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anonymousewrites · 3 months ago

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Pearl of the Sea Chapter Eight

Found Family! PoTC Cast x Teen! Reader

Platonic! Will Turner, Elizabeth Swann, Jack Sparrow, Tia Dalma x Reader

Chapter Eight: Dueling on Isla de Muerta

Summary: Elizabeth and (Y/N) aren't going to abandon Will, and they decide to act like proper pirates.

�� “Mr. Sparrow, you will come with us,” said Norrington. Far away in the bay of Isla de Muerta, the Pearl bobbed in the water. Night blanketed every ship in darkness, which meant the other crew hadn’t spotted them at all.

“We want to—”

“You and Miss Swann will wait here,” said Norrington curtly, looking sharply at (Y/N), who flinched. He turned away, and Jack was escorted to a rowboat with Norrington and the officers.

“Wait!” said Elizabeth. “You need to know something.” They had tried the entire trip to speak, and everyone ignored them.

“Enough, Elizabeth,” sighed Swann. “Please, no more trouble.”

“We’re serious, you’re about to go into danger, and you have no idea what you’re doing!” said (Y/N).

“Put them in my cabin,” said Norrington to his men as he stepped into the rowboat.

Two guards grabbed Elizabeth, and another two grabbed (Y/N) by the arms. Swann averted his eyes as they were pushed towards the cabin.

“Listen!” shouted (Y/N). “The pirates, they’re cursed!”

“They can’t be killed!” cried Elizabeth as she and (Y/N) were shoved into the captain’s cabin.

“Don’t worry, Miss. He’s informed of that,” said a soldier, smirking. “A mermaid flopped up on deck and told him the whole story.”

The doors were shut. The lock turned. A click sealed them in the room.

Elizabeth and (Y/N) looked at each other furiously. They would not stand by silently.

On the Isla de Muerta, Jack calmly slipped through the crowd of chanting pirates. Barbossa once more stood over the group with Will in hand, ready to spill blood on Aztec coins to free them from their curse. Slowly, the cheers died out as people noticed him until silence overtook the hall.

“Jack!” exclaimed Will, shocked.

“It’s not possible,” breathed Barbossa. Twice now he’d abandoned Jack on the island, and twice now he’d returned.

“Not probable,” corrected Jack.

“Where’s Elizabeth and (Y/N)?!” cried Will.

“They’re safe, just like I promised,” said Jack. “Elizabeth’s set to marry Norrington, like she promised, and you get to die for her like you promised. So we’re all men of our word, really. Except for Elizabeth, who is, in fact, a woman. And (Y/N) didn’t make a promise, so they’re not breaking anything!” He smiled.

“Shut up! You’re next.” Barbossa waved his knife around before lifting it to Will’s neck once again.

“You don’t want to be doing that, mate,” said Jack.

“No, I really think I do,” said Barbossa.

“Your funeral,” said Jack casually.

Barbossa heaved a sigh before looking at Jack and entertaining him. “Why don’t I want to be doing it?”

“Oh, because the HMS Dauntless, pride of the Royal Navy, is floating just offshore, waiting for you,” said Jack.

The crowd of pirates murmured worriedly.

“Just hear me out, mate,” said Jack before Barbossa could say anything. “Order your men to row out to the Dauntless. Robert’s your uncle, Fannie’s your aunt.” He grinned, and the pirates murmured excitedly now. “There you are with two ships. The makings of your very own fleet. You’ll take the grandest as your flagship, and who’s to argue? But what of the Pearl? Name me captain, I’ll sail under your colors. I’ll give you ten percent of me plunder, and you get to introduce yourself as Commodore Barbossa. Savvy?”

“I suppose, in exchange, you wanted me not to kill the whelp,” said Barbossa.

Jack shrugged. “Not at all. By all means, kill the whelp.”

Will’s face fell. Jack’s gaze flicked to him, but he was making sure his plan was in motion.

“Just not yet. Wait to lift the curse until the opportune moment,” continued Jack.

Will glanced at Jack in surprise. That would give him time to escape. Time to survive. Time to help (Y/N) and Elizabeth.

“For instance, after you’ve killed Norrington’s men,” suggested Jack, running his hands over the Aztec gold. “Every. Last. One.”

Will frowned. Each word had been punctuated by a coin clicking back into the chest, but something felt…off. “You’ve been planning this from the beginning,” snapped Will. “Ever since you learned my name!”

“Yeah.” Jack admitted it freely.

“I want fifty percent of your plunder,” said Barbossa.

“Fifteen,” countered Jack.

“Forty.”

“Twenty-five.”

Barbossa paused and considered.

“I’ll buy you the hat. A really big one,” said Jack. “Commodore.”

“We have an accord,” said Barbossa. He shook Jack’s hand.

“All hands to the boats!” declared Jack. He cleared his throat as Barbossa looked at him. “Apologies. You give the orders.”

“Gents! Take a walk!” said Barbossa.

The fight was on.

For a moment, the image of (Y/N), smiling and saluting to freedom, appeared in Jack’s mind. He pushed it away after pausing for a second. He didn’t have time for that. He was a pirate. Jack’s priority was himself.

“Elizabeth? (Y/N)?” Swann knocked lightly on the door of the cabin the pair were locked in. He cleared his throat when he got no response. “I want you to know I understand. (Y/N), you wanted to help Elizabeth. I understand that, and you were quite brave. But you put yourself in danger and engaged in illegal activity. No matter how brave you were, that was wrong.”

(Y/N) tightened the latest knot of sheets, and Elizabeth grabbed another cloth.

“And Elizabeth, I believe you made a very good decision today,” continued Swann. “Couldn’t be prouder of you. But, you know, even a good decision, if made for the wrong reasons, can be a wrong decision.”

Elizabeth pushed the back cabin window open and threw the makeshift rope down to a lifeboat. She slid down, and (Y/N) descended behind her. She steadied (Y/N) as they landed.

Swann received no response from either his daughter or his ward. “Elizabeth? (Y/N)? Are you there? Are you even listening to me?” He pushed the door open to find no one within.

Elizabeth and (Y/N) were already rowing away. Behind them, unbeknownst to all, a skeleton crew was descending upon the British navy.

“I must admit, Jack, I thought I had you figured, but it turns out you’re a hard man to predict,” said Barbossa. He and a few of his man had remained in the cave of treasures to guard Jack and Will.

“Me? I’m dishonest,” said Jack. “And a dishonest man you can trust to be dishonest. Honestly, it’s the honest ones you want to watch out for.” He swaggered around the cave. “Because you can never predict when they’re going to do something incredibly stupid.” He looked directly at Will, who furrowed his brow.

Am I getting a message? thought Will.

He was not left wondering for long. Jack pulled a cutlass from the pirate to his side and tossed it to Will. He caught it with his bound hands and shoved his guard back. Barbossa instantly drew his sword, and Jack slashed at him. Barbossa parried. The fight was on.

Will pivoted and let a pirate slash wildly through the ropes to free his hands but whirling and attacking himself. It was two versus three, but Will could handle Barbossa’s lackeys while Jack faced Barbossa himself.

“You’re off the edge of the map, mate,” sneered Barbossa, pressing his sword towards Jack. “Here there be monsters!”

Elizabeth and (Y/N) arrived at the edge of the Black Pearl. They climbed up the side of the ship, careful not to speak lest a pirate overhear them. They pulled themselves onto the deck upon seeing no one stirring.

Screech!

A skeletal monkey dropped down in front of them and screamed at the top of its little lungs. (Y/N) grabbed it and threw it into the sea. Undoubtedly, someone had heard, but that had given them a bit of satisfaction.

Quickly, (Y/N) and Elizabeth hid beside the stairs as the two guards left behind ran up on deck. Then, the pair slipped down into the hull of the ship to the brig.

“Miss Elizabeth! (Y/N)!” exclaimed Gibbs in surprise.

“Who’s ready to escape?” said (Y/N) cheerfully.

“Have I ever told you I think you’re crazy but bloody brilliant?” said Anamaria.

“Feel free to start calling me that after we survive,” said (Y/N), wedging a plank under the door like they’d seen Will do. They pushed down, and the cell door clanged open.

“Now, who will come with us to save Will? And Jack, I suppose. They’re in the cave, and they’re in danger,” said Elizabeth.

Silence.

“Come on!” said Elizabeth, frustrated.

“Any port in a storm,” squawked Cotton’s parrot.

“Cotton’s right. We’ve got the Pearl,” said Gibbs.

“Are you going to just leave Will and Jack?” (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed. “After we saved you, you’re going to just leave?”

“Jack owes us a ship,” said one pirate.

“And you owe us your lives now,” snapped (Y/N).

“There’s the Code to consider,” said Gibbs.

“The Code?” repeated Elizabeth. “You’re pirates. Hang the Code, hang the rules! They’re more like guidelines, anyways.”

“I hate rules,” huffed (Y/N). They glared at all the pirates. “We came back for you when we should have abandoned you according to the Code.” They smiled curtly. “Please try to remember that as you sail away.”

The pirates shifted uncomfortably, and (Y/N) and Elizabeth turned away. They got back into their lifeboat and began rowing away. If no one would help them, so be it. They’d still go and help Will—and Jack, by extension.

They ran through the tunnels and arrived in the treasure room just in time to see Will knocked to his back in the shallow water. A pirate grinned down over him.

“I’m gonna teach you the meaning of pain!” he sneered.

“Do you like pain?” said Elizabeth, grabbing a golden scepter.

The pirate paused and turned. She slammed the scepter into his head. He went reeling backwards, and Elizabeth glared.

“Try wearing a corset,” snapped Elizabeth.

Unproperly fastened, too, thought (Y/N).

