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legends-of-time · 10 months ago

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The Journey of Living at Downton

Chapter 47: June 1925

Masterlist

Ivy's 5th birthday became a quieter affair than planned with Robert in hospital. It took a couple more days before Ivy was taken up to the Hospital to visit and open her presents. Emma thinks it's rather sweet to see how the relationship between Robert and her daughter has developed.

Emma, now eight months pregnant, sits in a chair next to the bed Robert lies in. Robert, in pyjamas, is sitting up in bed, still looking a little worse for wear from his illness and surgery. He's holding one of the Open House flyers. Tom stands by the bed, Mary sits on the bench at the foot of it, and Cora is in an armchair. By the fireplace, Dr Clarkson is packing up his bag after checking on his patient.

"But what are they paying to see?" Robert huffs. "We have nothing to show 'em. A decent Reynolds, a couple of Romneys and a Winterhalter. That's your lot. They'd do better taking a train to London and visiting the Tate."

"That's not the point." Tom argues.

"People want to see a different sort of home. It's not the things in it." Mary adds.

"How the other half lives?" Robert says, disgruntled.

"Look, you might not think it's much because you're surrounded by it everyday but these people haven't. There's curiosity about these places, about this way of life." Emma argues. She literally was one of these people with her National Trust membership and everything.

"Dr Clarkson, what do you feel?" Robert asks the doctor.

"Keeping people healthy takes a lot of money in this day and age. We could raise more than you think." Comes the reply.

"Robert, we are opening for one day for charity, and there's an end to it. Mary and Tom have made the decision." Cora says, her tone declaring finality.

Robert pulls an annoyed face. "Ah. I know well enough that when Mary has spoken, my opinion has little bearing on the matter."

"You don't really mind, do you?" Mary asks.

"No, but I think it's crackers."

Emma and Tom exchange an amused look.

——

"It's funny how confused he is about why we're bothering to open the house and why the hell anyone would come." Emma chuckles as she lies slumped on their bed while Tom rubs her ankles before they head downstairs for afternoon tea with the others.

"Well, you can tell him he's wrong," Tom remarks, his thumb digging into a particularly tired and strained muscle causing Emma to let out a contented sigh.

"You know I can't tell him, or any of them, that I know that because I was a part of the lot going about these big houses in the future." Emma retorts.

"Must be funny though, you spent years traipsing around these old houses, seeing those photographs of the family and their servants and now here you are."

"Here I am," Emma huffs in disbelief, "casually suggesting to Mary a way we can raise money for the Hospital while pretending it's all such a foreign notion to me and having my eight month pregnant ankles being rubbed by my darling husband."

"He is rather, I think." Tom grins causing them both to laugh.

Emma sighs, looking down at her protruding stomach and stroking it causing the baby inside to nudge her hand. "What do you think it'll be this time? We've had a girl, a boy, what next?"

"Hmm. I don't know. I don't mind." Tom replies.

"Me neither."

Tom pauses in his rubbing, looking up at her. "Do you think this'll be our last?"

"I think so. I grew up as the eldest of three and it was a nice number." She answers.

"Is that the only reason?"

"No, but, Tom, I'm 35 now, I'm entering my high risk era. Another baby would be more dangerous for me." Emma replies honestly.

"Didn't your mother have you all in her late 30s and early 40s?" Tom questions.

"May I remind you that she was having children in the early 2000s and not the 1920s?" Emma retorts jovially.

Tom's resulting shrug admits defeat and goes back to rubbing her ankles. Emma frowns as she watches him.

"Is that alright though? Not having anymore children after this one?"

Tom looks up, startled. "Of course. I'd be happy with just three. I wouldn't want to force you into anything."

Emma smiles softly at him.

——

Emma sits on one settee in the Library with Tom next to her across from Mary and Cora as they sit in the other. Andy stands to attention by the table as Billy serves himself. Edith comes walking in, just back from taking a phone call in the Hall.

"Who was it?" Emma asks her.

"Bertie Pelham. He's going to be in London on the 6th, and he wanted to meet up."

Hmm... seems things are moving along well with those two.

"Why don't you ask him to stop in here on his way back to Northumberland?" Cora suggests. "If you'd like to."

"I would rather." Edith answers as she helps herself to tea while Billy takes a seat.

"Is he worth it?" Mary asks. Emma would describe it as anything but genuine encouragement and interest in her sister's love life.

"As opposed to your car mechanic?"

"I'm a car mechanic, thank you!" Tom retorts without any heat in his voice.

"It's nice to see how they view us, eh Tom?" Billy chuckles.

"We're opening the house that weekend. He may have some ideas." Cora continues.

"Well, I'll ask him." Edith says.

Mary doesn't look very enthusiastic at the prospect.

"I'm going to get more tea." Emma says, moving to stand.

Tom's immediately there, hovering. "I can get it for you."

"No, no, I'm alright. I can still do things you know." Emma huffs as she stands (admittedly with his help) and proceeds to walk (wobble) to the table.

"She's right, Tom. Nothing's more irritating for a pregnant woman than not being able to do anything herself." Mary quips.

"Sybil reminded me of that daily." Billy adds. There's a sad but fond chuckle from everyone. Emma sees that Edith remains silent, unable to bond with them all over the trials of pregnancy.

At the table, Andy holds up a plate of cake to her. "Ma'am?"

"Oh, thank you, Andy." She takes a slice.

He puts the plate down once she's taken a slice. Emma watches him as tidies a crumb that had landed on the table.

"Thomas tells me he's been helping you with your reading that Mr Mason gave you?" Emma broaches the topic.

Andy tenses. "Did he? What did he say?"

Emma frowns in confusion before mentally shaking her head and physically shrugging. "Oh, just that cause they're about farming, a topic that's unfamiliar, you've had a little trouble with it."

Andy relaxes. "Er, yes, Mr Barrow's been very helpful, Mrs Branson."

Emma smiles. "That's good. Well, I hope you do well, you know, with the farming."

"Thank you, Mrs Branson."

——

The next day, Emma and Cora are urgently called to Isobel's and on entering the Drawing room, Emma is startled to see Dr Clarkson is already there. He's holding a letter in his hand.

"We got your message. What's happened?" Cora questions Isobel.

"I'll ring for some coffee." Isobel says instead. She seems rather tense and uneasy.

"You sound as if you need to sit down more than I do." Emma half-jokes. She takes a nearby seat while the others remain standing.

"If you mean is it serious, it is." Dr Clarkson says, indicating the letter he's holding. "I received a letter this morning from the Board of Governors."

"Go on." Cora urges.

"They are going to combine us with York."

Ugh, finally.

"As we knew they must." Cora says.

"Indeed. I am to remain in my post here." Dr Clarkson continues.

Emma nods. "Good."

"Mrs Crawley is to stay on as our Almoner."

"Very sensible."

"But they want to offer the role of President to you." Dr Clarkson adds, turning to Cora.

Wait, what?

Cora is highly surprised. "Me? Why?"

"You made a good impression when you went into York."

"I don't understand. What about Mama?"

Ah, yes, oh dear, Violet will not be happy.

"Lady Grantham is to be, and I quote," Dr Clarkson turns to his letter once again, "'allowed to step down after so many years of noble service.'"

Wow.

Cora's jaw drops, and she has to sit down. Isobel sits down with her.

"Golly. They've sacked the captain." Cora utters.

"You can see their point." Emma argues. "What's the point of them having someone managing a system that they don't even believe in?"

Cora turns to Dr Clarkson. "And you support this notion?"

Dr Clarkson begins to reply but is quickly drowned out by Isobel talking right over him, "Of course he does. He put your name forward as replacement."

Cora looks at Dr Clarkson, utterly taken aback.

"Lady Grantham is not as young as she was," Dr Clarkson begins to explain, "and, as Mrs Branson says, I'm afraid she'd be almost willing the new regime to fail."

"Probably." Cora admits.

"Besides, I want to involve the new President in the logistics of running things. She would never have agreed to take that on." Dr Clarkson further says.

"So, I'm to step into her shoes and then be given more responsibility than she had?" Cora questions.

"We both think you'd be marvellous." Isobel says fondly.

Emma nods encouragingly. "She's right, though who's going to tell her?"

"They'll write, as soon as they hear back from me." Dr Clarkson says.

Well, that's at least a bit reassuring.

"I need to talk to Lord Grantham." Cora says.

"The thing is, we don't want someone to come up with another name."

"Don't we? It might be easier all around if they did."

Cora's terribly in two minds about this whole idea. Emma can see the moment on Isobel's face when she realises this, too.

——

Emma's visiting Robert, having gotten back from her meeting with Dr Clarkson, Isobel and Cora when Mary comes in to say her goodbyes.

"We're off," Mary says. She sits down on the other side of the bed to Emma. "I'm taking Billy. It's time he had a break."

Mary is going up to London to take Anna for an appointment to see Dr Ryder because Anna hasn't been feeling well but Mary has also made plans to go out for dinner, a dinner that includes a certain Henry Talbot along with Evelyn Napier.

Emma nods. "Good, he needs it. All he does these days is work, see Sybbie then hang around us in his spare time."

"Oh, I envy you. I'm so sick of this room, I could scream." Robert grumbles.

Emma stifles her laugh at the sight of the great Earl of Grantham looking like a child who's been told by his mother that he's not allowed to do what he wants.

"Barrow was in the Gallery, looking rather glum. Do we know why?" Mary asks.

"We've talked about making changes in the household. Carson and I both feel he's the obvious candidate." Robert explains.

Emma looks at him in surprise. She knows they need to cut down, and of course she does, she's married to the agent, but Thomas?

Mary looks similarly shocked as well. "You're not going to sack him?"

"I hope not. I hope he's going to find another job."

"Oh, so he'll stay in a house where his employer doesn't want him until he does?" Emma retorts heatedly.

Robert looks startled at her comment.

"Well, that explains it." Mary cuts in. "He's awfully sweet with the children. You do know that?"

"And when George is older, he can ask him back." Robert counters. Emma rolls her eyes at that.

"Goodbye, darling. Get some rest." Mary kisses him and, with a squeeze of Emma's hand, walks out.

"Rest." Robert scoffs.

"Don't worry, I'll be joining you soon." Emma quips though not with much sympathy or reassurance in her tone.

"You're annoyed at me, aren't you?" Robert states rather than asks. "Over how we're treating Barrow."

Emma raises an eyebrow. "What ever gave you that idea?" She stands to leave. "But at least you're self aware."

——

The next day, Anna, Mary and Billy return with the good news that Anna's pregnancy isn't in any danger and it is simply the body adjusting though Dr Ryder's given her exercises and suggested a warm towel if the feeling lingers. Also, Mary spending time with Henry Talbot apparently went well according to Billy though Mary remains tight-lipped.

Then its soon it's the day before the house opening and Bertie Pelham has made his entrance. Emma is happy to see him again particularly when watching him and Edith interact. Edith had pulled Emma and Tom to the side earlier to say that Bertie had even joined her when she checked on the children before they came downstairs as well. Emma's really happy for her as Edith has always been the sister down on her luck but now it seems things are looking up.

Once all are seated, except for Robert who's still in bed, the conversation soon moves to discussing the open house day.

"You've probably thought of this, but I'd place someone, maybe a servant, in each room the public will enter. Just to keep an eye on things." Bertie says.

"Literally." Mary quips.

"I think that's a good idea," Billy agrees, "but I really don't think anyone's going to actually steal anything."

"You never know."

"Carson, can you sort it out?" Cora asks the butler.

"Of course, M'lady." Mr Carson replies. "I understand it's only the ground floor."

"Not too much of that." Mary dismisses. "They'll start in the Small Library, then through the Big Library, into the Painted room, the Drawing room, the Smoking room, the Great Hall, in and out of the Dining room and back outside."

"Should be a small tour then. Maybe we should open upstairs?" Emma can't help but quip sarcastically.

Tom, Billy, Bertie and Edith are all amused by her comment as well as Thomas, Andy and Mr Molesley while Cora and Mary shake their heads and Mr Carson gives her a scathing lip.

"Rope off across the staircases and the back wing." Bertie says to Mr Carson before turning to the rest of them. "Who are the guides?"

"Do we need guides?" Tom questions.

He glances at her as if to say: "Why didn't you mention guides?" to which Emma shrugs as she genuinely forgot about that though she's pretty sure most National Trust houses had a person in the room rather than a tour guide taking people around.

"Heh, I don't think so. Not if you want them to go away happy, and leave behind what's not theirs." Bertie replies. "Who knows about the history of the house?"

"Only our librarian, Mr Pattinson, but he's away." Edith answers.

"You'll have to fake it. Lady Mary, Edith, Mr Branson..."

You can tell this guy used to be a career soldier. He talks like a field marshal mustering his forces. However, Emma can appreciate someone actually taking this open house event seriously.

"Not me." Tom cuts in. "I don't know a thing. I'll sell tickets, but that's it."

"Me too. I'd love to help with the tours but I don't think my body would agree with me." Emma says regretfully.

"Well, then, Lady Grantham, you and your daughters and Mr Prior can take parties of ten each, with no more than thirty in the house at any one time." Bertie decides.

"God..." Billy seems to be almost balking at the prospect.

"Crikey." Edith splutters at her (technically) boyfriend.

"Heavens. I feel like the Belgians waiting for the invasion." Cora remarks.

"Or the monkeys in a zoo." Mary quips.

Bertie seems actually amused.

——

Emma and Mary come out of the Drawing room at the end of the evening. Cora had already gone to bed but Billy, Bertie, Edith and Tom had wanted to stay up longer with their card game.

"He knows a lot about everything." Emma comments.

"The trouble is, I think he does." Mary remarks.

Emma chuckles. "So, I heard from Billy that you've both, as well as Tom, have been invited to watch the races at Brooklands. Have you decided if you're going? I will if you will."

"Are you sure? You'll be very close to term." Mary asks concerned.

"I will be." Emma reassures. "Unlike what people used to think, excitement is nothing bad for the baby."

"If you're sure." Mary says before sighing. "I know I won't enjoy it one bit, but at the same time..."

Emma smiles softly. "You'd like to see him again."

"It's not that." Mary replies as they stop at the bottom of the stairs. "I could see him for a walk in the park. No, I suppose I want to get over it. To get over myself. He asked me if I'd give cars another chance. Perhaps I should."

"Who is this flexible and reasonable person?" Emma raises an amused eyebrow. "I don't recognise my own dear sister Mary. Could this be love?"

"Oh, shut up." Mary grumbles yet there's no heat to it. She precedes Emma up the stairs. Emma chuckles and follows.

——

Preparations for the open house on the day are in full swing. Shutters are open and cushions have been plumped with a rope cordoning off upstairs. A table has been placed outside with a box for a till to take in the money for the Hospital along with two chairs for the ticket sellers, the tickets, and another poster announcing the Open House event.

