is, incidentally, what jo did. those news broke to everyone shortly before snl’s summer hiatus, and so, on the last day of work, joanne was called into her boss’s office and kindly advised to ‘take a break, ms foreman. i really advise you to take a long break, if you get what i mean.’ wait until the dust has settled and see if, once you’re in your right mind again, you’re still deserving of your job.

funny, how life works sometimes. you’re on top of the world in one moment, then completely crushed sitting alone in your shitty apartment in the next. summer in new york is shit if you’ve got noone to spend it with. and since that affair with her editor ended - their wife had threatened jo with a very, very explicit letter once she’d found out about the affair - jo was alone, truly. she hadn’t exactly spent the the last few years making meaningful connections in town, married to her work. sure, she had work friends. but now she had no work, thus no friends.

the letter arrived and jo, who had had virtually nothing to do with joyce byers, had initally wanted to stay home, but her parents had insisted she come back home. jo hadn’t told them about her little work fiasco, why bother? she finally felt like she wasn’t a disappointment to them anymore, like she could keep up with her perfect siblings, she wasn’t going to return to those judging stares, those disappointed shakes of the head.

so it was time to get back to hawkins, get back to living a lie.

#vr:intro

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punkscowardschampions · 1 year ago

Text

Jali

Ali: [Private to Johnny, an appropriate amount of time after this drama which is probably nearing a week-ish because you’re young and you didn’t actually do it so you’re not giving him that much space lol]

Ali: Did you finish fixing the bike?

Johnny: More or less

Ali: You got the [a part he was going to have to go get after your fixing sesh]?

Johnny: Not as advertised, but I sourced another, like

Ali: So, is it possible for you to still take me?

Johnny: When is it you’re looking to go?

Ali: Whenever you’re free to, day wise

Ali: [tell him visiting hours because I am sure they exist]

Johnny: [tell her when works for you because idk what job you’ve got hun I’m not a gypsy boy] then

Ali: Perfect, thank you

Johnny: Be [tell her where to meet you cos obvs you aren’t gonna encourage her to come to the site or pick her up from her gaff where her fam could be cos they need to mind their business about this] in plenty good time, say [a time]

Ali: Sounds good 🙃

Ali: Are you like the foreman, you should be, you’re very efficient

Johnny: We’ve both somewhere to be and your brother’ll be waiting on you, so on me to get you there

Ali: You don’t have to be respectful, plenty aren’t

Johnny: Disrespecting your brother is same as disrespecting you, to my family, that’s how it works

Johnny: and neither you nor he have done nothing to earn it off me

Ali: It’s a good philosophy, similar to my own

Ali: just not used to it, especially when it comes to Joe lately

Johnny: I know, I’ve a good head on good shoulders

Ali: It feels like I’m being such a suck-up to agree but I have no current need to disagree so

Ali: do with that what you will

Johnny: Warm myself with it through this summer rain

Ali: but summer rain is the best, you can be out in it and enjoy it without risking the hypothermia

Johnny: You would say that, you’re out in it to enjoy the thing

Ali: Work ruins everything, I suppose

Ali: Do you like what you do?

Johnny: It’s steady enough, I like that about it

Johnny: work can be slow in coming, that’ll ruin more

Ali: all I have’s a paper round so it isn’t comparable

Ali: I thought perhaps you’d been busy recently

Johnny: You’re not to have that, compared to girls I know

Ali: Would make you an easy target for a serial killer type but any job with a route and set time of day does that, if you think about it

Ali: that is much more fun in the summer, rain or otherwise at least there’s light

Johnny: Am I to think of you?

Ali: If I get murdered?

Ali: It would be quite insulting if you didn’t spare me a single thought, yes

Johnny: Sure I’d want to crash 1 of your weddings than your funerals

Ali: 1 of, how many will I be having?

Johnny: Your lot, not your own, you know

Ali: Ohh, yeah that does make more sense

Ali: you don’t know about my whole resurrection skills yet, the funeral was also plural

Johnny: Do I want to know?

Ali: Sure your man Jesus did it, how can it be wrong? 😁

Johnny: You’re not my man Jesus nor his mammy even

Ali: 💔

Ali: Have you met anyone that’s getting hitched yet, or are we just crashing [a local venue that is the place people go to get married etc]?

Johnny: You tell me, if you’ve the sight or other blasphemous skills to be claiming for yourself, will we?

Ali: 🔮

Ali: Only if the crowd is spilling out onto the street, can’t be showing up to a quiet 50 person guestlist affair

Johnny: Yous have weddings where only 50 people come?

Ali: 😂 I know, can you believe it?

Johnny: Seriously, this a wind up or no?

Ali: Deadly, boy

Ali: Some just go to the registry office with themselves and 2 witnesses, no party, nothing

Johnny: I’ve nothing to say of that, I can’t work it out for why yous people are the way you are

Ali: Well I would never do that, not for any of my weddings

Ali: some people have shit luck, no family, no friends, just that person, I guess?

Johnny: You said you weren’t marrying last we said anything of it

Ali: but now you’ve given me the idea of having lots of elaborate ones

Ali: I’ll invite you, you won’t have to crash

Johnny: You are a girl, the bike only tried to have me thinking different, but there it is in you

Ali: You already knew I liked parties

Ali: and dressing up

Johnny: Yeah, true enough

Ali: I think you like me more when you don’t think of me as a girl

Johnny: I don’t think I like what you’re saying of me there, it’d have me disowned to prefer lads

Ali: That is not what I meant

Johnny: And it’s not true I’m one of them

Ali: I don’t think you’re gay

Johnny: You think you’re not girl enough for me, which is true

Ali: No, I think you can see being friends with me when you let yourself forget I am one, what that should mean

Johnny: Us being what we are isn’t something I should let happen at all

Ali: No one else cares

Ali: if anyone did, just point out how un-girl I am, if it wasn’t as obvious to them as it is you

Johnny: I care

Ali: Just tell me why

Johnny: It’s not right

Ali: You’re allowed to be friends with who you want, aren’t you

Ali: as long as I don’t disrespect you and your family and you don’t mine

Johnny: You’ve too many friends already and how you behave with ‘em don’t make you an un-girl, it just makes you a girl who’s a state

Ali: You wouldn’t have anything to care about or not let happen if you disliked me all that much

Johnny: I dislike how you act, in a way I can’t be putting aside to like you yourself

Ali: If I acted how you want a girl to act, you wouldn’t know me

Johnny: I shouldn’t know you, you shouldn’t be mixing with us how you are

Ali: Well I apologize but the others are happy to be my friend

Johnny: Too many is what I already said, yeah

Ali: It’s you who can’t envision a wedding with only 50 guests, there’s no such thing as too many friends

Johnny: Maybe we use the word different from each other

Ali: There’s levels to it

Ali: Not everyone is my closest confidant

Johnny: Don’t worry yourself on us needing to find common ground here

Ali: Heaven forbid

Johnny: You can be friendly as you like with the others, none are listening to my warnings on the matter, so

Ali: I know I can

Ali: you can keep trying to warn them likewise

Johnny: You’re girl enough you can’t tell me what to do

Ali: Unlike you, I wasn’t trying to

Ali: that’s not how I talk to people, friends or otherwise

Johnny: There’s your warning not to try to

Ali: Why would I want to control you?

Johnny: What you want don’t matter, other than seeing your brother, which we’re done with each other after it is

Ali: We could be done with each other now, you didn’t have to say yes

Ali: I don’t know why you would if you think I’m so awful

Johnny: I’ve said it, I’ll go on and follow through for doing it

Ali: Seriously, don’t trouble yourself

Johnny: It’s no trouble

Ali: That’s just not true so

Johnny: It’s true enough

Ali: I don’t need you to do a favour for me because you feel sorry for me

Johnny: I don’t feel sorry for you

Ali: What else would you call it?

Johnny: It isn’t about you no more, it’s about saying I’d do something and being good for the doing of it, that’s what a man does

Ali: I don’t owe you a chance to prove what a decent man you are, not if it comes at the expense of letting you insult me, which isn’t what a good person does, end of

Johnny: Be there when I said, Ali, there’s your chance to see your brother

Ali: I’ve got the time and place

Johnny: Yeah

Ali: I hope you only get rained on in the worst ways

Johnny: Sure you could use your powers to have it be rotten out, or lightning to strike, from what I’ve heard talk of

Ali: If you believed it, you’d be nicer

Johnny: I’m not scared of no girl, whatever it is she’s done

Ali: Proving how stupid prejudice always is…

Johnny: Watch what names you call me

Ali: I didn’t call you anything

Ali: but the idea of not being scared of someone who’s allegedly tried to kill someone, just because of what is or isn’t in their pants

Johnny: You called me stupid, but you wouldn’t be able to hurt me without getting hurt yourself, ‘cause you are a little girl, it don’t matter what else you’re trying to be

Ali: I don’t have any desire to hurt you, I didn’t say I did at any point

Ali: but if you’re going to be so Mr Darcy, you may as well get soaked

Johnny: You know what you said, and I know I’ve no reason to be scared of you

Ali: Am I a friend of the world or the big bad, I don’t see how or why I would try to be both

Johnny: You don’t know who you are, it’s how you’re the state you are

Ali: Well why don’t you stick around and keep telling me, isn’t that what a man would do, save the little girl?

Johnny: Gorja girls like you can’t be told or saved

Ali: Ah, there we go then

Johnny: Ah stop with thinking you can be everything to everyone

Ali: What else would I do?

Johnny: See, you can’t be told

Ali: You can’t tell me to stop and give me no alternative

Johnny: You can’t be more than the 1 girl but there you go giving it a lash still

Ali: And don’t you feel like you have to be something, someone, that isn’t always feasible?

Johnny: We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you

Ali: We could be talking about both of us

Johnny: There’s no us

Johnny: I’m not the same as you

Ali: No but you put pressure on yourself to be who the others need, who you think you’re meant to be, no?

Ali: Why can’t I

Johnny: You encourage the fuck ups, I don’t

Ali: Or you want someone to tell you you’re only one lad

Johnny: What have you said to Carly about Moses? What have you said to Ronan for following you ‘round?

Johnny: you don’t do nothing to help nothing ‘cause you want ‘em all to be your mate & like you

Ali: Wow, thanks for that devastating read of my failings as a person

Ali: but you telling Moses and Ronan to stop what they’re doing, hasn’t and isn’t going to get them to stop, so wouldn’t you be a lot happier if you realised you can only control your own actions?

Johnny: Grow yourself up

Ali: I’m a child, and so are you

Johnny: Yous get to be children ‘til you’ve had your own, and after, look at [Carly’s mum], you’re all messes

Ali: Sure must be fun being perfect

Johnny: I’m not that, I’m just not bothering myself if people don’t like me how you are, needing everyone to feel the sun shines out of you

Ali: You think you’re doing something right if everyone dislikes you, because no one but you wants to do the right thing

Johnny: Moses needed a smack and say you cared about Carly at all you’d give her a smack too before the stupid girl gets herself in proper trouble batting her eyelashes at the lads can’t get her out of

Ali: People get themselves into trouble, no matter how much you care, you can care ‘til it kills you too

Johnny: We’ve all our graves to go to, better caring puts you in than not bothering yourself and being eaten up for it

Ali: I care

Johnny: You care to make yourself look good, to be cared about, you’ll never do nothing that’d make you unpopular

Ali: Fuck you

Ali: I’m there when people like you have washed your hands

Johnny: You’re there for what, a party?

Ali: Whatever they need

Ali: do you think it’s going to be a party on the psych ward?

Johnny: Maybe, none of it’s real

Ali: What the fuck is ‘real’?

Johnny: You would say that, you don’t know life no more than your brother does, you’ve a paper round and your own dealers

Ali: Who knew drug dealers exploited child labour like the rest of the world, really think they’d have more morals

Ali: Some boys I go to school with hand out fun drugs for kids, it’s not like I’m giving the cartel their Sunday papers

Johnny: I’m saying you don’t take nothing serious, so there you’ve only backed me

Johnny: hippies and punks don’t exist now, you know

Ali: Why do you want to fit in so badly

Johnny: Why do you have to stand out? You need everyone’s attention so badly, it’s a disgrace, like

Ali: No one else is as bothered to have to give it to me as you

Johnny: Aren’t you shamed of yourself?

Ali: For being interesting, trying to be someone everyone can like

Johnny: For being as needy as you are for it

Ali: Shame for what you need just makes you suppress it until you can’t, then you really act out

Johnny: And you really acting out looks like what?