Will stood and stared at Elizabeth as if she was the whole world. He was shocked to see her but ever so relieved. Elizabeth smiled before looking at Barbossa and Jack, still dueling. They moved through the shallow water, piles of treasure, and moonlight. They transformed from human to skeleton in the light—even Jack, now that he’d taken an Aztec coin to ensure he was safe from being killed.

“Whose side is Jack on?” asked Elizabeth.

“At the moment?” said Will. He shrugged. It was always up in the air. He frowned. “Where’s (Y/N)?”

“What do you mean? They are right—” Elizabeth turned to find the teenager missing. “Oh, hell.”

The three other pirates had recovered their wits and were approaching Elizabeth and Will again, so they gathered their weapons and prepared to meet them head on while also trying to wildly look around and identify (Y/N)’s whereabouts.

Barbossa grinned as he and Jack continued their dance.

Wham!

He stumbled forward and narrowly avoided one of his bones from being sliced away by rolling to the side. He whirled and glared at the source of the kick. (Y/N) stood, holding a cutlass, and glared at him.

“Oh, gods,” huffed Barbossa. Nothing was going to plan once again.

“Here to join the party, eh?” said Jack, grinning.

“Well, I’m still a bit upset about being left for dead,” said (Y/N).

“It will happen again if you don’t pay attention!”

Barbossa swung at them, and (Y/N) jumped back to dodge. They landed in the shallow water, but, instead of slowing down or stumbling, they expertly balanced and blocked his next swing. For once, all the energy and constant restlessness had settled into the ebb and flow of battle. They felt at home in the dance of a duel.

Barbossa swung at them, but Jack interceded and stabbed at Barbossa, who spun and blocked. (Y/N) stabbed their sword into his leg bones and twisted, forcing him to his knee for a moment.

“Jack!” shouted (Y/N), nodding to the Aztec chest.

Jack turned and saw Will standing there, sword in hand. Jack understood. He sliced his own hand open, clutched the gold coin in it, and tossed it up to Will, who drew his blade.

(Y/N) lunged, Barbossa drew his pistol, and everyone froze.

Bang!

Barbossa’s head jerked towards Jack in confusion. “Ten years you carry that pistol, and now you waste your shot.”

“He didn’t waste it,” said Will.

Barbossa whirled, and his eyes widened as he saw Will, hand sliced opened, drop two bloody coins into the chest. (Y/N) felt a cold breeze fly over them, and they knew instantly the curse had been broken. The gold could rest easily now.

Barbossa cautiously opened his coat and stared in shock at his chest. Right at his heart, blood was staining his white shirt. It poured steadily, no curse to stop it. He looked up at Jack and (Y/N), and something akin to a smile appeared on his face.

“I feel…” His face fell. “Cold.”

Barbossa collapsed. His eyes stared, unseeing, at the night sky. He was dead.

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arjudy224 · 11 months ago

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Cobblepot's Cabana

Summary: Working for Oswald Cobblepot has its perks. Mr. Cobblepot always gives out Christmas and summer bonuses, you get excellent health insurance... However, working at a pool owned by one of Batman rogues can put you at odds with the Caped Crusader himself. One day, the Riddler and Killer Croc team up to defeat Batman. This team endeavor doesn't work out the way they expected.

Lifeguard POV:

There wasn’t any mention of how to handle situations like this during the certification. Teenage boys doing back flips into the shallow end? Yes. Nose bleeds? Of course. Clocking into work to find the Gotham knight fighting not one, but two of his rogues on the pool deck? Absolutely not. Nothing could have prepared me to witness the all out brawl that was occurring during my shift. Or the fact that Killer Croc’s tail defensively slapped the Riddler, Batman, and Robin into the pool. Tyler hands me the lifeguard tube with a sly smile.

“Good luck with that. I’m going to go pee.”

If I wasn’t so concerned for the teenage vigilante getting his face pushed underwater by a crocodile, that would have been incredibly annoying.

Staring at the drowning quartet, I am faced with a dilemma.

Do I get paid enough for this? (No)

Would interrupting the feud end with my imminent death? (Probably)

Poor Eddie Nygma flails desperately against the waves made by Killer Croc and Batman wrestling. For such an intelligent guy, one would have assumed he would at least know how to doggy paddle... One would be wrong. Every time the man, known to the rest of the world as the Riddler, touches the water... He sinks. It's honestly impressive how quickly he can reach the bottom of the pool. His panicked green eyes cause my heart to swell.

Dammit... Fine.

Within moments, I plunge into the icy water. Of course today of all days Cobblepot would turn the temperature down for dramatic effect. Fighting against Killer Croc's waves, I lunge for Eddie first. Avoiding his panicked limbs, I shove the buoy flush against his chest. Eddie clings onto the life preserver with a grateful gaze as I meet a face full of salt water.

My eyes burn from the impact. Resurfacing a few feet away, the vigilante/ crocodilian brawl somehow managed to turn on the manual waves. I watch in disbelief as Eddie gets pulled in their direction. His feverishly pale skin and blue lips chill me to my core.

"Oh.. No you don't!" I gasp struggling against the current. Another wave pushes me under. Stay calm. You've done this before. Opening my eyes, my heart stops when I register what I am face to face with.

Void like black eyes stare emotionless in my direction. With skin so grey and smooth, I'm almost tempted to run my hand across. However, the hundreds of sharp teeth keep me at bay. There's a shark in the pool, King Shark, to be exact... and he's not happy about the wrestling match going on above. Typical Gotham. Funny enough, I checked the attendance log this morning. Nanaue canceled his membership months ago, but that's none of my business.

From the corner of my eye, I vaguely make out the faint outline of the drowning boy wonder. The kid’s head is above water for now, but the heavy plated Robin suit cannot be easy to swim in.

Sometimes, King Shark confuses the lifeguards for poolside snacks. Easy mistake really. Cobblepot had warned us previously of the last guard who got eaten. Unzipping my fanny pack, I fumble for my saving grace: a small tuna packet from my morning lunch. Offering it to the shark, I await his response. That must have been the right move because a smile emerges with hundreds of teeth barring all at once.

Pressure and panic spreads throughout my body from the lack of oxygen. Crawling to the surface, my lungs gasp for air while I assess the current situation. Eddie's conscious, yet even with the raft his lips are still tinged with blue from his underwater adventure. Robin's fighting with less vigor than before. He doesn't have much time. Killer Croc is in his element. And Batman? Well, like any Florida man wrestling with their local wildlife: he's doing his best. His sluggish movements are showing how much the cape and his weaponry are weighing him down.

Considering my options, I make the dumbest split second decision of my life: I ask for help. Diving under the oncoming waves, I gesture towards King Shark with as much pleading as I can muster. I don't speak Shark, but I motion to my fanny back to insinuate their would be more fish ahead. Nananue slowly nods his head before circling the water around me.

For a second, I think my life is over. Maybe my parents were right to throw a fit when I announced my acceptance into Gotham U. I'm sure Metropolis Lifeguards’ don't have to make bargains with their local trespassing aquatic life.

To my relief, King Shark doesn't bite my head off. With an impatient shimmy, he waits for me to hold on. I shrug before crawling on his back. We cut through the waves with such ease that I find myself in awe of the cartilaginous fish. If I swam like that, I would bum off Oswald Cobblepot too. The Riddler and his life raft tug loosely behind due to the harness around my waist.

Checking my watch, I frown.

Tyler was supposed to take me off stand ten minutes ago. That bastard. From the empty pool deck, I bet he left work early again... for the 3rd time this week.

Speeding past the giant iceberg in the center of the pool, King Shark reluctantly slows down once we near the frail looking teenager. Before I can hoist the kid up, Nananue eyes the young boy with interest.

"Don't even think about it. If you eat Robin, I have to explain to Cobblepot how you've been staying here for months without paying for a membership."

With an exaggerated sigh, the Shark man allows me to hull the kid half way out of the water. Somehow, Robins mask managed to stay on during the kerfuffle. His wet black hair sticks to his forehead. He's got a pulse. He's breathing. Reaching the pool deck, Robin’s limp form is proving ridiculously lofty to move.

Across the pool deck, Batman somehow managed to tranquilize Killer Croc. His damp armor makes a hilarious ~squish~ noise with every step. Eddie sprawls on his back muttering something I assume to be riddle associated. Robin's starting to regain color.

Thank goodness, I didn't have to do CPR; I do not want to be the one responsible for breaking the Boy Wonders ribs.

One eye flutters open, then the other. The intensity of his blue eyes catches me off guard.

"Instead of saving my life," He rasps with a mischievous grin, "Can you save my phone number?"

Very original.

I briefly consider shoving him back into the pool. If I hadn't spent the last 20 minutes trying to save his life, I would have. Instead of responding, I make eye contact with his Guardian.

"I'm going to need to ask you two to leave." I elaborate gesturing to my watch, "The pool closes at 9."

#iceberg lounge #batfamily #lifeguard #gotham x reader #the riddler x reader #edward nygma x reader #killer croc #king shark #gotham rogues #robin x reader #gotham #oswald cobblepot #batfamily x reader #batfamily fluff

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whynot-tryit · 1 year ago

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Angel of Small Death

Chapter 3

Pairing: John Price x Female! Reader

Summary: The team is sent on a mission, someone is hurt. You doing everything in your power to do your job, keep them alive, even if that means you break some rules and get your ass chewed for it.

Word count: 3523

Warnings: inaccurate medical terminology and procedure, blood, slight angst, yelling, name calling, bullying, lmk if I missed anything.

-----------------------------------------

You had been excited about the meeting you had set up with Price, it had been plaguing you for days but it was quickly pushed to the back of your mind and to the bottom of your to do list.

The base was a mess, rushing bodies in and out of buildings, some on stretchers and some on their own two feet. An informant had given the location of a well known terrorist leader and his men, the information was only going to be good for at most 48 hours. It was rushed, but it was enough time to get Price and his men ready. It would be their first out field mission with you being their medic. Part of your job to get them ready was to pack their med kits, a small fanny pack type of thing in their vest in case of anything. You’ve done it thousands of times but you couldn’t help the slight tremor in your fingers while placing wound compresses inside of them, praying they wouldn’t have to use it.