From her seat where she is selling the tickets, Emma watches on amusedly at everyone's shock at the growing queue that is building up. Despite expectations, Emma, along with Tom, is overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people. Previous experience of jobs in the retail business, when she lived in the future, is helping marginally with coping mechanisms when dealing with frustrated customers. Bertie struggles to organise groups of ten, which, while initially met with frustration, eventually falls into a rhythm that works.

Emma however, due to being eight months pregnant, has to take frequent trips to the toilet, and leaves Tom and Bertie to fend for themselves. It's when she enters the Great Hall on her way back to the front of the house does she hears an angry voice.

"Cora! Excuse me!" Violet cries as she charges through Cora's group, scattering them to get to Cora. "Did you know, when I was last here?"

Ah, Emma knew that Violet would be angry about her loss of position at the Hospital but this is really the worst time for her to vent her anger.

"Mama, I think maybe we should..." Cora tries to placate in a quieter tone. Everyone in the Hall (including Emma) is now staring at the spectacle.

"Did you know when I was last here?" Cora answers this with guilty silence. "And you let me babble on about my victory? Have you told Robert?"

"Mama, you of all people don't want to bore our vis—"

"Just be quiet! Excuse me!" Violet snaps. She plunges back into the throng of visitors, heading for the stairs.

Emma gapes after her and then throws a sympathetic glance towards a stunned Cora.

——

The family are debriefing after the Open House day in Cora's bedroom. Robert is on the chaise lounge, Cora at his side. Mary, Edith, Billy, Emma, Tom and Bertie have pulled up chairs to form a circle with them. Tom is pouring after-dinner coffee.

"Golly, Moses. You astound me. And all from the sale of tickets?" Robert remarks.

"It's a great deal of money." Bertie says.

"I don't suppose we could open the house on a regular basis?" Tom questions. Emma perks up at that.

"For charity, you mean?" Cora questions.

Emma eagerly shakes her head. "No, no, maybe for the house though."

"It costs a ton of money to run, and at the moment, it doesn't raise a penny towards washing its own face." Tom adds.

"Tell me you're not being serious." Robert says indignantly. "To charge money so people can come and snoop around our home? What a revolting suggestion."

"It is rather a frightful idea." Edith agrees.

Emma scoffs. "Fine, but one day you won't be able to ignore such a large source of income at our fingertips."

"Hopefully when I am dust." Robert retorts.

"Still, Tom, Emma and Isobel were right." Cora argues. "People are curious about what it's like to live here."

"Which is sad in a way." Edith says.

"Why?"

"Because it means our way of life is something strange, something to queue up and buy a ticket to see, a museum exhibit, a fat lady in the circus."

Bertie smiles. He's clearly considering marrying into this family.

"Trust you to cast a pall of doom over our successful day." Mary retorts snidely.

Bertie instantly reconsiders marrying into this family.

"I had a visitor, a child who'd escaped his mother. He thought we were mad to live here when we could be so comfy in a normal house." Robert tells them.

"Oh, I refuse to listen." Mary huffs. "Downton Abbey is where the Crawleys belong."

"I hope we'll stay as long as we can. But I suppose we all realise it may not last forever." Cora says almost remorsefully.

"Oh, this is weakling talk." Mary scoffs. "George and I are made of sterner stuff than the lot of you."

"That, I'm sure, is quite true." Billy grins.

"And we are not going anywhere." Mary declares.

——

A/N: Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

What's funny is that Cora says the open house happens on the 11th and that it's a Saturday despite all the signs saying the event happens on the 6th of June and the 6th of June 1925 historically being on a Saturday. I changed it so she said the correct date for everyone's sanity.

Also, information I didn't know was the painters Robert refers to (Reynolds, a couple of Romneys and a Winterhalter) were all famous portrait painters of the 18th and 19th centuries. Sir Joshua Reynolds (1723 – 1792) is considered one of the major European painters of the 18th century. George Romney (1734 -1802) was the most fashionable artist of his day. 'Winterhalter' is probably the German-born portrait painter Franz Xaver Winterhalter (1805 - 1873), who was very popular among the royal families and aristocrats of European countries. He worked in Germany, France, Spain and Britain, earning the nickname ''painter of princes''. His brother Hermann Fidel Winterhalter (1808 - 1894) was also a painter, but with no ties to Britain that I could find, so let's stick with Franz Xaver here.

#downton abbey

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traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors · 1 year ago

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seeking advice, support, validation, reassurance, resources, or someone to listen to.

its been like this for me ever since i was a child but there are certain foods i cannot eat or be around or even the smell of will make me gag and sometimes even puke. there's a medical term for it but i just never remember what it is. i have ptsd, adhd, anxiety attacks, and depression. its difficult to say the least on the whole memory stuff. it causes triggers and trauma, its gotten a lot worse over the years and its so bad that if anyone has fruit(that's the trigger food) anywhere near my food or snacks, i wont eat. i cant even do those cleaning sprays with the citrus smell because its a fruity smell and i will get ill. its affecting my daily life, relationships, and physical/mental health. one of my parents thinks I'm "overreacting" or "its not that serious" but my own psychiatrist said i have this thing and its a legitimate medical whatever and i have it. food aversion is like the category its in but what i experience is a lot more intense. are there any books or websites or youtube channels or videos that exist so i can watch/show my parent and finally be seen and not judged? i haven't eaten in 2 days because my parent bought so many fruits and put them right in front of my snacks in the fridge. i already struggle to eat with some slight ED and borderline extreme diets. i make my own diets. i eat two big meals a day and 3 snacks in between. with the third snack being the dessert. usually one of my meals consists of 4 eggs scrambled, 4 strips of bacon, and either red bell peppers or carrot sticks on the side. i do that for either breakfast/lunch(i combine em) or for dinner depending on what i did. basically i have a real medical condition and my own parent thinks I'm overreacting but my medical doctor diagnosed me. what do i do here? im 30 and living with my parents but one of my parents is not well and i help out at home but i also cannot work due to "mental shit" or whatever but i do help out with my parents and chores and housework and the dishes and i cook and bake for them but i myself will flat out hide food or conversation it up to distract from not eating my plate.

Hi anon,

I'm so sorry to hear about what you've been struggling with. It can be exhausting to deal with this, both in how people respond to it and how that impacts your eating habits. Please know that you're not alone in experiencing this. It could be helpful to discuss what you've been going through with your parents, if you're comfortable. This way, they can be more mindful of where they put your trigger foods and you can make sure that you can eat when you want to.

I like to watch Seen Stories and there are a few people who talk about struggling with ARFID, which sounds like what you may be referring to. Here is another resource discussing ARFID. Here is an article by ARFID Awareness. In case it isn't ARFID specifically, here are some articles on food aversion.

If you can access or afford it, a mental health professional such as a therapist could help you navigate your food aversion, as well as the other disorders you deal with. A therapist, ideally one specialized in eating disorders, can work with you to process your experiences and develop a helpful strategy to creating a more balanced diet.

If anyone has any comments or suggestions, feel free to add on. Otherwise, I hope I could help, and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

#mod bun #trauma talks

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

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1. Siren Indruck NSFW, Duck is hauling supplies for the small town of Kepler on a tiny boat. Due to dangerous storms, Duck takes a longer but safer and less traversed route. He doesn’t know he’ll be passing through a Siren’s territory. A siren who is looking for a strong and sturdy mate

Here you go!

Duck never tells anyone what he finds on the beach that day.

He’s fourteen, looking for useful flotsam and jetsam tossed onto the sand by an ongoing storm. What he finds is an empty boat and a merman, silvery tail impaled with a spear in a piece of driftwood. Each time he tries to free himself, he winces and is unable to pull the weapon from his body. When he sees Duck, his red eyes widen and he bares sharp teeth in a hiss.

“It’s okay” the boy kneels in the bloody sand, “I ain’t gonna hurt you. Or, uh, this’ll hurt for a sec, but it’ll be better than tryin to ease it out bit by bit.” He grabs the end of the fishing spear and pulls. The merman shrieks, quickly clamping his hands across his mouth as Duck pulls his handkerchief from his pocket to bandage the wound.

“There, you should be able to-”

The creature is gone with a whip of his tail, sliding down the sand and into the waves. As Duck stands, a strange song floats from the foam for the briefest instant. A seasoned sailor can tell a siren from a normal mer on sight; Duck has never been to sea. It’s weeks later that he wonders what events resulted in the wounded siren and an empty boat.

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

Any other day, Duck would put off this run until the black clouds no longer hung over the horizon. But the supply run last week didn’t come, so the isolated, coastal town of Kepler is running low on, among other things, the medicine needed to treat an illness spreading from house to house. He could put this off until tomorrow, but he won’t sleep well tonight if he does.

The boat loaded, he starts out to sea under unfriendly skies. Today is a day to follow the coastline and then circle Greenbriar Island to reach Kepler, rather than trying for a straight shot. It’ll double his travel time, but it’s far safer in a storm and no one but a few locals know how to navigate it. Duck takes this route once or twice most years. This summer alone he’s had to take it six times, with today making a seventh. The abnormal number of storms weighs on the minds of coastal residents. Duck tries not to obsess over it, given that it’s solidly out of his control and there’s no use fussing over wind and rain; there’s only getting through them.

Halfway through his journey, a rogue swell catches the underside of the boat and drags it along a rock, springing a leak in the hull. He ties off on a thin spire of stone, clambering onto a rock to try and repair the damage. It’s not a big leak, but it’ll be trouble if he lets it go.

As he’s laying awkwardly with water lapping up his legs, a human head rises from the water a few feet from him. Silver hair, red eyes and, when it smiles, very sharp teeth. Harmless mermaids have teeth much like his own, which means he’s alone in the ocean with a fucking siren.

Duck’s learned many things since that day on the beach; how a song can paralyze a man better than poison, how the bite marks on the skin of certain bodies that wash ashore are called siren kisses

The siren begins swimming closer. Duck sighs, “If you’re gonna drown and eat me, can you do it on the way back?”

Red eyes blink, confused, but the siren stays where he is.

“If I don’t make it to Kepler, lotta folks’ll get sick, some will even die. And I don’t think you got much use for medicine and canned food.”

The siren shakes his head.

“Glad you understand.” Duck finishes his repairs under watchful eyes. At one point, the siren swims all the way to the rock Duck is perched on, resting his chin on his hands, as if enjoying the view.

Duck scrambles back into the boat the moment he’s done, but no cold fingers try for his ankles and no splash announces something lunging upwards after him. A cautious glance as he starts the engine finds the siren sitting on the rock, silver-blue tail still half in the water. When he notices Duck looking, he waves.

The rest of the journey goes as planned, the relief on folks faces when Duck docks worth the peril. When he reaches the siren’s territory on his return, no song tempts him. A lithe shape keeps pace with the boat, fin breaking the surface now and then. When he hits open water, the siren turns back, disappearing from view.

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

There are sex dreams, and then there’s whatever the fuck Duck is having right now. Fingers stroke his hair, cling to his shoulders. Kisses coat his face and a voice whispers his name as the speaker offers themself to him again and again. He sees himself tangled with a man, face always just out of focus, who spreads his legs and lips so Duck can sink himself into the heat of his body. The dream is endless and he doesn’t care, doesn’t ever want to wake up.

Saltwater in his lungs renders that desire useless. He snaps back to consciousness as another wave hits him; he’s up to his neck in the cove below his house.

“The fuck?” It’s only his footprints visible in the moonlight in the sand, so no one dumped him here.

“Oh dear.”

“Jesus!” Duck stumbles back as glowing eyes peer around a rock. It’s the siren from yesterday, swimming purposefully as Duck wades backwards.

“Look, uh, when I said I wanted you to wait to eat me, I wasn’t bein serious. Or, uh, I was, but I meant I didn’t want to be eaten ever, not just then. It was a, uh, a joke.”

“I am aware.” The siren stops as Duck topples on his ass in the shallow water, “and I am sorry. I, ah, I did not mean to lure you from your bed. I was not aware my mindless singing was enough to wake you. In most futures, you slept until dawn.”

“Uh huh, sure, because sirens are known to just serenade folks without wanting to drown ‘em.”

“We do it more often than you might think.” The siren sighs, “I came here to keep you safe, and succeeded only in making you afraid.”

Duck, having scooted inelegantly onto dry land, watches the tan upper body of the siren sag. It’s awkward, a word not associated with this kind of mer. That suggests he’s telling the truth.

“You gonna tell me why you’re playin watchdog at my house?”

The siren chirps, intrigued, “In all but one future you told me to go away.”

“That’d just leave me with more questions. And so far, you ain’t done anythin other’n watch me; if you say this was an accident, I’m willin to hear you out.”

“Wonderful!” The siren claps his hands together and the tip of his tail flips out of the water. Then he clears his throat and recites, “I am known as Indrid Cold. As you noticed, I am a siren. I am also a gifted seer, artist, and lifeguard when humans are unconscious and thus will not try to kill me for rescuing them. I am an excellent fisher, and well-liked and/or feared by the larger creatures of this coastline. This is why I think I would be an excellent mate.”

“O-kay. Did you call me out here to practice your personals ad?” Duck smirks, charmed by Indrids earnest tone.

“This is not practice. I did a great deal of that earlier today. This is my formal declaration that I would very much like you to be my mate.”

“Ma--hold on.” The images from his near-fatal dream return, “were you singin’ to hit on me?”

Indrid crosses his arms, “For the last time, that song was not for you. It was about you, because I was daydreaming and my formless melody unintentionally conveyed the contents of said daydream into your mind.”

“So everythin in it, all that wild fuckin stuff, that’s stuff you wanna do with me?”

A nod, accompanied by a flash of white light under the water.

“Why?”

“Because you are strong, and handsome, and capable on the water. I watched your futures yesterday and today and saw you are kind as well, well-liked by other humans but a little lonely at night. You are very nice to that small land-otter that lives in your house.”

“You mean the cat?”

“That’s the word! Yes, you are nice to your cat. You are not brash or cruel, and you look so very nice without a shirt. I...I like you, Duck. You are everything I want in a mate.”

“Feel like I might be missin’ some gills and fins.” He jokes to cover the fact he’s scanning his mind and body for the same dreamy lull he felt during the song. What he finds in it’s place is his ego purring from praise and wondering exactly what a siren would do for his mate.

“There is no rule that says I must choose only my own kind for such activities. I, ah, I know it is strange, given how little we know of each other, but I thought that, ah, since humans will have casual sex with each other maybe we could, or, ah, that is…” He’s watching Duck with such unconcealed hope that the human almost joins him in the water.

“Indrid, I’m real flattered. But I’d be a damn fool if I didn’t point out this feels like a fuckin trap. Pretty easy for you to drag me to my death once we’re, uh, in the middle of things. Not that I’m sayin you would.” He adds when the sirens smile dims.

“A sensible concern. May I join you on land for a moment? There is something I want to show you.”

Duck pats the sand beside him, eyes following the ripples of Indrid’s tail as he swims, slithers, and slides onto the beach. It reminds Duck of an oarfish, though when Indrid spies him looking the scales flash deep purple.