Ali: I don’t know, I get what I need

Johnny: Do you?

Ali: I’m not scared to ask for it, to openly want it

Johnny: You’ve everything you want then, is it?

Ali: Of course not

Johnny: No, you’ve not, for all your asking

Ali: So, why bother asking, right?

Ali: Don’t you, of all people, think that we should get to carve our own path, make our own way, not just take what we’re given and shut up about it

Johnny: I do make my own way, you don’t shut up but you’re standing still surrounded by all your friends, maybe it’s you can’t get past ‘em how many there are

Ali: You say family are important, tradition

Ali: Why should I want to be alone, isolated?

Johnny: She’s not your family, mine isn’t, go the fuck home, Ali

Ali: She hasn’t got one, as you’ve pointed out many a time

Johnny: She’s got her ma

Ali: and we can choose each other, to have more than what we were born into

Ali: It shouldn’t be any of your concern, if yours is so fucking solid

Johnny: They’d choose to pack up if you weren’t here all the time

Ali: Yeah, you want them to go the fuck home like it exists

Ali: the site politics aren’t my business, if they really have to go, then someone more senior than you can let them know, can’t they

Johnny: They can have a house, it’s not their traditions

Ali: Look, I actually get it

Ali: search me why the fuck [Carly’s mum] settled there but she’s not exactly reasonable

Ali: but why do you have to punish Carly for it, like she chose any of it?

Johnny: She has chose to make a holy show of herself

Ali: Like you said, they aren’t travellers, they shouldn’t live on a traveller site

Ali: she doesn’t have to comply with your way of living, but why can’t someone make [Carly’s mum] see she should go?

Johnny: She don’t listen to reason, you said it before I have, but when we get pushed past our reason, something bad will happen

Ali: Carly told me what you said

Johnny: I’ve not talked to her

Ali: About torching their caravan

Johnny: Sure, I’ve not talked to her

Ali: Oh

Ali: then someone else has threatened her, the morning after, she told me

Johnny: It’s good she’s been warned, whoever it were by

Ali: How can you say that’s good

Johnny: No warning and it’s done without, she’s dead when she could’ve been off

Ali: That’s a threat, not a warning

Johnny: Some people feel the need to make threats when their warnings go unheard and she’s had ‘em before now

Ali: That’s all I need to know

Johnny: There then, you know it all

Ali: I’ll get her to see, she can stay with me until her mum finds a place

Johnny: It’s best that way, nobody wants to see her hurt

Ali: You can’t really claim that when you condone burning her out

Johnny: As long as they don’t stay they won’t be

Ali: I can’t force them but I’ll try

Ali: now I know you’re serious

Johnny: It’s only words for now, no actions

Ali: You don’t get to try and soften it, it is what it is and that’s a threat

Ali: I’ll make sure she knows that, she thinks the rest of them care about her, for fuck’s sake

Johnny: She’s some dope that girl

Ali: She’s innocent

Johnny: No, she’s a whore

Ali: and all your cousins and brothers will use her until they decide her reputation is too bad and she has to go

Johnny: She made her bed by lying with Moses in his

Ali: She likes him!

Ali: If he doesn’t like her that makes him the one in the wrong, if we’re throwing those stones

Johnny: She made herself available to be used, that’s her fault

Ali: That doesn’t absolve them of any of their wrongdoings and you know that

Ali: blame a temptress all you want but you still get tempted

Johnny: I’m not tempted

Ali: It’s normal, people want to have sex

Johnny: You called it wrongdoings, I didn’t

Ali: You called her a whore, I was appealing to your piety

Ali: I don’t think there’s anything wrong with her wanting them or them wanting her, you do

Johnny: It’s not the act, it’s the trouble it’ll lead to

Johnny: you know she’s not to be trusted not to cause it

Ali: Don’t all teenagers have relationship drama?

Ali: If it wasn’t so about the blame game, half of it would be resolved and it would just be feelings getting hurt, that’s life

Johnny: Their lives have a proper path and it’s not getting banged up by Carly

Ali: She won’t do that, she didn’t even tell me about the threat of being burned in her bed like it was serious, that isn’t her

Johnny: She’s a worst state than any gorja girl I’ve met before, I don’t know what she’ll do

Ali: She’s messed up, yeah

Ali: but she’s sweet and you shouldn’t be scared of her, she’s scared of you

Johnny: She should be scared of me, her carrying on

Ali: Find her inbox if you insist on this carry on

Ali: I’m not scared of you

Johnny: You don’t need to be scared of me

Ali: Why not, I’m just like her

Johnny: You’re not as bad as her

Ali: That’s so insulting

Johnny: Why?

Ali: Because I try SO hard to be unique and fascinating, obviously

Johnny: Only insulting if you want to be as bad as her

Ali: You may as well continue insulting me, it’s become expected

Johnny: You wouldn’t know what to do with the opposite

Ali: Says you

Johnny: You said you don’t expect it

Ali: Yeah, all you do is slag me off

Johnny: Isn’t all I do

Ali: To my face, anyway

Johnny: Come on, I let you help with the bike

Ali: Let me help… meaning I helped you, that’s me

Johnny: I didn’t tell you you couldn’t

Ali: Which is handy because I can

Johnny: Jesus, you helped, I admit it

Ali: Pulling 🦷🦷

Ali: I didn’t ask you to admit it in front of anyone, did I

Johnny: Not yet

Ali: Contrary to your perception of me, I don’t need everyone to know I can hold a 🔧 and not just look pretty doing it

Ali: Besides, I had metalwork with both of them so they already know

Johnny: You would take metalwork

Ali: And I have my own bike, not that you asked

Ali: well, we all share it but none of the others care about it anymore and the baby is too little

Johnny: Go on, you can’t tell me you’ve a bike and nothing about it

Ali: [tell him about this dirtbike you have like we did as children because your father is my father like that so you would probably have had a couple but literally who else is wanting it now so you just kept the one]

Johnny: [idk but nerd out asking her about it, like what the tea of it is and what needs fixing etc etc because you clearly are into this stuff too]

Ali: [god bless y’all nerds but me and my boo are not going to pretend to know what we’re talking about but you both do and can lol]

Johnny: [just here offering to swag it up for her with different parts and hacks in ways I know nothing about because he loves her]

Ali: When can I bring it over?

Johnny: When my bike’s done, there’s still some things I need to finish before [whenever he’s taking her to visit Joseph]

Ali: You can ask for help

Ali: won’t even make a thing out of it

Johnny: You’re to have her off site not yourself be on

Ali: I’m not just leaving my baby with you though, I want to help

Johnny: Every other girl is after a surprise but you

Ali: Sorry I called you predictable and now you’re after showing me you aren’t

Johnny: When did you call me predictable?

Ali: Your insults being expected, it’s sort of the same thing

Johnny: I’ll put it aside

Ali: Big of you

Johnny: We’d only be back to insulting each other, predictably

Ali: Isn’t it more fun when you don’t see them coming

Johnny: Is it now?

Johnny: Telling of you, would it not be more fun to not see the changes to your bike coming?

Ali: I’m not sure I trust you like that

Johnny: It’s no threat to cut your brakes

Ali: You would say that if you were trying to have me slam into a lamppost

Johnny: I don’t want it, you hurt

Ali: You don’t want to see anyone hurt, I know

Johnny: I’ll steal it to do what needs to be done, you know

Ali: 😲

Ali: You don’t even know where I live

Johnny: Ro knows so I know, I’ll get it out of him before you’ve yourself from bed in the night to see your bike stole

Ali: I’ll tell him to 🤐 or else

Johnny: I’ll be at him to tell me or else, how confident are you?

Ali: 🤔

Ali: nah, I’d say I’d feel safe putting a bet on it

Johnny: How will you feel him taking a smack for you?

Ali: Is that really the only way to achieve your goal? 🙄

Johnny: You can quit being a messer and say yeah to being surprised by the bike, it’s unstolen, he’s unsmacked

Ali: You liked fixing it with me

Johnny: You’ll like what I do to it

Ali: Maybe

Johnny: Maybe I know the whereabouts of a [really old/rare bike or car] we can work on together, but you have to say yeah to this, or sure, you’re never touching it

Ali: So you were holding out the big guns on me

Ali: 🔫 okay

Johnny: Say it for proper, on you go

Ali: Tell me when you’ve finished with yours and I’ll drop mine

Johnny: I’ll get it, you’ll strand yourself from leaving it here and no girl should be walking in the night

Ali: You make me laugh sometimes

Johnny: Laugh but it’s what’s to happen

Ali: like, I could come in the day, even if you’re not there, or you could give me a lift home, there are so many other options but sure, alright

Johnny: Options you thought up yourself ‘cause you don’t want me to have mine

Ali: No, you can come over

Ali: I could invite you in, wouldn’t that be fun

Johnny: Christ, I can think up for myself how that’d be

Ali: 😁😁😁

Ali: Don’t act like you don’t want to stay for tea

Johnny: You’ve a daddy unlike her, do you want me to get in trouble?

Ali: What could you get in trouble for, fixing [whatever is wrong with our bike]?

Johnny: Ah give over

Ali: Cute

Johnny: Don’t start none of your sugar with me, I’ve told you it don’t work

Ali: so I can tell my daddy that, can’t I

Johnny: Best you do

Ali: Can I say funny if I can’t say cute?

Johnny: Why are you after saying either?

Ali: Best you stop acting it if you can’t hack it

Johnny: Laying it on with a trowel now

Ali: Oh, please, that’s nothing

Johnny: To you it might not be, girl

Ali: Oh, please x2

Ali: You’ll have heard worse/better loads of times over

Johnny: Well maybe it’s something to me what you say

Ali: Is it?

Johnny: You’re not careful with what you do

Ali: so what I say must be the same

Johnny: Is it?

Ali: No

Ali: but I know that’s what you believe

Johnny: I don’t know, Ali

Ali: I talk too much, yeah, everyone agrees

Johnny: Maybe, but you’re a proper enough girl for that, all of ‘em talk and talk

Ali: How many sisters do you have?

Johnny: [He’s saying 4 but he’s doing it by naming them, if you know what I mean, which I won’t commit us to because soz gals none of you are relevant cos you’re either already married or not allowed to associate with cali anyway]

Ali: And are you the oldest or just the oldest boy?

Johnny: [again namedrop the sister/sisters that’s older because I vibe at least one of them is if not a couple of, why not, you’re only like 16-18 yourself sir so it’s feasible]

Ali: They’ve already had their weddings then

Johnny: They’re onto having children now

Ali: so you’re an uncle

Ali: I don’t know if any of my siblings will have children… 🤔

Johnny: [tell her about how many nieces or nephews you have at this point and what they are called and how old they are, a casual rundown how you do, but again I don’t need to commit us cos not relevant and I doubt there’s that many of them yet, you’ve your whole lives ladies, calm down, lol]

Ali: They must be the ones I’ve seen playing out, they’re cute

Johnny: Why are we talking about this?

Ali: I’m a tourist, aren’t I

Johnny: And the babies aren’t part of the travelling circus you’re here to see

Ali: It was a joke but okay, change the subject

Johnny: It’s a touchy subject, the next generation of us, nobody can say what the future’ll be like

Ali: If there’s one thing you have, it’s strong tradition

Johnny: But there’s less room for it, or for any of us

Ali: You’ve lasted thousands of years

Johnny: Things are changing, to houses, marrying gorjas, or not marrying at all and girls working

Ali: Evolving doesn’t necessarily mean destroying, forgetting

Johnny: ‘Cept when it does

Ali: That’s to be worked out

Ali: and you can still keep all the traditions you want personally

Johnny: It’s not personal choice, it’s who we are

Ali: If you can live within that, some people can’t stay in the family they were born into or the community

Johnny: For doing wrong, you can’t make it out like it’s the right thing

Ali: There are reasons that are valid

Johnny: You would say that, you’ve only your own rules

Ali: I have personal knowing that sometimes it’s the right thing to do

Johnny: You don’t have personal knowing of my community, or of being born into a family that weren’t already a mess though, do you?

Ali: It’d be a worse mess if my da hadn’t left his at 15

Ali: but no, I don’t claim to know your community beyond my outsider perspective

Johnny: We’re too different not to be outsiders to each other

Ali: We’re both sat here in a heavily Christian country that holds lots of the same family values you do

Ali: no, I don’t find your culture that wildly different, sorry, like

Johnny: You don’t hold them

Ali: Have you ever feckin’ asked?

