#julia ogden x reader

[murdochmysteriesimagines]

Asian Glow Part 2- Julia Ogden, John Brackenreid

Request: Hello I was hoping I could request a part number two for Asian aglow with more John and Julia interactions (they are my favourtite)

A/N: Extra content was removed at it made the story feel bloated, unfortunately including a scene with Murdoch that caused me too much trouble.

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A glass of water being placed on the table in front of you sent out shock waves of pain to your temples. Each a consequence of your hung-over state. A punishment of overindulging from the night before.

Groaning you looked up from the floor, your hung head aching in the process. Slowly you drank from the cup, cautious as if it might crack under the limited pressure. From behind your mother rubbed small circles in your upper back, an effort to ease your suffering while you drunk from the glass. “You don’t need to come to the morgue today if you don’t want to.”

“No, I just need my head to stop pounding first.”

Julia chuckled to herself “I remember my first hangover. Still not my worst hens’ night.”

“A price for stupidity.” You muttered, looking into the cold liquid. You raised your voice to ask a question in between sips of water “How much did I drink anyways?”

The circles on your back stopped. “You don’t,” Julia quickly switch to a question of her own. “How much do you remember from last night y/n.”

You paused for a moment, your mother maneuvering a chair beside you and taking a seat. “John beat me in a game of chess and then you gave me a look for swearing.”

The gathering ended there for you, the true events playing through Julia’s mind like a roll of film. Your drunken star, unfiltered attraction to the Inspector’s eldest son and the hassle you caused on the way back to the hotel before finally crashing for the night. You asked your question again about the evening, to which Julia answered truthfully.

“One?” Your mother nodded; her amusement displayed shamelessly. Letting out a sigh you asked her to fill in what you had forgotten, her attitude changed to a serious tone. She told you cautiously but as expected spared no detail about your interactions. Your face returned to the same shade of red as the night before as the story unfolded, the only solace being to hide it behind your hands while the information was relayed to you.

From down the street you could see Mrs. Brackenreid in the front garden of the house. The dedication the woman possessed regarding her flower beds was unmatched by any other, half past eight may not be early for the common worker but it was for most florists.

You stopped peddling and shifted into a slow glide on the bicycle. You did not trust yourself to go any faster than slightly above jogging distance after the events of last night. A single glass of wine over ten hours ago and your head still ached at every unnecessarily loud noise. Mother protested about your scheme to take your bike to work since you would still squint in direct sun light among other side effects from drinking. Her words alone lacked the power to stop you from sneaking down to the shed and taking your two wheels out onto the busy street. You crossed your fingers that she would be less cross once she realized where you went before the morgue.

“Good morning Mrs. Brackenreid.” You called out once in ear shot. Your voice finally free of slurred vowels and verbs.

“y/n,” she looked up to you at the end of her property, presenting a smile when she made eye contact. “I thought I said you were allowed to call me Margaret.”

“Old habits are a problem of mine.” You stepped off the bicycle and approached the older woman as she got up from her knees.

Naturally you got right to the issue that prompted the excursion to the Brackenreid household. Knowing if Margaret started leading the conversation you would likely be late for work. “I wanted to apologize for last night.”

Margaret responded with a smile, surprisingly uninterested in your drunken antics. “Oh no need to worry about that dear.” You imagined she would be patting your upper arm if her hands were free of soil. “It happens to the best of us. If it wasn’t you then it would have been Thomas overindulging.”

You smiled at her derogatory humour. Finding yourself playing with your hands while trying to find an appropriate comeback. “I lack his Yorkshire tolerance unfortunately.”

“It comes with age y/n, it’s not uncommon for your kind isn’t very good with the bottle.”

You tilted your head, slightly confounded by the meaning of her comment.”

“My kind?”

“Young adults. I myself couldn’t handle anything stronger than wine when I was your age.” Her response lacked hesitation, unfortunately leading into her starting with another one of her no doubt lengthy stories. You were tempted to excuse yourself and postpone her tale for the next informal gathering; however she kept on staggering your retreat.

The front door closing stole your attention away from Margaret. Her eldest son had barely managed to step outside before his eyes took notice of the girl from last night; now standing sober and talking to his mother. Images of you had kept him up late into the night, accompanied by his mothers lecturing, fathers light encouragement and own confused emotions. That girl who occupied his thoughts for the past day noticed him at the door before he could slip back inside and sneak away. An awkward encounter would be unavoidable now.

Your gaze towards John did not go unnoticed by Margaret. She followed your eyes to their destination of her son. “John your going to be late.”

He was in his Constable uniform, helmet in his arm pressed against his chest. You found yourself instinctively biting your lip, although you were unsure if it was anxiety or a continuation of last night; you forced yourself to stop before his mother would see, or John before he stood in a triangle with his mother and friend. “Your father already left for the station.”

“I have enough time mother, no need to worry.” For the first time he looked directly at you, his stern expression given to his mother was not rewarded to you: Eyes immediately softening, a smile emerging from the corners of his mouth. The meeting would have been normal if the events of last night remained free from your minds. The idea of you limp in his arms laughing like a fool made you look away in shame. John meanwhile had the image burned into his retinas to call back to. It was pleasant enough to keep him grinning, but the sight of your face turning a new shade of red made him lose it.

“It’s good to see you y/n.”

“Likewise.” You were unable to meet him in the eye. “I came to apologize for last night, I assumed you would have already left.”

That was technically a lie, the exempted truth was you assumed and hoped John would already be gone. Upon learning the reason for your visit John seemed to share the sentiment. Neither of you fully aware of your relationship or what the next step would be. Margaret clearing her throat stole her son’s attention, unseen to you but a call to action referencing a lengthy one-sided discussion from the previous night. In the pause you pondered Margaret’s actions, suspicious of an alternate motive of hers for keeping you longer than initially planned.

“y/n.” You looked back to John. “We should be going if we don’t want to be late.” You nodded. “Yes, of course.”

John smiled at the prospect of riding your bikes together. Not your first time traveling as a pair but neither of you were willing to reject another opportunity; despite current tensions.

John excused himself momentarily to retrieve his bike, you retreated to the sidewalk to remount your own trusty metal steed. Margaret returned to her mending her flower beds silently, visibly pleased with herself as she removed another weed from a bundle of blooming tulips. You almost risked accusing her of what she was no doubt guilty of but you held your tongue. A shy smile your only offering when she paused her humming to look at you; likely planning at tell her overexaggerated contributions to the inspector when he returned home.

You could have sped off while John was busy out of view, get a head start to work and avoid the conversation you did not want to or plan to have that morning. Wait until the light hurt less to have the inevitable confrontation of emotions. You knew of this possibility but never considered it. Any punishment ‘The Doctor’ would bestow on you would be a poor reconstruction of disappointing your friend. “Ready to go?”

John walked his device parallel to yours before stepping onto it, his question lingering for a moment before you nodded. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Margaret pretending to not spy on you two, the dead give away being her hand unknowingly removing the head of a bright flower.

“We will have to race if we want to make it there on time.” You remarked in a sarcastic tone, propping yourself up from the handlebars. The implied humour not lost but rather ignored by John.

“On your mark,” You let out a sigh but copied his pose at the ready to peddle on. “Get set.” You butted in a final time before he would wave the imaginary start flag. “Just not too fast, I promised my mother I wouldn’t crash.”

You earned a genuine laugh from John following your request. A faint hope to yourself that the situation between the two of you was not completely lost. “Sure, I have to tell my mother the same thing every other day.” You returned the favour.

“Go!” He called before stealing the lead by a lengthy meter. True to his word he kept a lower speed that he was capable of in your mock race, giving you time to adapt before you would catch up; your preference then being if you would stay with John or attempt to overtake him. You reminded yourself of the obvious however, you would need to catch up to the Constable before you could consider the next step.

[xxjewellynwatts]

The Wine Cellar - A Llewellyn Watts x OC (you!) story

Request: Hello:))) I've had another idea for a fluffy love confession for Llewellyn Watts (I'm a sucker for those😇) we know that Watts love wine so I thought about the reader and Watts getting drunk and kissing.... Let me know what you think:))))

Answer: Hello, dear! Terribly sorry for answering and writing very long after you requested! I hope you enjoy this, I’m not very good at writing about alcohol as I am very anti-alcohol myself so I did my best!

As a woman making it in history books (unbeknownst to you) as the first lady hired as a detective in a Canadian police station in the 19th century, you sure were a secretive, focused and serious person.

People enjoyed being around you, you were funny when you wanted to, but also very interesting to listen to for you had extravagant and insightful ideas. Detective Murdoch had quickly grown accustomed to discussing physics theories with you, so had constable George Crabtree when discussing ideas for his stories, and so had Dr. Ogden as you were always keen to discuss new discoveries in the fields of medicine but also psychology and much more.

Truly, the only person who seemed to be unable to get as close to you was Llewellyn Watts. When you had joined the Station n°4, he was already working there and you two had had very brief and courteous conversations that were always surrounding work. He had grown accustomed to watching you from afar as you worked diligently at your desk or as you walked around a crime scene with Detective Murdoch. He enjoyed your quiet presence around him very much albeit he would have rather preferred you discussed with him and showed him bits of your intriguing mind.

And yet... he could not see his wish come true. He was used to being regarded as the awkward detective and didn’t mind others finding him weird or not friendly. But he was friendly, and all the members of Station n°4 knew it. Except you. Perhaps he was too shy around you.

One day however, you both were given a case on which you had to work together. Llewellyn tried to read you and you didn’t seem to mind but neither were you thrilled whilst he could swear he had never felt so nervous in his entire life.

Surprisingly though, he found out you were easy to talk to. You actually smiled more often now you were alone with him and working with him and seemed more open for conversation.

As you two made your way to the house where a murder had occurred, he found out you could understand his philosophical references. He couldn’t hide the joy of finally having someone who understood them!

‘Well, Detective Watts, you have been smiling for a few minutes now. May I inquire you about that?’ you said with your own little smile.

‘It’s just...’ he said as he turned around on himself, surprised you caught his smile. ‘It’s the first time someone understands my references’.