You’d be in the med bay, helping whoever you could, waiting until your men got back. They would only page you if it was something serious. The sound of the machine at the edge of your scrub pants is playing faintly in the back of your mind, all the times you have ever heard it go off playing over and over again through your memories. You keep yourself busy for what feels like forever, bandaging random soldiers, taking inventory and filing paperwork. It's been hours and a part of you is scared that they won’t be coming back at all.

They know what they’re doing, they’ve done multiple times without me before. You keep telling yourself over and over. It's like your lungs can’t fill up with air, like your ribs are in the way and a part of you wants to rip your chest open just so you can breathe.

Beeping breaks you out of your thoughts, its high pitched it makes your lungs shrivel up deep within your chest. Fuck.

You rip the pager out of its clipped position on your scrub pants, the electronic screen flashing at you. They’re two minutes out.

There’s nothing else you can make of the message, there's no description of an injury or who exactly was hurt. Your feet start carrying you, running towards the evac landing dock. The sound of the soles of your shoes connecting the tiles that make up the hallway floor and your heartbeat is all that invades your ears.

You finally get to the mouth of the landing dock, there's three medical personnel already waiting for you with a stretcher. It barely takes you a second to take in the scene before you see the helicopter, the wind picks up- venting through the fabric of your scrubs, your hand coming up to shield your eyes from both the sun and the dust picked up by the violent wind. The noise is almost deafening, you can barely make out the bodies piling out of the body of the helicopter. You can see the shapes of what you can guess is Ghost and Soap jump out, but there's one more still inside, kneeled over the body of another.

It’s Gaz.

You’re rushing to the side of the helicopter, pulling yourself up to take a look at him.

John is putting pressure with both hands on his side, you can see a bit of cloth peeking out, a compress, but it doesn’t seem like it’s making anything better. You can finally hear something besides the sound of the wind, and rushing people.

“It's a gunshot wound, Ghost tried to patch him up but it's not stopping!” John has to scream just to get his words past the noises raging around everyone. You take a look over Gaz’s face, he’s pale from blood loss and his eyes are staring off into the space between you and John.

“Let me take over!” You grab a hold of John's wrist, there's a moment where he won’t budge and you finally meet his eyes instead of the blood that's now on the floor of the metal frame. You see something flash through his eyes but his grip finally loosens and you don’t waste time. You scream over your shoulder to bring the stretcher closer and John helps you get Gaz onto it.

You take a second to check his pulse, and you fight back a gasp when you don’t feel the light jump underneath the skin of his neck. You don’t hesitate to jump onto the stretcher with him and situate yourself above him, your hands clasped over his chest to start compressions.

It takes the breath out of John's chest. It’s the last sight he gets of the both of you before you and Gaz are wheeled out back into the base.

You’re trying to keep count of your compressions but the slight bump of the stretcher going over the saddles of the doorways and the sharp turns of the base are trying to throw you in for a loop. Your elbows are locked, the ache starting to settle deep in your bones from the action.

The white walls and fluorescent lights finally fill your senses and you jump off the stretcher to move Gaz onto the bed. As soon as all the hands disperse you're quick to open up his shirt, his tactical vest removed long ago.

“I need one round of epi now!” As soon as you see his bare chest you place the shock pads on while they administer the shot. “Everyone step back!” You take two steps back and everyone else in the room does so too. You hear the machine let out two beeps before it administers a shock and Gaz’s body tenses up before going limp again.

You rush back to his side and check for a pulse, but find nothing. Your hands go back to their tiring position to start compressions again while ordering your people around.

“Get the machine ready for another shock, set up another shot of epi and get me a heart monitor now!”

You keep counting the hard beating of your hands on Gaz’s chest while people around you grab what you need and put them into place. “Clear!” You back up and watch the repeated action of his body yet again. Fuck.

“Give him the second shot of epi!” You’re about to start the compressions again while they administer the shot when someone grabs you by the shoulder to turn you.

“We’ve already given him one and shocked him twice, we can’t do anything more.”

You quickly shrug off the hand and words. “Epi now!” There are hesitant looks around the room but no one moves. You stop the compressions to grab the syringe on the table and put it into his forearm and press the button on the shock machine “Clear!”

You know there’s a protocol, you had spent hours reading over them but you weren’t going to let that stop you from doing your job- not when it came to you team, your men. You can imagine the look in John’s eyes when you tell him that Gaz is gone. That he died while under his orders, under his hands. The idea makes you swallow a lump in your throat, the taste of bile lingers in your mouth.

Gaz’s body falls back and you try in a final fit to give him CPR, you keep your eyes on the heart monitor- praying, begging. It feels like hours, years, where the flat line haunts your eyes and the slight cold damp skin beneath your hands.

The line spikes. You stop the compressions. The Heart monitor keeps a steady rhythm and you finally let out a breath. “Okay let's get the wound taken care of, let's start an IV and give some antibiotics and fluids.” The urge to yell is now non-existent, the adrenaline is still in your system but you try to calm your shaking hands as you move to start examining his wound.

—----------------

It takes an hour to get Gaz stable. The compress had been taken out and the bullet extracted- the wound now clean and stitched. The shot hadn’t hit any bone or organ- thank god- but it was bloody, his iron deficiency making it easier for him to bleed out.

The adrenaline had left your system, a tired achy feeling now taking its place. You wanted to take a nice long shower and crawl up into your bed but you know the other boys are waiting outside of the med bay waiting for news.

You discard the bloody gloves that were once on your hands into the trash and make your way to the entrance of the med bay. Your eyes make their way across the large area, trying to find John. His hat makes an appearance in your peripheral vision and you turn to find the blue eyes that come along with it. Before your feet can start their way towards the figure a hand closes around your upper arm and drags you in the other direction.

Your eyes come up and see the same doctor that had tried to stop you from giving Gaz that last shot of epi. “Hey, what the fuck are you doing?”

He finally lets you go after you’re a good distance away from the entrance of the med bay.

“Are you fucking stupid?”

“Excuse me?” You’re startled by his attitude, a surprised look making its way on your face.

“You broke protocol, even though I tried to warn you.”

“I did my job, and I did it pretty well if you tell me.”

“Well I’m telling you you fucked up, big time. There are rules for a reason. You’re not special, they don’t just disappear because you need them to.”

You let out a chuckle. Things with the other medical staff had been tense, you had always had this feeling they didn’t like you. Sure, you broke protocol, but as most things come- this was not the worst way things could’ve played out. “I saved my patient.”

“You want a fucking medal?”

“No, I want you off my ass.”

He chuckles back at you, his eyes gleaming with annoyance and anger, yours undoubtedly holding the same.

John had seen the man grab a hold of you and whisk you off down the hall but still in his eyesight. He had sent Soap and Ghost to their rooms, to clean up and get a bite to eat while he’s been pacing back and forth by the med bay, waiting for you to give him an update on Gaz.

His feet make their way to you and the other doctor, who has now taken a closer step towards you, invading your personal space.

“You’re lucky that I wasn’t the one who hired you. No one fucking wants you here, you better remember that before you go around doing whatever the fuck you want.”

You stand your ground, hands clenched into fists by your side. His insult hit home for you as much as you hated it. The feeling of being needed was much more common for you than being wanted. It took years, many of them including your childhood and young adult years realizing there was a stark difference between the two.

You can see the anger boiling behind his eyes, his lips pursing to throw out another insult at you.

“Is there a problem here?” You turn your head to the familiar voice, John just standing a few feet away from the conflict. Your hands unclenched on reflex once your eyes meet his.

The furious doctor barely acknowledges the captain before taking a step back from you, finally giving you enough space to breathe. “No, no problem here.” His eyes never leave your face until he turns to head back into the med bay.

It hits you that you’re covered in blood, Gaz’s blood, and it must look like a bad sight to the captain. The dark red stands out against the green of your scrubs.

You take a deep breath and turn your body to fully face the captain. “He’s gonna be alright, he bled out a lot easier because of his iron deficiency. He hasn’t been on those iron supplements long enough yet to help him and that's why he flatlined for a little.” There's a knot in your throat, it's been there for a few minutes, since the insults thrown at you settled in your skin. It feels like no matter how much you swallow or breathe you can’t get it out.

John lets out a sigh of relief, his shoulders loosening from the weight lifted off his shoulders- hands on his hips. His head hangs low, not able to meet your eyes. You realize how worried he’s probably been, he saw you perform CPR on Gaz, his body limp from the second they pulled him out of the helicopter and he’s just been waiting for something- anything since then.

You finally will the knot in your throat to go down, it takes up residence in your stomach now but you raise a hand to touch his shoulder, thumb grazing the rough fabric of his jacket. “He might need six weeks minimum to recover but he’s gonna be okay, John.” Your voice is slightly above a whisper, your eyes now roving over the bodies around the two of you, a few feet away.

The small crowd seems to be bothering John too, not just you. You softly use the hand on his shoulder to guide him a few feet down the hall to your office.

You guide him into the room before closing the door and turning back to him. His eyes have finally torn themselves from the floor, shoulders still loose. “I’ll give you updates everyday if you’d like. Gaz is gonna be knocked out for the rest of the night so there’s not much to do till then.”

“Is he comfortable?” The question makes you blink, a hand coming to rub the back of your neck.

“Umm, I did put two pairs of socks on his feet and two warmed blankets on him so he stays warm, blood loss will make you pretty cold.” Your voice trails off towards the end, unsure what he meant by that. “Oh I also left him some apple juice on his bedside, he really likes the ones they serve here- the ones with the peel back lid. He likes them half frozen.” Your words die on your tongue when you see John trying to fight back a smile.