Ali: You don’t know what I value, you assume based on seeing me at some parties, ah how much of the pub comes there right after Church on sunday?

Johnny: Not my fault your behaviour speaks for you, like

Ali: I’m not aiming for sainthood

Ali: and judge me all you like, your opinion of me has nothing to do with who I actually am

Johnny: Who you are isn’t what I need to worry myself about

Ali: As if I asked you to

Johnny: I’ve some hard graft I’m busy with

Ali: Alright, see you around then

Johnny: When you’re there at [wherever they are meeting for this Joseph visit, bold assumption she’s still gonna turn up when you’ve been this much of a dick but] I’ll see you

Ali: A lots been said since then

Johnny: Not you don’t want to go no more

Ali: Of course I do but this is about your words

Johnny: I won’t be saying nothing then, I’ll have my mind on the getting you there

Ali: And you have nothing to say to me anyway, right

Johnny: Nothing you’re really after hearing

Ali: S’funny you think you have the first clue but no

Ali: sure that’s right regardless

Johnny: We don’t have to be friends for me to take you

Ali: You’ve said

Ali: if you’re so hung up on keeping your word then fine, we’ll get it over with and I’ll make more permanent arrangements somehow

Johnny: We can have it as an arrangement between us

Ali: but what’s in that for you?

Johnny: Keeps the bike running, sometimes I’m too busy to go off and it’s sat about longer than’s good for it

Ali: Fuck it then, alright

Johnny: [the day of this visit] then, every or every other

Ali: Are you able to wait for me, because I don’t know how long he’ll even want me there

Johnny: I’ll wait, yeah

Ali: Thanks

Ali: don’t worry I won’t be crying or anything else awkward for you

Johnny: If crying’s what you need to do, don’t trouble yourself about me, I’ve seen it before

Ali: I heard, you have sisters

Ali: I’m not going to

Johnny: I know to look away before it’s awkward for you, so

Ali: Awkward for who?

Johnny: Neither of us, you’ll be on the back, I’ll not see you

Ali: Crying isn’t something that’s really done much in my house, just the baby

Johnny: You’re not in your house, and you’re supposed to be a free spirit or whatever, no?

Ali: I can think of more entertaining ways to go against the status quo

Johnny: Betting you can, but the psych ward’s probably not going to be fun and games

Ali: It’s not about me, it’s about how he’s finding it

Johnny: You’ll still find there’s a impact on you too

Ali: I’ve heard and seen it before, s’okay

Johnny: Go careful, will you?

Ali: How? I don’t have a choice, he’s still my brother

Johnny: I know, but you’re only a little girl

Johnny: and I don’t mean it in a putting the wind up you or an insulting way for this time

Ali: You’re not that much older than me

Johnny: I am

Ali: not old enough to call me that

Johnny: I could be a year older and call you that, it’s about more than birthdays had

Ali: and I’m not little, trust me

Johnny: Size of you is, compared to me, and sure to everyone else in that place

Ali: I wouldn’t ask you to come in, if you think I will

Johnny: I’m just asking you to think, keep yourself safe

Ali: I am, they’re just sick people, I’ll be safe

Ali: you’ll be right outside

Johnny: I don’t want it, you hurt, that’s true of on site or off

Ali: I believe you, for this time

Johnny: Yeah though, I’ll be outside

Ali: Maybe thinking about that does make me feel better

Johnny: You’re to keep it in mind then

Ali: I will

Ali: and I won’t rush to replace you, unfortunately for you

Johnny: It won’t be too bad for me

Ali: Get to keep the bike ticking over, yeah

Johnny: It’s important, you know

Ali: I know

Johnny: I’d come in, if you ever need to ask

Ali: I reckon that would be more awkward than you coming in for tea but

Ali: I’ll keep that in mind too

Johnny: Offer’s on the table, don’t matter if you never take me up on it or you do

Ali: I know how it matters, what does

Ali: I owe you, whether you like it or not

Johnny: There’ll be times I like it and times I don’t

Ali: I’ll work out how to make it actually pay back and not burden you

Ali: cash is off the table, leaves a lot I can try

Johnny: Don’t you be filling my mind with the likes of what you could get yourself up to

Ali: but please

Ali: My own head’s too full

Johnny: I’ve got work, should be where my head is

Ali: Isn’t work just what you’re occupying your hands with if you’re doing it right?

Ali: Not once am I thinking about my school work whilst I’m doing it, your head is your own

Johnny: Maybe I’m not old enough to let my hands do it all themselves how my da and uncle can

Ali: You’re an apprentice still, that makes sense

Johnny: No, what that word means to yous lot’s lads as messers isn’t what I am, but there’s things to be learning all the time ‘til you’re old as they are

Ali: You’re sharp, it’ll stick

Johnny: It has stuck when you’re not ‘round distracting us

Ali: I’ve come nowhere near in ages

Johnny: You’re here now, talking too much

Ali: I’m being restrained, have you know

Ali: but fine, lock me in your thoughts ‘til you get off the clock

Johnny: Rain’s stopped, was that to do with you?

Ali: Possibly

Johnny: You don’t want me piss wet through in all the worse ways no more?

Ali: I do but I’m thinking of you now and what you want so

Johnny: Are you now?

Ali: I told you, you’re going to like it or I’m not doing it right

Johnny: How do you reckon you know what I like?

Ali: I can feel it, when I’m getting hotter or colder

Johnny: What’s it feel like?

Ali: That’s a secret, for now

Johnny: You’re not playing very fair with that one

Ali: Neither are you, asking questions you know the answers to

Johnny: You think I’ve the answers

Ali: I think you know how this feels

Johnny: Maybe

Ali: maybe

Johnny: But for now we’re keeping secrets, yeah?

Ali: I can be honest, ask me again

Johnny: I’m not part of the games you play, told you before

Ali: I’m not playing

Johnny: You are

Ali: No

Johnny: I can’t do this with you

Ali: You could

Ali: just say you don’t want to

Johnny: Enough, Ali

Ali: It isn’t

Johnny: You take everything too far

Ali: Fine, go, I’m sorry

Johnny: [do go boy because we all know you’re losing your mind over this girl so you gotta]

Ali: [it’s very mutual and now you’re here DYING with nothing to do about it, god bless]

Johnny: [Winnie like invite Ronan over again and I say NO, stop it evil bear, but I do hope it’s not ages until they are going to see Joe cos they’ll both be DYING until then]

Ali: [the temptation but we cannot because we are just not that bitch to that extent, good luck functioning though because truly]

Johnny: [I also hope it’s not a really long bike ride because it’ll be so awks, god I’d die]

Ali: [god knows where Joe has been sent I have no clue but either way this girl is NOT okay]

Johnny: [soz you gotta lowkey hold onto him so you don’t fall off, that won’t be helping either of y’all with the tension]

Ali: [the forced intimacy]

Johnny: [hit me with your coming out post visit vibe and mood because he is gonna wait like he said however long she’s in there, how did it go?]

Ali: [me like hmm, how strange are we going to be today, Joseph? Lord lmao, he’s probably going to be kinda buzzing you’ve disobeyed mcvickers to come see him, so we can probably say it isn’t terrible but he’d definitely be as drugged up as he could be so that wouldn’t be nice to see so, a mixed bag but not like omg horrific, I feel?]

Johnny: [I definitely think that tracks for the first visit, not just saying that because 1. I’d feel awful if he kissed and left her when she’s already distraught and 2. Because if it was that awful she probably wouldn’t wanna go back and visit Joe again right away, it does feel real]

Ali: [mhmm, that’s my thinking, like you’re lowkey like hm does he need to be that zombified but that isn’t enough to have you coming out screaming crying and thus make that more of a betrayal than needs be]

Johnny: [this boy just looking at her as she comes out, trying to gauge the mood because clearly she isn’t crying but she said she wouldn’t so, it’s the way he hasn’t said a damn word for this entire bike ride and still isn’t for me, if I was Ali I’d be so !! frustrated not just in a sexy way]

Ali: [like I grant you we can’t have an easy chat whilst riding said bike because it’s loud and you’d need to shout but at this point hun, it’s a THING ™ so, looking at you with the ? like yes, what do you want to say because we are neither risking mentioning how things were left because we were in the ‘wrong’ nor jumping straight into telling you Joe’s business because that’s a lot and also makes this seem as transactional as we do not believe it nor want it to be]

Johnny: [when you try and look her over/up and down in a sort of casual so are you okay way like you do when peeps reappear after something but whatever she’s wearing for this visit and however awks the vibe she looks great because always and he can’t help LINGERING over LOOKING at her in full, cos we all know she just jumped straight on the bike to get there so this is the first moment and chance for that to be a thing]

Ali: [just nodding in a slightly petty way like if you’re not talking neither am I boy but we’re not holding out for dramatic effect because it’s serious and we don’t need to fake being on the edge here lol, but then he’s more than just looking at you and it’s LOOKING so then you’re also blushing which says as much without saying anything]

Johnny: [likewise running his hand through the long messy hair this boy has for every single role he’s ever played because he’s as on the edge as she is and lbr more so, going towards the bike wherever it has been left, closer to it than he was because he was deffo basically at the door of this psych ward before, as if that will encourage her to get on and they can just drive back again in silence, no no sir, no no]

Ali: [doing that kind of disbelieving laugh that is basically paired with the verbalisation of no no ‘I can’t do this’ taking a step forward but only to then stop with your arms out like no, again, we can’t ‘not if you aren’t going to say anything’]

Johnny: [stopping himself when she does, again running his hand through his hair so it’s essentially fallen out of the little ponytail it was in with the force of ‘We’ve talked enough’ you definitely have not and the absolute finality with which he’s saying that isn’t convincing either of you it’s true ‘too much’ with more of an !! exasperated and almost frantic edge to it because the boy is not okay, making a move to tie his hair immediately back up cos we can’t be still when we’re this tense]

Ali: [try not to watch this boy mess with his hair but it’s also distractingly mezmerising so we are, sorry, again we can look away embarrassed about it to show we too are trying here, folding your arms and hug them against you so you aren’t gesturing so exasperatedly still ‘I took it too far for you’ that for you because you wanted to say a whole lot more but do actually care about people’s boundaries thank you so we can admit that ‘I’m not going to…’ gesturing off because of the things you could say you aren’t going to do and how voicing that isn’t going to help rn]

Johnny: [‘leave it alone now’ in a way that sounds the same as when he told Moses to leave Carly alone and Ronan with Ali, because we need her to stop and shut up rn immediately but haven’t yet been pushed to the point of shutting her up by kissing her or anything ‘quit your acting up and get on the bike’ again, his tone making me uncomfortable because it’s too close to giving orders like before but also too close to how those other lads talk to Carly in a way I don’t appreciate, sir, thank you]

Ali: [‘because that’s working’ like hello, not addressing this is having us going ‘round in circles with this ‘you keep changing your mind’ in that frustrated tone but we’re still trying to talk and get you to see how confusing this for us, obviously, we are not getting on this bike]

Johnny: [‘god, girl, if you don’t get on this fucking bike’ he’s swearing at her, he’s threatening her, he’s almost shouting at her because !!, it’s all popping off ‘don’t you know I’m not meant to have you in mind at all?’ getting more in her grill about this because of the aforementioned !! and the fact he needs her to see how confusing this is for him like please understand]

Ali: [‘I’m not going anywhere with you like this’ matter of fact enough but our tone is very calm down without saying those words because never the move and we’d feel like a hypocrite for it when we’re also !! over this ‘but you do and you can’t have me on the back of you every week without thinking about me at all, don’t do it if that’s so’ ducking our head so we can make eye contact with you and we’re almost touching our forehead against yours but not fully making that physical contact]

Johnny: [running a hand through his hair again when she basically tells him to calm down as if that alone will do it, only to end up holding the sides of his head in his hands in a very literal sense because of how full of her his head is, just for a moment though so it’s back up by the time she ducks hers for the eye contact and almost forehead touch ‘I can’t have you and that’s the end of it’ almost eerily quiet in contrast to how loud he was before]

Ali: [just prising his hands away from his head really slowly by taking them in your own, using the manoeuvre to put only the tiniest amount more space between you after your almost forehead press, dropping his hands gently at his side even though for the briefest moment before you let go, you consider putting them on your waist, obviously you do not ‘that’s- okay’ a very definite pause meaning it isn’t the full sentence we intended it to be because it doesn’t feel okay even if we were being good and doing everything ‘right’ we’d tell you it was okay, instead we’re simply acknowledging you said it without actually commenting on it because we can’t come to the phone right now]