“Look there” Indrid points toward the end of the silver ribbon of scales; a round, white scar stares up at Duck. The details of a day over two decades in the past return to him.

“You’re the siren I found when I was a kid.”

“Indeed. I remember you by your eyes, though your face has some echoes of that day in it’s curves. You saved my life, showed me mercy when I expected none. Sirens do not forget a favor, and we do not kill those who once spared us. I will never harm you, even if you turn me away tonight. You will be safe, whether that is in my arms or merely in my territory.”

Duck avoids the stranger sides of life by the sea, citing a lifelong incompatibility with the weird. Turns out all he needed to find his exception to that rule is a handsome siren looking at him like he set the tides in motion.

The human runs a finger up the sirens tail, sparks of purple and pale blue light igniting in it’s wake.

“Didn’t know y’all changed colors.” He pets Indrid’s hip and the whole tail lights up this time.

“I am a deep-sea siren by birth, we use light to communicate emotions.”

“Mind, uh, loopin me in on the conversation?”

“Purple means desire. It’s a common color in mating displays.” Indrid watches Duck’s hand glide along his scales, and a burst of pale blue reflects across their faces.

“And that one?”

“Submission.” Indrid murmurs, “it is, ah, not the most desirable color to show. My kind value strength and power; enjoying the opposite is an invitation to mockery.” The siren’s eyes stay downcast, even when Duck smooths silver hair from his face.

“Now, I like to joke as much as the next fella, but that don’t seem like somethin to tease about.”

“No?” Indrid’s gaze flicks onto Duck the instant before the man straddles him. Duck doesn’t even have to push him onto his back; he goes instantly, hands flat on the sand and tail twitching excitedly in the shallows.

“No. Seems to me a sweet thing like you oughta be takin care of.”

Indrid snickers, “That is not usually an adjective one uses for meAHahnn” he arches as Duck tugs his hair.

“Let’s get one thing straight, sugar; I decide what you get called. I wanna call you the most perfect creature in the sea, I will. And if I wanna call you a needy little mer who’s good for nothin but gettin fucked into the sand, you’re gonna nod and say ‘yes.’ Understood?”

The blue light flashing up his tail brightens, “Y-yes but, but why do you call me sugar? That is a food.”

Duck giggles, leans down to brush their noses together, “It’s a nickname, call you it because you’re sweet and I can’t wait to get my fill of you.”

“Ohhhh, I see.”

“You wanna see somethin else?”

“Very much soOH, oh goodness.” Indrid gasps as Duck forces his gaze towards his cock attempting to free itself from his boxers. He grinds on the supple muscle of his tail to take the pressure off, chuckles when the siren whines and tries to kiss his chest.

“Since you’re the only siren I’d ever even consider fuckin-” Duck pauses as Indrid moans loudly, digging his fingers into the sand, “you gotta show me how to go about it.”

“If, if you just continue as you are a little higher upyes, yes right there” He rolls his hips, purrs with such a blissful expression that Duck is powerless to do anything but kiss him. His affection grows when he notices Indrid clearly restraining his kisses so as not to catch Duck’s mouth or tongue with his sharp teeth. The last guy he fucked shoved his tongue down his throat without any build-up or finesse, and now all he can think is if only Indrid had made his feelings know sooner, Duck could have done away with shitty human dates and had an obedient, eager mer instead.

“Mmmmm” Indrid licks his lips, runs his fingers up Duck’s sides, “kissing is nice. It is not something sirens often indulge in, so my chances to do it are few and far between.”

“Ain’t that a shame” Duck kisses the corners of his mouth, “lips like these were made to be kissed sore.”

Indrid purrs, wiggling his tail, and Duck looks down to see a slit opening where his clothed cock has been rubbing.

“Huh. Kinda figured you had-”

“-I have both this and an appendage below it much like your own.”

“Handy.” Duck, in no mood to climb off the purring, otherworldly man, eases the waistband of his damp boxers just under his balls.

“This, uh, this ain’t gonna actually create a, I mean, I don’t wanna accidentally-”

“Nono, there is no chance of procreation”

“And you’ll be okay with so little of you in the water?”

“Yesyes I will be fine.” Indrid tugs at his hips, bucks his own into the air in frustration.

“Just checkin’ oh, oh fuck” Indrid is tight and ridged around his dick as it slides in, “fuckin christ, no wonder sailors’ll crash into rocks at the offerin of fuckin a siren, wait, fuck, that was probably rude.”

“I will let it slide” Indrid teases, the end of his tail curling around Duck’s left ankle, “on account of your body is so lovely I would beach myself and die gasping on your doorstep for a chance to touch it.”

“No need for that. All you gotta do is wait here like a good little mer and I’ll fuck you as much as you want.” The slit pulses as Duck slowly fucks in and out, and he knows he’ll have to throw out all his fleshlights after this because nothing will ever compare to the deliciously alien feeling of Indrid around his dick.

“Do, do not joke about such things.” Indrid whimpers, clinging to his shoulders.

“I ain’t. You wanted a mate, right?”

“Yes, you, so very badly.”

“Well, you got one, and you feel so goddamn good on my cock I ain’t inclined to let you swim off and be someone else’s.”

“I do not want to, I only want you, please, please let me stay.”

Duck stills his hims and the siren writhes as he leans down. The human cups his cheek, “I want you to stay, ‘Drid. I wanna get to know you. Long as you promise you ain’t gonna fuck me unless you want to, and not because you’re scared I’ll turn you loose.”

“I promise.” Indrid initiates the kiss this time, purring when Duck takes his time kissing back.

“Good. Now that we got that cleared up” Duck sits up, “be a good mate and take what I give you.” He fucks in as hard as he dares, dives back down to kiss Indrid’s lips and throat as the mer’s cock emerges. Duck finds he can grind his ass along the twisting shaft at the same time he drives his own into Indrid’s body, resulting in a wail of pleasure and teeth sinking into his shoulder.

“Fuck!”

“Sorry!” Indrid squeaks, hiding his face in Duck’s neck, “it, it is a reflex-”

Duck yanks his head back to his shoulder, near the first mark, and holds it down, “Do it again.”

Indrid trills and pain lights up Duck’s body, the perfect counterpoint to the pleasure coursing through him with each roll of their bodies. The siren chirps and moans, nips his arms and ears, slides his tail along his legs as his cock pumps frantically against his ass.

“That’s it sweet thing, cum for me while I fuck you. Show me just what my mate is for.” Duck bites Indrid’s neck and cum splatters the backs of his thighs as Indrid’s repetitions of his name drown out the noise of the waves. Duck’s orgasm follows fast, sweeps through him like the crescendo of a song carried on the night air.

Duck stays buried in him well after he’s finished, mind already conjuring images of tying Indrid down in shallow water and keeping his cock warm all day.

“Duck?”

“Yeah, sugar?”

“I, ah, I need to get back in the water.”

“Oh shit, yeah, sure.” He pulls out, tosses his sea-soaked boxers up the beach as Indrid slides into the sea. Duck wades in, stopping where it’s waist deep as the siren swims lazily circles around him.

“Such a perfect mate.”

“Glad you still think so.”

Indrid curls up to him, rubbing their cheeks together, “Thank you for indulging me. Do...do you wish me to come back tomorrow? Or to stay tonight? There are no other mers between here and my territory, so there is no reason I cannot count this stretch as mine.”

Duck kisses one of the hickeys blooming on tan skin, “How’s about you stay the night. We got some things to talk about. And, if you’re real good, I might let you fuck me when we’re done.”

Indrid grins, “My dearest one, I believe we have a deal.”

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

Nowadays, if you ever go near Kepler and the surrounding islands, you may hear people talk about Duck Newton, beloved native son, skilled park ranger, and the only man receive siren kisses and live to tell the tale.

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #mermaid au #siren au #monster march #monster boyfriend

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outlier-rookie · 4 years ago

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Of Blood and Greatness - Chapter 1

Chapter 1/?? - The Kid In The Camp

AO3 Link

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26305741/chapters/64050937

***

“Who’s there?” John’s rough voice called out as Arthur rode back into camp.

“It’s Arthur! You dumbass.” He yelled in reply, receiving a huff in return.

“You’re back. Dutch wants to speak to ya.”

“What’s he want this time?” Arthur asked, drawing his horse to a halt in front of the other man.

“Ask him yourself.” The scared man replied, walking right past Arthur to continue his patrol.

Grumbling under his breath, Arthur guided his horse, a proud Andalusian he’d taken to calling Admiral on account of the stallions headstrong and commanding nature, over to the hitching posts. As he rode over his eyes were drawn to an unfamiliar horse hitched by the camp entrance, waiting patiently and grazing on the tufts of grass at its hooves. It was a gorgeous Missouri Fox Trotter with a clean golden coat and a rich dark mane streaked with blonde. He didn’t spend long studying the horse and instead picked up the buck he’d stowed on Admiral’s back and began trudging over to Pearson’s wagon.

But for the second time in as many minutes, an unfamiliar sight drew his attention. Sitting at the circular table and looking very out of place was a kid. Arthur took a moment to study them as he passed wondering what a young one such as themselves was doing in the middle of a camp of outlaws. The kid couldn’t have been older than thirteen or fourteen and was on the thin side. They weren’t that tall either, wearing a shirt too big for their thin frame with the sleeves rolled up in an effort to make the ill-fitting garment more wearable. In their hands they fidgeted with a ratty old hat and their hair was mattered and dirty giving the impression the kid hadn’t had so much as a bedroll to sleep on. An old memory of when Hosea and Dutch first took him in, and later John, drifted into Arthur’s thoughts as he passed. He’d barely handed the buck over to Pearson when Dutch approached him.

“Arthur, good to see you back, son.” The dark-haired man smiled as he clapped Arthur on the shoulder, directing the younger outlaw back towards the kid sat at the table.

“So what’s going on?” Arthur asked, “John said you wanted to talk to me ‘bout somethin’.” As the two men approached, the kid raised their head and locked eyes with Arthur. Arthur was nearly at a loss for words as the kid stared right into his soul. Their eyes were an almost unnaturally vivid shade of blue; much more intense than his own. What stuck him as odd was the weary look they held. It was the same look he’d sometimes see in Hosea’s eyes. Tired, haunted eyes like that had no place on some kid. Standing, the kid placed the ratty hat on their head and continued to stare at the two men as Dutch started to introduce them.

“This here is, uh.”

“(Y/N). My name’s (Y/N).” The kid filled in.

“Yes, this here is young (Y/N).” Dutch continued, leaving Arthur’s side to stand between him and the kid- (Y/N). “Bold little thing. Road right up into camp saying they wanted to talk to the leader of this gang and wasn’t taking ‘No’ for an answer.” He explained, chuckling lightly as he did. Arthur nodded as he hooked his thumbs into his belt, shifting his weight into a more casual stance.

“Why you coming out here to talk to a bunch of outlaws like us?” He asked watching with a critical eye as the kid hesitated for a moment, their eyes flicking to the ground as they brought their hands together and started picking at the skin around their nails. It took a few false starts before they finally got the words out.

“I want… I want ta join the gang.” Their hands dropped back to their sides and once again Arthur found those piercing blue eyes staring intently at him once more.

“I dunno Dutch.” He started, barely managing to break his gaze away from those haunting blue eyes. “They’re awfully young to be, runnin’ with folk like us.” He said, waving his hand and gesturing to the likes of Bill and Micah.

“I ain’t that young!” (Y/N) snapped.

“Kid, you can’t be more than fourteen at the oldest.”

“I’m fifteen! And I can take care of myself!”

“They why you want to join up with a gang? We ain’t some orphanage kid and we ain’t good people.”

“Now now Arthur.” Dutch cut in, raising his hand between the two. “You were the same age when Hosea and I took you in. And John was much younger.” He argued, drawing an aggravated sigh from Arthur.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea Dutch. Look at em. They’re just a kid. And the world’s changing, cracking down on folks like us. It ain’t safe-”

“I ain’t safe on my own either!” The kid interrupted. “I ain’t been safe since the day I was born. And besides,” They continued, crossing their arms and leaning back on their heels, doing their best to stare down their nose at Arthur, “I don’t come untrained. I can shoot any gun and hit any target and I don’t miss unless the gun fails.”

Arthur stared incredulously at (Y/N) as Dutch let out a hearty laugh.

“And that ain’t the only thing I have to offer.” They continued. “Them fellas, uh. The special lawmen, the uh, the um-”

“The Pinkerton’s.” Dutch supplied.

“Yeah them! The Pinkerton’s are looking for you and are crawling all over Blackwater. But they ain’t looking for me.” Arthur narrowed his eyes and crossed his own arms.

“Whatchu getting at kid?”

“They’re saying, Arthur, that they can get into Blackwater and get our money. We can get out of here and be on our way!”

“I don’t know about this Dutch.”

“I’m with Arthur.” A fourth voice joined the conversation as Hosea strolled up to the three of them. “You’re an avid reader Dutch. Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is’?”

“Come on old friend, think of what this could mean for us! All that money we lost at Blackwater, back in our hand. Valentine is only a temporary stop and we need to move soon. With the money from Blackwater back in our hands we can do a hell of a lot more than what we were originally hoping!”

Hosea sighed and continued to argue against it with Dutch when the kid cut in once more, drawing the attention of just about everyone in camp.

“I already got it!”

Dutch and Hosea froze mid-argument.

“What?” Dutch asked and Arthur swore he heard a note of confusion in the older outlaws voice.

“Your money from Blackwater. I already got it, so even if you sent someone back there and they managed to avoid running into the law, you won’t find it.”

Dutch’s earlier lax and cheerful demeanour disappeared as he stepped closer to the kid, his voice low and dangerous. “And how, exactly, did you find out where we hid it if we are to believe you.”

“Adults don’t pay a lot of attention to kids. Even less so if they’re street kids like me. Heard some of them, fancy-looking fellas, talking ‘nd saying they was investigatin’ you and thought they might know where you hid your valuables in case something happened.”

“And you just happened to get there and find it first?” Arthur growled, arms dropping to his side, right hand hovering by his gun. (Y/N)’s eyes followed Arthur’s movements as they too came to rest on the handle of Arthur’s gun.

“Yeah. I did.” They replied sharply, raising their own eyes back to meet his.

A tense silence filled the air as the camp went quiet.

“Stay. Here.” Dutch’s voice finally broke the silence. “Hosea, Arthur, with me.” The three men trekked away towards Dutch’s tent leaving the teenager alone at the table; a quick signal to Javier had the Mexican man nodding as he set himself up to watch the (h/c) teen while the others talked. Once the flaps to the tent had been drawn and fastened, Arthur exchanged a worried glance with Hosea while Dutch rubbed at his chin, his eyebrows creased with thought.

“What’s the plan Dutch?” Arthur softly questioned a hint of worry colouring his words.

“I’m not sure just yet Arthur. Hosea, what do you think?” Hosea huffed before replying.