You don’t get to see the warm look on his face often, years of service engraved into his skin but it makes you sort of breathless. Like that feeling you get in your chest after a good laughing session with your friends. It makes your lips dry and you wet them with your tongue.

John’s eyes trace the movement and he finally breaks into a full smile. “I meant, is he in pain?”

A part of you wants to punch yourself in the face or just slam your forehead into a cement wall. You stutter out a response, heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks out of embarrassment.

“Oh! No. He’s on some morphine so when he wakes up he won’t be in pain.” Your hands are outstretched in front of you like you’re trying to calm down a wild animal, followed by your frazzled sentence. This makes a small chuckle rumble through him.

The shake of his chest makes you take him in- in his tactical outfit. The beanie does wonders on his facial structure and the tactical vest- has his shoulders always been this broad- and his waist, the military was doing god’s work with those cargo pants. The sight leaves your mouth dry, like you can drink a whole lake and still not be satisfied.

His height also finally hits you. You’re a decent height, it's never been a problem but his boots add a couple inches and all of a sudden you realize how he’s already towering over you even though he’s still only standing a few feet away.

Your train of thoughts continues as he takes a slow step towards you, your eyes catching onto his chest before making their way up to his eyes. He’s close enough for you to smell him, sweat and gunpowder, and what you would guess is a hint of red clay.

A hand comes up to your shoulder, almost where you had placed yours on his earlier. His hands are bigger than your- of course- covering more surface area than your own. His thumb catches the naked skin of your collar bone peeking out from your scrub top through the neck line.

“Thank you, love.”

His voice is deeper than his previous ones and you’re praying to god that he can’t feel your heartbeat through your skin, you can hear it in your ears. His eyes are boring into yours, a solemn look, gratitude mixed with exhaustion. The idea of kissing him crosses your mind for a second and you quickly look at something past him, the wall behind him, to get the thought out.

“I was just doing my job, captain.”

His thumb grazes your collar bone again and you can feel goosebumps form on the back of your neck and down your arms. The feeling causes you to meet his eyes again.

“You did more than that. You do more than that everyday. So, thank you.”

His eyes harden when he utters the last words. Like as if he was trying to gently drill it into you for you to understand his gratitude. The look makes you gulp and you almost move to look down at your feet, his touch- his eyes- too much for you to handle at the moment.

The hand on your shoulder moves to the side of your face, his thumb on your cheek and his palm cradling your jaw. You suck in a breath, the noise loud enough for John to hear but his face doesn’t give it away. “You’re a good medic, love.”

He most likely heard the insults that the doctor had thrown at you, his words ringing through your head and you place one of your hands on his forearm, the one attached to the hand on the side of your face. “John, I-”

Another hand comes up to grab your bicep, his touch is sturdy and strong- not painful but the heat that radiates from it is almost scorching. The new movement pushes you even closer to him, your breathing is soft, a whisper of it brushing John's face- a small ripple through his facial hair.

A part of you thinks he’s going to kiss you, and another part of you wants him to. Flashes of Gaz’s limp body and the blood littering the metal floor of the helicopter appear behind your eyes and your jaw tenses under his hand.

It’s like John can hear your thoughts, the images of Gaz and all of today's earlier events registering. He should let you go, say goodnight and never touch you in such a way again. A part of him wants to shut down the idea immediately, your skin was soft, warm, everything he prayed for in his most desperate moments. He wants to kiss you, slide his hands across your body- memorize your curves, the taste of your lips. He wanted to know how you’d whimper, moan, gasp.

His eyes glance down at your lips before looking back up at your eyes.

You catch his diverted glance and you feel your stomach flip. God, you wanted to kiss him, but something told you this wasn’t the right time. Your other hand comes to grip the fabric of his jacket, the bit of it that peeks out from under his tactical vest. “Y-you should probably go tell Soap and Ghost about Gaz. Unless you want me to.”

John takes in the look in your eyes, you don’t look put off, embarrassed or uncomfortable. You don’t hate his touch- but the moment isn’t right. His hand on your face moves down to your bicep, both of his hands still on you.

He sighs, “I’ll go tell them now.” His hands finally fall back and you suddenly feel cold. It seeps into your bones and all of a sudden exhaustion hits you, hunger gnawing at your stomach and a headache hinting at your temples.

“Rest up, love.” John gives you a once over before pulling the door to your office open, throwing you a small smile before heading out, leaving the door slightly ajar.

You finally take a deep breath in and run your hands down your face. Fuck, fuck, fuck ,fuck ,fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. A part of you wants to laugh at how unprofessional the situation was, how childishly giddy it made you feel.

It would have to wait, Gaz was unconscious just down the hall and you had a job to do and so did John.

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Taglist: @sharkiestory @midwesternwitchery @lavenderhhze @thriving-n-jiving @rivalriotrenegade @bitchoftoji @wasteland-babe @chloepluto1306 @sagewtff @not-so-innocent-now @scuftryo @cityoffallencrows @cumbermovels @iamaliceinwonderland @namelessnikki2 @honeyr4ven

#john price #john price x reader #gaz x reader #cod mwii #cod men #x reader #angst

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uncannybob · 1 year ago

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One-Time Characters I Wish Would Return

Characters who only appeared in one episode that I think should return to the show.

Samantha (S1E11. Weekend At Mort's)

Note: She had a fun personality & a good repore with Mort. I do think her character design could benefit from an upgrade thou where she ever to return which at this point is unlikley.

Colton (S9E11. Bobby Drive)

Note: For what little screentime he had, he seemed like a cool guy. He was ready to sabotage his own party just to spare the other kids the boredom. I think he could make a good companion for any of the Belcher kids.

Roger & Judy (S7E14. Aquatisism)

Note: So here's an idea; if you ever write a Zekina fic where Zeke takes Tina to the aquarium, include Roger & Judy as a side ship. I promise it will be super cute.

Shelby (S3E5. An Indecent Thanksgiving Proposal)

Austin (S7E22. Into the Mild)

Note: I love this guy. He was like an even more excentric Tedy and his chemistry with Bob was perfect! Bob did say by episodes end that he kept in touch so I was hoping for his return and was a bit dissapointed when it didn't happen.

Grandma Alice (S13E20. Radio No You Didn't)

Note: I know she already had an entire episode dedicate to her. I just want more lore, okay!

Benj (S13E22. Amelia)

Officer Large (S11E15: Sheshank Redemption)

Note: This character dosen't have a page on the Bob's Burgers wiki yet. I might take it on myself to write one cause this girl cracked me up everytime she spoke.

Warren Fitzgerald (S6E15. Pro Tiki/Con Tiki)

Captain Flarty (S3E4. Mutiny on the Windbreaker)

Note: I know he was arrested but if the show can bring back evicted bank robbers and would-be-murderers like Mickey and Fanny I think they could bring Captain Flarty back if they wanted to.

Duval (S3E4. Mutiny on the Windbreaker)

Note: It would be fun if Duval settled down in Seymore Bay after the mutiny on The Windbreaker. Maybe he became chef at some small shak or deli.

Derek Demotopolis (S4E6. Purple Rain-Union)

Note: I think one way to re-introduce Derek Demotopolis the dermatologist would be if one of the Belchers got some sort of skin condition and he just happens to be the doctor they go too. Either that or they could bring him back as Gayle's love interest.

Dillon (S7E13. The Grand Mama-Pest Hotel)

#bob's burgers #obscure characters

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silent-raven13 · 1 year ago

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Miles' work husband

Hobby casually walking with Pavtri and Gwen, the three finished a mission from a world filled with fairies. So they were covered in pixie dust that got Gwen sniffing like crazy. "AH-CHOO! Ugh, man! This is worse than pollen!" She sniffs feeling terrible.

"Oh no, you need some allergy medication?" Pavtri asked with worry, "Maybe we should go to Med-Bay and get some pills."

"AH-CHOO!" Gwen sneezed next to Hobie. Luckily they were all wearing all their Spidey mask, which was bad for Gwen. All her snot and spit went her mask making Pavtri give a disgusted look.

Hobie gave a stank expression under his mask. YUCK! "Aye, you good, Gwendy?"

Gwen groans, "UGH! This is so gross. I'm going to Med-Bay. I need some allergy pills!" She remove her masks showing her upper lip being wet.

"Maybe go to the bathroom first, because that looks really nasty." Pavtri hums at her trying to be kind.

"Yeah, I should." She cover her lower face feeling grossed out and embarrassed about it. "God, I wish Kaine was here! At least, I know he would warned me about that place!"

"Oh yeah, he has a cute fanny pack now!" Pavtri giggles.

Hobie's arched his left eyebrow being curious about this new Spider-man. "Kaine?"

"Oh, he's recently new to HQ- um, I'll go wash up. Pav, give Hobie the TEA and DON'T TELL HIM ABOUT WHAT THE PEEPS ARE SAYING ABOUT HIM AND... mm-mmm!" Gwen left at that, she rushes through the restroom.

"OHHHHH! OKAY!" Pavtri nodded at this being excited about sharing some sweet gossip.

Hobie being a laid back person, he never cared about other people business or their own drama in Spider Society. Also, Pavtri always keeps the punker well informed about everything going on HQ. The bubbly guy is an encyclopedia of every Spider-men and their drama. He can tell which Spider-man ate a blueberry muffin at the cafeteria at twelve in the afternoon.

"So," Pavtri's voice broke Hobie's train of thought. The punker finally looks at his friend with interest. "Kaine Parker is a clone of Peter Parker! He was one of the first clones before Ben Riley, and he's so nice! I mean, really really nice!"

"Okay? How does he look?"

"His suit is sort of like Miles' color scheme, black and red. Mostly red." Pavtri said, "As his face? Hmm, I dunno know how he looks. I heard he had a defect so part of his face is disfigured and he's very self conscious about it."