Johnny: [when it obvs doesn’t feel okay to him either so he’s back in her grill again before either of y’all are even fully aware of how close he is, which is to the point that his dramatic and frustrated af big long breath is basically at her and so near to being in her mouth that Winnie is screaming crying perfect storm ‘it isn’t’ an exact echo of what she said when he said enough before in their convo, unaware or aware af though he is or isn’t that he’s used her exact words here, like they are just so on the same page with their frustration that it could be accidental but it could also be targeted and deliberate like hey remember this hun, me too, the fuck]

Ali: [neither of you is complaining, almost trying not to acknowledge how close you are like that means he won’t notice either and thus move back when he does, closing your eyes and holding your own breath at this because you can’t trust yourself to do anything close to sane about it and you don’t know what he wants you to say or do because you’ve tried several approaches and you’re not used to being this wrong every time, seemingly ‘you aren’t part of the game’ as a promise because seriously]

Johnny: [‘What am I?’ genuinely because if not, what else do you think this can be, gal, you can’t be his gf or anything of the sort, it’s all a mess and he’s mad at the situation, her and himself]

Ali: [‘other’ like you’re putting him into a category because you can’t and there’s no better way to put that across ‘some shit is just different and that’s not ‘cos I want it to be’ because this is not ideal for us, if you were any of the others you would just hookup with/casually date us]

Johnny: [‘you weren’t supposed to be this different yourself’ cos rn he’d love nothing more than for her to be Carly so he can write her off/hate her or like the other non-traveller girls he clearly hasn’t been very interested in]

Ali: [opening your eyes again because you can’t keep them shut forever, doing a half shrug and the self-deprecating little laugh like heard that one before energy because what else can we say to that ‘I don’t want it to be you’ which sounds harsh but is said too softly to be so because we mean it, we’re not like the girl who thinks they’re so slay they need to get the one boy they can’t have, we didn’t mean to make this a thing when there is literally a much more sensible option in Ronan right there who isn’t so damn conflicted]

Johnny: [pushing her back barely at all in the scheme of things but it would feel like a giant gap suddenly and a harsh action despite how softly he’s doing it to match the vibe of what she said, as if it’s that simple to let her go and free you both from this ‘it isn’t going to be me’ me here like sure Jan because you’re literally looking at her and her mouth like you wanna kiss her rn as the words are being said because you do]

Ali: [not even purposefully doing the thing where you then rock forward from the pressure being exerted on pushing you back, so you’re truly back where you were, doing the tiniest smile as you catch his eye and take said step back yourself like okay, okay ‘if you’d just forgo your morals and hurt me, it could be’ like it’s a joke but it’s a little too real rn]

Johnny: [he’s gotta close his own eyes for a sec when she takes her step back because he’s fighting a war with himself not to immediately pull her back already but then she says what she says and his eyes open and flash with such anger at all this and it is the perfect kiss her hard before he goes moment because shut up that isn’t funny and I hate that you’d make a joke like this and I hate you and I hate myself that I’m doing this in response or ever etc etc, it can’t be overstated the way he’s actually launching himself at her for this and there is a violence to it because the desperation and the !! that’s there but he wishes was not, nbd not at all casually the most aggressive makeout any character has ever]

Ali: [me like try not to hit the deck guys because the way that will catch us completely off guard because feeling like you would never do anything at this point obviously, basically supporting yourself and keeping vaguely upright by holding onto the sides of his face like he did earlier because you’ll at least take him down with you, making some kind of unholy noise because of the absolute shock of it all but also because of something being done with this tension, however briefly it lasts]

Johnny: [I feel like at some point y’all have to fall against this bike and it has to hit the deck and end up with some kind of superficial damage that won’t stop him riding off when he needs to and he won’t fully notice til later because that’s poetic cinema, baby, y’all so carried away you don’t even care his precious bike you worked on together has fallen over]

Ali: [mhmm, it has to be done, also you’re outside of a psychward, there are probably many a mentally unstable teenager watching you guys in this car park, including your own brother Alison, the way a setting has never been less relevant in its life, we don’t even remember where we are or why we were here at this point, babe, just got to hold our own in this kiss fight]

Johnny: [me just having a big yikes moment thinking about how if Joe sees it he’ll be so into it, don’t think about that Junie, we’re not getting into his incest and inappropriateness rn, I’m just going to think about how this should be a quick kiss this boy regrets and snaps himself out of immediately but instead it’s going on SO long, we’re really going at it]

Ali: [Joseph, this isn’t about you, you’re being a menace and will continue to be but for now you are limited by being locked away lol, not having our moment ruined until it is by this boy leaving, because can’t pretend we’re not needing how aggressive it is either by now, like soz you have just given us everything to keep thinking about you, was not your intention but here we are, on the ground by this point I’m sure looking like you might be fully brawling]

Johnny: [Sadly all good things must come to an end and whether that’s because of some kind of way she touches him/he touches her or a sound either of you make or a move he ends up making to take something off her/touch her under it, something triggers that this amazingness has to stop and he simply will just get on this bike and drive away leaving her the most in shock anyone has ever been]

Ali: [can you imagine, the shock and awe, I can’t; also we’re on 30 pages so should probably post but just to say she would message you because we aren’t going to not but if you think he wouldn’t reply, I could try and do that on this page?]

Johnny: [I can’t imagine, I would simply pass away, I like to think he’d circle back later like wtf did I do to see if she was still there but he’d have obvs got so far away in his own shock before he did that and then had to turn back that she’s long gone by the time, because he does have morals and he wouldn’t actually wanna just leave her outside a psych ward, as for replying though, I don’t think he would, like lowkey he probably wouldn’t even let himself read it]

Ali: [Okay let me try, obviously waiting ‘til she is home so he should also be because not trying to get you to crash when it already feels vaguely possible]

Ali: I got home fine

Ali: Figured you’d want to know, still

Ali: and I hope you did but I won’t stop by and check

Ali: or ask, or say anything to anyone so

Ali: Why did you go?

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sorry-im-late-again · 3 years ago

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Les Mis UK And Ireland Tour, Dublin 2.0

Okay so I saw Les Mis in Dublin on the 10th of February and as always when I see Les Mis I will be doing a review. For reference we were in the third row right in the middle.

I gotta see this is a STRONG cast. I actually couldn't fault any of the performances from the principal cast. There's usually always one that I'm not gone on but I genuinely believe this cast are stellar.

So to begin with, Dean Chisnall. I've heard such incredible things about Dean Chisnall and I have been so looking forward to seeing him. We've had these tickets since pre covid and I cam genuinely say it wad worth the wait. Quite honestly one of the best Valjeans I've ever witnessed. I can't even place what it is he brings to the character that makes his version so special but he's incredible. There's a softness to hid Valjean that sometimes I find lacking and it is just such a moving and nuanced performance.

So Enjolras is my favourite character and I've said it before that I have witnessed some incredibly underwhelming Enjolras and as a result I can be quite picky. Sam Wyn-Morris however, is quite honestly the best Enjolras I have ever seen. I am in love with his Enjolras. You can feel how much he cares for the cause in everything he does and those vocals. Honestly we are not worthy of his performances and I am so happy he got promoted from cover Enjolras in London to principal on tour because he is incredible.

Katie Hall. Katie Hall. Katie Hall. So I seen Katie as Fantine before back in Januarh 2019 and while I enjoyed her performance that time, it was nothing compared to this time. I don't know if it's becoming a mother or what it is, but her performance has completely changed and she blew me away. I sobbed through I dream a dream. There was so much raw emotion in everything she did and I just loved it.

Ian Hughes is a very enjoyable Thernardier. He is a great balance of funny and sinister and was very enjoyable to watch. Helen Walsh is good is Madame T., she's not my favourite role but I enjoyed her performance.

I had seen Nic Greenshields as Javert before and while I know he's not everyone's cup of tea, I enjoy him. He was perfectly stoic but unravelled at his death and vocally he was excellent on our night. I also found he acted more than he did previously when I'd seen him and thought he was a very good Javert.

Nathania Ong is a great Eponine. Her voice is stunning and I loved the rough and angry yet playful way she played Eponine. I felt like she did interstate the character which was lovely.

I really enjoyed Will Callan's Marius. Firstly, how is he only 18???? But secondly, he gave me very brick!Marius vibes he was just poor confused Pontmercy and I loved it and he also has stellar vocal chops.

I think it's generally agreed that Cosette can be quite a thankless role, but Paige Blankson was lovely. She actually acted!!!!! Which was great to see and has a beautiful voice.

The ensemble are very strong. Jordan Simon Pollard is excellently horrible as the Foreman. It is harrowing to see the Foreman as Fantine's first customer and his performance was fabulous. I really enjoyed Steven Hall as Grantaire in act 2, it was heartbreaking and he was wonderful. I could go through every member of the ensemble but I really don't have the time but it truly is an excellent company.

In terms of the production I was the first to complain about the original closing in London but after watching the New Production a few times in the last few years I can honestly say it is powerful. Some issues I would have, my friend I went with was a Les Mis newbie and sje said that the story was quite hard to follow at times as the scene changed no longer say the location and the year/ whether time has elapsed and I can imagine that would be hard to follow should you not know. Despite that I do think the production, sets and general staging etc are very good and while I do think it was a shame to get rid of the original completely, I do think this production is just as wonderful.

Something I noticed that was different to the other times I have seen both this production and the original is that Eponine no longer dies climbing over the barricade. The line "There's a boy climbing the barricade" no longer exists. Instead, Eponine is already at the barricade and a student (I didn't see who) calls "Incoming", this is followed by two gunshots and Eponine actually jumps infront of the gun in order to stop Marius getting hit (not unlike in the film). It was an interesting change because it is very small but I wonder what the decision was to change it.

Anyway, the tour company are very strong and I will urge anyone who can to get tickets because they're a cast you don't want to miss.

#les mis uk tour #dean chisnall #samuel wyn-morris #sam wyn morris #katie hall #nathania ong #paige blankson #ian hughes #helen walsh #nic Greenshields #steven hall #jordan simon polard #les miserables #les mis cast

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sofipitch · 2 years ago

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Im really sad that besides the lack of implicit romance. The 1994 version got a lot of loustat and the family dynamic better. Like Lestat still tripping all over his family issues, but I see him trying with Claudia and Louis. And I can imagine, despite Pitt’s lackluster performance (that did sell at least Louis’s depression and detachment) that maybe with reflection there was once something softer there. I don’t know how the show could recover from this. The grey power and morality is so thrown

So I think you meant "explicit" and not "implicit"? That through me for a loop because I was like "you want to go back to queerbait...?"

No but I agree, the IDEAL IWTV in my head is Jacob Anderson as Louis and Tom Cruise as Lestat. TC's Lestat seems genuinely more nuanced in his cruelty and genuinely loves his family BOTH Louis and Claudia.

Brad Pitt as Louis fails not only because he gave like absolutely nothing in most scenes but bc a lot of the complexity surrounding Louis is taken away. Paul's death is more interesting than a rando dead wife and child. BP is a slave owner but that is just like never addressed as "hey this guy is not a good person". JA's Louis running the brothel you see more of that, not only in the confession scene but the fact that POST confession scene that guy keeps running his brothel despite KNOWING that it is wrong. Also in ep 3 when he is facing racist laws preventing his business, there is the idea that he could shut down the Azalea and make some other business. He even says he owns grocery stores and such. Yes it would be loss but maybe he could build a bar, a music club, or even a theater and potentially still employ all the same women. He has a chance to rebrand, yet he digs his heels in, on one hand because of the racism behind what is stopping him, but also the money, based on their convo when Louis makes the "colored only" sign. That is a good an complicated Louis, I can chew on the complexity of that guy for hours. And to me is more accurate to book Louis's grey morality by having him acknowledge his business yet coming up with false ways it's "not that bad" like how in the book Louis is very hands off with his plantation, so he doesn't treat his slaves poorly himself BUT these are ppl potentially being treated badly by the foreman.