What an adorable smile and thought, you thought to yourself as you felt your stomach flutter. You were a very sociable person but ever since you’ve been working there, you couldn’t seem to be able to become Detective Watts’ friend. He was the only one with whom you were unsure of how to act. He impressed you quite a bit and you felt as though he could be deceived of your personality if he had gotten closer to you. You were glad you were assigned to that case with him. Now you could get a glimpse of his intriguing worlds and ideas.

‘Well, this is the most flattering thing I have heard in a while’ you said honestly, still smiling at him.

He got lost for a bit in your eyes and the way your eyes shined when you smiled before he was interrupted by the opening of a door. The owner of the house in which you had to investigate had finally answered the door.

As you inquired about the crime, you could see Llewellyn wander through the house before asking to the owner and thereby cutting him through one of his answers to you:

‘Would you mind telling us what this little door leads to?’ he asked as he snapped his fingers at a small door on the right of the entry of the parlor.

‘Oh, it’s my wine cellar’ said the owner.

Llewellyn raised his eyebrows.

And before you knew it, the owner had opened the door and had let you two discover his wine cellar as he went on to discuss with his maids upstairs.

It didn’t take you long to realize Llewellyn was a wine connoisseur. And a fine one at that, too.

‘What a surprise’ you said as you looked at him taste the wine. ‘I didn’t know you were a connoisseur’

He smiled at you as he offered you some wine.

‘You want me to become one, too?’ you joked before you accepted the glass.

He laughed a bit as he waited for your opinion.

‘Not bad’ you said after you had brought the glass to your lips. ‘I wouldn’t say it’s my favorite though’

He laughed again. It was the first time you heard him laugh genuinely and for some reason you wished you could hear it again and again and again.

‘That’s normal, Miss (y/l/n). His collection, I’m afraid, is not one of the best. But here...’ he said as he took a bottle out. ‘Here, it seems we have an interesting one’.

He opened it and poured the both of you some of it.

He raised his glass and you smiled. You both drank it and before you realized it, the bottle was empty and you both were laughing off philosophical debates and the owner’s wine collection.

Now to be fair, you two were not completely drunk. Just a bit. And that bit seemed to have eased your mutual shyness.

‘You know I’ve never thought you were so agreeable, Llewe- sorry Detective Watts’ you said as you looked away. Could it be you were becoming rude?

Llewellyn’s heart skipped a beat though upon hearing his name come from your mouth in such a friendly way.

‘No, please, I don’t mind. Please, call me Llewellyn’ he insisted.

‘Well, then... Llewellyn... I am very glad we seem to get along so well’, you said with a genuine smile.

‘And so am I’ he admitted. ‘I have been struggling to talk to you for some reason. I have never been able to connect with people, really. You know... man’s flaws...’ he said with a distant look in his eyes before turning back his attention to you. ‘But you... seemed so competent, so... intriguing... I didn’t know how to approach you...’ he admitted, a bit saddened.

You stared at him in shock before getting slightly closer to him.

‘Llewellyn... What a strange coincidence... I... I had been feeling and thinking the exact same things!’ you exclaimed a bit louder than you had intended to. ‘It’s easy to be likable with others but with you I thought... I think I thought I wasn’t enough... Like you wouldn’t find anything about me interesting...’

‘You thought you weren’t enough?’ he repeated as though he thought the alcohol was hitting him hard. ‘God you are... your mere smile is enough to make me feel happy for the whole week!’ he suddenly said. ‘And your face is so symmetrical...’ he added with a distant look.

He looked back at you as he realized what he had just said.

Both of your hearts were racing by now and you were suddenly leaning in closer until both of your minds registered the pressure on each others’ lips and labelled it as the kiss you both had been longing for.

You two quickly parted away though as you heard the owner of the house come back down to the wine cellar as he exclaimed:

‘You two are still in here?! And... what have you done to my wine?!’

You both looked at each other holding back your laughter.

‘Well, Mr, thank you very much for answering our questions. Hopefully you will not hear from us provided you are not the killer. Anything else, Miss (y/l/n)?’ he pretended.

You played along.

‘Actually, no. We were just about to go’.

And right before you closed the door behind you, you said to the owner:

‘Oh, and sir, you might want to consider getting a better collection’.

You could see his face becoming red but before he could fight back, Llewellyn and you were running far away from the house bursting out laughing.

[thinkingaboutbetterdays]

a tough case. ( william murdoch x reader )

gif belongs to me

You were fairly new to the station. Doctor Ogden required an assistant, and despite your family being vocal about their disapproval of the career path you were taking, you accepted the position she offered. You would never regret that decision as it led to meeting William Murdoch.

Your first case was when a rowing club member was found murdered, and you were humming as you prepared for Doctor Ogden to perform an autopsy when you looked up to see William standing in the doorway. The shock causes you to drop the tray of instruments on the floor.

"Oh!"

William tentatively entered while you kneeled to place each instrument onto the tray. "Forgive me. It was not my intention to startle you."

"No, no, I'm fine. Really." You stood up, not realizing how close he was standing until you were face to face. You laughed lightly, stepping away while hoping he wouldn't notice the blush dusting your cheeks.

"Ah, William. I see you have met my new assistant." Julia entered, carrying the case file, and you placed the tray down, offering him a hand to shake. "Y/N, meet Detective Murdoch."

"Please, call me William." He sent you a small smile which you returned.

And that was the moment you knew you liked William Murdoch - a glimmer of attraction that turned into hidden feelings that grew stronger with each case.

Two things were made clear to William in the next month that you settled into the station. One, you always seemed to be startled when he was near - something he was unsure was a good thing or not. Two, you were great at your job, but there were moments when you were sensitive at crime scenes.

The case of the man forced to drink cheap varnish was full of surprises, but discovering the body of the real Harcourt Grimsby beneath the wardrobe shocked everyone. You covered your mouth, moving away from the remains of the ten-year-old, and Julia looked up at you with a sympathetic smile.

"Why don't you get some fresh air?" She suggested softly.

"I'm sorry -" You sniffled, wiping a tear that fell down your cheek.

"Come on. I'll walk with you." A constable offered, holding out his arm, which you took, looking back to meet William's concerned and curious gaze.

Ten minutes later, he exited the house to find you standing with the constable as you spoke to one another, keeping a safe distance where he would not be seen but could overhear the conversation. You wiped your tears on the handkerchief the constable had given you, apologizing profusely.

"I think it's good that you care so much." He said. "You are great at what you do."

You wanted to smile, but the remains you had found were scarred in your mind. "I don't think so anymore." You whispered as more tears fell, and the constable placed a hand on your arm.

"Come on. I'll escort you home."

You shook your head, thanking him for his offer but turning it down. And Murdoch found you in the morgue three hours after surviving Julia's autopsy and singing the same song he heard you singing on your first day.

"Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound. That saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now am found. Was blind, but now I see..." You lifted your head when he knocked on the doorway, wiping your tears as you stood up. "Detective Murdoch. Is there something I can help you with?"

Your behavior was odd as you had always referred to him as "William" - which he preferred, and at that moment, it felt like there was a certain amount of distance between you both. And he didn't like it.

"I noticed the light was on. I thought everyone had either gone home or gone to the bar." He said as he entered. His eyes were heavy with worry as he glanced at the autopsy table in which Harcourt Grimbsy laid beneath a sheet. "This may seem like a rather silly question, but are you alright?"

You shook your head. And your eyes lowered to the remains covered by the sheet. "He spent all those years lost and alone. I wanted him to know that he was not alone anymore. That he's been found. And I know that sounds silly -" Your voice cracked, and William stepped closer, shaking his head.

"No. That sounds, well, like something you would do." He sent you a small smile. "It's a lovely thought."

You occupied the seat you had been sitting on when he entered, and William stood for a few moments, unsure what to say to break the silence that fell upon you both, his hands awkwardly resting behind his back as his eyes glanced around.

"I've noticed that you sing in every case." He spoke up.

"I'm not crazy." You smiled lightly. "I don't expect them to join in."

A smile formed on his lips, "And for that, I am relieved."

Light laughter fell from your lips as you glanced at him from the corner of your eyes. "I know why I am here. Why are you?"

"Paperwork." He replied. "And I suppose I was not fond of trying to sleep with my mind so occupied."

"And what occupies the great Detective Murdoch's mind, hm?" You asked teasingly, sending him a smile. "The latest scientific breakthrough?"

William's gaze lowered to the ground, and you were immediately worried that you had upset him, beginning to apologize when he shocked you into silence when he spoke.

He cleared his throat, eyes sweeping across the room as he stood with his shoulders straight, preparing to reveal how he felt about you as he brought a chair over to sit beside you. "Actually...I was wondering how you were after we discovered Harcourt's body underneath the wardrobe. I couldn't be certain whether you had already returned home, but when I noticed the light was on, I thought I might find you here. And I did."

"I wasn't ready to face the nightmares." You told him.

"Do you have these nightmares often?" He asked.

You nodded. "Sometimes I can get a decent four hours sleep. However, tonight..." Your gaze drifted to the young boy who had been murdered by his twin, who sought revenge on their father. "Tonight would have been the worst." Your eyes became teary as you looked at the detective, "I can't get the moment we found him out of my mind. I tried to picture something else, like daises, for example, but nothing seems to work. I am starting to wonder whether I am suited for this line of work."

"You are great at what you do. I have never met someone so dedicated to discovering the truth as you are." William lowered his head to hold your gaze. "To lose you would be a devastating blow to this station. And none would miss you more than I."

Your lips parted in shock at his confession.

"Please, assure me that you will at least consider staying." He said.

You nodded, swallowing thickly. "Alright."

The next day you entered around mid-afternoon, and Murdoch was thrilled to see you had chosen to stay when you knocked on the door to his office, holding the reports you had typed up after Julia's autopsy.

"Good afternoon."