“I think we continue with the plan to get away from Valentine. We’ve just about outstayed our welcome and it’s time to move on. I think it far more likely that this kid is part of a Pinkerton trap set to catch us.”

“And if they are telling the truth? If they really have gotten our money out from Blackwater and it’s now within our reach? It a lot of money Hosea, if we had that back then we could get the hell out here.”

“Is the slim chance that they are telling the truth worth the lives of everyone in camp Dutch?” The older outlaw returned. “We’ve already lost the Mac, Davey and Jenny. If this kid is luring us into a trap, who else will we lose?” Dutch brought his hand up to his mouth and nodded solemnly at Hosea’s words, though the crease in his brow suggested he was less than happy with the answer he was given.

“And what do you think Arthur?”

Arthur scratched at his stubble, drawing a hissed breathe as he thought about their options. He strongly sided with Hosea. This whole deal of a random kid wandering into their camp, claiming to have possession of their money was already a wild tale. Add on to that the fact they were apparently willing to just hand it back over to them in return for a place in the gang was just confusing. Anyone with half as much brains as Marston who found the money would have taken it for themselves, and yet this kid was here and offering to give it all back to them with not a lot in return. And yet something was stopping him from outright refusing to consider the kid might be telling the truth.

“I want to ask the kid something first.” He finally said. “They gotta have a reason for wanting to join up with folk like us. This kid could have set themselves up for life if they were smart with the money but instead, they’re trying to return it and get in our good graces. I want to find out what that reason is first.” He finished.

Dutch and Hosea were silent for a spell before the eldest outlaw smiled and clapped Arthur on the arm. “And you claim you ain’t a thinker boy.” Arthur tugged his hat a little further over his face as he averted his eyes, muttering a half-hearted argument under his breath before making his way back toward (Y/N). The teen looked up at Arthur as he stopped by the table, silently regarding the young teen before him. Silently, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it as he kicked a leg up on the short barrel that acted as a chair. The two stared silently at each other as Arthur puffed away before taking the lit cigarette from between his lips and addressed them as Hosea and Dutch watched a short distance behind him.

“Why do you want to join the gang?” He asked slowly, his drawl weighing his words down heavily as he spoke. “You could’ve taken all that money for yourself so why go to all the trouble of bringing it down to us? Worse people than us could have found you and they wouldn’t have had any qualms about robbing and killing some half-starved fifteen-year-old kid sleeping out alone in on the plains.” He paused, taking another drag and lazily blowing out the smoke. “Whatever you want from us must be worth a lot more to you than money.”

(Y/N) didn’t answer straight away. They squeezed their hands tightly and Arthur could barely see them biting their lip from under their ratty hat.

“M’ Dad.” Was the soft reply. Arthur stayed silent and watched as the kid drew a shaky breath. “My auntie. She said that my Daddy is an outlaw. Said that- that he knows the Van Der Linde gang. I just. I want to meet him.” They finished with a shrug.

“What’s your Daddy’s name kid?” Dutch asked, coming up to sit beside the teenager who was suddenly looking much smaller than they did when Arthur first spoke to them.

“I- I don’t-” Again the kid tightly wrung their hands as if it would relieve the emotional pressure they were feeling. “I know what he looks like. That’s all I need. I don’t care if he wants nothin’ ta do with me. I just want him to know that I exist, I suppose.”

Arthur stubbed the end of his cigarette and dropped the butt on the ground, turning to look at Hosea and Dutch who shared a mildly surprised look. Arthur mulled over the information in his head. Fifteen years ago when (Y/N) would have been born, it was mainly Dutch and Hosea finding jobs that he’d sometimes join, while Susan and Bessie looked after John. Uncle might have been around then too but Arthur failed to see any similarities between the drunken old man and the kid who currently looked like they wanted the ground to swallow them.

As Arthur was mulling over everything, Hosea stepped up and took a seat by the teen.

“You mentioned your Aunt earlier, but what about your mother?” he asked gently.

“Don’t have one.” Came a barely legible mumble. Silence once again fell over the group but no one seemed eager to break it this time. Just as he was about to say something, anything really, Dutch beat him to it.

“How far away did you hide the money?”

“W-West of Valentine.”

With a nod, Dutch turned his attention to Arthur. “Arthur, I want you to take Javier and Charles with you and the kid.” Turning back to the kid he continued. “I trust that you aren’t going to lead my boys into a trap.” He said. “If you stay true to your word then there’ll be a place for you among us.”

The kid's face lit up at Dutch’s words. “Yessir!” They cheered; face aglow in the afternoon sun as they turned to Arthur. “We should leave as soon as possible. To be back before the sun gets too low, ya know?” Arthur grunted in response and waved for the kid to mount up. They only took a few steps before spinning back around. “Can I get my gun back?” Dutch shrugged and nodded.

Arthur strolled back over to Admiral, running a hand along the steed’s neck as the horse noses at the satchel hanging by the man’s side. Feeding the stallion a fresh apple, Arthur doubled checked his saddlebags for ammo and supplies while he waited for Charles, Javier, and the kid. Not even five minutes later he was joined by the kid, repeater slung across their back, with Charles and Javier at their heels. They boldly strolled up to the Fox Trotter, smiling brightly as the horse nosed at their offered hand before the kid swung themselves up onto the saddle.

Sparing a place at Charles and Javier and seeing the two men also sat up in their respective horses, Arthur nodded at the kid. “Alright then, lead on.” He instructed with a wave.

“Follow me, gentlemen.”

And with that, they were off.

***

Thank you for your patience! The first chapter for “Of Blood and Greatness” is finally finished!

As a reminder, this is a Red Dead Redemption 2 crossover fanfic as it contains elements of Percy Jackson (you don’t need any prior knowledge of PJO,)

#rdr2 x reader #rdr2 x male reader #rdr2 x gn reader #rdr2 x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption #rdr2 #of blood and greatness #RDR2 crossover #red dead redemption 2

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a-libra-writes · 5 years ago

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Imagine Dating the GoT Characters in Modern Times

okay im still working on that confession request, but this sucker just got away from me lol. couldnt help meself. this is a bit more casual than the others

if i missed any of ya favs, send my ask box a mail pigeon and ill add em!

In this preference, you'll be dating: Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Benjen Stark, Jory Cassel, Dolorous Edd, Tormund Giantsbane, Theon Greyjoy, Yara Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Missandei, Grey Worm, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Jamie Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn, Petyr Baelish, Stannis Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Margaery Tyrell, Brynden Tully, Edmure Tully, Brienne of Tarth, Ramsay Bolton, Roose Bolton, Oberyn Martell, Beric Dondarrion

NED STARK

He always worries so much after you, like if you’re unusually late getting home or you don’t call him back for some time. He won’t bother you about it because knows he worries, and he’s always ready to give you a warm hug when you finally get home. He’s very considerate of how you like things in the home and will fix anything immediately - although, you’re convinced he’s going to drop the AC in a lake if it acts up one more time. He has a picture of your wedding day that he absolutely loves and keeps in a safe spot in his wallet. The same picture is in frame on his desk, along with pictures of the kids. It’s the only decorations he has on the desk.

ROBB STARK

He’s convinced Grey Wind is starting to like you more because you’re the one who gives the goodnight treats. His favorite memories are the times when you both were able to get away to the lake or beach for a few days; he has a picture of you both on his desk at work. If you get him something you’d think he’d like, such as a scarf, he’ll absolutely wear it until it falls apart. Before you two moved in together, he really enjoyed calling you in the evening to hear about your day. Before you started dating, he’d send you pics of Grey Wind because you had the cutest reactions to them - soooo many emojis.

SANSA STARK

She loooves trying new things and hobbies with you, even if it doesn’t always end up so hot. The baking fiasco of 2018 shall not be spoken of, the pictures have been erased, it didn’t happen. She likes doing your make-up if you’ll let her, and she loves it when you two clothes shop together, mostly so she can dress you up. Lady is the most spoiled princess in the Stark family; you and Sansa have an instagram for her, she has her own rhinestone collar and custom bowl, it’s a whole thing. Sansa likes to brush her in the evening while she listens to you about your day or you both catch up with your fav TV shows. You two are way too invested in some of them and sometimes you stay up too late angry tweeting about it.

JON SNOW

You two were mutual friends for a while before you started hanging out exclusively more and more and finally someone asked if you were dating... At that point, you basically were. He really likes going hiking in the woods with you and Ghost, and some of his favorite pictures of you are from these trips - obvs they’re his phone background, and he gets shy if someone looks over his shoulder and asks if you’re his girlfriend. You both have gotten Ghost a nice dog bed and couch but he still likes to sleep at the foot of the bed, then promptly wake you both up at 6am for a walk. Jon was nervous but excited to introduce you to his family; he enjoys holidays with them much more because of you. He loves it when you text him cute things about your day or say you miss him.

BENJEN STARK

He caught your attention when you two began casually dating and he absolutely lit up when he talked about his nieces and nephews, and he showed you lots of pictures. It was just so cute. He absolutely loves it when you wear his shirts, especially the morning after - he will pull you back into the bed. He’s a total night owl but is very considerate of being quiet when you’re asleep. If you end up falling asleep after trying to stay up with him, he’ll carefully carry you back to bed. He works evenings too, so when he comes home early in the morning, he’ll cook you breakfast before staggering to bed (obviously he wants a good morning/night kiss as you get up and get ready).

JORY CASSEL

He’s an absolute sweetheart who will adopt all the dogs and fill up the house with them if you don’t stop him. When he’s playing with them or holding them, you like to take sneaky pictures because it’s just so cute and set it as your phone background. He always has the sweetest compliments for you, regardless if you’re dressing up or you just got out of the shower. The easiest way to fluster him is throw your legs over his lap while you’re wearing shorts or a skirt and just casually snuggle up. One day one of your dogs got out and you two were so beside yourself with worry, calling all the shelters and making posters and just stressing out together. The pup showed up a few hours later covered in mud and you both ran to hug her at the same time.

EDD TOLLETT

You’d actually been hanging out with him for a while because of your mutual friends, mostly Jon. You two had such an obvious crush on each other but wouldn’t make a move, so he and Sam did the trick where they invited you both out, then made an excuse and left you two alone. He’s the master of sending a meme in response to a text you sent two hours ago. He won’t admit how much he really likes it when you wear his shirts, either to bed or out on a date. They’re almost exclusively black metal band shirts with really weird art. You both tend to go to a lot of outdoor music festivals; he always wants to hold your hand so he doesn’t lose you in a crowd.

TORMUND GIANTSBANE

His beard and hair are still wild, don’t you worry, and he’s endlessly amused when it tickles you when he kisses you. His clothes are kind of a mess so you always try to straighten them out or iron them, which he really appreciates. Whenever he sees something cool, he has to immediately take a picture and send it to you. Sometimes he’s too excited about something, he just calls you or comes over. He’d totally want to go to nature reserves, zoos and parks for dates; he loves being outdoors and thinks you look best when the sunlight is on you. He’ll take so many pics on these dates but he’s a pretty bad cameraman (he tries!). He’ll go for the tallest rollercoaster at an amusement park and immediately regret it once the drop starts; he’s secretly relieved if you don’t want to go on one.

THEON GREYJOY

Let’s be honest, he’s kind of a fuckboy so you don’t date him too seriously. He’s the one who gets attached first and starts exclusively dating you. He really likes collecting guitars and would be stoked if you’d play or sing along with him. He prefers outdoor dates, but sports bars and music clubs are fun, too. No matter what, he’d be giving lots of PDA and wouldn’t take kindly to guys hitting on you. He always finds the most bizarre food or drink recipes online that he wants to try, usually resulting in your kitchen being a warzone afterward. Yara totally bullies him on his insta, no matter how much he blocks her.

YARA GREYJOY

She’s the definition of the types of girls your parents really didn’t want you to bring home but Here We Are. She has the most badass boots that she wears with an eyeliner with a wing so sharp it could kill a man. She loves pulling you close and being touchy with you in bars and clubs, especially when men are bothering you. Her diet 80% microwave so you have to cook actual food for her and make sure she eats. Family gatherings or phone calls always bother her, so you have to help calm her down afterward, usually with lots of making out. She’d like you to go with her when she gets tattoos so she has someone to chat and laugh with, and she’d subtly suggest you’d look cute with a piercing. She’ll kill the bugs in the relationship as long as you give her a thank you kiss, no matter what you’re in the middle of.

DAENERYS TARGARYEN

She absolutely LOVES Christmastime and wants to decorate the whole house, send a Christmas card with you and her three bearded dragons and wear matching Christmas sweaters (she can be surprisingly stubborn about that). Cuddling on the sofa and watching movies usually ends her falling asleep on you, and if you try to move her she grumbles and hugs you closer. The background for her phone is you looking very worried, holding her three bearded dragons after she posed them on you. She’d much rather wear your hoodies and shirts than her own, sometimes only that if she’s lounging at home with you. She tries to plan a really nice date at least once a month, preferably you two going on a little weekend trip to a musical festival or a beach.

JORAH MORMONT

He texts he loves you at least twice throughout the day. When you go out on dates, he’s always worried if you need a jacket or if you’ve had enough to eat. Heel is digging into your ankle and giving you a blister? This guy has band-aids. When he gets home early, he likes to cook a quick dinner that’ll be ready when you’re home. Watching kdramas with Jorah is great because he gets so baffled and ask you if this is what kids watch nowadays, but then he gets surprisingly emotional over the big confessions and love triangles. Walking through a park or boardwalk at sunset while holding your hand is maximum serotonin for him.

MISSANDEI

Her absolute favorite part of the day is the chat you two have in the evening while you take off make-up, wash your faces and fix your hair before bed. Sometimes you talk about your day, sometimes you listen to music or have a show on. She really doesn’t like phones or laptops in bed because she just wants to cuddle or be intimate. You introduced her to theme parks, and now she absolutely loves them. Missandei will find the biggest coaster and pull you toward it, she also would like you to win her one of those stuffed animals at the shooting games. She’ll put them on a shelf in your room. Sometimes she reads a book that bothers her so much, she has to stop everything, march in the living room and tell you all about it.

GREY WORM

You asked him out by writing your number on his cup at the cafe you worked out. You never got a text or call, but he suddenly showed up a few days later, totally blushing and asking you out. It was kind of adorable. He really likes keeping the apartment tidy and totally loves your baking. You didn’t think he had a sweet tooth, and he's been trying out different recipes to share with you. He can be pretty shy around your friends, so you hang with him solo. He has surprisingly strong opinions on movies, so movie dates always spiral into film theory discussions. He's so baffled by social media but he follows and likes everything you because your posts and pics are cute.

TYWIN LANNISTER

You two met at your company’s expensive party, he interested you right away and you had fun flirting and trading verbal spars. You weren’t sure how he got your number, but he’d end up calling you up for dinners and dates and so on. That ended up turning into trips and long stays at his manor and basically you ended up living there. Tywin enjoys giving you all sorts of expensive gifts and clothes, which he of course doesn’t see as a big deal because you deserve it. Eventually you’d bother him about what you mean to him, and that’s when he’d just outright ask if you’d rather be married. Quite frankly, he doesn’t care about his children’s thoughts on the matter. He really prefers the dates and vacations that are more relaxing, especially when he gets to see you smile at something you haven’t seen.