JA's Louis also has more signs that is desire to "not kill humans" is false, it takes him years to come to this point and in ep 6 when Lestat asks him to Louis acquieses. In the book it's more complicated, he thinks he is doing it out of morality but modern interviewee Louis admits its simply because Louis wanted to savor working his way up the scala natura of blood. BP's Louis gives 0 reason for his reluctance OR his change from not drinking human blood to doing so. The only scene in the movie where BP's Louis is interesting in this regard is the prostitute scene, where it would have been kinder to kill her quickly than drag it out like Lestat was doing. But why he changed after making Claudia is unclear. In the book it at least gives the explanation that the night with the prostitue's death and Claudia convinced Louis to give up. But in the movie Louis just seems boring due to his pigeonholing of "the moral one" compared to Lestat. JA's Louis is clearly more complex than just "sympathetic good guy" (talking about eps 1-4 I think the mistake of eps 5-6 in regards to Louis is that by making him the victim he is now once again more 2D and anything "bad" he does later can still be scene as a result of his abuse) and there is of course how JA can actually act in comparison to BP. Brad Pitt sure is coasting on that white mediocrity when you compare him to Jacob Anderson.

So yeah best version: 1994 movie family dynamics, explicit queerness,Tom Cruise Lestat, Jacob Anderson Louis. I can't put Kirsten and Bailey (two bad bitches) against each other tho that's unfair

#vc #asks

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erimeows · 2 years ago

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The Blind Date (Valentine’s Day Special)

10AM, Saturday February 11th

Allison Cameron is on a mission as she sits across from Robert Chase and Eric Foreman in the middle of a crowded, busy cafe. It’s a beautiful winter day- the sun is shining bright to melt the remnants of a dying snow outside, the breeze is crisp and cool, and the trees in New Jersey are dark with bare branches. She knows that Chase would rather be out bowling or sleeping in, while Foreman would rather be taking his dog on a morning walk or sitting inside enjoying a book with a cup of tea, and she would rather be tending to her garden or going to her Saturday taekwondo class. But, with enough convincing, she got them to come here.

“Why did you have us come get coffee with you on a Saturday? It’s out of character for you to want to spend your personal time with both of us outside of work, and you said it was important,” Foreman mentions and leans back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other and both of his arms crossed over his chest. “Spill.”

“Okay, okay,” Cameron relents with a nervous smile. She wonders if either of them will actually agree to her plan, but she figures it’s better to try and fail than to not do anything and watch the miserable game that House and Wilson play every single day; shooting each other longing looks, offering fleeting touches and nothing more, flirting when they think people aren’t looking but never doing anything about it. It’s better than watching House antagonize Wilson when compared to how he usually antagonizes others, just looks like a little kid lashing out in an attempt to get attention from their crush. “I have a plan to set House up on a blind date.”

“Wait,” Chase stops and looks between Foreman and Cameron with furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips. “Why are you doing this? Weren’t you interested in House romantically? Why set him up with someone else?”

“Yes, I love House- I mean, I like him romantically, but I love him as a friend-”

“He’s not our friend, he’s our boss, and he’s a prick,” Chase argues. “Why should we take time out of our weekend to help him? And why do you need us for this?”

“Look, I’m doing this because of Wilson, okay?”

And it’s true. While she’s partially doing it for House, she’s mostly doing it for Wilson. She sees how the oncologist looks at House with lovestruck big brown eyes, and more than it is pathetic, it’s pitiable. Wilson, regardless of his tendency to cheat and regardless of the way he allows everyone to walk all over him, is a good person.

“Because of Wilson? What does Wilson have to do with this?” Foreman questions.

“He’s our friend, and he makes House happy… And House makes him happy, too,” Cameron explains, to which Foreman and Chase nod in understanding. She thinks about her date with House- how he told her that she was only interested because she wanted to fix him, and while she was definitely attracted to him for other reasons, he wasn’t necessarily wrong. But Wilson? Over the past few weeks, she’s noticed that Wilson is acting differently around House- that he’s head over heels, and House has always reciprocated that. It’s been obvious, and if she can’t be happy with House, she at least wants Wilson to be. “Don’t tell me you guys haven’t noticed.”

“What’s your point?” Foreman asks, then sips on his coffee- black, no sugar, the exact opposite of Chase’s, which is loaded with milk, sugar, whipped cream, and chocolate syrup. Cameron’s own drink is a caramel cold brew. “They’ve always been like that with each other. Maybe they’re just best friends and you’re overanalyzing like you always do.”

“I think it’s worth a shot,” Cameron says while trying to think of something that will pique Foreman’s interest. “And if House is happy and distracted with a new relationship, maybe he won’t be so hard on us.”

“Fair point,” Foreman adds while feigning a lack of interest like he always does. Cameron is intrigued by the childlike enthusiasm that he has for pranks and plots like this, even if he tries to hide it. Eric Foreman, much like Robert Chase, is intriguing. “Wilson has always been good at reining him in when he acts up.”

“I hate to ask this, but are they even gay? I’ve never seen either of them- you know , like that with a man,” Chase leans back, sips on his drink, and pushes back the long sandy locks of hair that frame his face.

Cameron pauses, looking between the two men. She isn’t sure if they like her very much, to be honest. She likes them- hell, they’re what makes working with House bearable when he’s at his worst… Maybe asking this of them is crossing the line? No, no, it needs to be done. The worst thing that could happen is them saying no and backing out. Pushing the trivial thoughts about her relationship with Foreman and Chase aside, the brunette quirks a brow and laughs.

“Are you really asking that? They’re clearly more than friends.”

“Okay, you’re right,” Chase laughs and throws his hands up in defeat before leaning in. Both his and Foreman’s interests are obviously piqued. “What’s the plan?”

5PM, Sunday February 12th

Robert Chase doesn’t know how he got dragged into this.

Or, he does, but he really would rather not be here with House of all people. Rather, he was hoping he would be the one stuck convincing the easy going, people pleasing James Wilson to go on a blind date. Foreman was given the much easier job instead, leaving the difficult and bitter Greg House to poor Chase.

The blond is in his boss’s apartment right now, sitting on his uncomfortable leather couch. There’s only a single cushion between them and Chase has to admit that it’s closer than he’s comfortable with. As amusing as Cameron’s scheme seemed in theory, he’s slowly coming to regret agreeing to the immunologist’s plan to set House and Wilson up on this blind date.

“Why all of a sudden are you so interested in setting me up on a date?” House asks.

The diagnostician is more focused on the soap opera on the television in front of him than he is on Chase. It’s a little insulting. Then again, he figures it’s a consequence for letting his crushes on Cameron and Foreman alter his decision making skills so much. He wouldn’t have said yes were it not in hopes to impress them and get on their good sides. It’s too late to back down now, so Chase knows what he has to do in order to make it happen; take drastic measures.

“Do it or I’ll quit,” Chase threatens.

“Are you really pulling a Cameron on me?” House says with a roll of his eyes. Chase’s threat seems to catch his attention more than anything else the intensivist has said through the duration of his visit, as House actually turns the television off and turns to look at him. Icy blue eyes burn into ocean and Chase is suddenly very, very nervous- so nervous that he pulls at the collar of his shirt and averts his gaze. “Because I don’t mind calling you on your bluff.”

“You wouldn’t,” Chase responds even if he isn’t entirely sure.

“I would,” House insists and starts to fidget with his cane. He picks the long object up with one hand and twirls it absentmindedly while he speaks with his eyes still trained on Chase’s face regardless of whether or not the younger man is actually looking back at him. “I don’t mind telling Cameron and Foreman about your little crushes either.”

Chase’s heart drops to his stomach. House knows? Well, of course House knows, House knows everything, but… God damn. Seriously? Chase mulls over his options, which are acknowledging the truth and begging House not to tell anyone (which will probably come at a price), or denying the truth and pretending it isn’t real (which House will most certainly not believe, so it’ll come at a price anyway).

“What,” Chase states plainly, going with his latter option.

All it earns him is a roll of House’s eyes and a dismissive wave of House’s right hand.

“Oh, c’mon, you’re all so obvious,” House laughs. Chase wants to ask about the ‘all’. He wonders if House knows something about Foreman and Cameron’s potential feelings towards him that he himself doesn’t. Right now, though, it’s about House and Wilson, not him, so he doesn’t say anything. He bites his tongue and crosses his arms over his chest. “At this point, it’s embarrassing to watch.”

Chase looks at the clock on the wall and sighs. May as well change the subject.

“You’re running late, this place is almost an hour from here and the date is in an hour. I know it’s my fault for waiting until tonight to spring this on you, but… Ugh,” Chase groans, runs a hand through his hair, and stands up. House’s eyes remain on him as he pulls out his wallet and counts out just shy of a hundred fifty dollars, which he holds out to House. “I still need to get a cab. Take this.”

“Is this a bribe to keep my mouth shut?” House smirks and takes the cash, standing up as well.

“No, it’s to pay for the date,” Chase answers. “With all the money you already steal-”

“Borrow-”

“Steal from Wilson, I’m not making him pay for this, too,” Chase realizes he’s slipped up. Part of the plan was to keep the identity of their date secret from both House and Wilson, but thankfully, House doesn’t seem to notice. Perhaps the diagnostician assumed that Chase meant he’d simply ‘borrow’ more money from Wilson later to make up for the date. “But… It would also be nice if you didn’t mention anything about this discussion to Cameron or Foreman.”

House shrugs, turns, and makes his way to the hallway that leads to his bedroom with a shout of-

“I’m not making any promises!”

Chase sighs for what must be the millionth time tonight, then leaves with nothing more than a shake of his head. It’ll be a miracle if this somehow works out…

6PM, Sunday February 12th

Foreman is unsurprised when he finds himself at the home of James Wilson. When Cameron initially proposed her plan to get Wilson and House to go on a date yesterday, Foreman knew he was going to end up doing a lot of the work, including making the reservation at the restaurant Cameron recommended, purchasing fancy attire for both men to attend the date in, and now, this. Just like at work, Foreman manages to carry the weight of the load on his broad shoulders.

Wilson has moved into a nice new house recently. The place is full of unpacked cardboard boxes, freshly waxed floors, and newly painted walls. Foreman is overwhelmed by the scent of paint and lemon cleaner as he fastens and fixes Wilson’s tie to make sure it looks just as perfect as he’d want it to were it him going on an important date.

“I still don’t understand your motive here, Foreman,” Wilson laughs nervously, his cheeks dusted bright red. Foreman isn’t sure he’s ever been this close to Wilson before, and honestly, he also isn’t sure why he was sent here to convince Wilson to go on this last minute date instead of Chase or Foreman, who are considerably more friendly with the oncologist. He supposes it boils down to the fact that House would question him into a corner that he’d literally give up on the plan to get out of. Clearing his head of the many doubts he has about this scheme that Cameron has concocted for him and Chase to execute, Foreman notes that the tie he’s putting on Wilson is soft and a dark shade of green, just like House would prefer. Wilson continues speaking after Foreman doesn’t respond. “This is unlike you.”

“I heard you hadn’t been on a date since you got divorced from your second wife back in ‘99, and this friend of mine is in a similar situation,” Foreman explains and looks away with a shrug. Admittedly, it’s not a complete lie, and it’s believable enough for Wilson to not immediately reject the idea of going on a date so last minute. Briefly, the neurologist wonders what the idiot Chase could have possibly come up with to get House of all people to go. He wonders if Chase has even succeeded or if the plan is going to fall through. He hasn’t heard a text on his cheap little cellphone from Chase nor Cameron yet. “I thought you two would get along really well.”

“Sure, but isn’t this short notice? Why are you in such a hurry? If I didn’t know better, I’d think this were some sort of weird plot… Either that or a bet that you need to win. Or maybe an emergency? I have no idea, but this strikes me as odd, especially for you. I’d expect it from the others, but you? Come on. We all know you don’t want to be involved with any of us outside of work, and I don’t blame you for that.”

Foreman winces at that. It’s not necessarily true, even. Cameron and Chase, he’d love to be involved with after work. He adores them, adores watching over them and helping them at work, even if he insists that he doesn’t want a personal relationship with them and that they’re nothing more than coworkers. House and Wilson, however, he usually wants nothing to do with; they’re both dumpster fire humans with problems that are too big for Foreman’s already buckled shoulders to carry.