"Ah, poor lad." Hobie simply said.

"Yeah! He's a sweet guy! You should meet him! He's into a lot of nerd stuff like Lord of the Rings, Star trek or Starwars." Pavtri happily ramble, "And he's so awkward, too. I'm glad he got Miles to help him out on missions."

"Miles know him?" Hobie casually asked, he wasn't jealous... yet. He learned to not get his insecurities get the best of him.

"Yeah, they work on the same schedule, and they tend to always team up. I'm surprised you haven't seen him! He's always around here hanging out, and helping as much as he can."

"Sounds like a nice mate."

"Oh yeah!" Pavtri kept talking without thinking about what he was going to say, "Everyone knows him, so you gotta meet him. Him and Miles also does this funny handshake every time they meet."

"So they're friends?" Hobie asked, his magazine body turning into a muted yellow being curious about this. He's okay, no jealousy here.

"Huh uh, everyone thinks they are funny together, even on missions they get each other." The wavy haired Spider-man giggles at the memories, "It's no wonder they called each other work husbands-OPP!." He quickly slap his mouth shut by his own words leaving him out.

"What?" Hobie's whole body turned into a dark grey mixed with red alerted fonts.

"NOTHING!" Pavtri quickly meep.

"Pav, mate...'" Hobie creepily sway himself like a snake to meet his friend's eyes, "What did you say?"

Pavtri nervously stood holding his breath, damn he sometimes wish he sew his mouth shut. Hobie always reacts like this. Oh why he couldn't keep quiet!

Without a second heartbeat Gwen came to the rescue, she came with paper towels wiping her wet hands from using the restroom. Her face refreshed and clean from snot, "Gwen! Oh thank Brahma!" Pavtri quickly hides behind her with a small whisper. "I'm sorry."

"Wha?" Her blue eyes look back and forth between her friend, "PAV, you didn't!" She hissed as she noticed Hobie turning red with black fonts flashing through him.

"I'm sorry! I didn't-" Hobie cut them arguing, "Gwendy, what is going on?"

"Uhhh.... nothing, heh?" Gwen stood nervously with Pavtri hugging her.

"Gwen. Pavtri." A warning sound from their Hobie which they never heard his voice deep and it was rare for him to use their names! "What. Is. Going. On?" His dark eyes on them.

"Uhhhhh...." Gwen looks down the floor to the open space of the hallway, "promise you won't get mad?"

"Mm...." He saw them waiting for him to make the promise. "Fine. I promise." His black and red colors on his were showing more seeing he was frustrated.

Gwen and Pavtri look at each other then decided to tell him. "Okay, so Kaine and Miles been on missions and hanging out for a while...."

"I heard." Hobie crosses his arms across his chest feeling upset.

"So everyone that worked with them since they are friends... they like to say they are each other work husbands... heh." Gwen slowly said.

"Work husbands? And what is that?" Hobie scowls a bit already having a foul mood.

"It's like having a husband, but at work! They just work so well on missions, Hobie. Everyone makes fun of them being so sync- there's nothing wrong with having a bit fun! Hobie, we swear him and Miles are-" Gwen saw Hobie walking off already jealous. "Ah, shit! Pav, I told you to stay quiet about this!" She walks to follow Hobie before the punker does anything ridiculous.

"I'm sorry! But what did you expect! I'm always talking!" Pav defend himself. He follows her with a panic in his mind. "You don't think he'll get upset!"

"Gawd, I hope not!" She said out loud as they follow Hobie.

Hobie follows his watch where he sync with his beloved Sunflower. The moment he got to a room where a lot of Spider-heroes appeared from their portals, he saw Miles coming out of the portal with a Spider-man wearing red and black.

"Wow, man. That was such an awesome world! I didn't know we had to learn magic!" Miles laughs along side the Spider-man.

"Right! The fight with the orcs! I never thought it would be so much fun!" Kaine laughs along being taller than Miles, possibly the same height as Hobie, but with more muscle. The guy accidentally tripped, "OPP!"

"I gotcha man!" Miles quickly caught Kaine in his arms and they were laughing. The two were being goofy. Hobie felt a wave of jealousy seeing his Sunflower smiling with that perfect smile from a Spider-man. No, only he gets to make him smile.

"Haha, thanks man!" Kaine gave him a side hug. "I can't wait for next week."

Next week? Hobie tilted his head being confused.

"Oh yeah, Ganke so want a rematch." Miles giggles.

Kaine was about to speak until, he noticed the famous Spider Punk appearing behind the Miles with one hand around Miles' waist being protective. "Hobie!" Miles turns to be startled by his man.

"Hello, luv!" Hobie pulls Miles close to him, then his eyes stare over to Kaine, "Who's this?"

"OH this is Kaine!" Miles introduce him.

Kaine nodded with his hand sticking out, "Hi, Kaine Parker! Earth 617! I'm sort of a clone of Peter Parker, but in my world he actually died by some complicated stuff and I got to take over.... it's a whole thing!"

"Huh..." The tall punker sounded like he's listening but his eyes would go back to his partner. This time he slouches on Miles making him stumble a bit by his weight.

"Ohfff, baby! You gotta warn me next time! I almost fell." Miles found his stance and stood while holding on to his partners' weight.

Kaine's brow bone arched showing from his mask, "He's a cuddler?" He stood amazing on Hobie's body changing into a soft pink with hearts all over. It's very fascinating to watch. Kaine had more a dark harsh lines like an intense ink comic book style.

"Yeah, always!" Miles giggles as Hobie acted like a toddler wanting his parent to pay attention to him. He rubs his cheek against Miles' soft baby cheeks, he's like a cat. "Bae, I'm talking."

Hobie quickly hugs him being jealous. "Oh, I'm sorry, Kaine!" Miles chuckles nervously, "Hobie is always like this."

"Nah, your good! I didn't know the famous Spider Punk was this friendly." Kaine chuckles.

"Hey, you two!" A Spider-woman with duo chrome of green and yellow metallic spider suit with a black spider printed on the middle of her chest. This one had a high pony tail with long brown hair.

Hobie turns his head looking confused, "Who's this, luv?" He asked.

"Oh this is Kitty Pryde! She's a Spider-woman on Earth XM129, she got sweet super powers like me!" Miles said happily.

"Hahaha, I go through solid objects." She took off her mask to reveal her face. Kitty had such a pretty face almost like angelic doll with brown eyes and soft pink lips with small nose. "Spider Punk?"

"I don't believe in labels."

"Ahh, gotcha." Kitty heard Spider Punk is a pro activist at heart, always going against the government, the system. Not surprised of this introduction. Then she turned to Kaine, "So Kaine, how was your hubby in the magical world?"

"Hubby?" Hobie's head pop up from his cuddle with his boyfriend, he's full on alert. His body turning grey with a flash of yellow.

Miles placed his hand on his boyfriend's chest, "Relax, bae. It's a funny nickname everyone says about me and Kaine."

"Ohh, are you jealous?" Kitty watches at Hobie's body with amusement, "Don't worry it's all a joke. Miles and Kaine are work hubbies."

"Work hubbies?" Hobie turns his head at Miles, then places his hands on his lover's shoulders, "No, this is MY boyfriend, mates!"

Miles rolled his eyes, "Hobie! It's all a joke-" His boyfriend buries his head into his chest, "No, you're my boyfriend, luv!"

Kaine held his hands up in defense, "We get it, but it's everyone that likes to joke about it. Don't worry I'm a taken man!"

Kitty giggles having her arms wrapping around Kaine's right arm, "Hehe, he's not listening, bae."

Hobie already acting like a child about this, "Luv, I thought you and I were supposed to be together forever!"

"We are! Baby, we're just friends that work well on- WHOA! Hobie, put me down!" Miles never felt so embarrassed being picked up like a bride.

Hobie nuzzles his partner's cheeks again, "This is better, Sunflower!" He protectively carry his boyfriend. "Ain't I make a better work husband for you."

Miles let out a loud sigh, "Yeah..." No use now! His boyfriend is already jealous.

"I love you, Sunflower!" Hobie planted kisses on his cheeks.

Kitty giggles, "Awe, so cute! Hobie, you know Miles and Kaine put their names as Hubby 1 and 2 on our logs!" A log where many Spider-heroes sign up to partner up or go in groups for missions.

"AH!" Hobie stood in shock before he whines, "SUNFLOWER!"

"DON'T ENCOURAGE HIM, KITTY!" Miles shouted, "Ahh, Hobie!" His boyfriend began telling him how much he loves him and snuggling him. A whole rant about he never felt so betray!

"Kitty, you know you did that with Gwen!" Kaine said to his girlfriend.

"Hehehe, I know. It's just I heard Hobie gets all cute with his boo when a man comes into Mimi's life." Kitty giggles as she watches the two. Pavtri's blog on Spider So-City was never wrong. They are a cute couple.

#punkflower #miles morales #hobie brown #across the spider verse #spider verse #flowerpunk #fanfic

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cuprikorn · 2 years ago

Video

#yachts #boats #fannie bay #darwin #sunnrise #morning #calm #blue #still #pastel #nt #northern territory #australia #dry season #weather #sail #flickr

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askbensolo · 1 month ago

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Journal Entry #51: Weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me in a Spacebucks

Ever since Poe and Beebee-Ate moved in, I’ve been buying caf in the morning more often, instead of making it at home. RIP my bank account.

See, Beebee is kind of hyper in the morning. When my alarm goes off, he rolls off his charging port and starts following me around. Even into the bathroom—like, bro. Personal space?? So, I’m kinda eager to just get out the door as soon as possible.

But, maybe Beebee-Ate is just my poor excuse. Because...coffeeshops in autumn? Vibes. I already admitted to you that I’m a sucker for seasonal beverages.