TYRION LANNISTER

You and Tyrion discuss books like some people discuss politics. Actually, you both tend to have a lot of long discussions, but you both are so opinionated on books. He actually writes quite a bit and dedicates a lot of it to you. His favorite thing to do is make you laugh in public while you’re drinking something; he knows it drives you nuts and it’s adorable how much you sputter and look for a napkin. He blames you for Jamie’s love of ironic emojis, and he likes to send you screenshots of Cersei’s weird facebook rants. When he’s stressing over a writing deadline, he adores it when you give him a massage and help him calm down.

JAMIE LANNISTER

He’d often tease you about using so many cutest emojis in your text messages, so he started ironically using them. You’re positive he just picks them at random but he figured out that eggplant and peach REAL quick. When you first started dating, he tried to impress you with expensive gifts and dates, but he vastly prefers the lowkey cuddles at your apartment. His head in your lap, your pet curled around his legs and him reading off ridiculous shit Cersei posts on facebook … That’s the ideal. He was a nervous wreck when you met Tywin, although he was trying to play it off and be cool.

SANDOR CLEGANE

He’s such a grumpy bear that a lot of people wonder how the heck you two got together. You both like to hang out at music bars and clubs, and he’s always got a protective arm around you, and as the evening winds down he likes to nuzzle your hair and receive any kisses you give. He sleeps in really late and grumbles when you pull him out of bed to get his ass outside. He’ll always take care of the yard work and grills the best barbecue. He actually really likes when you ask him what he thinks about an outfit, even if he just says it’s fine, because he likes the way you twirl and show off your backside. There’s probably a football team he’s obsessed with and he WILL text you angrily about someone getting a red card or missing a goal.

BRONN

When you asked for his number, you were shook that he still had a goddamn flip phone. Even after dating for forever, he still has that damn thing. Your favorite date spot is live music bars, even if he starts to get overly affectionate and pull you in his lap. He has leather jackets and sometimes wears black cowboy boots with them and it just … works? He also probably rides a motorcycle but makes sure you have the proper clothes and helmet and actually obeys traffic laws when you’re riding with him. He’ll still flip off drivers, though. He doesn’t go to the doctor, his sick ass shows up on your doorstep half-dead and you force cold medicine down his throat while scolding him. He just likes being looked after, not that he’ll ever admit it.

PETYR BAELISH

You’re kind of surprised he asked you out, he seemed like a very wealthy, prominent person and you were a little worried. But on all your dates he’s nothing but a gentleman and he wants to go places you enjoy to know you better. Even if you both go somewhere more lowkey like a cafe or an art museum, he just has to impress you by picking you up in a nice car. He’s much more genuine in evenings at your apartment when you cuddle with him, or when you send sweet texts that he has trouble responding to right away because they’re just so nice. He likes to follow your social media just to see what you’re up to, and he has a picture of you on his desk, probably one where you’re wearing something he got you.

STANNIS BARATHEON

He’s on top of anything that needs to be fixed or dealt with around the house, sometimes without you even noticing they were broken. He’s very grateful when you plan dates for fun or for anniversaries, because he has trouble with such things. He also totally melts when you bring him coffee in the morning with a kiss, or take his coat when he comes home. Holidays are an absolute mess; last year he was THIS close to throttling Renly with a string of holly. You like changing his phone background to saucy pictures of yourself, because he already sucks at phones and now he’s bright red and it’s taking him five minutes to figure out how to change it. You were pretty bummed when he finally figured out how to set up a phone lock, so now you just text the pictures while he’s at home. It takes a few seconds before you hear him sputter and drop his phone in the other room.

DAVOS SEAWORTH

Admittedly, Davos is a little insecure about the age difference between you two, but he’s always very comforted when you hold his hand and kiss him in public. He always has interesting places to take you, and somehow he seems to know at least one person there. He always has a new story about how he lost his fingers and now it’s just an inside joke between you two. You think its hilarious how worked up he gets about his sports teams, and he cracks up when you yell at competitive cooking shows. Sometimes he needs your help deciphering Stannis’ weird, cryptic texts. He’s very weak when you’re dressing up to go out, especially when you slip on pantyhose and heels.

MARGAERY TYRELL

You didn’t realize how big of an influencer she was until she innocently asked for a selfie of the two of you. You were on a beach date and you kissed her cheek while she made a cute pose. Much later she showed you the pic on her instagram and holy shit is that’s 20k likes what in the seven hells. If it’s a sunny day, she absolutely wants to go out to the beach or an outdoor mall or anything. She likes to show you pics of outfits, ask your opinion, and buy it as a surprise if you really love it. If you both got a pet together, she’d basically treat it like your kid. She loves taking you with her on her family’s expensive vacations, and she can’t stop holding your hand and grinning the whole time.

BRYNDEN TULLY

Brynden is also worried about the age gap between you two, and it often bothers him when people mistake him for your father while you two are out. He loves talking about you to his nieces and nephew. He held off on telling his brother out of spite, because he knew Hoster was going to bug him about proposing. His favorite thing to do with you is go boating on the family’s lake, especially when you’re laughing as you try to keep your hat on. His absolute favorite picture is a selfie you took while you were in his lap, you’re making a silly face while he’s kissing your cheek.

EDMURE TULLY

He loves doing the silliest, most domestic stuff with you. Doing laundry together while joking around, picking out furniture to match in the living room, even adopting a dog or a kitten who would end up spoiled rotten. He’d actually fall for you quickly while you were dating and already think of your wedding and a family, but he wouldn’t want to pressure you at all. He has the worst bedhead and you have to grab him before he runs out to work and try to tame it. You both have the most ridiculous in-jokes and when you watch dramas, you both get way too emotionally invested and try not to cry in front of each other.

BRIENNE OF TARTH

She’s very shy about taking selfies with you until you encourage her and insist she’s adorable. She takes good care of her health and works out a lot, and she’s definitely want you to join her for the latter. She’s great with motivating and praising you! She likes dates where you two just wander around outdoor malls or museums, you just walk and chat about all sorts of things. You’re absolutely her phone background and lock screen, and when her dad calls to check on her she ends up talking about you a lot. You both like to put on cooking shows while you fold laundry or clean and you end up getting so distracted.

RAMSAY BOLTON

You weren’t totally keen on introducing him to your parents, then they suddenly came over while he was hanging out with you and he was such a Perfect Gentleman™ you almost got whiplash. He’s the reason stray dogs always hang around your backyard and porch, he leaves food out for them. He always frowns when you cover up his hickeys with concealer. He’s not the least bit phased by horror or slasher movies, but puts them on TV anyway so you can cling to him and hide your face. He’s absolutely the sort to threaten any male friends he thinks are too close to you, then play innocent when you confront him. He likes date spots that are a little more secluded, so he can grab your body and give you a deep kiss anytime he’s wanting you.

ROOSE BOLTON

In the morning, he always has to kiss you when he wakes up and before he leaves for work, no exceptions. He’s very private so those he works with are surprised to learn he’s married, but once you two are together at some company party it’s obvious he dotes on you. His kinks are even more pronounced now and he loves buying you things he wants to see you wear. He’d like to have a family with you once you’re ready. He’d be super into you sending him sexy pictures during the day, but he won’t respond right away or pretend the picture didn’t load just to mess with you.

OBERYN MARTELL

He looooves surprising you with thoughtful gifts, weekend trips or even just flowers sent to your work with a loveydovey note that has all your coworkers teasing you. He hangs around at your apartment so much, you wonder why he just doesn’t move in. He will absolutely love any flirty texts or sexy pictures you send him over the phone, and he’ll respond in kind. When your relationship started getting more serious, he introduced you to his family and daughters, and fell even more in love with you because you were so kind to everyone. He always wants to take you places because he thinks you’re the cutest when you’re amazed by new things.

BERIC DONDARRION

A mutual friend hooked you both up for a blind date, which bothered you a lot, but Beric was so nice, genuine and apologetic that you decided to go through with it anyway. You’re grateful you live in a cold climate because he looooves the fireplace and snuggling with you in front of it. He’s not the best at cooking and would appreciate you teaching him, also you look super cute in an apron so that’s a bonus. Expect a ton of different outdoors and camping trips from him, also he’s the worst about getting injured and insisting he’s fine, even when there’s blood all over the bathroom sink.

#game of thrones #got #asoiaf #game of thrones imagines #game of thrones x reader #these take soooo long to format #also i figured out tumblr just stops counting my character tags past 30 so thats cool

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kiranxrys · 4 years ago

Text

Alone Together Episode 3 Transcript

I apologise for taking so long on this one, Episode 4 will be posted much more quickly. This is a viewer-made transcript of Episode 3 ‘Tango’ of Alone Together: A DS9 Companion performed on the Sid City Social Club.

watch: one | two | three | four

read: one | two | four

ANNOUNCER (ON-SCREEN): ‘Alone Together’ – a Deep Space 9companion, Episode 3 – ‘Tango’. Centuries ago, the Military Assault Command was integrated into Starfleet. Not willing to completely abandon the militant aspects of protection, Section 31 of the Federation Charter retained certain aspects of the four founding species’ respective militaries. Eventually, the surreptitious organisation Section 31 enlisted Doctor Julian Bashir as an unwilling operative. Ultimately, he realized one cold fact – that it was better to work from within, than to fight the good fight from the outside. This led to many strange bedfellows and even more regretful complications. However, by playing the game, Bashir has risen to a leadership role in Section 31 with unwelcome alliances from foes old and new in this quadrant.

[fade to black]

RECAP: In our last episode, Jake Sisko joined Doctor Bashir in his efforts to determine the origin of the Cardassian virus. Though a Romulan agent is likely to be responsible, they have not found a cure and time is running out. Garak’s condition is progressing, which suggests his people are also in dire straits. Jake persists in his investigation of the source of the virus, while Doctor Bashir continues his work on a cure.

JULIAN BASHIR (VOICE ONLY): Mission log, stardate 73714.2. I’m continuing to work on the structure of the virus. I know that I’ve seen a similar nucleotide sequence but the Cardassian RNA is complicating matters. Every simulation I’ve run on the computer indicates the vaccine will not work in the same way. The pathogen appears to share characteristics of bacteria and viruses. The vaccine destroys the bacterial sheath, but the underlying virus remains unaffected. I’m hoping to interrupt viral protein synthesis, but the challenge is ensuring other genetic material remains unaffected.

JULIAN (ON-SCREEN): Garak? [pause] Garak, are you there?

ELIM GARAK (ON-SCREEN): Yes, yes – just a moment, Doctor, I’m sorry. Ah, yes, I was in your cursed scanner and I’m still there, wandering about like a beggar in the wilderness. Where-

JULIAN: I’m sorry Garak, unfortunately these tests are the only way to make progress. By the way, when-

GARAK: Ah, good. Good, good. All right. The computer should be compiling – one moment, Doctor. It should be compiling the results now. All right, yes. Where were we…

JULIAN: Well, I asked you, Garak – when was the last time you had a conversation with anyone on Romulus?

GARAK: A conversation? Oh, well… well I suppose it’s been some time.

JULIAN: This virus is working quickly, so please dispel your natural inclination towards suspense. Our best theory is that the Romulans are somehow involved in all of this.

GARAK: All right, all right Doctor. An old acquaintance named Koval, he sent a rather… ambiguous message recently.

JULIIAN: Koval?

GARAK: Yes.

JULIAN: We’ve met.

GARAK: Oh, the pleasures we share. May I continue?

JULIAN: What did he say?

GARAK: He said he heard that Cardassia was returning to its renaissance and I to my roots. He congratulated me! Somehow, he became aware that the Obsidian order was in the midst of a rebirth of sorts. It became necessary to secure Cardassian interests as democracy took hold – a happy people are a sedate people. But Doctor, as the leader of this world, I cannot afford to relax. So I returned to what I knew, and the Order rose from the ashes of the Cardassian past.

JULIAN: I assumed it was something like that, but you said it was an ambiguous message. That seems pretty straightforward.

GARAK: Well, acquaintance was perhaps the wrong word – we were adversaries.

JULIAN: Meaning?

GARAK: Well, Koval tried to have me killed a dozen times during my exile. Once by the Duras Sisters – charming ladies, I so like them – once by Bajoran militants, and once – actually, several times, after the Romulans entered the war. Yes and… and one of their offers would happen by my shop from time to time. Koval always contacted me after each of his failures to congratulate me.

JULIAN: Each time he made an attempt on your life, he congratulated you?

GARAK: Yes, yes. Doctor, Koval is nothing if not a good sport.

JULIAN: Well Garak, don’t you see this time he’s congratulating you before you’re supposed to die. He had you infected.

GARAK: Ooh, circumstantial I suppose, but… well, it does fit all of the appropriate information. According to the Order’s operatives on Romulus, Koval has had to step down.

JULIAN: Tuvan Syndrome?

GARAK: Yes, Tuvan Syndrome, exactly. Koval kept that mostly to his trusted advisor. Only a handful of members of the Obsidian Order found out after he revealed his illness to the senate.

JULIAN: I’m surprised we didn’t learn of this plot. Koval was a mole for Starfleet Intelligence – well, until his recent retirement.

GARAK: Indeed. Of all of his failures to kill me, at least Koval chose the winning team.

JULIAN: Right, uh… let me have a look at your results. Hmm… The microcellular analysis – it looks so familiar. It looks like an intracellular pathogen but… but…

[pause]

GARAK: Well, do take your time Doctor. I mean, genocides are known for their glacial pace.

JULIAN: Quickening. The pathogen has characteristics of both bacteria and viruses. Why didn’t I see this sooner?

GARAK: Quickening? [pause] What is it Doctor, please?

JULIAN: Garak, you need to start all infected Cardassian on the antigen right away. I can send the formula to you. It may even reverse very early infections, but we can’t be sure. Just give me some time to modify it for Cardassian physiology. Another thing, the infected should be isolated from EM fields – scanning and diagnostic equipment could lead to mutation.

GARAK: All right, I’m transmitting the order now to isolate the patients. I eagerly await your formula. [pause] Doctor- Julian, will your antigen cure this… Quickening?

JULIAN: Garak, I can’t even be sure it’ll work at all. This pathogen has been significantly altered. The Quickening caused systemic collapse of vascular structure but didn’t have the capacity to cause neural defects. It has a similar configuration, but it isn’t The Quickening. In the Teplan people, the antigen only worked as a vaccine. Today, there are virtually no infected people left on the planet. But this pathogen… well, it’s far more intricate. If nothing else, the antigen may protect unborn children. Computer – begin a genomic analysis of the viral protein currently displayed. Insert chromosome adaptations into the antigen established for The Quickening to this genome.

COMPUTER: Awaiting additional input.

JULIAN: Garak, I’ll have the formula to you shortly.