“Look, I’ll be honest with you,” Foreman tries to lay everything out as truthfully as he can without ruining it entirely. The one condition he was given to make this successful was to make sure that Wilson doesn’t find out that his date is going to be House until he gets there. He understands why, too. If Wilson were to know that the date is going to be with House, he’d surely cancel. “It was Cameron’s idea and she didn’t let me or Chase know about this until yesterday, so we weren’t given that much notice either. I tried to call you yesterday-”

“I was busy yesterday,” Wilson says the words a little too fast, almost like he’s hiding something. Foreman almost asks exactly what it was that had Wilson so preoccupied at one on a Saturday afternoon that he couldn’t be fucked to answer the phone or at least fucked to listen to the voicemail Foreman left and call him back, but he thinks better of it and keeps his curiosity to himself. “My bad.”

“Right, well, I’m just saying… I tried to call you yesterday and you didn’t answer. I tried to call you this morning, too.”

To show him proof, Foreman steps back, takes his phone out of his pocket, and pulls up the receipts of the calls and texts that Wilson didn’t bother to answer yesterday afternoon or this morning.

“Ah, I’m sorry, Foreman, it’s honestly been a bit since I’ve checked my phone,” Wilson rushes to explain himself as he scratches the back of his neck. “It’s just been a hectic few days, you know? With that patient and everything…”

“Uh huh,” Foreman replies in an unconvinced tone. The last patient they had wasn’t worth being stressed over; some guy whose wife was poisoning him with gold that they figured out pretty easily. Wilson was even making jokes about the case. Out of all of the things that the oncologist has dealt with, something tells Foreman that this wasn’t the one to stress him out to the point of not answering his phone. “Yeah, okay, well… The reservations we set up for your date are scheduled for a little less than an hour from now, so I’m going to excuse myself. You should probably head there in the next half hour if you don’t want to be late. I’ll send you the address, alright?”

“Yeah, sure. Sounds good, but before you go,” Wilson starts with a smile. “I really appreciate you guys doing this for me. I still don’t quite understand it when the three of you clearly have your own unresolved romance issues that need to be worked on, but it’s a nice gesture.”