I'd had it in my mind to try to meditate before work. I had told Fannie I would. (This was before...stuff happened.) And over my morning caf seemed like a good time to do it. But…I never really ended up doing it. I guess I’m afraid of what I’ll see and hear, if I quiet my mind like that. I’m scared I’ll see whatever’s inside me that my mom seems so afraid of... Or, I’m scared I’ll see nothing at all.

Because...that’s how I’ve felt, lately. Like a husk. Holding my head above water, but just barely. Making it through. Texting my mom every day to keep her happy, and saying “Yes I love you I’ll tell my parents about you soon” to my sorta-girlfriend to keep her happy (guess I won't have to worry about that anymore at least), and showing up to work on time and generating five-hundred pieces of content to keep them happy, and lying to my uncle about my connection to the Force to keep him happy (won't have to worry about that anymore either I guess), and suppressing my urge to kick Beebee-Ate across the room like a football to keep my roommate happy (still have to deal with that unfortunately), and, well, I guess I kind of thought if I had my dream life in the city and a decently-paying job and a girl telling me every day that she loves me and I mean something to her and I’m not just a waste of space that I’d be happy, too, but—

…Frick. No. I can’t. See what I mean? I’m much better off keeping my introspection at bay.

And my little daily overpriced latte helps. Because it’s not just coffee. I am purchasing my sanity.

Somehow.

Even if it does cause me financial ruin in my thirties. But, hey—the way the New Republic is going, I don’t got a lotta hope for the decade ahead anyway!

And—well—I just made a little deal that'll set me up for life.

You’ll see.

So, anyway. Since I’m not meditating, I end up people-watching a lot. And, I end up watching Armitage a lot, because he is by far the most entertaining character of the ensemble. At first I thought he was the store manager, but then I saw him getting yelled at by the manager, so, I think he's just a shift leader or something.

But he wants to be the manager. I can see it in his eyes.

And I can tell this guy is a real psych case—someone clinging onto whatever little power he can grasp between his bony little service-gloved fingers—because he runs the place like a freaking military operation. Like, homie?? You do know you’re working minimum wage for a food service galacticorp, right?

I would soooo hate to work with him—but to give him credit, it’s the most efficient Spacebucks I’ve ever been to. Even at peak business hours. Armie runs a tight ship.

(I call him “Armie” in my head. One day it’s gonna come out of my mouth by accident, and dude’s gonna vault himself over the counter and try to murder me.)

(Well, try to murder me again, I mean. No, wait—I'm getting ahead of myself here—you'll see.)

So, last week, they got my order wrong. I brought it to the counter, and Armitage muttered “absolutely unacceptable” under his breath, and dragged over this poor zit-covered, sleep-deprived, college-kid barista by the scruff of his collar and publicly berated him in front of me and forced him to apologize to me and let me keep the first drink but upsized my new drink for free and remade it himself and forced the poor barista kid to watch him do it, and I’m pretty sure someone should report that as a workplace harassment incident—but it was also funny as hell, and sure made my day.

What I actually ordered was the korranut sweetgourd cold brew. But, I ended up kind of liking the first thing, too, so I came back to the counter to ask what it was. The traumatized barista kid ducked into the back when he saw me coming, so I flagged down Armitage.

“Yo, Armitage. What was in that first order?” I asked.

He blanched—as if he could get any paler. His eyes shifted around, like he was afraid who might hear. “What?” he whispered hoarsely.

I blinked a couple times. Was I insane? “Uhh…what was…in the first order…?”

He seemed to regain some composure, and squinted at me. “How do you know about the first order?” he hissed.

Now I was getting a little freaked out. “I…I tasted it?” I stuttered.

Then things got really weird.

He grabbed me by the wrist and took me behind the counter and pulled me into the back room. It happened so fast—my brain froze up. He was skinny as heck, but his grip was like iron. I could’ve beaten him up if I’d tried, but I was scared stiff. I threw terrified looks at the other baristas. Tried to say “help” with my eyes, but they just ignored me. The manager was nowhere to be seen. Either this was a normal occurrence to them, or they were too scared of Armitage to do anything.

Maybe both.

He pulled me into a storage closet and slammed the door behind us and shoved me back against the wall.

“Dude, what—”

“Who are you?” Armitage hissed. “I knew there was something I didn’t like about you from the start, Ben Quadinaros—if that even is your real name. Who sent you? How long have you been watching me?”

“I—I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I stuttered. I was bigger than him, but I don’t like when grown-ups yell at me—it doesn’t matter that I’m a grown-up now—I still don’t like it.

Armitage wrinkled his nose at me. As if I were literally garbage. (For reference, I am only figuratively garbage.) “What’s your real name, Ben Quadinaros?”

Was there a reason why I shouldn’t give him my real name? I didn’t know. Maybe? I couldn’t really think.

“Ben, uh...Calrissian?” I posed weakly.

He looked me over with a snarling grimace, seeming to feel I had insulted his intelligence. “No…no, I don’t believe that one bit. What is it really?”

The Solo snark won out. “Would you take Jabba the Hutt?” I asked.

He sneered. In an instant his hand flew to his hip, under his green apron, and I realized—OH, KRIFF ME—Armie was armed. It was Armitage Arkanis, in the broom closet, with the blaster. Ben Solo becomes a white outline on the floor. I got that horrible feeling all of a sudden like when you jump into hyperspace on a full stomach.

“Oh frick—geez—oh my Force—I’m—Ben—my name is—Ben Organa Solo!” I blurted, genuinely scared for my life. Because yeah, my life kinda sucks, but it doesn’t suck that bad—not bad enough to lose it to an unhinged ginger who’d smoke me in the back of a Spacebucks for, what—lying about my name?

“Solo,” Armitage said slowly, and his eyes flashed with recognition. “Yes. I knew it. The Alderaanian princess’s son. What do you want from me, then? Information?”

“I-I mean…yeah? I…I just wanted to know what was in the drink,” I choked out. “Please. Don’t kill me.”

Now his expression turned to one of bewilderment. “…The drink?” he repeated.

“Y-yeah," I said. "The order that got messed up. The…the first one.”

The longest thirty seconds of silence ever. My knees were shaking and my heart was pounding in my ears. I felt like I was either gonna throw up or piss myself. I wondered what it felt like to get shot.

And then Armitage blinked a few times and withdrew his hand from his hip and looked around for a second and became the shift leader again and seemed to realize how insane it was that he’d dragged a paying customer into a broom closet and threatened him. He took a clumsy step backward and cleared his throat.

“I…apologize for the misunderstanding,” he muttered weakly. I could sense his weakness.

Oh, I thought. He's not so scary. I could crush his windpipe with one hand. And then I stopped feeling so afraid.

I saw an opening. Stood up a little taller. Squared my shoulders a little.

“Uhh, yeah, you better,” I said. “‘Cause I’m reporting your ass. What the kriff, dude?”

He took another step back, and cast a worried glance behind him.

Oh! So he was scared of me now. I liked that. I liked that sooo much better.

“I mean...hello?" I shouted. "You’re kriffing insane! You can’t freaking do that to people! Who do you think you are? Who’d you think I was?”

“I misunderstood,” Armitage sniffed, but he couldn’t hide his discomfort. “I…I thought you were someone looking to get me in trouble.”

“Yeah, well, now I am,” I said. I took a little step forward, and he took a little step back. I found that really funny for some reason, and if I weren't so fired up I would've laughed at him. “Seriously! You were making threats on my life just because you thought I was like, what, an undercover workplace investigator? From Spacebucks corporate, or sentient resources, or something?”

“Yes,” Armitage agreed hurriedly. “Yes. That is—exactly—precisely—who I thought you were. Quite.”

“Well, you should damn well be investigated,” I huffed. “For Force’s sake! I’m filing a police report.”

“Don’t,” he begged.

“You were gonna pull a blaster on me!”

“I don’t have one. I don’t have one!” He pulled up the lap of his apron and showed me his pockets. And he was right. His legs were so skinny. Like toothpicks, or something. There was no way he had a blaster—not even one of those really little ones.

So, he’d been bluffing. That tracked. I was beginning to understand this guy real kriffin' well—he was scary as kark, until you had him in a corner, and then he just freaking melted.

“Okaaay,” I said. “Pretty sure you can still get in a lot of trouble for threatening me. You don’t want my mom to know about this, buddy. She practically freaks out when I get a hangnail.”

Armitage turned white. Again—as if he could get any whiter. “P-Princess Leia? I mean…the Senator Organa?”

“The one and only.”

Bro dropped to his knees on the dirty-ass closet floor. “Oh, my God. Please. No.” I once again suppressed the urge to laugh at him.

Wow! Wasn’t this amusing. I felt like I could kick him in the face right now, and he’d just sit there and take it.

Something stirred within me. Something toothy and mean and strong that rippled downward through my body and made my hands feel hot. Maybe it was that thing Mom and Uncle Luke were so afraid of. What Snoke had always tried to encourage, before I cut contact with him. What Snoke seemed to still want to stoke inside of me, now that his whispers had begun again to brush up against the perimeters of my mind. That power that had made me believe, for a second, that I could come at my uncle with a lightsaber...

Armie’s bottom lip trembled. Now he looked like he was going to throw up or piss himself. I kept him in suspense for a luxurious fifteen more seconds and wondered if he’d cry. I imagined what it’d feel like to bash this loser’s skull in for thinking he could threaten me.

How many homicidal fantasies is a guy allowed to have before he has to turn himself over to the psych ward? Is twice in one year okay? As a treat?

Asking for a friend.

Anyway. Now that I knew he wasn't armed, I wasn't scared of him anymore. Because if Armitage wasn't armed, then it was just up to whoever had bigger arms, and that was me—but luckily for Armie, we were kind of in an armistice.

Well, I was gonna call the police on him. But then I had the most legendary, freaking hilarious idea ever. A real stroke of genius.