It was difficult to contain a smile when he saw you, but this time Murdoch did not dare to try, and you mirrored the bright smile he sent you as you handed him the reports concealed in a manilla folder. "Good afternoon." He echoed the greeting as he accepted the reports, standing close enough that if he were one step closer, your chests would brush with each breath you took. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." You took a deep breath as you turned to his desk. "You know, your desk is always cluttered with some invention. I dread to envision what your house must be like."

"You should come over for dinner sometime and see for yourself." The words left him as shocked as you were, and William cleared his throat awkwardly. "Forgive me, that was -"

"You cook?" You quickly interrupted his apology to prevent him from taking it back.

"I like to think I am a little above average." He said with a small smile.

You suppressed the smirk threatening to form on your lips. "Oh, I didn't doubt that." You met his gaze briefly before looking at the experiment on his desk. "Perhaps I can cook?"

William nodded. "Tonight? If work permits us."

You stepped forward to kiss his cheek. "Tonight." You stepped back with a smile, and William mirrored the smile as you left his office. You looked over your shoulder as you walked away, finding William smiling as he took a seat at his desk.

Although you couldn't always make church on Sunday, you still prayed, but that day you had never prayed as you did in hopes that your schedules remained clear so you could have your date. And what a date it would be.

[ucflibrary]

“Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough,   And stands about the woodland ride   Wearing white for Eastertide.   Now, of my threescore years and ten, Twenty will not come again,    And take from seventy springs a score,   It only leaves me fifty more.   

And since to look at things in bloom    Fifty springs are little room, About the woodlands I will go    To see the cherry hung with snow.” -A.E. Housman, Loveliest of Trees

 Welcome to National Poetry Month!

The Academy of American Poets, inspired by the success of Black History Month and Women’s History Month, created National Poetry Month in 1996. It is the largest literary celebration in the world and UCF Libraries are proud to do their part.

UCF Libraries have gathered suggestions to feature 14 books of poetry that are currently in the UCF collection. These works represent a wide range of favorite poetry books of our faculty and staff.

These, and additional titles, are also on the Featured Bookshelf display on the second (main) floor next to the bank of two elevators where they are joined by a selection of nature poetry.

Click on the Keep Reading link below to see the full descriptions and catalog links.

 A Shropshire Lad by A.E. Housman

Housman is a high-water mark of British lyric poetry, and this fine production captures perfectly his strong, melodic beat and decisive rhyme, and his wonderful way with words. Samuel West's cultivated Midlands accent may not be specifically Shropshire, but his voice and reading are true to Housman who was not, after all, some rough Shropshire lad himself but an Oxford don. His Loveliest of Trees, the Cherry Now and To an Athlete Dying Young are beautifully rendered here. West, you feel, reads poetry as it should be read confidently, with ease and conviction, as if all the world spoke in meter and rhyme.

Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

 All the Poems of Stevie Smith by Stevie Smith

Stevie Smith is among the most popular British poets of the twentieth century. Her poem “Not Waving but Drowning” has been widely anthologized, and her life was celebrated in the classic 1978 movie Stevie. This new and updated edition of Stevie Smith’s collected poems includes hundreds of works from her thirty-five-year career. The Smith scholar Will May collects poems and illustrations from published volumes, provides fascinating details about their provenance, and describes the various versions Smith presented. Satirical, mischievous, teasing, disarming, Smith’s poems take readers from comedy to tragedy and back again, while her line drawings are by turns unsettling and beguiling.

Suggested by Rachel Edford, Teaching & Engagement

 Calling a Wolf a Wolf by Kaveh Akbar

This highly-anticipated debut boldly confronts addiction and courses the strenuous path of recovery, beginning in the wilds of the mind. Poems confront craving, control, the constant battle of alcoholism and sobriety, and the questioning of the self and its instincts within the context of this never-ending fight.

Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

 Dirt Eaters by Teri Youmans Grimm

The book was born of the consequences of leaving a place and family steeped in the history and traditions of the South. The poet, having moved to the Midwest, has become a sort of expatriate in her father's eyes, and she herself has underestimated the hold that home would have over her. These poems are a mystical journey back through her ancestry. The dead serve as conjurers and characters both real and mythologized throughout the collection--Uncle Seward, who uses dice and the Bible as a means of prophecy; blind Aunt Ater, who finds solace and doom in biblical numbers; an unlucky man facing certain death as he stands on an alligator's back; and women who gorge themselves on dirt--all find their way back to life in these poems. Dirt Eaters seeks grace in the unlikeliest of people and places. Bound up with the peculiar, however, is the poet's own desire to reconcile the handed-down shame and faulty pride within herself as well as the religion of the ecstatic within her own quiet questioning.

Suggested by Rebecca Hawk, Circulation

 Enough Rope by Dorothy Parker

Suggested by Jamie LaMoreaux, Acquisitions & Collections

 New & Selected Poems by Stephen Dunn

Stephen Dunn is justly celebrated as one of the strongest poets of his generation. Now in this rich gathering, he selects from his eight collections and includes sixteen new poems marked by the haunting "Snowmass Cycle". The heralded clarity and intelligence of Dunn's poems are in full evidence here, as is his ability to charm and evoke pathos. As ever, wit happily resides with seriousness, affirmation coexists with hardship. "I want to find the cool, precise language / for how passion gives rise to passion," Dunn says in one of the new poems. For two decades, such insistence has led him to a wise lucidity that places him among our consequential poets.

Suggested by Rebecca Hawk, Circulation

 Poems by Edna St. Vincent Millay

One of America's best-loved poets, Edna St Vincent Millay (1892-1950) burst onto the literary scene at a very young age and won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1923. Her lyrics and sonnets have thrilled generations of readers long after the notoriously bohemian lifestyle she led in Greenwich Village in the 1920s ceased to shock them.

Suggested by Jamie LaMoreaux, Acquisitions & Collections

 Poems: North & South, a cold spring by Elizabeth Bishop

Elizabeth Bishop was an American poet and writer from Worcester, Massachusetts. She was the Poet Laureate of the United States from 1949 to 1950, a Pulitzer Prize winner in 1956. and a National Book Award Winner for Poetry in 1970. She is considered one of the most important and distinguished American poets of the 20th century.

Suggested by Rachel Edford, Teaching & Engagement

 Selected Poetry of Ogden Nash: 650 rhymes, verses, lyrics, and poems by Ogden Nash

Gathers poems on a variety of subjects including love, marriage, parenthood, modern life, animals, aging, travel, work, and food.

Suggested by Rachel Edford, Teaching & Engagement & Jamie LaMoreaux, Acquisitions & Collections

 The 100 Best Poems of All Time edited by Leslie Pockell

This poetry companion puts favourite poetry and poets from around the world at your fingertips, enabling you to revisit the classics, encounter unfamiliar masterworks and rediscover old favourites.

Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

 The Golden Shovel Anthology: new poems honoring Gwendolyn Brooks edited by Peter Kahn, Ravi Shankar, and Patricia Smith

The last words of each line in a Golden Shovel poem are, in order, words from a line or lines taken from a Brooks poem. The poems are, in a way, secretly encoded to enable both a horizontal reading of the new poem and vertical reading down the right-hand margin of Brooks's original. An array of writers, including Pulitzer Prize winners, T. S. Eliot Prize winners, National Book Award winners, and National Poet Laureates, have written poems for this anthology: Rita Dove, Billy Collins, Nikki Giovani, Sharon Olds, Tracy K. Smith, Mark Doty, Sharon Draper, and Julia Glass are just a few of the contributing poets.

Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

 The Heart Aroused: poetry and the preservation of the soul in corporate America by David Whyte

In The Heart Aroused, David Whyte brings his unique perspective as poet and consultant to the workplace, showing readers how fulfilling work can be when they face their fears and follow their dreams. Going beneath the surface concerns about products and profits, organization and order, Whyte addresses the needs of the heart and soul, and the fears and desires that many workers keep hidden.

Suggested by Rebecca Hawk, Circulation

The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo

Xiomara Batista feels unheard and unable to hide in her Harlem neighborhood. Ever since her body grew into curves, Xiomara Batista has learned to let her fists and her fierceness do the talking. She pours all her frustration and passion onto the pages of a leather notebook, reciting the words to herself like prayers--especially after she catches feelings for a boy in her bio class named Aman, who her family can never know about. Mami is determined to force her daughter to obey the laws of the church, and Xiomara understands that her thoughts are best kept to herself. When she is invited to join her school's slam poetry club, she can't stop thinking about performing her poems.

Suggested by Emma Gisclair, Curriculum Materials Center

 The Poetry of Arab Women: a contemporary anthology edited by Nathalie Handal

Arab women poets work within one of the oldest literary traditions in the world, yet they are virtually unknown in the West. Uniting Arab women poets from the all over the Arab World anti abroad, Nathalie Handal has put together an outstanding collection that introduces poets who write in Arabic, French, English, and Swedish, among them some of the twentieth century's most accomplished poets and today's most exciting new voices. Translated by distinguished translators and poets from around the world, The Poetry of Arab Women showcases the work of 82 poets, among them: Etel Adnan, Andre Chedid, Salma Khadra Jayyusi, Naomi Shihab Nye, and Fadwa Tuqan.

Suggested by Christina Wray, Teaching & Engagement

 The Rain in Portugal by Billy Collins

The Rain in Portugal—a title that admits he’s not much of a rhymer—sheds Collins’s ironic light on such subjects as travel and art, cats and dogs, loneliness and love, beauty and death. A student of the everyday, Collins here contemplates a weather vane, a still life painting, the calendar, and a child lost at a beach. His imaginative fabrications have Shakespeare flying comfortably in first class and Keith Richards supporting the globe on his head. By turns entertaining, engaging, and enlightening, The Rain in Portugal amounts to another chorus of poems from one of the most respected and familiar voices in the world of American poetry.

Suggested by Larry Cooperman, Research & Information Services

[foamingkitty]

Rebecca Colby’s Top Ten Book List

I’m so excited to share a new top ten list of children’s books from the author of the super fun story, There was a Wee Lassie who Swallowed a Midgie, Rebecca Colby. It’s is a mix of cherished books from both Rebecca’s childhood and her adult years.