GARAK: Well, I- I can’t very well tell my people that some of them must die, a rare few could live and that their children alone will survive. I mean, haven’t you been studying this disease for years?

JULIAN: Yes Garak, but again, this isn’t the same sickness. It looks like The Quickening on the most basic scale. Another doctor may not even have recognised it. The Dominion engineered their viruses specifically to punish the Teplan people for daring to defy them. The pathogen underwent a random mutation that accelerated the vascular collapse without warning. It was unnaturally accelerated by EM emissions.

GARAK: And how does it naturally accelerate?

JULIAN: Look, when I say random mutation, I mean that it happened entirely at random. But the DNA sequence on this virus are almost entirely Cardassian. It was built from the ground up, nucleotide by nucleotide, but it’s definitely based on the pathogen structure of The Quickening. At least the antigen gives us a starting point.

GARAK: Well, then it looks like you have work to do, Doctor.

JULIAN: Yes, yes, of course. Now back to more immediate concerns, Garak – your heart appears to be developing some mild swelling in the fourth ventricle. Give yourself another hypospray with 15 milligrams of improvoline and repeat it every six hours – it should help stabilise your vascular pressure. Add 10 milligrams of cordrazine for any potential discomfort. The challenge of The Quickening is that neither an antibiotic nor an antiviral agent can interrupt its replication process quickly enough to stop its proliferation. It simply hides itself within the lymphatic system, waiting for a new chance to propagate.

GARAK: Well, that sounds rather insidious.

JULIAN: It is, it is, but this pathogen affects neurons, and the closest lymph nodes are in the neck.

GARAK: Oh dear. [pauses]

JULIAN: What?

GARAK: Doctor, as you requested, patients are being isolated from EM fields but I’ve just received word that the first death has occurred in the Coranum sector of the capital, and two new patients in Lakarian City have been placed in quarantine as they’ve begun… babbling.

JULIAN: Well, babbling isn’t the worst of symptoms. Wait- is there any nominal aphasia?

GARAK: It’s… babbling is putting it mildly. They’re both glinns in the military, Julian. Apparently they’ve been revealing classified weapons locations to anyone who will listen. The neurological impact of this virus seems to compel the infected to share secrets. Doctor, it is exactly as I feared. Koval must have been hoping I would betray myself. [chuckles] I’m impressed! And I am not easily impressed.

JULIAN: Well Garak, you are such a practiced liar, I hardly think anyone would believe much of what you would tell them.

GARAK: Oh, why Doctor, I don’t know what to say. Am I blushing?

JULIAN: My recent simulations suggest that the original vaccine won’t be effective. It’s a start, but it won’t do nearly enough to destroy the pathogen. I’m making progress though.

GARAK: I appreciate optimism Doctor, but naivete is hardly in my nature. Perhaps your optimism will be as infectious as this disease.

JULIAN: Perhaps. I hope.

GARAK: Hope? [laughs] Hope, my dear doctor, has never been found in a hypospray. We now have dozens of patients who’ve progressed to this dangerous place of… unchecked honesty. I’m running out of time.

JAKE SISKO (VOICE ONLY): Julian.

JULIAN: Jake!

JAKE (ON-SCREEN): Julian, I have news. And I’m afraid you’re not going to like it.

JULIAN: Well, that would be hardly surprising at this point. What have you discovered, my friend?

JAKE: Koval, the former head of the Tal Shiar, the man you mention earlier… Well, uh, he was forced to step down due to an illness but, apparently, he disappeared from Romulus a few days after retiring. [sighs] My sources tell me that he showed up on Cardassia, about five weeks ago. He attended a state function. You remember that dispute between the Breen? Well, it was followed by a dinner.

JULIAN: Garak? Garak!

GARAK: Yes, Julian.

JULIAN: Garak, you told me that Koval sent you a message around that time.

GARAK: So I did. [pauses] All right, the message was delivered personally. He made an appearance at the dinner following our trade negotiations. Suffice to say, he did not stay long. He managed to elude security with falsified credentials and found his way to me, posing as a waiter of all things. And he was serving delicious Aldebaron canapes. But I of course recognized him immediately.

JAKE: Did you try to expose him?

GARAK: Well, as soon as he left my side I alerted security. He must have been transported off the surface.

JULIAN: He must have infected you. It fits will all the available information. Jake, have you heard anything else?

JAKE: Yeah, just one more thing. Uh… Koval is dead.

GARAK: Oh, what a pity.

JULIAN: Garak, without Koval’s information about the pathogen our ability to develop a cure is reduced.

JAKE: If Garak was infected by eating the canapes… I mean, doesn't that help you kind of figure out anything new?

JULIAN: No. All we know is the method of distribution. It also explains why other Cardassians fell around the same time. Chances are that once attendees ingested the pathogen, they were able to infect others.

JAKE: Were Cardassian and Breen the only species in attendance?

GARAK: Well, not entirely, though we were the majority.

JAKE: Well, I haven't heard of any reports of illness on any other worlds so far.

JULIAN: Well, that's good news. It means the pathogen was likely designed for Cardassians, and hasn't mutated to infect other species yet.

GARAK: Yes, and- and while that's good news, it hardly solves our more immediate problem.

JULIAN: But Garak, don't you understand what this means? I can beam down to the planet with no danger to myself. I'll be able to do so much more-

GARAK: Julian, Julian, we've been through all this.

JULIAN: I'd be coming alone.

GARAK: And if word gets out that the Federation is able to beam to the surface, yet no one else is permitted… no, no, no, no, no… I'm sorry – you cannot come to the surface, certainly not yet.

JAKE: Well, I still haven't been able to find out who did the work on the pathogen. I still have some associates looking into it. Julian, have you figured anything out?

JULIAN: So far I've been able to destroy the bacterial sheath that contains the virus, that makes the virus susceptible to attack, but the adapted vaccine stops there. It appears that The Quickening was just a starting point for Koval. The virus itself seems to attach itself to specific areas of the brain, destructing some autonomic functions while also causing a kind of dementia.

GARAK: Well, I suggest you return to your work, Doctor. Thank you for your help, Mr Sisko.

JAKE: Yeah, I still have a few sources – I still may be able to get some more information. But you know, the odd thing is that according to my people on Romulus… I mean, Koval's condition shouldn't have deteriorated so quickly.

JULIAN: There are ways to accelerate Tuvan Syndrome, but I can't imagine Koval wouldn't want to see his final triumph over Garak.

JAKE: Tuvan Syndrome?

JULIAN: Oh Jake, Jake – that was off the record. As well as everything we're discussing.

JAKE: Yeah, I get it, Julian, but you know Koval's people, they… they reported his death as natural causes, and neither would explain the swiftness of deterioration. I don't know, a suicide seems even less likely.

GARAK: Especially considering how many species would gladly kill him in whatever manner he desired.

JAKE: Well, I'm gonna do a little bit more digging.

JULIAN: Thanks, Jake.

[Jake leaves]

GARAK: Now, Julian. Julian, Julian. Shall we return to the work please?

[cut to black]

JULIAN (ON-SCREEN): [sighs, distracted]

SOMEONE (VOICE ONLY): [a female voice, humming a tune]

JULIAN: Garak? Garak, is there someone there with you?

SOMEONE: No. Guess again, Julian.

[humming continues]

INTENDANT KIRA NERYS (ON-SCREEN): I'm already bored. [laughs]

JULIAN: Oh, what do you want? I'm in the middle of something.

KIRA: Oh, Julian, Julian. I know what you're in the middle of, exactly. Even with all the interference, I can access your mission logs. [sighs] Why do you make such an effort to avoid learning my rules? I mean, I make such an effort to be your friend, Julian, don't I? Don't you have time for an old friend?

JULIAN: Don't mistake tolerance for friendship. And you obviously know I don't have time for your usual entanglements, so get to the point.

KIRA: Oh, you know, I liked you better in the old days, Julian. Timid… hesitant… submissive.

JULIAN: Working alongside people of questionable morality tends to change a person, and not all for the better.

KIRA: [laughs] Oh, well then, I will get right to the point. We need a stable Cardassia for your stable Alpha Quadrant.

JULIAN: We’re agreed. I'm researching a cure as we speak, something I really need to get back to.

KIRA: Oh, I won't keep you, Julian.

JULIAN: Then why are we still talking?

KIRA: I miss our chats. My Julian just loved it when we chatted, when we spoke- well, when I took the gag off. [laughs] But he was never as amusing as he was and educated, articulate, attractive. Oh yes, yes, enough pleasure. Your universe is always so serious. All business. Well, let's just say I've been talking to some of our section associates, and we need to make a slight alteration to your plans.

JULIAN: My plans? I don't have a cure yet, there isn't time for alterations! People have started dying!

KIRA: Yes, a few dead Cardassians won't destabilize the quadrant, and from what I've learned from this universe’s Bajor, they won't be missed. So how is Ken, by the way?

JULIAN: Cairn. And we are not… we anymore.

KIRA: Oh, oh how delightful! I really must thank whomever told the Trill government about you two being so close.

JULIAN: Enough! Why are you here? I don't see what any of this has to do with you, unless you wanted to admit to your years of bio-engineering on the other side that I didn't know about.

KIRA: Oh, oh, oh, oh! I'm here to represent Bajor in a capacity that luscious young Mr Sisko cannot.

JULIAN: Bajor and Cardassia have made peace. It's been over two decades, Intendant.

KIRA: Deep wounds are slow to heal, Doctor. You should know that more than most.

JULIAN: Do you have a point?

KIRA: You know, the Garak I knew was always plotting behind my back, he was always looking for a way to take my life. His death was delicious. Your Garak is equally deceptive. So, we want you to let him die.

JULIAN: Look, what other agents are tasked with doing is nothing of none of my business, but I will not be responsible for a death.

KIRA: Oh, you mean directly responsible, don't you?

JULIAN: Meaning?

KIRA: Well, since joining Section 31 you've been aware of some of our less palatable but… necessary missions. By allowing them to be carried out, you played a role, however indirectly.

JULIAN: I didn't join Section 31 of my own accord, and my input has also prevented dozens of unnecessary deaths.

KIRA: Oh, Julian, however you justify your role in all of this, you still played a part. And personally, if something gives you pleasure, it's never unnecessary, Julian. Garak cannot be trusted – your Garak, my Garak, any Garak. The plots, the lies, the manipulations… Garak alone is a full-time job. We have agents on the planet. One or two of them could run for office and maintain the Cardassia that we have today without the constant need for monitoring.

JULIAN: On the contrary, history is rife with foreign governments installing political leaders who are almost as quickly corrupted as they were inaugurated. I can trust Garak more than I ever trust you.

KIRA: Yes, but you’re one man among trillions of others, and you were indirectly responsible for Koval's ascension. What a good part you've played in Section 31, Julian. But we're not done with you yet. We need more.

JULIAN: More?

KIRA: We may co-ordinate this section together, Julian, but we both have to do work for the good of the Federation that we don't necessarily agree with.

JULIAN: We can talk about Garak again later. Right now, I have work to do.

[pause]

KIRA (COLDLY): We aren't talking about this later. You have a mission. Garak has been holding back the Andorian recovery, instigating attacks from various mercenary groups. He is manipulating the Breen economy with carefully coordinated accidents, and those are just the latest problems that we can attribute to him.

JULIAN: The Andorian evidence is circumstantial at best!

[pause]

KIRA: You have your orders. Garak’s political life is over… amongst his other lives. Gone. Oh and Julian, we really must do this more often. [blows kiss] Kira out.

[Kira leaves]

JULIAN: Damn it.

[Garak reappears]

GARAK: Well, that was uh… unexpected.

JULIAN: Garak, I wasn't sure if you were able to monitor her.

GARAK: Well, her signal interfered with my visual pickup, but I could hear everything.

JULIAN: I'm sorry.

GARAK: Julian, we have no time to waste on trivial apologies. What I need to know is if you intend to carry out that mission.

JULIAN: Really?

GARAK: Yes.

JULIAN: I came here to help my friend – I’m not here to kill anyone, let alone let them die due to alleged incompetence. I do have a reputation to uphold, after all.

GARAK: Thank you. And I truly mean that. [pause] All right, and I suppose I should stick around for the simple fact that you still have so much to learn.

JULIAN: That's not to say that we aren't going to discuss Andoria and the Breen when this is all finished.

GARAK: Very well. Now actually, I have more pressing issues to deal with internally.

JULIAN: Which would be?

GARAK: My informants told me you were a member of Starfleet Intelligence.

JULIAN: Ah yes… well, I obviously couldn't confirm what you said earlier.

GARAK: But Section 31? You seemed to have detested that organisation! Was- was all that a façade just to throw me off the trail?

JULIAN: No, I had no intention of joining Section 31. I was forced to work with them during the Dominion War. In fact, I thought that Koval was their target at the time.

GARAK: Ah, I see. Well, it's a shame that he wasn't their target – it would have saved us a great deal of time, trouble and effort.

JULIAN: Of course.

[both sigh, Julian distracted by his work]

JULIAN: This is infuriating. If I could just access your diagnostic data more directly-

GARAK: Doctor…

JULIAN: The production of interferons is far lower than a pathogen of this complexity should stimulate. It appears that cytoplasmic receptors have been disrupted.

GARAK: Well, I- I don't know… [inaudible] …talk to me, Doctor, please.

JULIAN: The [uncertain] receptors should have activated an immune response as soon as the microbe passed through the blood-brain barrier. The pathogen must disrupt the natural immune response to prevent your body from affecting its own attack.

GARAK: And that means…?

JULIAN: It means I have a place to begin developing a treatment regimen. Computer, begin new biometric analysis.

COMPUTER: Standby.

JULIAN: Garak, this could be promising. We should know in a few minutes.

GARAK: You know- [sighs and devolves into coughing fit] You know, ah… Well, I never killed sub-commander Ustard – that was the Romulans! The Romulan ambassador, however- [laughs] …that was a different story! [another coughing fit]

JULIAN: Garak, are you alright?

GARAK: Julian, I- I think we'd better hurry. That was information that never should have been shared.

JULIAN: Understood. Garak, perhaps you should consider taking a sedative?

GARAK: Oh, if only it were that simple, Doctor. I can't very well allow myself the luxury of rest when my people are suffering. You're making progress – I suggest you focus on that.

JULIAN: All right, Garak. Perhaps you should get yourself something to eat.

GARAK: Oh, yes, well I'm sure I have some Delavian chocolates around here someplace.

JULIAN: Fine. And when this is all over, you can share them with me.

GARAK: Julian, when this is all over-

JULIAN: Over lunch. We will have lunch again, Garak.

GARAK: Yes, yes. Of course, we will. I have incoming calls from some of the hospitals. I'll be in touch, Julian.

JULIAN: I look forward to it, Elim. [pause] I look forward to it.