“...Okay, Arkanis,” I said finally. “I’ve got a solution: buy me caf for the rest of my life, and I won’t tell your manager. Or the police. Or my mom.”

Armie’s eyes bugged out. “Buy your caf?” he spluttered. “For life?”

“Yep.” I gave him a little grin and a nod. “What can I say? I’m a college grad in a failing economy, who bought into the lie that my degree would mean something, and now I’m effectively an alcoholic—just with overpriced caf-based beverages instead of booze.”

Armitage blinked slowly, like an ugly little frog, and wet his thin, pale lips.

I shrugged. “I’m a simple man, Armitage. I’m giving you options here. Finance my addiction, and I’ll let this go.”

He slowly rose to his feet. “There is no way I could possibly afford that,” he spat. “You come in here almost every day.”

“Yeah, well. Can you afford me reporting you to the authorities?” I asked. “‘Cause I’ll throw in what an abusive little skrit-head you are to your employees, too. And the time I saw you accidentally sneeze into a drink but serve it anyway.”

If he was any paler, he’d be frickin’ transparent.

“...Fine,” he said. “But—there has to be a credit limit on this. Five credits a day.”

“Five credits doesn’t buy a single damn thing on your menu, and you know it."

“It buys a plain black coffee,” he disagreed haughtily.

“I don’t want a plain black caf, I can make that at home,” I snapped. “And what makes you think you’re in any position to negotiate? I don’t have to hold my tongue. I can call the police right now.”

Armitage opened his mouth and closed it again. Like an ugly little fish. (Basically you could describe him as an ugly little anything and it'd be accurate.)

Well, I already had all the leverage here. But I decided to throw him a bone anyway.

“Look, buddy,” I said softly. “I keep in shape, so I’m not gonna rack up a tab. And when I’m picking up orders for work, they let me do it on the company card. I'll go easy on ya. I swear. So…do we got a deal, or what?”

He was silent for several moments, his eyes kind of glassed over. Then he nodded dumbly.

Oh my Force. He actually went for it.

Ha! Baby’s first blackmail.

“Nice.” I grinned and punched him lightly in the shoulder. He flinched. “So, uh. You mind transferring me some credits for today? And then you can just, like, give me a gift card, or something.”

Again, he nodded, looking like I'd kicked his puppy—or, maybe just like a kicked puppy. For a second, I almost felt bad.

And then I remembered how he'd threatened my life—or tried to make me think that he could—and I thought of Snoke—and I thought of Luke—how my whole life I've always felt like everyone was always trying to control me—and how I'd sworn to never let anyone throw me around ever again—and suddenly, I didn't feel quite so bad anymore.

"Crabapple caramel crunch," Armitage muttered, all of a sudden.

I looked at him. "What?"

He raised his watery eyes to meet mine, the familiar scowl back in place.

"That was the first drink," he said quietly. "The...first order."

#askbensolo #written #dark side points gained #armitage #Spacebucks #ben solo #ben’s diary #ben tells a story #why is ben Like This #oof ben is gettin a little. a little scary these days

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asexual-squidward · 11 months ago

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I'm once again back and have reworked the finale - not because I'm in ANY WAY a better writer than the gang, but just because it's been swirling around my head for days

9 months later and the baby arrives.

The ghosts are thrilled, and life goes back to normal – only now Alison finds it a bit of a struggle. The baby needs constant care (as babies do), and so the ghosts constant troublemaking and need for attention is even harder to put up with. The Captain tries to keep the ghosts at bay to help, but easily falls into fawning over Mia with Pat. Robin accidentally scares the baby with his jump scares, while Kitty is like an overexcited child who wants to treat the baby like a doll. Fanny is also very strict about how *she* would raise the baby). Mike’s mum is also staying, and the constant advice and overseeing by both living and dead family members is getting too much for Alison.

Meanwhile, Mike is still trying to babyproof the house, but is finding it impossible. There are draughts in the windows, the walls have damp and eventually the ceiling of the living room falls through – luckily just onto the ghosts, but it’s enough for everyone to realise the house is a deathtrap for a baby. This happens as a culmination of Alison snapping, frustrated that she isn’t being given space to be a parent. The ghosts realise suddenly that they are exactly like Mike’s mum, and that they are hurting Alison by being around.

The ghosts hold a group meeting to talk through what has happened. They agree on the same conclusion – that while the ghosts all died before their time, Alison has the opportunity none of them have: to leave Button House and live a full life. (“I know it’s hard, we’ve all had people we love leave this house behind them. Isabelle, Sophie, Havers, we all let them leave for their own good so they could live the lives that we couldn’t – and while that hurts, it is ultimately for the best.”)

At the same time Alison admits to Mike that she kind of wishes that they had a chance to live as their own family without Mike’s mum and the ghosts interfering. They can get rid of Mike’s mum, but the ghosts are obviously here to stay. Mike suggests they do move after all, but Alison says she hadn’t had any family of her own before the ghosts – and she worries about what will happen to them if she doesn’t stay.

Shortly afterwards the ghosts turn up and tell Alison what they’ve concluded – while they love her as a family, they also recognise that Alison deserves to escape the house like they never could. Alison wants to say no immediately, saying that the ghosts have lost so much already, but agrees to think about it for the sake of Mike and Mia.

The ghosts file downstairs, wondering what decision Alison will make. Just then, Mike’s mother-in-law arrives with the vicar to perform an exorcism. The scene plays out as in the episode, with Alison for an awful moment thinking that she has lost the ghosts forever – but is relieved to find they are alright.

After Mike’s mum leaves, Alison does some thinking – the near-loss of her family making her realise that she cannot leave them behind forever. She goes for a walk through the village, nodding to some other ghosts as she goes. She passes a small cottage which is just going up for sale, it doesn’t look like there are any ghosts in it. She races home, telling Mike she has a plan.

Alison goes into the ghosts’ quarters and has a chat. She admits that she loves them, that they are the only family she has outside of Mike and Mia and that they have changed her forever – the ghosts agree, saying that they’ve grown too. Robin is sad but solemnly admits that people leaving is never easy for ghosts, but when a ghost ‘moves on’ the ones left behind never truly get a chance to say goodbye or know exactly what is waiting for them afterwards – but with Alison he knows that what is waiting for her is a good and happy life.

Alison springs one final surprise, that while they are moving they will only be living a short while down the road in a cottage closer to the village. The hotel will take time to build of course, but even after the hotel is up and running Alison says she will be able to come and go from the grounds as much as she likes to come and visit them, meaning that like any other family they aren’t stuck together but also not forced apart.

The moving away montage happens same as before, but with Mike and Alison and Mia moving into the cottage. There’s a montage of the hotel being newly opened, Alison walking through the foyer and seeing Fanny eavesdropping on gossip, Humphrey’s head perched on the reception desk, and the Captain is following the (very handsome) concierge around trying to act like he’s directing things. Alison and Mike walk with the ghosts across the grounds, Mia in the pram still smiling at the ghosts, and wave goodbye at the entrance.

The flash forward happens too, this time Alison and Mike as an old couple walking up to the hotel and mirroring the first episode, but this time to check in. The ending happens same as before, with her greeting the ghosts in her own personal suite.

#bbc ghosts spoilers #bbc ghosts

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random-brushstrokes · 2 years ago

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Simeon Solomon - Habet! In the Coliseum (1865)

A group of richly-attired Roman women lean from the balustrade overlooking an amphitheater in antiquity. Down below the crowd bays for the blood of one of the fighters as they watch the gladiatorial combat amid the dust and gore. The cry of Habet! (He is hit!) echoes around as the women make the decision whether to slay the vanquished gladiator or allow him to live. The women's reactions vary from the anguish of the girl who has fainted in a pallid swoon, the horror of another who rushes forward with animated wide-eyed expression, the pity of the woman on the far left whose brow is furrowed with concern and the blood-lust of the golden-haired woman who is making a gesture that suggests that she wants to see the gladiator killed. She is clutching a golden serpent necklace at her throat and showing her white teeth in an animalistic expression which many critics noted as being symbolic of a cold heart and a lust for violence. Swinburne suggested that this figure captures 'the ferocity of blondes' but she was probably intended to represent vanity and the fashion in the Imperial period for dyeing hair. Her expression seems to also reflect a sensuous admiration of the sweaty physicality of the half-naked gladiators. The most enigmatic expression is that in the face of the central figure who seems to be still considering her verdict. She is bedecked in ornate gold jewellery and has an inlaid box in front of her from which she has perhaps been throwing jewelled favours to her favourite combatants. Behind these bejewelled patrician women is a gaunt and melancholic servant-woman fanning her mistress with peacock feathers -symbolic of the decadence and vanity of the main protagonists in this orgy of lascivious cruelty. This quiet and contemplative servant seems weary of the horrors she is witnessing, unable or unwilling to lift her eyes to the scene that she has seen so many times in every aspect of her dominated life. She is as downtrodden as the gladiators, a victim of the cruelty of the rich. The only innocent and unsuspecting face among the crowd is a little girl whose mother seems to be about to pull her away from the horror that is unfolding.

The model for the slave-girl was Fanny Eaton, a woman from Jamaica whose mother was a former slave in a sugar plantation. She also modelled for Solomon's The Mother of Moses of 1860 (Delaware Art Gallery, Wilmington) and for one of the women in the background of Rossetti's The Beloved (Tate). The model for the blonde woman strongly resembles Emma Mary Jones, a professional model who is known to have posed for Solomon at this time and who is best-known as Frederick Sandys' mistress and model for pictures like Proud Maisie (Christie's London, 16 June 2015, lot 18) and Love's Shadow (Sotheby's New York, 5 May 2011, lot 69) which similarly show aggressive femininity. (source)

#simeon solomon #british art #historical painting #1860s

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archduchessofnowhere · 7 days ago

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Have you watched Corsage? Because I saw it for the first time a week or go or so. And I'm so enraged about it. I'd spew about plot details but I don't know if you saw it yet and don't wanna spoil it (further). But if you did, what are your thoughts? Since you are anti Die Kaiserin (with blooody good reason) for the insane plot they make up you're gonna have a field day with Corsage too. Or I'm underestimating it but I found the second half of the fil, especially with the ladies in waiting and the final just as insane as Die Kaiserin. Why can't they write these people who have actually existed with a bit more grace. Sigh

Hello! Yes I watched it last year, but I didn't make any comment on it - tbh it felt mostly like a fever dream to me, and I was really lost for words when I finished it. Like I truly had no idea of what to make of it, other than Vicky Krieps is very talented (so if you haven't go watch Phantom Thread, an actually really good movie).