1. No Matter What, written and illustrated by Debi Gliori, 1999 I truly love this book! I love it so much that I bought three copies—one for of each of my daughters, and one for myself. It is a touching story about a mother fox reassuring her cub that her love for him is unconditional and will last forever. It gives a comforting message, and no matter how many times I read this book, it never fails to bring tears to my eyes.

2. The Lorax, written and illustrated by Dr. Seuss, 1971 As I child, my family couldn’t afford books. I remember taking this one out from the library over and over and over and…(well, you get the picture). I even hid it under bed at one point so I wouldn’t have to return it. At the time, I loved it for the nonsense words and fun rhymes. As an adult, I now enjoy it for the wit and satirical poke at environmental issues that we should all be concerned about—the destruction of our forests and natural resources.

3. Some Dogs Do, written and illustrated by Jez Alborough, 2004 Can dogs fly? Some dogs don’t, but some dogs do. This book is best summed up with one of my favourite quotes, by Henry Ford: “Whether you think you can or you can’t—you’re right.” The impossible can often be possible, but much of our success in making miracles happen is down to our attitude and beliefs. I choose to dream big and believe!

4. The Good Little, Bad Little Girl, written by Esther Wilkin and illustrated by Eloise Wilkin, 1965 “There was a little girl, who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead. And when she was good, she was very, very good. But when she was bad, she was horrid.” This book is based on the above poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. The Wilkin Sisters extended the original poem and made it into a book. I couldn’t exactly relate to the bad little girl as a child as bad behaviour wasn’t well-tolerated in my family, but I did find her behaviour fascinating, if not shocking. Having had children of my own, I think perhaps I wasn’t always the little angel I remember being, but reflecting on the behaviours of the two little girls at that age, who were, in fact, the same little girl, at least helped me strive to be good as much as possible.

5. Mostly Monsterly, written by Tammi Sauer and illustrated by Scott Magoon, 2010 Bernadette may look like an ordinary monster, but underneath the fangs and claws, she has a secret: she likes kittens and flowers and cupcakes. When she starts school, she doesn’t fit in and must find a way to win over her classmates while remaining true to herself. The author does a great job of tackling the theme of individuality and acceptance without hitting the reader over the head with a heavy-handed message. It’s a humorous and entertaining book that is monsterly fun to read, while letting children know that it’s okay to be themselves.

6. The Magic Paintbrush, written by Julie Donaldson and illustrated by Joel Stewart, 2004 While one of Julia Donaldson’s lesser-known books, it’s my all-time favourite of hers. Told in verse, this traditional tale follows the story of Shen and her magic paintbrush. Whatever Shen paints with her brush becomes reality. She wishes to use it for good by painting food for the people in her village, but the greedy Emperor has other ideas…

7. Tadpole’s Promise, written by Jeanne Willis and illustrated by Tony Ross, 2005 When a tadpole and a caterpillar meet, they fall in love. “I love everything about you,” says the caterpillar. “Promise you’ll never change.” But although tadpole promises not to change, he doesn’t realise what nature has in store for him and it proves to be a promise he can’t keep. In my opinion, this book breaks the mould for its unexpected and unconventional, unhappy ending. Having said that, despite the unhappy ending, kids still love this book–if only because it takes them by surprise.

8. Little House in the Big Woods, written by Laura Ingalls Wilder and illustrated by Garth Williams, 1932 Ah, the romance of by-gone days in this real-life adventure story of pioneer girl, Laura Ingalls Wilder! I was captivated by how different life was just over 100 years before I first read this book. When I shared it with my own daughters for the first time, they were equally captivated and had lots of questions about life on the American frontier in the 19th century. At their instigation, we made corn meal pudding—a dish that is mentioned in the book more than once.

9. Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing,  by Judy Blume, 1972 In fourth grade, my teacher read this book to our class. We were enraptured by Peter’s tales of his little brother, Fudge, who threw tantrums, smeared mashed potatoes on the wall, and who even swallowed Peter’s turtle. This was one mischievous little boy! Fudge’s antics had us falling off our chairs with laughter, while sympathising with Peter’s frustrations, and hanging onto our teacher’s every word so we didn’t miss a beat of the story.

10. The Big Golden Book of Poetry, edited by Jane Werner and illustrated by Gertrude Elliott, 1947 When I moved schools at age 7, I couldn’t read but all of my new classmates could. The teacher was forced to spend extra time working with me, but I soon caught up and was given this book at the end of the year, along with a certificate for “Most Improved.” I was so proud of my new ability, and spent many an evening reading this treasured book aloud to my family. It is still one of the most treasured books in my house. It contains 85 different poems by children’s poets Robert Louis Stevenson, Ogden Nash, Eugene Field, Edward Lear and James Whitcomb Riley, among others.

Vanessa x

from kid games toys http://ift.tt/2nbVKAk via kid games toys

[murdochmysteriesimagines]

Circumstance -Julia Ogden

Request: Platonic Requests Of Julia Having A Half Black Daughter Before The Events Of The Show And They Meet Again Whith The Daughter Being In Her Twenties And Julia In The Latest Season And Neither Of Them Knowing They Are Related.

A/N: The need for a specific ethnicity did throw me off a bit, that and the requirement of both parties not knowing of each other when they first meet. This one was challenging to write for but I am pleased with the end result. It does differ from the original request but this in the effort to make the story more realistic and logical. 

__________________________________________

Pained screams filled the empty cottage home. On the outside the still building cried out for only birds to hear, painted walls and shuttered windows failed to muffle any of the misery of the inhabitants; one standing out among the rest. Julia Ogden laid on her back, legs separated and abdomen inflated. Each muscle contraction squeezing the life out of her, grit teeth and watery eyes two of her side effects. Her father and school companion Issac Tash were present in the room aiding with the birth. Tash frequently pausing his assistance to the doctor to provide comfort to his friend, although it largely fell flat to the pained women and only delayed the inevitable. Lionel Ogden, who despised the rushed situation his family was placed in still found time to scold the doctor in training for his distractions, having exhausted the same treatment and criticisms for his daughter throughout the months of her secret pregnancy. 

In the hall outside the bedroom and makeshift ward the second youngest member of the Ogden lineage sat beside he father of Julia child: a grounds keeper at Bishop’s University where the new mother and her companion attended. Their secret flame burned bright with a passion, but one night alone without supervision ended in temporary pleasure and their current predicament. Ruby Ogden the younger attempted to comfort the gardener, like Tash however, her efforts would be in vain. Not a year older than Julia yet his face hung low, a tired state giving him the appearance of an unearned age. Mr Marsh worried not for himself for his child, the mother, what the future would hold for the both of them. If Julia was caught bearing a mixed child her career would be over before it began. Any school or institution worthy of her talents would shun her as if tainted by the plague. That was why Julia’s father brought all parties into the woods of northern Ontario, regardless of outcome he intended to keep what happened in these walls an everlasting family secret.

Back inside the room Lionel commanded his daughter to push a final time, through her cries of relief flushed a new sense of exhaustion. Doctor Ogden held the result in a single hand, unnoticed by Tash who focused on his friend. The child barely reached to the of his hand from the palm., the size and texture of a lump of coal. The child laid still, unmoving, silent. Lionel knew himself to be a firm man, unpleasant to all in this situation. When he held his grandchild however, a weight formed in his throat and refused to be swallowed down no matter the force.

He gently laid the child down on a table away from his own, his priorities shifting  back to what could be done for his own girl. Minutes would pass in relative silence, Julia’s mind muddled from recent events and the doctors to Tash. He was unable to admit the circumstance of the baby but all knowing its fate. Isaac excused himself to gather more supplies. His departure letting a cold silence occupy the room and its single conscious inhabitant. Outside he could hear distress from his youngest daughter and the father, he expected the door to be knocked in yet it remained shut. 

The silence was broken by a frail cry. At first Lionel thought it was Julia coming to grips with the outcome. she remained quiet however, eyes closed to the world around her. Then another wail turned his attention back to the table and what he thought was a still born infant; still clinging to life, if by a thread. He wrapped the infant in a blanket and held it carefully in his arms. If it survived he would ensure it was taken care of, the father was far from being in his good books but he was trustworthy to raise the baby into adulthood. As a father himself he had to do what was best for his children first, regardless of any consequences. Even if that included lies and manipulation among other sins. He would extend that promise to his first grandchild, a unfortunate victim of her parents mistakes, innocent to the world. 

You had paced the length of the hospital three times by the time you gathered the courage to approach the main doors. In perpetration you had packed every scrap of information in the form of documents, photos or outdated letters, and neatly organized them in the satchel thumping against your waist as you walked up the stone steps. You were informed this was Doctor Ogden's new stomping grounds after she left the city morgue. A foreigner to the city yourself you were surprised at how helpful people could be, daddy always warned you of the exact opposite from city dwellers. 

The hospital was positively silent on the inside, no screams of anguish or weeps of sorrow from mourning loved ones. You knew those sounds would come in hand with your future schooling and profession; but for now they still turned your spine into ice and hands into stone. With guidance from a nurse at the reception and a tall blond on Ogden’s assigned floor you pushed further into the building. The first one tricked with a white lie and the tall one simply too helpful for her own good. The way she fixated on you for a second was unnerving, her eyes narrowed and head tilted to the side before snapping back to reality and ordering you to follow her. All without proper reason for your visit. As you were guided through corridors in the winding maze that was the hospital final doubts began to sweep through your mind.

“What will I say to her? What should I say? This was a mistake surely, selfish, it has been two decades, I’ll only disrupt whatever she has built. What will the public think?“

Your inner dialogue was cut short by the blond appearing from behind a door. In your haze she had disappeared into a break room and reemerged soon after. “Its just Doctor Ogden in there, I’m sure she’ll appreciate the company.”

You barely managed to thank her before she ran off back into the endless hallways. You stood ready to enter for a moment, retouched your hair, straightened your collar and padded out any wrinkles in your clothing. No imperfections, real or imagined, were enough to put off the Doctor but all posed significant threats to your mind. Hesitantly you opened the door and stepped inside. She had her nose buried in a notebook with a hand occupied by a pen. The door closing behind you caused her to look up from whatever words she wrote. Doctor Ogden looked at you like a stranger onto another. You knew swabs of information about her yet she only saw a member of the youth starring at her nervously. 