[cut to black]

[credits]

#alone together #garashir #ds9 #cami.txt

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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years ago

Text

When I See You Smile - Danny Rayburn x Reader (Bloodline)

GIF CREDIT: X

@mandy23b @happyskywhale @wltz-bby #MendoTagSquad

Danny + 72 - “Just smile, I really need to see you smile right now.” Requested by @waytoplantann

--- Author’s Note: Oooooh, Danny boi. It always feels like it’s been ages but there’s always a familiarity with writing him. He just writes so easily.

I guess there’s a little twist on this one, but sometimes I like writing these less obvious plot threads...! It’s kinda cuter than maybe envisioned 🤔

* If your OC’s aren’t broke, don’t fix ‘em.

When I See You Smile - Clay Aiken

Disclaimer: I have no association with Bloodline

Premise: Danny is having a bad day at the office, his staff hatch a cunning plan to cheer him up and fix his day!

Words: 2977

Warnings: Swearing

______ Sometimes I wonder, how I'd ever make it through Through this world without having in you I just wouldn't have a clue And sometimes it seems like this world's closing in on me There's no way of breaking free And then I see you reach for me Sometimes I wanna give up, wanna give in I wanna quit the fight The one look at you baby can make everything alright Make everything alright When I see you smile, I can face the world Oh, you know I can do anything When I see you smile, I see a ray of light Oh, I see it shining right through the rain When I see you smile Baby, when I see you smile at me Baby, there's nothing in this world that could ever do What the touch of your hands can do It's like nothing that I ever knew And when the rain is falling, I don't feel it 'Cause you're here with me And one look at you baby, it's all I'll ever need

---

Everyone has pretty much avoided him since he’d got in this morning. Danny was stressed - beyond stressed, practically freaking out. Which he guessed would have been fine, pressure was good for him from time to time - only nearly every single thing he tried was going wrong. It was not what he needed. He wanted everything to run smoothly, and when Jason tried to suggest maybe things weren’t going right because Danny was so stressed about tonight, all he got was snapped at. It wasn’t exactly making the kitchen a nice place to be. Even though they understood why Danny was stressing so much. He had a reviewer coming tonight – they’d had one before, but he didn’t know about that and the review was a lovely surprise, leading to a really great magazine article. THIS reviewer he very much was aware of. Not only that, she was one of the top restaurant critics in Miami - essentially tonight would be make or break. So, a bad day was not what Danny required. Added to that, his attitude was just making things worse for his team. Even Javi was quiet today, no banter with other waiters, no banter with the kitchen staff - certainly none with Danny. Just pick up food and send through orders; he spent far longer than he usually did front of house cleaning, so he didn’t have to walk to the kitchen again. Every so often Danny would yell something pretty unrepeatable, causing diners to look up with worry. Javi simply sighed; “Bad day at the office folks, it’s okay... big reviewer coming tonight. He’s stressed. Probably just best to let Mr.Rayburn get it out...!” At least most of them were regulars and understood. A few even cheerfully wished him good luck as they left; Danny had no option but to offer them a small smile and a thank you. Although he thought he’d need all the luck in the world to pull this off.

Eventually his yell was one too many and this time several people in the kitchen jumped. Jason took him by the arms; “Danny you can’t do this to yourself!” “No! No! I’m okay! It’s okay!” Danny tried to shrug him off, and stubbornly gripped the counter “Dude, you’re anything but okay right now - c’mon, take a break!” “Jase, if I take a fucking break, I’m gonna have a breakdown-!!” Jason steered his friend from the kitchen and passed the lockers to the parking lot. “Kinda think you’re already having one.” Danny sighed, but Jason got him to take the deep breaths of fresh air; before he inevitably reached for his cigarettes. He took a long drag before he spoke; “Okay. I get it.” “Just, stay out here, collect your thoughts and rest a bit... we all know that tonight is important Danny... but no one is gonna work at their best in that kinda kitchen atmosphere. And I know you already know that.” Jason tried to sound firm in his advice, but this was still his boss and his friend – he didn’t need to add to Danny’s ill feeling. Danny nodded, exhaling smoke, “It’s just the worst day to have a bad day. You know?”

Jason patted his shoulder knowing that, with Danny here, he was in charge and should be getting back to the kitchen; “Yeah, we know. It’ll get better - I promise, we’ll get through it, and ‘Viva’ will get a great review!” Danny smiled, but it wasn’t convincing. “I’ll see you in a bit-!” “Yeah. Thanks, Jason.”

As soon as Jason wandered back through, Javi was already slacking off in the kitchen, leaning casually against a worktop. “Oh my GOD-! 5 minutes and you’re already here-!? If he catches you you’re out, you know that right-!? Done! You can forget about a good severance package!” Javi folded his arms, thinking his friend was being a little ungrateful; “I’m lightening the mood!” “You’re on thin ice, that’s what you are.” Although Jason did notice that the atmosphere was a little happier with Danny out of here, “Today isn’t the day Javi.” “Which is why I decided that we can sit here and worry about him, or we can get some outside help.” Jason froze, eyes wide “You didn’t.” “I did.” “He’s going to fucking murder you! What did you say-!?” “Only that he needs her! I didn’t say he was being an asshole-!” The head waiter didn’t see the point in being anything but blunt about Danny’s behaviour. “JAVI!!!” “I could have done! I coulda been brutally honest!!” “Oh, good God...” Jason put his hands in his hands, “you better hope his response is favourable, man, or we might just lose our head chef...!” Javi opened his mouth, unfolding his arms to point accusingly as Jase; “Don’t you dare! I didn’t see anyone else having any great ideas-!!”

You rolled into the parking lot at just a little past five. It was probably a lot later than they really wanted you here, but you had a few things to do and, more importantly, you wanted to make sure Nolan was alright and settled for the evening before you dealt with his father. Not that you knew why you were here beyond a general call of Danny needs you. Well yeah – however, you’d expect he’d actually want you to stay as far away from here as possible, considering it was review day. You stepped out of the car and wandered in, hoping you weren’t about to be murdered by your favourite waiter considering his call must have been close to three hours ago. And he’d sounded desperate and whiney then. Javi was busy taking orders, and the kitchen at least seemed quiet if not busy, so you seated yourself on a barstool, elbows up on the polished surface you rested your head in your palms to watch them for a minute.

He didn’t look particularly happy - it was all go, and he was working efficiently but he certainly wasn’t in a good place. Ah, that’d be why... As relaxed as Danny usually was, you weren’t surprised that he would overstress about this. Although watching them all do what they did best was honestly such a great pastime, you couldn’t help but think that you had a purpose right now. You could watch them all at any other day of the week. Jason looked like he was taking it hardest of all - and you knew Danny’s best friend – more importantly his second in command - was probably barely holding everything together back there.

Instead you decided to put everyone out of their collective misery; “Hey Viva Caputa! Something big going on tonight?” Danny visibly jumped at a voice he didn’t expect to hear, and Javi yelled your name in unbridled joy from the other side of the restaurant, you offered a wave to him - despite the fact you didn’t turn, focused too much on the head chef.

Danny almost didn’t dare look up, in case he was hearing things. But when he did, he let out an immediate cry of what sounded like relief, dashing from the kitchen and around to you. Jason has never looked more thankful in his life, and offered you a weary wave. You grinned, completely understanding and gave him a wink, before turning your attention back to the man rounding the corner. “You have... no idea how bad I needed to see you.” “Aw, I dunno about that.” You leant on your hand once more; “I know how you get.” “What are you doing here?!” “They’re worried about you, darlin’.” You gestured to his staff, “And you seem to need a bit of moral support so here I am. Although I am also quite prepared to get kicked out at any moment, because I know how important this is to—“ Danny took a few more paces until he was across the counter, before grabbing you into a hug, he buried his head in your shoulder “—you.” You sighed gently and enveloped him in your arms, “Oh, babe... it’s okay.” You inhaled kitchen spices and fresh ingredients, the scents that filled your kitchen when Danny cooked for you. Like home, where you were sure he wished he really was; maybe you could give him some of that comfort right now. “Stay.” He mumbled, “Please stay.” “Only until she gets here, then your work and kitchen should be your focus...” You rubbed his back. For a minute Danny thought stress might get the better of him and, when he felt the lump in his throat, envisioned that he might begin sobbing into your shoulder – thankfully it didn’t happen. You hushed him soothingly and kisses his hair. “Danny you’re going to ace this. You know that right? With the team you have you’re unbeatable!” You said it loud enough for them to just about hear, so they knew how much you appreciated their efforts – but quiet enough for it to seem like it was meant only for him. It must have worked from the small smiles appearing on faces back there. Danny pulled back from you slowly, taking your hands in his; running his thumbs over yours as if he was the one attempting to make you feel better. You supposed that was an instinctive reaction to the look on your face. Your concern was for him of course, but all he was seeing was a frown he desperately wanted to get rid of. Danny needed to see you smile; for his own sake – and hell, he knew it suited you better. Your eyebrows knitted together to accompany the frown, biting your lips into a thin line before sighing gently. Tonight wasn’t just important to Danny, this restaurant was everything he based his self-worth on; he bet himself on this place. There was so much pressure that he placed on himself; and you knew that if Danny was in a mood it’d put him out of sorts with his employees. And these guys were his best friends – besides you and Nolan, they were about all he had. You wanted him to excel at this, and Danny did. Tonight was different; he needed to do well and it needed to be a success, and you wished nothing more than everyone here to get the accolades they so thoroughly deserved.

Danny slid his hands up to cup your face, for a second touching his forehead to yours. You grasped his wrists gently, to hold him there, looking between his eyes – which were desperately searching yours; “Can I do anything for you? Can I help?” He took the chance you were giving him, and nodded; “Just smile, I really need to see you smile right now.” It wasn’t hard for him to get you to do so, as the instant he said it you did. At first it was small – almost amused – like a soft glow, but it only took a few seconds for it to become a beam. And pretty soon you raised one from him; and you weren’t sure what the lip bite was suppressing – his happiness or his tears. Danny needed to see you smile because he didn’t want to see you with that little frown; but also because if you were in a good mood he would usually follow suit – or at least significantly cheer up, as you were doing for him now. He looked away for a second with a chuckle; “Yeah… you… you might just have saved my day.” Then you laughed, it was like sweet music and Danny felt his heart swell before he started laughing too – and leaning forward once more it was his lips that he pressed to your forehead, “Thank you.” “Oh no.” You caught his lips properly, and your kiss was just as sweet. You nodded behind you and he swivelled to see Javi had joined Jason in the kitchen; they were both grinning, “I think you’re thanking the wrong person.” Danny laughed, and gave them a grin of his own, “You two are the fucking WORST-!” **

His staff let him stay with you out here for a little while to calm down. You thought that was just as much for them as it was Danny, they probably needed that respite from their boss, because they sure as hell wouldn’t get any of the rest of the night. His hand barely left yours as he recounted to you any and every subject that came to his mind – including the use of the word holiday, which you immediately jumped on. If there’s one thing that Danny might need it was a vacation. What brought you out of your own little world was Javi snapping to attention, neatening out his hair and uniform and wandering to the front of the restaurant before the guest had even walked in. Everyone was on high alert for the reviewer – and it appeared she’d just arrived. Javi greeted her extremely professionally and as he passed you both, walking her to her table he gave Danny a look that could only say ‘good luck.’ Your eyes flicked back to your partner, who also immediately straightened behind the counter. “Oh! Is that her?” “Mhm.” He swallowed hard, brushing his own chefs’ whites down. “Alright, Chef Rayburn, I’ll head out.” You pulled him gently to you to neaten his hair, before offering him a good luck kiss; “Good luck - I know you’ll ace this. And you got a whole team that believe in you, they got your back-!” Danny gave you a quick hug before you slipped from the bar stool; “Okay, I’ll see you back at home.” You nodded, shouldering your bag and waving to the kitchen staff, offering Danny a final wink and blown kiss before heading to the door; “Oh and Y/N-!” He called you back, making you turn – because he knew you’d instantly smile at being needed once more, and he would get to see it again; “Thank you!”

*** It was unusual for you to wake up alone. Even more unusual for you to wake up last - in fact because of Danny’s schedule, you were pretty much always the first one ready and out the door. Unless he told you he would be clocking in early, and he hadn’t raised such a thing last night. You were half inclined to stay here and forget it, but you reached for your phone instead. You didn’t even get to unlock it before you heard the front door reopen. At the sound you instantly smiled and scrambled out of bed, running down the corridor to check on him.

“Hey babe! What’s going on? What were you doing out so early?” Danny took a deep breath and waved a glossy magazine at you. Oh, the review! It must have been out today. “This is it!” “Well did you read it-!?” You were as excited and nervous for the result as he was. “No. You’re kidding - either way it went I wouldn’t have been in a fit state to drive home!!” He placed it on the island, staring at it like it was the holy grail and inhaled again. You laced your fingers together holding them to your lips; “Babe, the suspense is killing me.” “What if it’s awful-!?” “Hun, you said the night went well - more than that, we both already know that your restaurant is incredible, I don’t see how this can be bad.” “Okay, okay...” Danny flipped over the first page and scanned the contents, before nodding and thumbing through to the correct page number. And he was only looking at the page numbers, you rolled your eyes - your partner did have a flair for the dramatic sometimes. He stopped as he reached it and covered his eyes; “Oh God. I can’t look.” “Danny - not looking will not change what she’s said.” He let the page roll out fully and took a further ten seconds of preparation before he removed his hand and read. It wasn’t even three seconds before his hands shot to his mouth and whatever he exclaimed was muffled as he stepped back from the counter laughing. (You were pretty sure there was an expletive or two in there). “What-!?” He kept laughing, “NO! Danny, what---!” You crossed the kitchen to him and leant across the counter to read it for yourself, then immediately understood, what came out of your mouth way much more a scream of joy. 5 Stars. “I KNEW IT! I KNEW YOU’D DO IT!!” You turned to him overjoyed, and you weren’t sure you’d seen him smile so much in a while as he gathered you in his arms. You linked yours around his neck and kissed him hard, “Danny---! Oh gosh, BABE!!” “That’s a lot of… thanking I have to do, oh man are we…!” He laughed again, harder, “Is this happening?!” Danny’s arms around your waist squeezed you tighter and he read a little more “Geez… wow… That’s two great reviews! That’s--!” His hands only left you to run through his hair, “Crazy!” You were also smiling like crazy; “I’m so proud of you!” You brought his eyes back to you and kissed him again, “I guess you’re about to get a hell of a lot busier, Danny Rayburn.” He grinned, “I’ll worry about that,” then winked “You just keep smilin’!” That only made you giggle as he peppered you with kisses again and the kitchen filled with the sounds of your laugher. All the stress was worth it, for him and for the team. That’s what really mattered. You knew that your smile was important to Danny, but, it was the smile on his face that had to stay. You’d make sure of that. And a 5 star review was a very good place to start!

---

6/16 - Ten to go!! Ohh! Exciting!