“Right,” Foreman clears his throat and steps away while sending Wilson the address to the restaurant he’s supposed to meet House at through text. It’s embarrassing that Wilson so clearly knows about his crush on Chase and Cameron, but he’s thankful that the oncologist has the decency to keep it to himself for the most part. Foreman wonders if House knows, too. “Well, good luck… I’ll see you on Monday.”

~~~

7:30PM, Sunday February 12th

James Wilson is nervous.

After being coerced by no other than Eric Foreman himself to go on a blind date, the oncologist finds himself sitting in a fancy, romantic restaurant. The lighting is dim and there’s a vase with roses in the middle of the table along with a lit, rose-scented candle. The tablecloth is bright white and silky, and the chair he’s sitting on is surprisingly plush.

The chair across from him, however, is empty. His supposed date was supposed to be here half an hour ago. Of course, some haphazard scheme concocted in the span of a couple days by the ducklings was bound to work out this way. Wilson isn’t even disappointed by the lack of company as much as he is anxious about being seen sitting alone in a restaurant by the other couples and the one waiter who has come by to try to take his order four separate times. It looks like he’s being stood up.

Why did he go along with this in the first place, you might ask? It’s a little more complicated than one would think. Following his second divorce, he and House formed a friends with benefits agreement. Unfortunately, Wilson fell for House somewhere along the way and has ended up here, silent about his feelings and fearful of anyone figuring it out. Desperate to avoid rousing any suspicion from Chase, Foreman, and Cameron, Wilson agreed to go on the date to get everyone at the hospital off his back about being single. Now, he’s starting to regret it.

Right as he thinks to text Foreman to inform him that his date hasn’t shown up, Wilson hears the door open and looks up to see a familiar face walking in and heading his way.

“Oh, this is rich,” House laughs, his smile not quite reaching his icy blue eyes.

Wilson’s heart skips a beat.

“I should’ve known it was you,” Wilson sighs like he’s disappointed, but deep down, relief is flooding him. House truly is the only person he’d feel comfortable going on a date with- and of course, the ducklings figured it out, just like he and House have figured them out. A large smile takes over Wilson’s face as House casually sits down in the empty chair and puts his elbows on the table. “Fashionably late as always.”

“Hey, it isn’t my fault that my taxi driver drove the speed of an eighty year old with cataracts,” House huffs and fidgets with the vase on the table until it’s perfectly aligned with the adjacent candle. Wilson watches him fondly and thinks about his feelings. He wants to say something so badly, it’s just that in moments like this, he fears he’ll scare House away and lose the little things like waking up to him or watching him across the table when they eat together. “So, which one of the ducklings conned you into this?”

“Foreman,” Wilson answers, and before he can explain everything that Foreman told him about the plan, House figures it out and says it out loud.

“This must’ve been Cameron’s idea, then because Chase was the one who conned me, and this is the same restaurant she and I went to on our date.”

“Should we just leave?” Wilson asks while twiddling with his thumbs.

“Nah, might as well enjoy it,” House answers, much to Wilson’s relief. They’ve never been on a romantic date before. It’s something that Wilson has always dreamed of. To his surprise, though, House whips out two hundred dollars from his wallet. He obnoxiously waves the bills in the air. Chase gave me money to pay for the date and everything. Guess you could say the ducklings got us a free meal.”

The waiter comes by once more and takes their orders.

Wilson, unsure of what to say or do in this awkward yet pleasant situation, looks around the restaurant for something to distract him from his internal conflict. He quickly spots Chase, Cameron, and Foreman in the back of the restaurant in a booth. Cameron is in a pantsuit with her hair hidden by a hat and sunglasses on her face, Chase is in an offensively casual outfit for a restaurant like this with a backwards baseball cap on his head, and Foreman is dressed like his usual self- probably because the other two couldn’t convince him to go with such a ridiculous plan. Foreman is staring into his lap, sitting between the other two in the booth. When Chase and Cameron catch Wilson looking their way, they avert their eyes and pretend as if they haven’t been staring at House and Wilson this whole time.

“Is that them over there?” Wilson speaks up. “Behind you, don’t look too fast though or it’ll be obvious that we spotted them.”

A few seconds pass. House casually glances over his shoulder, but it’s subtle enough that none of the ducklings react, even when he turns back around and laughs out loud.

“Jesus, I couldn’t have come up with this myself. Why’d you even go along with it anyway?”

“Honestly, I just didn’t want them to get suspicious of us,” Wilson whispers so no one else in the restaurant can hear him. “You?”

“I thought it’d be funny to go on a date with one of Chase’s friends and absolutely wreck their friendship to teach him a lesson about meddling in my personal life,” House chuckles and places his hand on top of the middle of the table. Wilson reaches across and places his hand over House’s, covering it entirely. Admittedly, it’s probably a stunt from House to mess with the ducklings, but Wilson is genuinely enjoying the contact. “But this works, too.”

“Are we really that obvious?” Wilson questions with light blush.

“Maybe… Either that or it’s some sort of joke on their end.”

“Let’s hope that’s the case.”

Things get silent after that. Their food arrives, and they eat, only offering the occasional small talk to each other. House appears as if he’s deep in thought, but Wilson doesn’t dare to ask what’s going on in that brain of his.

“Wanna stay over?” House offers once the waiter comes to take the money that House left on the table for the food. Wilson begins to clean up the table, stacking dishes and making sure it’s easy for the waiter or busser to clean up once they leave. “They’ll probably think it went well if we leave together, leave us alone for a bit.”

“Sure,” Wilson agrees, and with that, they’re up and leaving the restaurant.

It’s a beautiful winter evening. Wilson thinks it’s five, maybe six o’clock. Autumn has vanished, any traces of warm days and warm-hued leaves replaced by a heavy overcast and blowing wind. It’s cold outside with a heavy breeze, and the sky is the same monotonous, listless blanket of puffy grey that it has been for the past week or so. House is properly dressed if not overdressed for the weather as per usual, a long sleeve shirt underneath his sweater and warm pants and boots to match. A white scarf is wrapped around his neck, as he tends to be cold-blooded, unlike Wilson, who remains consistently warm in most climates.

House calls a cab for them. While they wait for it to show up, they walk around the front of the restaurant, silent.

House is in deep thought. He stops walking quite abruptly, his cane firmly clicking against the ground, and looks over at Wilson. Flashing blue eyes scan his body up and down before finally burning into chocolate brown. Wilson freezes, able to feel his heart beating fast, and in the midst of the oncoming rain and the cool breeze, in the midst of the rustling dead branches and the thoughts racing in the back of his mind, Wilson asks himself one thing and one thing only.

‘Why are we still doing this?’

Luckily, House seems to have the same thought- except he actually says it out loud.

“Why are we still doing this?”

And Wilson freezes. He’s both scared and confused by House’s question, unsure of exactly what House means. He knows it entails their complicated relationship at the very least, but Wilson can’t tell if House is trying to confess his feelings or if House is about to end their friends with benefits arrangement; if it’s gone too far.

“Let’s get back to your apartment before we have this talk, House,” Wilson argues, wanting to delay the inevitable confrontation for as long as possible, but House only shakes his head and places a hand on Wilson’s face.

“I can’t do this anymore,” House insists. “This must’ve happened for a reason, don’t you think?”

“What must’ve happened?”

“This- tonight, this date, us,” House clarifies with bright red cheeks. Even though his gloved hand is ice cold, even though they’re getting stares from the people who pass by, Wilson leans into it and listens to House’s words. “I’m in love with you, and I refuse to ignore it any longer.”

“I love you, too,” Wilson whispers back. If it weren’t so clearly real, he wouldn’t be able to believe it. “I am… Completely and utterly overwhelmed by you.”

“Wilson,” House leans forward and kisses him on the lips, gentle and void of the usual lust that drives them to do what they’ve been doing.

When they break apart, Wilson rests his forehead against House’s and smiles.

“House… You’ve manifested as this- this feeling in my chest that I can’t get rid of, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t want to get rid of it.”

“Wilson… I think the cab is here. Let’s go home,” House mutters. “We can continue this there, yeah?”

And Wilson grins, because the years that he’s spent waiting for this are finally proving to be worth it.

“Yeah.”

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mldrgrl · 4 years ago

Text

Broken Things 17/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall See Chapter 1 for summary and notes

November approaches quickly. The surveyor is due to arrive in only a handful of weeks. The horses are coming along just fine with their training. Mulder’s relationship with Katherine feels like it’s moving forward at a pleasant pace. Just before the last weekend of the month, he asks her if he might accompany her into town that Friday.

“Of course,” she says. “But, you don’t need to ask.”

“You might have plans with your friends and I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“I would like to call on Susannah and Monica and Doctor Black, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t welcome to join me.”

“Then, I will accept your invitation.”

“My invitation? You invited yourself.”

“Did I?”

Probably the only thing he finds more delightful than when she raises her eyebrow at him is when she rolls her eyes at him.

He asks if she’d like to attempt to drive the wagon into town, but she declines. She feels that she’s only just mastered the carriage and has not had any wagon lessons yet. She’s more than happy to have him drive them.

Their first stop is the mercantile. Susannah rushes out to greet them and pulls Katherine inside by looping her arm through hers.

“We’ve got the prettiest new fabric in that will suit you so well,” she says. “I’ve been hoping you’d come by and held it just for you.”

“John,” Mulder greets, as he enters the store.

“Mulder, what timing. The denim trousers you ordered arrived just this week.”

“Thank you, I’ll take them now if you’ll wrap them.”

“Already done.”

“Katherine has our supply list, but it looks like your wife has absconded with her.”

“Yes, she’s been waiting for her to come in.”

“I’ll just take a look at the catalog in the meantime, I may have a few other things to order.”

“Certainly.” John slides the thick book of merchandise across the counter to Mulder. “We saw Melvin ride through town a few weeks ago and take Doctor Black back with him to the ranch. Heard you had taken a tumble from a wagon.”

“Just a little shoulder damage. That does remind me, if you have any liniment, I’ll take a couple tins off you.”

“We’ve got Sloan’s. The oil.”

“That’s fine, two bottles. No, make it three. I’ll bring one to the Doc.”

“He said Katherine patched you right up and did about as good of job with it as he would’ve done.”

“I guess if I had to compare the two, I much prefer the bedside manner of my wife.”

Mulder chuckles as John blushes and fumbles with the bottles of liniment. He’s saved from any further conversation of his shoulder when Katherine appears with Susannah and some bolts of cotton fabric with a blue paisley pattern.

“Kate, you have our list?” Mulder asks.

“Oh, yes.” She opens the little drawstring bag at her wrist and gives John the paper.

“Now that Katherine’s taken over from Melvin, you don’t have to translate his hieroglyphics any longer.”

“Yes, lovely handwriting.” John nods and then starts to collect items from the list, all business.

“I was just needling your wife about that Sunday dinner get-together we promised,” Susannah says. “You be sure not to keep her so busy she can’t do some proper visiting.”

“She is more than free to ride out at any time to come calling, but it has been a bit hectic lately.”

“Oh, we heard about your fall. Doctor Black said Katherine did all the doctoring for him and he didn’t lift a finger.”

“It was a mild concussion and a shoulder dislocation,” Katherine explains. “Just required a re-set of the shoulder and a good deal of rest.”

“John, put in for five of these undershirts here on page 67. Kate, is there anything you might want from Montgomery Ward?”

“I don’t know.”

“Take a gander and put in for whatever you find with John. I’m going to head across the way to the lumber mill just for a few minutes.”

“Alright.”

Mulder leaves Katherine at the mercantile and goes across the road to the mill. It’s a noisy place with a lot of sawing and yelling and hammering. The smell of sawdust is everywhere. The air is thick with it and Mulder can swear he feels it clinging to him as soon as he gets within five feet of the place.

“Mr. Hartwell,” he shouts, waving his hat to get the foreman’s attention.

Mr. Hartwell leaves the saw he’s working with stuck in the lumber he’s cutting and takes his gloves off to shake hands. “Mr. Mulder, good to see you,” he says.

“I’m soon to be in need of some lumber.”

“Oh?”

“I took over Old Man Goodwin’s plot and I’ve got a surveyor coming out a little more than a week from now. He’s supposed to get me some plans for a bigger barn, new stables, and we’ll be doing a new bunkhouse and expanding the house eventually.”

“Is that right? When might you be needing your order?”

“I hope to break ground by winter. At least on the corral. I’ve been clearing trees on the property and we can recycle some of what we’ve already got. You still have a record on the build on my current plot?”

“I reckon so.”

“Let’s start with that same amount. I’m about to run down to the bank. I’ll tell Mr. Skinner you’ll be giving him an estimate and he can advance anything you need and I’ll take what I can get by let’s say, mid-December?”

“Well alright then.” Mr. Hartwell nods.

“I’ll also be in the market to hire labor, so if you have anyone in mind you can point my way, I’d be most grateful.”

“I’ll ask around.”

“Thank you.”

The two men shake hands again and Mulder heads back to the mercantile. John Jr. is loading up the wagon with their purchases. He gives Mulder a wave.

“How are things with your sweetheart?” Mulder asks, helping to load the last of the crates from the porch.

John Jr. sighs. “She broke off with me a couple weeks ago.”

“Well, now, that’s a shame.”

“She said I was boring and then the next day she was holding hands with Luke Doggett.”

“That the Sheriff’s boy?”

“Yes, Sir. I can’t even be mad over it because Luke’s a nice guy.”

“Be patient. You’re a hard worker and you’re not boring at all, you’re stable, like your father. You’ll find a great girl one day that’ll appreciate that.”

“Naw, I think I’m done with girls for awhile. I’m gonna save up and get a horse.”

“Well, horses are good too. When you’re ready to buy, you come see me. I’ll give you a good deal.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Mulder chuckles to himself as he walks away from John Jr. and goes back into the mercantile. Katherine gives him a smile that makes him want to wrap his arms around her. He puts his hand at the small of her back instead.

“Ready?” he asks.

Katherine and Susannah say their goodbyes. Mulder helps his wife up into the wagon seat and then they head to the bank. He leaves Katherine at the line to the teller’s window and waves to Skinner who motions him into the office.

“I wanted to let you know that we’re moving forward on the expansion,” Mulder tells him. “Mr. Hartwell should be coming by with an estimate for lumber. I told him to speak with you and you’d arrange to advance him anything he might need.”

“I can do that.”

“I also, uh…” Mulder turns his hat over in his hands for a few moments and then he glances out into the foyer of the bank before he shuts the door to Skinner’s office for a bit of privacy. “If you can get word to my lawyers through the branch in Fort Worth that I’d like to update my will, I would appreciate it.”

“Certainly, if that’s what you want.”

“I’m sure I’ll need an update of my account holdings, so whatever they need they can have time to put it together.”

“What brought this on, if I may ask?”

“Had a fall from a wagon a few weeks ago. Nothing drastic, mind you, it just got me thinking and I’d like to make sure that if...well, if anything should happen, there’s no question of what my wishes are.”

“Your wife would be protected, by law.”

“Not well enough. I want to make damn sure the ranch will stay with her, and I want to make sure Melvin will be taken care of as well.”

“I’ll get word and if anything comes back from your lawyers, I will let you know.”

“Thank you.”

“Does she even know? Who she really married? How much you’re worth?”

“No.”

“You might want to tell her sometime.”

“When the time is right.”

↭

Katherine feels more confident this time when she pays the mortgage. The teller is polite, calls her Mrs. Mulder, slides the card to her that she needs to sign with a fountain pen and she doesn’t hesitate this time to write Katherine Mulder next to the date.

She’s finished before Mulder is done speaking with Mr. Skinner, so she waits for him outside by the wagon. She’s never really gotten a good look at the town before. The row of businesses stretches long and wide. If the bank is the end point, the mercantile is the start. In between there’s a sawmill, a blacksmith, the saloon, an icehouse, a cafe, a flour mill, a bath house, a meeting house, the sheriff’s office, a barber, a boarding house, a livery, a laundry, and the house of ill repute, as Mulder referred to it.

She knows there’s a church somewhere and a school, but they must be hidden in the outskirts of the town. Doctor Black must have his practice somewhere off the main road as well. Monica had said she lives off the road that veers left from the bank and she wonders how many other homes are out there and where everyone lives. The Byers may make their home as part of their store, but presumably Mr. Skinner does not sleep in the bank. And she remembers that Susannah said he had a wife.

Mulder comes outside and stands next to her. “When I first got here about the only things that existed were the mercantile and the saloon,” he says. “Sometimes it seems like all this just sprang up overnight.”

“Susannah was telling me today that a Wells Fargo office is coming in next year.”

“Long overdue for that, if you ask me. Nearest place to send a telegram is either Abilene or Fort Worth, depending on where you’re at.”

“How many folks live here?”

“I can’t say I know for sure. If I were to wager a guess, maybe fifty or so in town. There’s a lot of ranches around these parts that do their business here, so if you consider them to be part of the town, there’s got to be at least another hundred.”

“It’s strange, but I grew up in a city of twenty thousand people and it always felt very small to me. But, standing here, on a street you can probably walk up and back in a quarter of an hour, it feels enormous.”

“Well, they say everything is bigger in Texas.”

“I have heard that.”

“Where to now, fair Kate?”

“Where does the Doctor live?”

“Up that way behind the boardinghouse.”

“I’d like to drop in on Monica first then, since the Doc is on the way back.”