“Good day.“ Her greeting was warm, in line with all the stories you had been told. She could tell you were nervous and, true to her nature, attempted to ease your anxieties. She extended an arm to offer you a seat. When you placed yourself opposite her your respiratory system began to malfunction once again. you introduced yourself with a noticeable stutter as you failed to find confidence in the scenario, y/n Matthews.

Doctor Ogden looked remarkably similar to what you suspected. The bury photo you had of the young secret couple that was your father and Doctor Ogden relaxing together did her justice. Her hair still possessed the same glow, her face seemingly free of aging, time appeared to have paused for your fathers oldest friend. Would you have the same luck as the inevitable conclusion approached. These thoughts distracted you for several seconds, unable to hear when she spoke in the temporary silence. “Pardon?”

The Doctor smiled at you, not showing any resentment or annoyance to your endless worry. “I asked if you would like something, tea?” You shook your head denying the request.

“I’m here on business Ma’am. Doctor!“ You corrected yourself with a panic. Another error she did not react to or or care about. You moved your hands around trying to find a comfortable position, settling on them squeezed into a ball in front of you. “Are you the same Doctor Ogden who a relationship with James Marsh two decades ago?” 

You were blunt and without a stutter for the first time. The Doctor recoiled slightly, eyes widened, a reaction to a name she knew too well. “Its been years since I thought of that name.” She paused, “But why-”

“He’s my father.” You blurted out of panic once again, not allowing her to finish the sentence. Doctor Ogden seemed to take a positive interpretation. “He married after my father forced him to move away.”

Of course she would think that, you refrained from correcting her immediately. “He said your father requested our surname be change after...” Your thoughts trailed off, unwilling to divulge the forbidden information. A look flashed across Julia's face, unsure herself if it was relief or pain that you might not know all the details of hers and Marsh’s relationship. 

“How is he doing?” “He died six months ago. Cancer.” Your voice was near silent but each word echoed around the break room. All Doctor Ogden could manage was an offering of her sympathies, a gesture you had no doubts about being genuine. She went onto question about your mother, still believing her old friend had married long ago. “And your mother?”

Thousands of potential answers came to you but none would allow themselves to exit your mouth. What should have been premium opportunity you allowed to slip through your fingers. The answer to selfish for the Doctor to hear. 

“She’s out of the picture.” You refused to elaborate and she refrained from perusing the question.

“Before he passed he...” You paused, retrieving the item in question from your satchel, a sealed envelope signed in the finest cursive you had ever seen. “My father wrote a letter for you. He never said why but he wanted it sent after his death.” 

You slid the letter across to her, along with the old photo of the couple as a form of proof. Doctor Ogden held it with the tips of her fingers; like the paper would burst into flames if she was not careful. “You came to Toronto just to deliver a letter?” She sounded more curious than puzzled. You were taken back by her question, not all would care enough beyond being polite. “I’m attending the university next week. Me and my father had been saving for it for some years now. I plan to become a doctor myself some day.” 

For the first time since you entered you allowed yourself to smile slightly, positioned downward in a failed effort to keep it private. “When I was younger I worked in the local clinic and in the summers I would patch up the local football teams. My father did say I always took after my mother.” 

“Were you two close?” The Doctors question sent hidden daggers into you without intent, a polite question to try and break the ice. A simple head shake made the Doctor drop the subject entirely. 

“If you would like Miss Matthews, once you start your schooling I could see about getting you a part time position here as a nurse. Perhaps I could teach you a trick or two.” The Doctor appeared honest in her proposal, though you had inner conflict if this was because of your father or some potential she saw in you. What ever the reason the offer scared you to your feet, the older woman following soon after. 

“I, I don’t think that would be appropriate Doctor Ogden.” Your anxiety had returned with a passion. All plans of what else to discuss with the Doctor falling secondary to any action that would end. Before she could raise further question you found yourself backing towards the door, the truth leaving as quickly as it entered. “I should’t waste anymore of your time Doctor.” Your lungs acted as if they ran several kilometers while you sat still in a chair as you maneuvered out of the room and away from Doctor Ogden. 

“y/n wait!” Julia called out to you but remained still, whatever stress you were acting on would not be aided by the person triggering it giving chase. She attributed it to the memory of her old lover and the youths father being brought up so swiftly. Even with her strained relationship she was less than joyful talking about her own father after his death, an unfortunately familiar subject for the two women to share. 

Her attention went back to the letter and photo of her old friend; every pleasant and painful memory associated with him brought back when she looked at his grinning face in the weathered photo. A shame his child did not inherit his smile. What information could be so important that even after twenty years it still occupied his mind on ones deathbed. It was a minor worry in the back of her mind that whatever words he had penned would somehow betray or jeopardize his only child. If James Marsh had remained the same gentleman she knew well a lifetime ago he would do what was right for those he cared about. 

[murdochmysteriesimagines]

Auntie- Julia Ogden

Request: At the request of an anonymous user, the wish for a story based off of this drawing by @themurdochmemesteries.

A/N: As the request itself was vague I bounced between multiple ideas, finally settling on one that was more pleasant in tone.

__________________________________________

Several question were raised, addressed and then dropped within a single letter, all wrapped in a neat bow of “sincerely Ruby Ogden”. Three pages, several paragraphs, thousands of words elaborating on and ending the six year hiatus between the two sisters. What would have been a relief was tainted by confusion and further, unanswered questions. If more so acted like an update on her life followed by a proposal.

When did she take up residence in Australia? When did she meet a banker from Wales? What was his name? When did they wed? Why was she not told earlier that she was an aunt? Why had she not been told anything?

Julia would have the ability to ask such questions in person in due time. The final sentence detailed a planned visit to Ottawa for her husband’s business in a month, if Julia wished they could meet. Ruby dangled her daughter over Julia like a tantalizing treat. Immediately she equipped her own pen and inked a response, pausing only when she remembered to check the dates with William and ensure they had not already prioritized the guest room. Inevitably, her response was of affirmative if lengthened by criticism for Ruby’s own brevity. Updates to her own life merely included a new home address and comment about her work situation; away from the dead and onto the living.

Julia would have the time to give more details to her dividing in person. If she wasn’t too busy scolding her silence or daunting over her newly discovered niece.

The knob was almost out of reach and stuck when you tried to pull on it. All you had to do was push in and the door moved open. Auntie Julia did not pause or look up from her work, still believing to be alone in her study. A single lamp lit her desk and whatever scribbles only trained adults could comprehend. Creeping across the floor no boards gave away your position.

You watched her work for a moment. Lost in her own world. When you first met her she could easily be described as frightening, smiling wide and seeming to shake in yours and mommy’s presence; so much that daddy’s leg acted as a sanctuary from the scary blond lady. Now she was calm and content, perhaps happy with herself. Maybe whatever she was writing was the source of her joy.

The closer you got the less the shadows concealed you; one unlucky floorboard moaned and caused the adult to startle and take notice of her surroundings. “y/n.”

Her voice was still overly positive but purposely hushed simultaneously, likely by the late hour. Regardless it was better for yourself; no sensation to run back to daddy’s trousers. You gave a greeting, not taking a step back this time.

“Hello.”

“What are you doing up?”

“I can’t sleep,” you took a step closer to the desk, “mommy snores.”

Auntie Julia chuckled quietly, then telling how Ruby always had since their own youth. Little of it stuck with you however. “What are you doing?” You asked, attempting to stretch your body up to pear onto the desk covered in papers.

She lifted you onto her knee for a better view of the surface, much like a mother would with her own child. The sense of security and protection irradiating from your aunt as it did your mother and father. Julia tried to simplify the concept of patient reports but a sleep deprived toddler made for a poor audience.

Every “opioid” and “surgery” caused you to lean further back into Julia’s soft chest but eyes remained furiously defiant and open. Whatever remaining will-power you had left employed to look at the desk and pretend you had a clue what she was talking about.

Julia, unsurprisingly, was fully aware of the child’s attempt at reliance. Her rib cage being pressed against being the biggest clue.

“Should we think about getting you back to bed?” You shook your head against her.

“Mommy still snores.”

Julia pondered for a second what her next action would be; to agree or to comply. “William is still at work, if you want you can stay with me.” You stayed still on her lap, pondering her proposal. “And I don’t snore.”

The child nodded unrestricted from her sunken position into Julia’s chest. She picked up the young girl and proceeded to maneuver out of the room, y/n already succumbing to the allure of slumber on auntie Julia. Not to the displeasure of the adult however.

[murdochmysteriesimagines]

Sickbed- Julia Ogden

Request: is a Juila and a female reader with numbers 15,53,36 okay? Please and thank you no worries if you are busy,

15: “ Don’t die on me– Please. ”

36: “ I’m so in love with you. ”

53: “ It’s lonely here without you. ”

A/N: The prompts implied a dark undertone ladened with death and sorrow. I ignored that and did something else. I hope you enjoy.

__________________________________________________

You called out for Julia to no answer. Shifting up the bed slightly you attempted to gain a response again but with the same lack of results.

You were tempted to get up and find her but Julia threatened to fracture your other leg and put both arms in a sling if she caught you out of bed again.

Doctors and lovers orders.

Waiting a few more minutes the blond re-entered the room, a loaded tray in her arms.

“You stayed in bed,” she seemed moderately surprised. “I considered chasing you, it gets lonely here without you.” You patted the bed next to your body, Julia failed to hide her blush.

“Maybe when I’ve given you some medicine.” She moved next to you with the tray. You then saw the various vials and medical journals occupied the metallic surface. You scoffed to yourself.

“Thank goodness,” a small laugh started to form. “You’re going to kill me with drugs and not your cooking.”

Julia joined in the laughter, releshing in the banter at each others expense. “Now don’t die me, please!” She fainted a weep to your amusement. Getting back to her profession she prepared a needle with a clear, transparent liquid. If it was anyone else holding the tool you would have been nervous. In Julia’s hands however, your loves, you never felt more comfortable.