Spoilers for Corsage under the cut!

Now looking back at it, I do have a more defined opinion on the movie - although it remains mixed. Marie Kreutzer had no interest in making a biopic, and we knew that from the beginning, so I really can't fault her for the inaccuracies (although they did annoy me). The movie has so many anachronisms (a telephone is seen in one scene!) that you would never think it's meant to depict actual history. What Kreutzer did instead was using Elisabeth as a catalyst for the themes she wanted to convey.

And this is why ultimately I just couldn't get into the movie: I just failed to see what Kreutzer wanted me to take away from her film. The last half hour of the movie were incredibly frustrating to me, and honestly, I found very tasteless that Elisabeth's "liberation" came through suicide. It's even framed somewhat positively, which just doesn't sit right with me. Elisabeth struggled with depression her whole life and had suicidal thoughts, in some entries from her diary Valerie really feared her mother would take her own life. And I don't know if this is what Kreutzer intended or not, but to me it felt that Corsage's final message was "Elisabeth should've taken her own life to free herself". Which is a huge nop from me. We already have enough with Rudolf's suicide being heavily romanticized in media, I can't stand Elisabeth's hypothetical suicide being added to the list (incidentally, the other recent Elisabeth movie does something similar and it made me almost as upset). I think I would've been more forgiving of that last half hour had they just gone for "Elisabeth runs away" or something like that - but they lost me when she jumps into the sea.

Also I can't believe that this movie IS YET ANOTHER MEDIA ABOUT ELISABETH'S RELATIONSHIP WITH MEN MOSTLY. Like I was excited because Ida Ferenczy, Marie Festetics and Fanny Feifalik were all characters, and I thought their relationship would finally be shown on screen - but none of them have near as much of screentime or development as Franz Josef and Ludwig II. Even Bay Middleton stands out more than the ladies-in-waiting: the women all become a blur next to the well defined male characters. Probably Valerie is the only female character besides Elisabeth that's actually distinctive, but they changed their relationship and she barely seems to like her mother. Incredible.

#asks #corsage (2022)#tw suicide

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choco-cherry-chunk · 10 days ago

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Part 3, bay-bee! Also, if anyone is interested, I would love to know who y’all think gets made privy to this information next (and maybe by who?). Sorry, I’m just loving writing this and would love to unpack with someone!

Modern BBC Ghosts AU a la Cherry (i.e., with mpreg bullshit) - Part 3

Part 3

“Oh goodness gracious, it can’t possibly be true!”

Okay, maybe Julian had been fibbing when he told Allison his lips were sealed. But her reaction was so dull! Just lifeless! Now, if he wanted someone to express what they were thinking, he knew just who to turn to.

It’d not been hard to cajole Fanny into a conversation on the subject. All it took was finding her in the house’s library and bringing up the growing number of “bodice rippers” that could be found amidst the ancient texts.

“I beg your pardon!”

Christ, he often couldn’t believe they were basically the same age. She needed to get with the times. “Hey, nothing wrong with it, love. I’m not “yucking on your yum” as the kids would say. Just making an observation.”

Fanny scoffed, fingers folding together in her lap as if she didn’t dare trust them not to wag shamefully at Julian. “You well know this is a communal reading area. Many of these… flights of fancy are from Kitty.”

“Sure, sure. Blame the youth. But she’s not the only one cracking those spines.”

A noise escaped the woman that was somewhere between an admonishment and a wheeze. No wonder she and James got on; the two of them sounded like cars starting up half the time.

“I’m sure I’ve seen Alison borrow a couple. And The Captain’s probably done some perusing; it would explain his condition.”

It took everything in Julian not to smirk when he saw how obviously Fanny’s ears perked up. “Condition? What condition?”

“Oh, you know,” He waved his hand in a vague gesture as he moved to settle on the other side of the sofa, “The kind that comes from being too preoccupied with what’s between the pages of some smut book and not what’s going on between the covers.”

“Don’t be crass!”

“Well , it’s true! It may take more than a few partners to learn how to properly tango, but it certainly only takes two to make a baby.”

Fanny stood from the sofa at his words, staring Julian down with wide eyes. He’d been fascinated in the past by how the woman always managed to look surprised with those translucent eyebrows of her’s, but somehow, she looked even more so in that moment.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Another moment of silence. Julian picked some invisible lint from his trouser leg, an effort to appear nonchalant when really he so desperately wanted to laugh in the face of her shock.

“A baby? Surely— he’s well past the age to be—”

“Having sex?” It was Julian’s turn to scoff, “Fanny Button, if there was an age cut-off for having sex, I promise you, you’d find me dead with my pants down the hour before that birthday.”

Fanny harrumphed and, before he could say more, she stormed from the library, book abandoned on the side table. Julian turned it over to examine the cover – Hearts at High Noon. Catchy.

Shaking her head as she hurried down the halls of the house, Fanny tried to wrap her mind around this new information. James having a baby? The whole idea seemed outrageous. Not that she felt her friend would be an unsuitable father figure, or that she was against him doing so with his male companion (she knew they were intimate and had been working against old prejudices for many years). But perhaps some part of her was so confined to the present, so against change in any form. It had taken her some time to get used to Alison’s little one too, but once she had, she found herself enraptured by Mia. Sure, infants could be loud and messy and foul-smelling, but just the same, they were innocent and sweet, unbeholden to the expectations of society. She’d seen how James had softened over the years, as he served as something of a paternal figure for Kitty; was it really so preposterous to imagine him seeking out a similar experience with a child of his own? And who was she to express such surprise in the face of this news? Was this why James had not told her himself?

That last thought gave Fanny pause. If Julian already knew this truth, just how many people had the man told before her? Was she so untrustworthy? Were they not as close as she’d previously thought? Oh, she did not want to admit how that possibility hurt; she’d always thought that, perhaps, she and James were some of the closer neighbors in the house – sharing tea and discussing current affairs and even talking of starting a book club, though their tastes widely differed. Had all that been so surface level?

She did not have long to reflect on that, however. Lost in her thoughts, Fanny had not realized she’d wandered dangerously close to her mind’s subject’s flat. In doing so, she was frozen as James turned into the hallway, carrying a parcel and pulling his keys from his pocket. Fanny briefly considered rushing off to hide somehow, but even with the stupidity of the idea, she hadn’t a chance. Looking up, James caught her eye and nodded in greeting.

“Ah, Fanny. Good morn—” He paused to glance at his watch, “Good afternoon. Apologies, the day seems to have flown past me.”

“…Yes.” Fanny finally managed to speak. She willed her attention to remain on the man’s face, battling the urge to examine his appearance for any hint of the secret Julian revealed.

James didn’t appear to notice her awkwardness. “I was going to ask if you had any plans for this coming Tuesday evening. Havers was planning to oven-roast some salmon and if you come by, I can return that memoir you lent me. It really was quite compelling”

“Is that safe?” She remembered Alison saying something about the consumption of fish when she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t something Fanny had paid much attention to.

James’ brow furrowed. “Pardon?”

“I-I mean,” Pausing to take a breath, she elected to try a different route, “So you liked the book?”

“Oh, yes. Fascinating analysis on the subject of craft. I’d be happy to discuss—”

“You could tell me if you didn’t like it, you know.”

James’ confused expression returned. “…But I did.”

“I know, but…” Fanny swallowed, hoping her tone conveyed her sincerity, “You could tell me, if you didn’t. I believe, over the years, we’ve become what I would consider to be friends, James.”

“As would I…” The man was cautious in his agreement.

“And I would never wish you to feel that you could not be honest with me about… your feelings on a book, or… anything else.” Briefly, his eyes dropped to his torso. Much of it was covered by the parcel he was carrying, but surely she should have been able to see some change—

“Fanny—”

“What I mean to say is that you know you can be honest with me, James,” She insisted, taking a step forward, relieved he didn’t move back in response, “You should feel comfortable in sharing any… revelations, especially if they’re significant.”

James opened his mouth, blinking a few times as he processed his words. “What are you talking about?”

Fanny’s lips pressed together. She wished she could have hidden her hurt over his decision to keep this from her, but maybe some more vindictive inclination took over. Well, if he wasn’t going to be honest, then she didn’t need to be ether. “Nothing. Nothing at all. I’m afraid I am unable to visit this Tuesday, so you will have to hold onto the novel a bit longer.”

“Oh. Of course,” James allowed the shift in topic, but his uncertainty was still clear, “We will find some other time. But Fanny—”

“I’m sorry, James, but I must be getting along. I’ve some calls to make before it gets too late. Good afternoon.” She didn’t wait for another response and stepped around the man, hurrying down the hall. As she ascended the stairs, she tried to quash down the sting of his withholding. Perhaps talking about this would be of benefit. Alison had often said “unpacking” the layers of one’s feelings helped in parcing them. And if Julian knew, surely most others did. Yes… yes, she could discern just why she’d felt this betrayal, and figure out how to best articulate said emotions to James in the future. Reaching upper floor, her eyes fell on the door of a particular flat; she knew just who to speak to.

#bbc ghosts #ghosts bbc #bbc ghosts au #mpreg #au #the captain #julian fawcett #fanny button

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