Katherine takes Mulder’s hand to climb into the wagon and he drives them down the road, over a short bridge, and then past a grove of trees. A house appears as soon as they clear the trees, like an island in a sea of bluebonnets.

“Goodness,” Katherine says. “Monica said you can’t miss it.”

The rumble of the wagon must have alerted her friend. Monica comes out to the porch, wiping her hands on a dishrag. She waves and jumps down the steps to greet them as they come down the lane.

“I hope you don’t mind us dropping in,” Katherine says as she climbs down from the wagon. “We were in town so I wanted to say hello.”

“Are you kidding? I’m thrilled.” Monica hugs Katherine hard and keeps an arm around her shoulders as she waves to Mulder. “I’ve got cornbread in the oven that’ll be done soon. You’ll stay and have a cut before I bring dinner out to John, won’t you?”

“Well, that sounds too good to pass up,” Mulder answers.

“Come on in.”

The Doggett residence is similar to the ranch house. There’s a dogtrot that runs from the front to the back, but the left side of the house is all kitchen and dining area, presumably bedrooms are on the right. Monica offers them chairs at the table and then checks on the cornbread. Mulder holds a chair out for Katherine as she loosens her hat and removes her gloves, but he doesn’t sit down right away. He moves over to a breakfront along the wall and runs his hand over the smooth wood.

“This is a beauty,” he says.

“My boy built that,” Monica answers, proudly.

“The Sheriff did this?”

“No, our son Luke. I swear he was swinging a hammer before he could toddle.”

Mulder nods and continues to run his hand down the side and across the front. “How old might Luke be?”

“Fifteen. Just had a birthday on the 13th of October.”

“That’s funny, we have the same birthday.”

“Your birthday was the 13th?” Katherine asks. She’s mildly embarrassed that she had no idea her own husband’s birthday had passed.

“I didn’t even remember myself until just now.”

“What year were you born?” Monica asks.

“1861.”

Monica closes her eyes and tilts her head for a few moments. “You’re a three,” she says, with a brief nod.

“A three?”

“Yes, in numerology. Your life path number is a three. It means you like to inspire others and make them smile. But, if you feel you’ve been misinterpreted you can become sullen and withdrawn.”

“Is that right?” Mulder grins as he looks at Katherine and she raises her eyebrow. “But, I thought I was blue and red. Now I’m a number?”

“Oh, you told him about his aura?” Monica beams.

“I um…” Katherine can feel the heat rising to her cheeks as though she were caught gossipping. Mulder must sense her discomfort for he finally sits down beside her and takes her hand before hanging his hat on his bent knee.

“One day I’d like to hear all about it,” he says, squeezing Katherine’s hand. “I was just wondering though, Mrs. Doggett-”

“Oh, call me Monica, please.”

“Monica, that’s really high quality work your boy does. How would you feel about letting him come out this winter and work on an expansion out at my ranch? I’d pay him, of course.”

“I’d have to speak with my husband about it, but I’m sure Luke would be thrilled at the prospect. He’s been at us to quit school for the last few years.”

“Oh, but he can’t quit school,” Katherine says.

“Well, most of the kids around here quit by the age of twelve. They’re needed at their farms or ranches. Luke’s been the oldest in the schoolhouse for the last two years and he’s been pretty anxious to move on. John wouldn’t let him since we don’t have a farm and he’s certainly not going to allow his son to take on a job at the saloon, which is about the only place that’d hire a boy his age.”

“I’m going to be looking to hire quite a few men starting next month or so,” Mulder says. “There’s plenty of room in the bunkhouse for him and I’ll see to it he comes home for the week’s end. Your husband is welcome to ride out any time to check in.”

“I would keep my eye on him as well, if you’re at all concerned about that,” Katherine adds.

“Oh.” Monica puts her hand on Katherine’s arm and smiles. “I don’t doubt that. My, what a lovely ring!”

“Thank you.” Katherine runs her thumb along the side of her ring band with her thumb. “My husband got it for me.”

They spend the next half of an hour with Monica Doggett, sharing a slice of cornbread and chatting amicably. Mulder asks her more about this numerology thing and she happily shares with him more about his life path based on his birth date. When it’s time for them to take their leave, Mulder offers to drive Monica to the Sheriff’s office, but she says she would much rather walk. It’s just about her only time to herself and she enjoys it.

They ride back up into town and Mulder passes the bank to go down a smaller road behind the north side of the town. He points out a house up the ways with a sign hanging at the front that simply says ‘DOC’ etched in wood.

For some reason, Katherine feels nervous on the way up to the doctor’s porch. She knows she already made a good impression on the doctor, but still wonders if that was just politeness. The doctors she knew from nurse’s training were mercurial. Someone bearing a compliment one day could come bearing condescension the next, or worse.

Mulder opens the door to usher her inside. Doctor Black peeks out from behind a curtain and smiles broadly.

“Just my luck,” the doctor says. “I’ve just set a broken bone and could surely use your assistance while I mix a plaster.”

“Of course,” Katherine says. She immediately takes her gloves off and hands them to Mulder.

There’s a young boy perched at the edge of the exam table, no more than five or six, sniffling and sullen. Katherine moves to him and right away she can see that his left wrist is broken. She smiles at him and takes a gentle hold on his arm, cradling his wrist in her hands so the doctor can get to work on mixing a plaster.

“My name is Katherine,” she says to the boy. “Who might you be?”

“Joey Skinner.”

“Is Walter Skinner your father, son?” Mulder asks.

Joey nods and then wipes his nose with the back of his good hand.

“Has anyone gone to fetch Mr. Skinner?” Mulder asks Doctor Black. “I could run over to the bank right now.”

“Yes, why don’t you do that.” Doctor Black nods to Mulder and then hands Katherine a roll of gauze. “I trust you can wrap up that wrist.”

“Certainly.” She deftly holds Joey’s arm with one hand and uses her thumb to pin the edge of the gauze down and begins to wrap. “Joey, you tell me if this hurts, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So, how did this happen?”

“I was playing tag with Grace and Emma and Isaac and I was ‘It’ and I was running and I tripped on a rock and I felled down and my hand hurted real bad. Grace yelled for Miss Holly and Miss Holly bringed me to the doc.”

“Well, I think you’re a very brave boy and we’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

“Now,” Doctor Black says, rolling a small table over with a bowl of milky liquid and wrappings. “Joey, this might feel a little cold, but you do your best to hold still, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Excellent wrapping,” the doctor tells Katherine. “Would you like to do the plaster?”

Katherine nods and the doctor moves the table to her side so she can work. She runs the wrapping through the liquid and winds it around Joey’s small wrist and arm, moving methodically. She has experience with setting and wrapping broken bones, but never on a child. She’s cautious, but tries to be quick for Joey’s sake. Doctor Black provides her with a few short instructions as she goes.

“Beautiful work,” Doctor Black says when Katherine is wiping her hands dry. “Joey, is there any pain in your wrist now or in your arm.”

“It’s kinda itchy.”

“Yes, it might be, but you can’t scratch right now, I’m sorry. We’re going to let it dry and when it’s done it’ll be hard as a rock and keep your wrist in place so it can heal.”

Joey’s bottom lip begins to tremble. “Is it gonna be on my arm forever and ever?”

Katherine puts her arm around Joey and rubs his shoulder. “Not forever, sweetheart, just a few weeks is all. And the doctor will probably check on it a time or two to make sure it’s healing properly.”

“That’s right,” Doctor Black says.

“Joey!? Joey!?” Walter Skinner bursts through the door with Mulder behind him.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Joey.” Mr. Skinner rushes over and for a moment, Katherine is afraid he’s going to grab the boy up in a fit of panic before the cast sets.

“Everything’s alright,” Katherine says.

“What happened, son?”

“I was playing tag…”

As soon as Joey starts up with his story again, Katherine slips away from the exam table to go to Mulder. “He okay?” Mulder asks.

“It wasn’t a bad break.”

“Good.” He pulls Katherine’s gloves from his pocket and hands them to her.

Doctor Black comes up to the two of them and he and Mulder shake hands. Mulder gives him the extra bottle of liniment he bought at the mercantile and the doctor thanks him.

“Looks as though your shoulder’s healed nicely,” Doctor Black says.

“Yes, well, I happened to have a very strict nursemaid to see me through.” Mulder chuckles and Katherine demurs a little.

“If you think you could spare your wife for a few days a month, I’d be happy to have the help here.”

“Oh, I really couldn’t,” Katherine answers.

“Why couldn’t you?” Mulder asks.

“Well, there’s just so much to do. And the expansion is coming up, so…”

“I’m sure we can work something out.” Mulder nods to the doctor and at Katherine. “Good skills should never go to waste.”

Katherine is all but rendered speechless. She doesn’t know if she’s shocked or grateful or why she should even be so surprised. Mulder’s the only man she’s ever known that doesn’t seem to want to control her in some way, who seems to want her to have independence as much as she wants it. And she doesn’t just think he’s putting on airs of a generous husband in front of the doctor. She believes that he means what he says.

“We’ll talk it over,” she says.

“Joey.” Mulder produces a quarter and walks over and hands it to the boy. “Next time you’re in the Byers mercantile, you tell Mr. Byers you want a bag of his best penny candy.”

“Gee, thank you, Sir!”

After they leave the doctor’s place and get back into the wagon, Katherine sits close to Mulder and holds his arm as he drives. “Did you know Mr. Skinner had a boy?” she asks.

“Hell, until a few weeks ago, I didn’t even know he had a wife. He doesn’t talk much.”

“I think that minor panic may have caused him to lose what little hair he’s got left.”

Mulder roars with laughter.

#i wrote this #Broken Things #Chapter 17 #MSR #AU

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pastelgrungewrecker · 4 years ago

Text

Fumes And Funeral Arrangements

And it's go boys go They'll time your every breath And every day you're in this place You're two days nearer death But you go

It was only meant to be a few days- Just a quick refuel, a shallow cruise to restock and refresh but something wanted them to stay. The engines rumbled and hissed in disagreement and both scientists called for them to be powered down for fear of something shorting or worse-

They all remembered the bad jump all those years before.

When Megatron broke his methodical gait to slam his hand on the emergency closure switch on the exit hatch; optics wild and bellowing for facemasking and respirators they all stared in shock until Rodimus’s face twitched.

“RATCHET, DO WHAT HE SAYS!”

It was an old nerve agent, explained Megatron once every face was covered, every airlock sealed; it had been banned, but neither side would give up that easy- he compared it in hushed whispers to Gideon’s Glue, he watched Perceptor and Brainstorm shudder and bid them explain.

And in the kind of church-hum you spoke the Devil’s name in, they did. How it could so silently target your lines, how it cracked and shattered your cabling and rotted away your optics from connection to gauze cover and how it smelled so sweet until your life leaked from your face and you began to feel yourself shut down.

“It was supposed to be collected by drones.”, murmured Perceptor as Brainstorm looked to the side in barely covered disgust, “But when. When the MTO program was so successful they...”

“Used some of them as disposable workers, as you all know.”, finished the jet, drumming servos against his faceplate, “Drones are good, but they don’t have the power to bust into new veins, to cart back enough supply to meet demand.”

And Rodimus remained quiet, his face twisting and twisting until the flares of his helm became Lucifer’s own crown and his baby blue optics looked like dying dusklight.

“I’m taking a team in.”, he said quietly.

Cyclonus seemed amused, the edge of his lipplates quirking up slightly, “Will you be taking a team?”

“Yes. Megs, Ratchet, both scientists. Whirl, Magnus, Drift. You’re all with me. We’ll radio back what we find, and if we need more hands.”

“Why?”, asked Megatron, optics narrowed in something like pride.

“There’s no mass disposal.”, said Rodimus, “There’s no transport pads at that process plant. There’s nothing- but two barrack buildings and the shell of a medic block.”

Perceptor looked at him in shock, “....They’re trapped. It’s a company line- those mechs are...”

“Nyon was like that. I hated it then and I hate it more now.”, spat Rodimus, “And now I got some oomph to my demands, right?”

“Very well, Captain.”, said Cyclonus quietly, “I will guard your ship. Go right our wrongs.”

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

Their steps were heavy as they entered the wide maw marked ‘Entrance’. Ratchet surged forward towards the lines and belts ahead of them, calling for everyone to clear the area, to step back and let the mech vent.

An older model frame, servotips near melted away and the telltale stains at the edges of lipplates and corners of optics as they choked and coughed. Ratchet knelt quickly, panelling on his arms clicking away and open as he began to connect lines and set a scan before a hand covered his.

“Nah medic, nah, nah, nah...”, they gagged, “Lemme go, please lemme go.”

“I can help you-”

“Just make it stop hurtin’, medic- I’ve breathed the poison, there’s no saving me.”

The rest of the team caught up as the linelead stomped forth- a meeting of two stormcells on the burning room floor. They scoffed, bellowing for Ratchet to stand back and for the fallen mech to get back to work- Until Megatron’s bellow silenced every vocoder with a single sentence.

“SILENCE, LINELACKEY.”

The fear was suddenyl palpable as Ratchet then looked up with hate in his optics and reached into his supspace. With gentle words, quiet whispers he handed a thick painchip to the mech in their death throes and they looked at him with such gratitude it made his chest ache.

And then the dose was administered and their optics went dim and Ratchet watched their pulse slow and fade until there was nothing.

Rodimus walked forward, his stepping measured and controlled and leaned down- gently removing the protective gear he could see (oh, how little there was) and tucking it under his arm.

He stared at the linelead, let their stammer of “PRIME” fall on deaf audials before he nodded to Megatron. He looked to his team.

“Fall in, mechs. This place needs a little.... help.”

Brainstorm marched towards the vats and crushers, digging in a repurposed briefcase with Perceptor at his side and the pistol holsters deployed and ready. Ratchet nodded once, disconnecting and stood tall as he waved at the first line to put down their duties and follow him- a hand to his comm and calling for the medbay to report to the shell of a medical block.

The line leaders began pouring in from all corners, spitting their demands until they sputtered into nothing as they watched Megatron’s grand hand seal like a vise around the first fool’s neck and pry his authority from him like boiled crab shells.

Rodimus adjust his facemask, hooking the optic covers over his helm and wanting to commit cruelty at how well they fit.

“Foreman, what line should we run full first?”, he asked, looking to Megatron.

Surprised, and somehow proud, Megatron chuckled.

“Line four, power down and do a resync- breaktime!”, he barked, “I’ve got your replacements right here!”

He gestured at the lineleaders in front of him, and smiled with his fangs on display, “And they’re just happy to be here, right boys?!”

Rodimus stepped forward, shoving the too-clean bullies forth towards the line- threatening as they once did with kicks and snarls and threats he was all too willing to carry out until the hum and roar of machines was deafening.

Megatron doled out tasks, Rodimus calling measurements and backup as he did- watching as the one-time leaders still tried their tricks on mechs who had no qualms about killing. About righting wrongs by force.

Watching as someone stood too tall in their pedes, talking down to Brainstorm only to be forcefully turned and having Perceptor’s silent pistol under a chin- a lesson in the only language egomaniacs sometimes understand.

And Rodimus took a place as well- at the edge of the line, hands uncovered and sorting raw mineral chunks on the belt leading into a pulverizer. And as he got the rhythm, as the pattern came slowly back- he began to sing.

The old songs, the heavy melodies of mechs who new they’d die on the job- and he watched as the workers who’s lines were slowing at Megatron’s command joined in and reminded the bullies working Line Four that they were so very outnumbered.

“That- That’s a rebellion song!”, hissed a lineleader, optics darting to and from, “Don’t you give them any damned ideas, Sir Prime-”

“Do you know where I’m from?”, asked Rodimus as his tune was carried by a hundred other voices.

“...N. No sir.”

“Nyon.”, he said with an acidic smile, “I know your type, your kind of person. First, I’m gonna teach ‘em you aren’t as strong as you think you are. Then, I’m gonna teach ‘em the song. Pray I don’t teach ‘em you aren’t impervious to bullets.”

The silence and fear was palpable as he went back to singing- as there was a clatter and the rare sound of old Altihexian dockhands swearing the air black and blue like a bruise.

As lineleaders saw respirators and optic covers and heavy aprons passed around to workers- as a few were follish enough to complain that lower workers didn’t need protection- didn’t deserve to breathe easy or see clearly and then Megatron was behind them, snarling for them to get back to work-

“EYES DOWN, RATES UP BOYS- YOU AREN’T PAID TO COMPLAIN!”

Rodimus smiled as he watched the lineleaders stutter, stammer, trip and fail and face the same consequences they doled out.

Rodimus’s comm lit up with updates on the state of the workers around them- as Magnus loomed over a foreman’s door and heart the terrified rattling of armor behind it before a heavy-armored peded smashed it down with a single kick and he forced his way in amidst terrified howling.

And the intercom crackled to life, Magnus’s voice tight and cold and angry as he listed violations and broken codes- as he announced his communiques and blared the answers from owner’s voices; begging and pleading with him to do anything but expose them.

To the sound of Cybertronian voices calling for transports and bridging- and Rodimus led the worker songs with Megatron grinning at him and keeping the time with his pede.

The sound of ships in the air, of a marching squad and the shock on the faces of new forces as Rodimus wiped the grit from his face and pulled the cover off his optics.

“Welcome to The Apology Of Primus.”, he said, his smile not reaching his optics, “I hope you all are ready for an adventure- If anyone asks? It was an... anonymous tip, got it?”

The lineleaders froze, shaking as Megatron laughed and discarded his foreman’s gear in a pile.

“Shall we help with cleanup them, Captain?”, he asked cheekily.

“Of course, Megs.”, said Rodimus in sarcastic disdain, “You know I’m just a STICKLER for taking out TRASH!”

The humming of the regular working crew sounded around them as lineleaders voices rose in one begging, bargaining crescendo.

#pastelwrites #rodimus prime #megatron #listen i have a deep connection to this kind of thing cause of my adolescence #and well life in general #hosban is still mad i almost tried to work at a steel mill knowing my medical issues...

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