You barely noticed the pinch as the plunger pushed down. “Is that all Doctor?”

“I believe so.” She responded placing the utensil back onto the tray. “Excellent. Now,” you patted the empty spot on the bed once again. Julia complied this time; crawling under the sheets and layed down beside you. Whatever concoction she gave you was starting to take effect, eyelids growing heavier by the second.

“Julia.” “Yes y/n?” You attempted to snuggle into her side but was prevented by the casts; she moved to you instead. “I love you so much Julia.”

The Doctor placed a soft kiss onto your lips. Lingering longer as you allowed the medicine and Julia’s own personal magic to work. “I am very much in love with you y/n.”

[murdochmysteriesimagines]

Asian Glow- William Murdoch, Julia Ogden, John Brackenreid

Request(s): I loved your last imagine so so so much, I can only thank you for it. Just such a nice idea that Jilliam would have a daughter from China, Can you do a sequel to it please. If it’s not to much trouble. Some more sweet fluff

I want a thing where Jon and a female reader get drunk and confess she likes him

A/N: I decided to combine these two requests as they both worked together but I did not sacrifice one for the other. This was rewritten once and I prefer this version.

This can be seen as a spiritual successor to 庆典 (celebration).

__________________________________________

You muttered a swear under your breath as John took your queen and forced you into check mate. A repeated action for the third time that night. As an immediate response Julia, your mother, clears her throat. A ‘watch your language’ look to follow.

Apologizing you turn back to John who sits beside his father on the opposite couch while your family occupies the other. His mother and little brother scurry around the kitchen preparing dinner out of sight. The adults enteriatin themselves through conversation while their children play chess beside them.

A quarter of the way into your next game with John his father asks you a question, “What about you y/n?” You stutter for a moment, admittidly you were giving your attention onto John more than the proper adults next to you.

“Pardon?”

“The parade last week, how was it?”

You smile at the memory: leaning into your fathers side during the Chinese New Year festival flashed through your mind.

“It was fun. I’m glad we finally got a chance to go.” You tell with modest enthusiasm, “You should come with us next year.”

Brackenried shakes his head slightly. “I don’t think Chinatown is quite our style, but thank you.” As he finishes Mrs Brackenried comes into the sitting room announcing dinner to be ready.

Before standing John steals your attention. “Ignore him. I’ll go with if you want.” You can’t stop yourself from smiling at his gentalmanly offer. “Thank you John.”

“Wine y/n?” Mrs Brackenried offers holding the subject bottle in her hand. You stop talking with your father sitting next to you and stare at her for a second. You were not one to drink; being a stranger to alcohol apart from a small sherry with your mother on a rare occasion. Before you can answer your mother next to your father answers on your behalf.

Immediately a red liquor fills the glass before you. A toast is proposed and acted out between the two families. “To health,” Mr Brackenried raised his glass, everyone else following suit and echoed before taking a drink. You nearly choked on the liquid burned the back of your throat, the bitter taste sticking to your tongue like a unwanted disease.

Trying to ignore it you ate your dinner, talking with John across from you as the evening progresses.

The last of the wine slid down your throat, smooth and surprisingly appealing this time. The evening was coming to a close as everyone gradually finished their meals. You and John conversed while the proper adults talked among each other; he was the first to notice the gradual effect the alcohol had on you.

“Are you sure you’re alright y/n?” He asked as you finished the last of red liquid.

You let out a series of giggles before answering, unsure why the question was so humerious.

“Of c-course. Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

The laughing escalated until the entire table had taken notice of your drunken appearance. Thomas immediately found amusement in your reddened face and almost idiotic laughter. The groups expressions fixate in a state of bewilderment or entertainment.

“What’s wrong?” You grab onto your fathers forearm in a blind panic, desperate for an answer. In an unintentionally loud whisper you plead with the detective. “Did I do something bad?”

Gently Murdoch guides you into a standing position. You lean against him as your legs suddenly seem to be untrustworthy. “Everything is fine y/n. I just think we should be heading home now.”

Your giggling resumes at a low volume at the news. Julia starts to apologize on your behalf but any words she said are mute to you. Instead your focus keeps going towards the handsome John on the other side of the table. You wish he was holding you instead of your father, not that you didn’t love your dad but John was much more attractive. If he was holding you right now you would know exactly why your legs weren’t working.

After calling out for John he cautiously comes around the table to your side. With William distracted by your mother for a brief moment your able to break free from and relocate into John’s arms. Luckily he is able to support you without notice and you find yourself in his strong grip. Your giggling continues as your own arms hug tightly around the handsome friend and cuddle into his chest.

Unsurprisingly your actions were far from discrete as everyone present has noticed the sudden affection. The Inspector starts laughing as his son fails to hide a blush brought on by his friend clinging to his chest.

Wordlessly Murdoch pulls you off of John and out of the room to the protests of his drunken daughter, craving for more time in the company of one of his constables. Meanwhile his wife continues to apologize for the sudden departure before leaving, but not without giving John a look of reassurance regarding her daughter.

You swung around in your fathers arms as Julia tried to open the hotel door with her key. They both hoped you would retire in the carriage ride but you managed to stay awake with incoherent rambles and endless giggles. You continued to move around in Williams gentle but firm grip despite your legs seemingly unable to support your weight. Julia opened the door and your father led you inside, spontaneously your babbling continues, interrupting whatever conversation your parents were already having.

“Thank you!” You blurt out as Murdoch attempts to guide you around the furniture and invisible objects you trip over.

“Thank us for what?” Julia follows close behind as you continue to rant in a confused manner.

“For t-taking care of me for all these years.” Murdoch manages to get you into your bedroom, yourself still unaware of what is going on as you continue talking.

“You could have found any other kid out there. But you picked me out of... hundereds maybe, hundreds of kids.” In your current state you don’t realize the unnecessary exaggeration but continue regardless. “Anyone of them could have been yours but you two went for me. I just want to say thank you.”

By now your father had placed you in bed, Julia waits in the doorway quietly listening. Once William manages to get you under the blanket he responds. You wearily look up at him as the bed and alcohol start to pull you under.

“You’re our daughter y/n, you don’t need to thank us.”

“But I do, you both picked me over anyone else.” You almost weep out the words.

William smiles to himself, you don’t see it but Julia shares in his delight at a distant memory. “Don’t you remember the story of when we first met you y/n?” Your father asks, you shake your head in denial. They have told you the events several times over years but unsurprisingly it escaped your memory.

“You were a little older than two when you wandered up to us and grabbed onto my trouser leg.” A glow comes over his face as he remembers. “We were already looking to adopt and you seemed to take a shine to us from across the room.” You share in the smiles going around the room as you sink further into the mattress.

“Your mother picked you up and then you introduced yourself as best you could, by clinging onto her and refusing to let go. The second anyone tried to take you away you would cry until they stopped.”

“We walked out of the orphanage with you by the end of the week.” Julia finishes the story for her husband.

“Well I guess I made the right choice.” You giggle slightly at your own joke before finally subcoming to the irresistible allure of slumber that warmly welcomed you.

[murdochmysteriesimagines]

The Event- William Murdoch, Julia Ogden

Request: So, I got the idea of maybe Murdoch and Ogden s having a kid like in the other imagines but this time they got raped and their parents help her recover.

A/N: I started writing and it took off from there, this will be different from other stories I’ve written.

__________________________________________________

Your vision begins to fade from a black darkness. The right side of your face thumped in theme with pain as conscience came back to you. Your thoughts were unfocused, scattered reminders slowly being pulled together as the gravity of the situation became apparent.

When your eyes start to cooperate you’re able to recognize your surroundings through a slit in a poorly tied blindfold. A private office in a building that likely remains empty apart from two people who take notice of your awakened state. Your vision is unclear but one of the faces is not new, last seen pulling you off a city street and smashing your head against a brick wall.

Before you have a opportunity to speak you release a suppressed groan, muffled by bound cloth over your mouth.

Panic started to set in.

The men argued about their situation and your involvement. The stranger stating how his partner in crime had overstepped in his actions. “I told you to get us a advantage, not take hostages!”

“You told me to get leverage and that’s what she is.” he points towards you, “That girl is our ticket out of this city with all the gold we can carry.”

“Yes, ‘that girl’.” The stranger curls his words in disdain. “You could have found any old Trollope off the street but you went and kidnaped the daughter of the lead detective!” His screaming makes you flinch in your restrainted seat.

“What good is some random citizen to us? ‘That girl’ has all the power in her name.” The other man retorts with a unearned sense of confidence.

The men continue to bicker among themselves, resulting in the one opposing your capture to leave the room, claiming you would cause their downfall. The slamming of the door marked a new atmosphere in your situation. You were now left alone with your kidnapper.

The air seemed to become tainted with the aroma of his toxic presence. Through the blindfold you see him approaching you slowly, a certain hesitation in his step that is overruled with each move forward. In no time he stands directly in front of you, the only defence you can muster is to seal your eyes and start a silent prayer.

“My colleague is not too found of you Miss Murdoch.” He curled your last name to make it into a threat. Those seven letters attached to you was the so called leverage he wanted.

“However, I know your going to help us, you seem like a helpful person.” He leans to your eye level, arms proper on each side of you, “You’re going to help me right?” He moves uncomfortably close to you, able to feel his breath against your face.

One of his rough hands carressed your cheek as you rapidly nod in agreement. “That’s a girl,” his other hand went to your shoulder, “Most women aren’t as helpful as you.” He strokes your hair before both hands reunite groping the bumps on your chest. “Or as pretty.” You protest the action but no matter the volume or restrained resistance the assailant continues his action. You could imagine the perverted grin plastered on his face as the hands travel down to your core. Any barrier posed by your dress or garments are removed or torn away despite increased complaint.

You wept when his dirty hands molested your bare thighs, legs parted and bond by ropes making his desired objective defenceless. Through tears and drool stained rags you begged for his mercy, muffled into incoherent babble.

All however fall on deaf ears as the rustle of pants and menacing laugh fill the room.

In the distance the thundering of raised voices and hurried footsteps could be heard. Instead of reacting to the development you stayed still, aided by the restraints that dig into your flesh for a full day and night. If the noise police men they would likely find you, but if it was a false alarm you would risk another round of punishment. The noise grew closer to your location, quickly towards the office door that locked you in the room. The lock was unable to sustain a swift boot, having gave way and granting access to the prisoner within.

You were still blocking out the world when a constable beckoned for the detective. Until your father comes in and removed the blindfold you mimicked a statue, pretending to be in a fantasy until his face is revealed; bearing the full weight of the reality that falls upon you in the brief second Murdoch stared back at you.

For the first time since the incident you allow yourself to cry. Once the bonds are cut you fall into his embracing arms. Allowing the burning emotions inside to finally come out. William instructed a constable to fetch Doctor Ogden, his wife, your mother. A short-lived panic rose at the realization that your parents would see you in this moment, the aftermath of an event without the time to collect yourself. But as quickly as the notion comes it is lost, the desire and need of the two people closest to you outweighed any other.

William positioned himself against a wall, cradling his child against his chest as you stuttered on tears. “Dad-that man he-he-he.”

William instead shushed you. Pulling you closer into his grip. Minutes pass and the office door creeks open again, peaking in the requested doctor, the woman who fought for her precense at the police raid. Upon immediate observation she could see the distress, at a second glance she saw the minuscule details; the marks from bondage and rips across your skirt, the evidence of an event that would leave scars.

She closed the door behind her before approaching her family. You didnt register her arrival, or have a memory of pulling on her arm like a young child to join the group hug. You only remembered the presence of their two bodies, William’s hand stroking your hair, the way Julia called you ‘sweetheart’ or ‘baby girl’. In the security of their presence you told of the past event. At any moment when you became over come with tears your parents would provide the nessesary comfort. They didn’t make you forget the moment, they couldn’t, but they could help you heal.

[murdochmysteriesimagines]

Teasing- Julia Ogden

Request: Hello could I make a request for Julia and female reader with numbers 69,64 Please and thank you

64: “You’re so beautiful.”

69: “You’re teasing me again…”

A/N: I changed 64 and 69 slightly to make it sound better in dialogue.

__________________________________________________

“What do you think Jules?”

You walk out of the closet into the adjoining bedroom where Julia awaited your return. Her immediate response is one of mixed amusement and delighted surprise. In front of her now you preform a twirl, the red dress flowing around the motion of your body.

“I think I’m falling in love with you again y/n.”

Julia takes a sip from her nightcap, the alcohol helping to mask the blush in her cheeks. You had told her about your recent shopping spree and promised to show off the spoils and the doctor was more that pleased. Rairly could an outfit both stand out alone and blend into a persons body.

“I’m sure I’ll look better if I get my hair done first.” Currently you let it fall down your shoulders and back in a unorganized mess, “Maybe a bit of makeup too.”

Julia gets up from her armchair and strives towards you. Each of her words dripping with her framilier heartfelt charm as she strides towards you. “I think you look so, so beautiful y/n. You cannot look anymore perfect.”

She wraps her arms loosely around your waist, a motion you copy without a second thought. Hands finding a comfort grooming down towards Julia’s hips as your mouths become occupied with a flurry of kisses.

“Julia,” you manage to whisper against Julia’s lips between kisses. “While I was out I also bought a new nightgown.”

“Did you.” Julia pulls back slightly so your foreheads rest against each other. Allowing you to continue with your scandalous confession.

"This one is...shall we say, more revealing, than a traditional modul.”

You feel Julia’s grip on you tighten slightly, pulling you closer into her warm body. “You’re teasing me y/n.”

Planting another kiss onto Julia’s lips you giggle at her eagerness. “Let me go and I can show you exactly what I’m talking about. Maybe carry on the so called ‘teasing’.”

[murdochmysteriesimagines]

The Truth- William Murdoch, Julia Ogden

Request: Murdoch’s and Julia’s son or daughter <-preferably reacting to being told he or she is adopted.

Also can you make the reader a teenager? Forgot too add that part.

A/N: As I said before they would have more than likely have told the hypothetical child when they were young. Regardless I’m more than happy to write what has been asked.

________________________________________________

The baby sat up right in its crib, playfully sucking on the ear of a stuffed rabbit. Oblivious to bodies of her parents lying dead in the next room.

A door opened and in walked three figures, stealing the baby’s attention from the toy. One wore a large hat dressed in a single colour of dark blue. The other two had brown and yellow hair, the latter in a pretty dress. Still sucking on the animal the baby smiles up at the adults looking down at her. The yellow haired lady kneels down to the child’s level, who greets her by reaching out a chubby hand to say hello.

“We had to kick in the door Sir, she was the only one in here.” George tells Detective Murdoch, peeling his eyes away from the infant.

“Probably for the best, who knows what the killer would have done to them.” Murdoch replies, motioning back to the crib.

Julia watches the tiny hand stretch out from in between the bars, the little girls eyes never leaving her own. Instinctively she meets the babes grasp, who holds tightly onto one of her larger fingers. Once in her grip the baby lets out a joyful giggle, mouth still containing the rabbits ear. Julia can’t stop herself from matching it, being able to bring joy out of the small child.

“What will become of her Sir?” George asks. “We’ll contact a next of kin if we can find them, otherwise the city orphanage will have her.”

George excused himself from the room, leaving the couple alone with the child. William takes a knee next to his wife. The baby shifts its attention to look at him, releasing the bunny to give a toothless grin.

“It’s a shame William.” Julia confesses, her eyes leaving the happy child to look at her husband.

“Never a part of the job I enjoy, who knows what will become of her.”

The couple remain silent, supported by each others presence. William wraps a arm around Julia, pulling her closer to him as they look back at the smiling infant.

“Are you sure William?”

“I’m positive Julia. She’s waited long enough.”

Julia nods in agreement. She sees eye to eye with her husband on the matter of telling their child she’s was adopted but can’t quel the burning anxiety inside her.

They continue to walk down the hall to their hotel suite, inside was their daughter who would soon learn the truth of her past. William reaches for his key when they reach the door.

“No backing out this time.” He confirms with Julia before turning the key and enters the room.

You look up from the book to see your parents, home later than usual. Remaining in your laid back position on the couch you return to the word filled pages.

“Did you catch the killer?”

“Pardon.” William asks while removing his suit jacket.

“You two are only ever late when you’re working on a case together.”

“She does have a point.” Your mother agrees, earning a smirk from William and yourself.

Even with your nose in the book you can’t help but notice a sharp look between your parents, somehow communicating only with their eyes. The sound of Julia clearing her throat catches your full attention, a quick look at her stern eyes tell you to sit up properly. You can’t help but wonder what you’re in for. The serious expressions and sudden tense atmosphere causes your throat to tighten.

“Mom, dad.” You cautiously ask, “Is something wrong?”

“Of course not sweetheart.” Your mother responds in a kind tone, “We just need to tell you something.”

Your parents sit across from you, a hint of uneasiness in their posture. Unusual for two people who spend most of their day around corpses. William shuffles in his seat slightly before starting.

“Your mother and I love you dearly y/n, you mean the world to us.”

You can’t stop the smile at his comment, it slowly disappearing as he continues.

“Which is why we should have told you this sooner.” Your throat tightens again.

Julia reaches over and takes one of your available hands into her own, her thumb running over the smooth surface. “No matter what you think just know that we still love you.”

You reply with a nod. William and Julia share a final look before confessing.

“When you were a baby we...” Julia starts, her stalling letting William finish “We found you alone. And took you in as our own. We adopted you.”

The pressure in your throat is gone and you release a breath you didn’t realize was being held in. But instead of a expected negative response William and Julia witness their child smiling back at them.

“I guess I should be thank you then.”

“What do you mean?”

“For choosing me, out of all the other possibilities out there you both chose me.” You manage to speak without tears coming forward, trying to keep you’re emotions in check.

“Besides,” You can’t help but find the irony in the situation slightly humorous, “I think I always knew in a way.”

“What?” “You’re kidding.” William and Julia fire back, not in anger but rather surprise.

“I think it would be easier if I showed you.” You say, letting go of Julia’s hand and walking out of the room.

Julia turns to her husband, glad to see her relief reflected on his face.

“That went better than I expected.”

William leans ind for a kiss, licking tender lips with his wife for a brief moment. Separating when you re-enter the room, clearing your throat to announce your presence.

You stand infront of them, hands concealed behind your back. Despite the weight of the situation you wear a smile at the moment. You reveal your old stuffed rabbit, formerly located in your room. Before either William or Julia have a chance to ask questions you explain. Displaying the animals stitching on its back.

“The stitches is different from mothers, a triple patten and neater than anything I’ve seen father done before.”

You pass the toy to Julia, herself and William confirming what you just said. They had not been strangers to the toy, often using it throughout your younger years. But never before had they noticed the reality it told. While they study the toy you continue.

“It’s clearly home made and neither of you said it was family, so I started to assume. Also I don’t have either of your physical features so that was another clue.” You cautiously say the last part, not attempting to sound blameful.

Your father looks up from the toy to you, captured by your words. Again before he is able to speak you take the initiative. Capturing him in a hug with your head resting on his shoulder.

“I’m a Detectives daughter, I’m taught to always look for clues.”

[murdochmysteriesimagines]

庆典- William Murdoch, Julia Ogden

Request: here’s my idea. Murdoch and Ogden story with their adoptive daughter and she’s Asian. (yes I want it to be me) (but you knew that already)

A/N: Massive thanks to @rubytheredsparrow007 for helping me develop a plot, could not have done this without her.

I planed to make this longer but I ended up starting over since I wasn’t pleased with the quality. However, I believe this version is superior to the previous one.

(庆典 translates to celebration in English)

__________________________________________________

Part 1-

“Ready y/n?” Julia asked from the other side of the curtain.

“Almost Mom.” You replied, patting down the ripples in your fabric from the privacy of the stores small dressing room.

It was her idea to go shopping today, a visit to Chinatown to buy you a dress for next weeks New Years celebration. For once you were excited to go clothes shopping; instead of simply another dress you were getting a piece from your culture, from across the Pacific.

Straightening your collar you pull back the curtain, stepping out to The delighted joy of your mother. Her hands move to cover her mouth, the corners of a smile still visible.

“y/n...you’re beautiful.” Julia’s voice stresses to remain composed. Sharing in her grin you walk to the display mirror to see for yourself.

It was small, only able to reflect your upper torso but you still made a audible gasp when you saw yourself. Adorn in red silk the light danced across your body; like the flame of a candle flickering in the wind. It was still you in the mirror, transformed into an old but not forgotten version.

Julia came up behind you, placing her hands on your sholders she looked at your reflection, barely able to contain the smile on her face.

“You look amazing y/n.”

“Thanks” you let out a small giggle at a distant memory coming back, “I don’t think I’ve worn something like this since I was a little girl.”

Julia joins in the laughter, giving a soft squeeze in the process “When we get home I can look for one, see if it still fits.”

“I’m not that short mom.” You look at Julia’s reflection hiding a smug grin behind your hair, her presence slightly pushing you forward.

“I guess we’ll have to take this one then.”

Part 2-

Your first thought was how loud the parade was. Between the crowd, music and dancers you could barley hear yourself think. But regardless of the volume it could not take away from the sceptical presented in front of you.

You and your parents stood on the side with the rest of the spectators, all in varying states of celebration. You held onto Williams hand tightly; despite the noise not being a threat it provided a sense of security to you. Julia meanwhile is leaning onto his other arm, cornering him between you two.

“What do you think Dad?” You ask, giving a quick tug to get his attention.

“It’s very colourful,” he praises “it must be a hassle to organize all of this.”

“I imagine it’s worth it, maybe even a little fun.”

“Oh?” William raises an eyebrow “Perhaps next year we can look into volunteering here.”

Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest. “Really? You would do that for me?”

William drapes his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close into his side and embrace. “Of course we would y/n, it’s a part of you.”

[murdochmysteriesimagines]

Fighting- William Murdoch, Julia Ogden

Request: I have a request. Julia and William have a son or daughter who gets in trouble at school and they both have to decide what to do about it.

My request is that the son or daughter of the Murdoch’s does something wrong and they have to talk to her about it.

A/N: As previously stated I made the reader insert female due to the use of her in the second request. To be honest I had trouble with this due to it being about a schoolyard fight and I have no experience in that area (not to mention it’s not something one can research).

____________________________________________

“What are you going to do about it?”

And that’s what set you off. Your fist collided with Jessica’s jaw line, she quickly responded by latching onto your hair and pulling. The two surrounding friend groups attempted to separate you and Jessica but little could be done to detach the two girls clawing at each other. You barely noticed the small circle of bodies forming around you, or the shouts of encouragement and violence for each side. Treating you two like boxers in a ring.

The brunette continued her assault on your hair. Judging by the pain alone you’d be surprised if she wasn’t pulling out chunks. In response you landed a blow to Jessica’s abdomen, repeating until she fell onto the ground. Acting immediately you landed ontop of her, knees digging into her waist as fists continued the attack.

You barely felt any of her defensive blows against you, losing her strangle hold on your scalp. Adrenaline fueling anger which drove the fight further. So concentrated on the struggling girl you didn’t notice one of her arms sneaking away, reaching for an object you did not see.

A blow to the side of your head knocked you off Jessica. A rock in her hand, spots of blood on its rough surface. The move seemed to stop the fight in an instant, both participants now sitting upright on the ground with bloodied faces. Cradling different aching parts, Jessica on her bleeding nose and you to your open temple. The crowd grew silent. Insults and encouragement to continue the brawl died down as the head master approaches to inspect the chaos.

“What were you thinking?” Your mother questions as she dabs away blood from your wound head.

She brought you to her office at the morgue after she picked you up from school. A angry scowl had been present on her face the entire time. This continued when she put you at her desk and started to treat your wounds.

“Don’t make ask again young lady.”

Begrudgingly you answer to the best of your abilities, not entirely sure yourself.

“I don’t know, something stupid probably.”

“No you weren’t.” Julia gets up to return to the lower level for another cloth. Her voice is uncharacteristicly irritated, however you can hardly judge her for it.

“You weren’t thinking at all!” Julia snaps, coming back with a colourless liquid which she pours onto a white bandage. When she applies it to the wounded temple you flinch away, only to have Julia’s strong grip pull you back towards her.

“You’re luck it was only a rock Jessica had.”

“Why?”

“If it had an edge to it I’d be doing this on the table over there.”

Julia harshly motions to the slab intended for dead bodies. You can’t help but shudder when you look over. Trying to change the tone you continue with with a small but weak laugh.

“Guess I should consider myself lucky.”

“Perhaps. You may change that opinion when your father gets here.” Her words suggest sarcasm but it is lost on you.

“He’ll be here when he’s done interviewing a suspect.”

Julia answers before you ask yourself. A small pressure grows in your stomach, previously ignored willingly

“Is he mad?”

“Yes.” Your mother dryly replies.

“We both are.” The pressure grows.

A door opens as Julia finishes applying a bandage around your head, upon seeing the stern face of your father turn the corner you can’t prevent your gaze from redirecting to the morgue floor

“How are you feeling y/n?” He calmly asks, a genuine look of concern on his face.

“A mild concussion and a few bruises, nothing permanent.” Julia answers on your behalf. William nods to his wife before looking to you, through your eyelashes his eyes seem to ask for another answer.

“I feel sick.” You quietly answer. The pressure inside only rising with both of your parents present.

“Nausea is a common side effect of a concussion.” Julia says, anger still fluent in her voice. Pushing past a inner fear you look up at your father.

“Are you angry at me?”

You can’t help but feel like a baby begging for forgiveness. The only thing you lack is a stuffed animal and blanket to hide under or use as a shield.

“No y/n.”

“But mother said-“

“I’m disappointed y/n. You know better than to get into fights.”

Again you hang your head in shame. William takes this opportunity to sit in the chair beside you as Julia continues to pace behind you.

[murdochmysteriesimagines]

Famila Ante Omnia- Julia Ogden

Request: Something with Julia's brother being there to support her during the while Darcy affair,

A/N: I could have had this out at the beginning of the week but time is never a friend of mine.

___________________________________

The object was interesting to say the least. What appeared to be the revealed muscles on a human face, hopefully not made of authentic material, otherwise you would not be touching it with your bare hands. The sculpture was approximately the same size of your head. Perhaps it would be wise to put it back, just in case.

Placing it back onto the table you took a step back into the centre of your sister's office. She had asked you to pay her a visit at the asylum where she was positioned. You could already guess what it was about, since you recently talked with her aloof husband Darcy. A talk that quickly went south.

The door opens and in walks your sister, an irritated look plastered on her face. "What did you do?" She immediately questions.

"Good to see you to Jules."

"y/n I'm serious." Taking in a deep breath you prepare yourself for the backlash sure to come.

"I went to talk to Darcy-"

"Without me?" Julia interrupts, her voice becoming slightly more occupied with anger. Regardless you continue on calmly.

"I wanted to talk with Darcy, one on one, see if we could find common ground."

"I would hardly call it a fight Julia."

"Then what was it then, some juvenile form of revenge?" Julia's tone suggesting something else. You move your hand to your split lip, the memory returning with the physical touch.

"We were talking politely at first then when I brought up the idea of a divorce he became hostile."

"What do you mean?"

"He called you a whore Julia, I'm not going to let that slide."

Julia let's herself sigh, knowing why you struck him, even if she dislikes it. You both remain silent for a moment, letting the weight of the information take effect.

Julia places herself at her desk, cradling her head in her hands, meanwhile you stay standing in the centre of the room. Breaking the still air of the room you address your sister.

"Perhaps it was not the best move to make, admittedly, but I don't regret what I did."

"Why's that." Julia refuses to look up from her hands, slightly muffling her voice as a result.

"He insulted you. I'm just fulfilling my brotherly duties." You add a playful emphasis to the last part, trying to make humour of the situation. Luckily Julia copies your small laugh. Removing her hands she looks up at you from her desk.

"That you did y/n."

"I mean…" you lean down o to her desk, the seriousness from earlier being dropped. "…it's ether that or I chase away your boyfriend."

Julia continues to softly laugh at you. "I think you'll find William is much harder to chase away than anyone when we were teenagers."

"I'll just need to try harder then, won't I."

[murdochmysteriesimagines]

Jealousy- Julia Ogden

Request: Hello I would like to request for a female reader with Julia numbers 77, 43,

43: “ You’re special to me. ”

77: “ Are you jealous? ”

A/N: It's not too long but I find the length appropriate, always fun to write for the good doctor.

___________________________________

"He's staring at you again." Doctor Ogden quietly said while taking a sip of her wine.

Directing your attention to your own glass, repositioning it on the table instead of consuming it. Through a distorted angle you could make out the restaurant to your back. Waiters carting around dishes, patrons ate and laughed with the people at their tables. At one such table a young man was giving vague attention in your direction before going back to the lady across from him.

Returning your attention back to Julia, you almost chuckle as she gives a scolding look to the disinterested man. You clear your throat to grab Julia's attention, immediately she looks at you, her expression once again kind.

"Are you jealous." The blond recoils at your accusation.

"Of course not y/n, don't be ridicules."

You can't help but giggle, here you have Julia Ogden. Fine dress with makeup to match and she's afraid you'll run from her.

"Julia you do realize I'm here to be with you, no one else." You have to quietly remind her before she makes a scene. In Julia's moment of clarity you can see a hint of red on her cheeks which she quickly attempts to hide with her hands.

"I believe I've made a fool of myself."

"Perhaps, I would hardly say you're a fool Julia."

"It's just…" Julia pauses for a moment, choosing her next words carefully.

"You're special to me y/n." Despite the simplicity of the statement you can't help but blush. Now it was your turn to try and hide the different shade of colour on your face.

"Thank you Julia." Reaching across the table you take her hand into your own.

"I'm only being honest y/n."