Thank you so much for reading! 🙏🥰

#Danny Rayburn #Danny Rayburn x Reader #Bloodline #Ben Mendelsohn #Let's put him back in Miami and happy... please!#You KNOW I had to have Jase and Javi kitchen banter #I don't talk about his cooking enough---!#157 #This is slight inverted expectations in that I kinda wanted something that wasn't his family to be a root cause of his problems...#And work stresses make /everything/ else stressful so...#That gif is so cute #That scene is so cute. I really want a Danny date like that...#That's kinda where I was going with part... 4? Yes. 4.#Liliana #(Oh but you know it)

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punkscowardschampions · 5 years ago

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Zelda & Zach

ihatemyguts: [Ready for a flimsy excuse to talk lmao] ihatemyguts: Question, would Lauren actually be 👍 or 👎 if I turn up to her stream? ihatemyguts: Couldn't tell inandout: ecstatic inandout: her 👚👕👖🧦 could come off inandout: it's hard to tell if she's joking ihatemyguts: I will 🏃 to 🧼 my 👀 ihatemyguts: and time my tip really well before that potential eventuality inandout: smart move inandout: people pleasing ihatemyguts: She was nice, funny ihatemyguts: no 💩 nosing but yeah, I'm not in a position to be picky inandout: she's good at the "older sister away at uni partying but still there for you" role ihatemyguts: do you have a real one? inandout: I've got a brother, he's older than her and less of a party animal ihatemyguts: Mine too ihatemyguts: he's not as old as her but first date @ 18 isn't far off the vibe inandout: Robbie would call that hella awkward inandout: but I don't think mine has had one yet at 21 inandout: unless it's with a 🤖 he created ihatemyguts: that would be as impressive as it is 😢 inandout: he only likes to flex academically impressive muscles inandout: and believes no girls are interested in that inandout: despite being at uni ihatemyguts: 💔 ihatemyguts: Bless inandout: Lauren would knock his head together with every dream girl of his he's surrounded by until it fell off inandout: I'm a pacifist though ihatemyguts: Brothers are stupid ihatemyguts: his 💭👸 might be the stereotype of a cheerleader that doesn't even exist ihatemyguts: just ⏳⌛�� inandout: wouldn't leave me shooketh to find out you're onto something inandout: he does watch Love Island ihatemyguts: 🧠 representation, man ihatemyguts: you do not always get the girl at the end and if you do, you'll have so little in common you should just put her back inandout: I had a mental image of him just forcing a girl back up onto these high shelves we have in our kitchen inandout: not today, honey ihatemyguts: 😂 ihatemyguts: if only people were shelvable ihatemyguts: keep 'em in storage 'til you're feeling 💯 inandout: + if I'm heroically expected to get her down, the stumbling block is that the 🍪🍬🍭 are kept up there ihatemyguts: she'll have to eat it all to save you right back inandout: a love story inandout: we need to pitch it to Netflix ihatemyguts: I have done so much research for this ihatemyguts: Robyn can write it ihatemyguts: Rich can DEMAND actually disabled actors, and Rosie can ask nicely inandout: you have to be the lead, then the viewers will be on edge of their seats when you eat the 🍪🍬🍭 ihatemyguts: Lauren might 👊 me for it inandout: the spotlight would give her a seizure ihatemyguts: Awh ihatemyguts: lucky teen dramas are so moodily lit ihatemyguts: think twilight not spring breakers inandout: so dark that everyone has to squint and give themselves a headache inandout: dizzying camera angles inandout: getting our own back one symptom at a time ihatemyguts: may have to 🔪🔪 someone to make 'em shit their pants ihatemyguts: but you can nominate your brother, that's cool inandout: let him come back as a 🤖 at the end ihatemyguts: how's his Arnie? inandout: hmmm inandout: borderline racist? inandout: but we're Jewish and he's Austrian, I don't think he'll come for us ihatemyguts: not gonna go zombie for that ihatemyguts: definitely free pass for life on all the racial jokes @ their expense inandout: the shortened life span will help make up for it too ihatemyguts: no 🤖 ending? ihatemyguts: 👎 inandout: abrupt fade to black inandout: hopefully ihatemyguts: Iconic ihatemyguts: see your vision inandout: much as lingering death rattle would be an epic punk band or album name ihatemyguts: 🤔 ihatemyguts: you're a frontman, right? inandout: self nominated ihatemyguts: I see it inandout: you're drums ihatemyguts: only if I get to be on a dramatic raised platform above you all at the back inandout: if you swear not to 🚿 us with 💩 ihatemyguts: it would bring the horror ihatemyguts: very Carrie ihatemyguts: but 🤞 inandout: very Slipknot ihatemyguts: I'm down for a mask situation inandout: I'm not 🥵 ihatemyguts: Valid ihatemyguts: but you're cute, people will wanna see you inandout: cute is 🐕🐩🐈 or 🐖🐑🐐🐄 inandout: we can't start an animal band unless you can talk to them and ask if they really want inandout: ...some kind of rockstar life ihatemyguts: True, Ozzy was NOT asking those 🦇 if they were about the fame inandout: and they became another casualty of inandout: sickening ihatemyguts: is that the deal ihatemyguts: my bowel has decided not to work so I get to speak to animals? ihatemyguts: 🤙 inandout: that's a 10 episode series pitch ihatemyguts: god knows there has to be a redeeming feature of a sick kid ihatemyguts: can't be an arsehole who's suffering, not relatable and not enjoyable -10/10 inandout: you can only be an arsehole if yours works inandout: hooray for me ihatemyguts: lucky ihatemyguts: don't wanna flex on you by sparking up, really inandout: can you drink? It's a no for me ihatemyguts: it's iffy ihatemyguts: like it's not great ihatemyguts: but if I don't get big sister at Uni levels, technically inandout: technically same, but who wouldn't wanna get to that level inandout: who's doing it for the taste? ihatemyguts: I personally LOVE the taste of rotting fruit inandout: I have no sense of smell and barely any of taste and even I know wine and beer are both bad inandout: maybe the first sip of spirits will change my life ihatemyguts: that's a dangerous game ihatemyguts: it's already supposedly scentless a lot of the time ihatemyguts: you'd get wasted real fast inandout: not a date then ihatemyguts: not for long ihatemyguts: 🏥 is a fave haunt obviously but not ideal, even for a 2nd date inandout: 3rd? ihatemyguts: s'one way to end up in bed ihatemyguts: sure inandout: kids at my school do keep asking me if I've ever hooked up in hospital inandout: that being my number 1 priority each time ihatemyguts: 🙄 ihatemyguts: like it's some cringy show mums would watch ihatemyguts: with the staff or with all the random hottie in their prime that are just roaming the corridors, yeah, alright inandout: + 🏥 = PICC in case there weren't a high enough risk of getting caught or mild peril ihatemyguts: the thrill of it all ihatemyguts: worth being sick for all the steamy romance, honestly inandout: don't forget the nurses inandout: another fave topic of everyone in class ihatemyguts: yeah, the stress eating and shift work makes 'em 🔥🔥🔥 inandout: no 💐 allowed to keep the atmosphere romantic either ihatemyguts: 💔💔💔 ihatemyguts: sure your class is not concerned about the vibe inandout: well read inandout: they just wanna touch a boob inandout: which is a good song title ihatemyguts: with potential to make a b-side literally about 🍑 ihatemyguts: high🖐 inandout: hi-hat, drummer girl ihatemyguts: badumtss inandout: 🎤 drop ihatemyguts: 🙇👏 inandout: Lauren swears she'll keep her clothes on to play Breath of the Wild ihatemyguts: I'm honoured ihatemyguts: and not at all disappointed ihatemyguts: 😉 inandout: her wardrobe of onesies are incredible inandout: they'll cheer you back up inandout: 👽🤖🐛🐲🦕🦑 + more animals than you'd have time to chinwag with ihatemyguts: obviously, I need to see this to believe 🖖 inandout: like a 🦄 she has one of those too ihatemyguts: thanks for the inside scoop ihatemyguts: can pretend I'm fully psychic now ihatemyguts: get all those oddly specific requests out inandout: that'll spook her inandout: I'm for it ihatemyguts: 🔮🗣🐒 ihatemyguts: not trying too hard to compensate, AT ALL inandout: I hadn't seen the others before today inandout: that was cool ihatemyguts: For real? ihatemyguts: It seems like you all hang like all the time, from the outside creepin' in inandout: you heard the commander, we're not supposed to post pics or personal stuff ihatemyguts: still a weird rule ihatemyguts: like, I get it, online predators, poor defenseless baby disableds, not ideal ihatemyguts: if it was an IRL group, we wouldn't be going by quippy puns on our name badges inandout: [gives her his socials and Lauren is of course in his friends so she can add her too] inandout: I was gonna suggest a meet up but didn't wanna get shot down inandout: the point is, some of us can't get out and about inandout: hasn't passed me by ihatemyguts: that's true ihatemyguts: there has to be a way we can include everybody though, everybody that would possibly want to ihatemyguts: Christ, if we as a group can't think of accessibility solutions ihatemyguts: but my point is, drop you a 💬 if I have any 💡 inandout: @ Rich inandout: he'd figure it out ihatemyguts: right? ihatemyguts: not that I'm desperate for company but frankly ihatemyguts: no, it could be cool inandout: and she won't say, despite what I said about trading on her fame, but Lauren's anniversary is coming up inandout: she'll want company for that ihatemyguts: I don't know if I should know, and I know I'm not gonna ask her ihatemyguts: but it can't be a fun anniversary, anything we could do to make it less of a shit time ihatemyguts: why not inandout: you're in inandout: cool ihatemyguts: 👍 ihatemyguts: the social engagements I won't need to turn down for this ihatemyguts: busy 🐝 I ain't inandout: I wanna ask if you had loads of friends before inandout: it seems like you would ihatemyguts: Kinda ihatemyguts: and not everyone turned into total cunts either, not trying to be that tragic heroine ihatemyguts: awkward adjustment, mainly for me, I know but ihatemyguts: wish I had a cool illness, you know ihatemyguts: can't make 💩 work for me inandout: what's a cool one? ihatemyguts: there's no cool one to have, I know that, like, intelligently, I get it ihatemyguts: but at least if you've got a decent story or you aren't essentially shitting yourself to death as your quirky symptom, people are more into it ihatemyguts: it's stupid but inandout: something that makes you faint dramatically inandout: that'd be netflix worthy inandout: the harder the name is to pronounce, the better ihatemyguts: exactly, providing I do it gracefully and look pretty whilst doing it ihatemyguts: 'cos what's the point in this pain if I can't peddle it to the masses inandout: you could look pretty doing it ihatemyguts: oh yeah ihatemyguts: the glamour would be unreal 😂 inandout: 🍃 ihatemyguts: 📽 ihatemyguts: cinematic inandout: American Beauty and you're the plastic bag ihatemyguts: that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me ihatemyguts: okay, Katy Perry inandout: leave Robbie to do the 🐯 roar ihatemyguts: she's cute ihatemyguts: no offense to you but inandout: how many dates are you two going on? ihatemyguts: do her parents let her out of her house, legit ihatemyguts: 'cos that will change the answer a lot inandout: only for 🏥 inandout: but she'll wanna come to the meet up ihatemyguts: then, we'll have to go on loads of dates ihatemyguts: so I can convince them I'm very respectable and not at all contagious inandout: I know JRA sucks but they'd put her in a bubble if they could ihatemyguts: I get it but also ihatemyguts: stop ihatemyguts: actual case of how it's being dealt with making it worse, when I was in hospital, the first time ihatemyguts: there was this tiny kid, and his ma was like...just insane, which is understandable but, it weren't helping her or him inandout: she could outgrow it when she's 16, that'll shake them up ihatemyguts: serious? ihatemyguts: damn inandout: it happens inandout: that's the J inandout: for being a kid ihatemyguts: I had no idea ihatemyguts: like you stop growing and it stops fucking with you, basically? ihatemyguts: that's cool ihatemyguts: if it happens ihatemyguts: worst fucking false hope if it doesn't inandout: yep inandout: sweet or bittersweet 16 ihatemyguts: like 5 months, she said? inandout: I'm gonna go to the party inandout: you should come ihatemyguts: Yeah? ihatemyguts: you think she meant it ihatemyguts: you can tell me if it was just politeness 'cos she is inandout: loneliness inandout: but she likes us too ihatemyguts: how long have you been in the group? inandout: they gave me the info when I was 12 inandout: I didn't wanna use it then though inandout: last summer I decided to ihatemyguts: I feel you ihatemyguts: like, what should we have in common ihatemyguts: but that's actually like any friendship, you got sat next to them one day in class or they shared with you at break ihatemyguts: I was just being a dick about it inandout: there are those inandout: like fibro inandout: but the core group are cool ihatemyguts: Everyone was decent ihatemyguts: if you're a dick you just are, regardless of our shared experiences ihatemyguts: but that is more than I've got with some of my old friends, that's just facts, whether you wanna accept it or nah, you know inandout: yep, me and my 🤖 brother have nothing shared inandout: his DNA is fine ihatemyguts: how was that ihatemyguts: like, was he mad guilty and did you wanna stomp on his lungs a 🤏 bit inandout: some days inandout: but Lauren says I'm better looking than him so what else matters ihatemyguts: 😂 inandout: how's your brother doing with your 💩 life? ihatemyguts: He doesn't say a whole lot ihatemyguts: that was a thing pre 💩 life too so ihatemyguts: guess he gets to keep being mysterious and my illness feels the least invisible when I'm the only kid let out to the 🚽 multiple times a lesson ihatemyguts: 🤷 inandout: you could suggest home school inandout: Robbie's an expert, she'd do you a pro slideshow ihatemyguts: I already miss people inandout: okay, okay, we'll bring the first date forward inandout: I'll escort you to the party ihatemyguts: what's the dresscode? this is vital and I know she's already said inandout: 👑💎 ihatemyguts: Oh good, you'll look extra adorable ihatemyguts: it'll be the usual trial picking which tiara to wear but think I'll survive inandout: Maybe you can take her shopping for your first date ihatemyguts: 💡 idea I'll have to claim as my own inandout: 🙇 ihatemyguts: do any of you go to the same schools ihatemyguts: or are you meant to not know that, either inandout: I don't know where either R goes inandout: and I'd remember Lauren or Rich if they'd been at my school, I think ihatemyguts: I reckon ihatemyguts: shame ihatemyguts: not that I reckoned there'd be an underground network of secret disabled kids at mine but oh well inandout: there could be inandout: you didn't need to find out before ihatemyguts: True ihatemyguts: ⭐ not being the one though ihatemyguts: have to do some more subtle digging inandout: my school has some invisible and visibles besides me ihatemyguts: statistically, there's no chance I'm the only one inandout: most of the ones in our camp have mental health stuff though inandout: or dyslexia, ADHD etc ihatemyguts: hadn't even considered those kinds ihatemyguts: got a lot of studying to do ihatemyguts: that's how it feels ihatemyguts: I barely get what I've got, never mind the endless possibilities of how a human can be slightly fucked inandout: they tend to have their own forums anyway inandout: not that Rosie wouldn't welcome them with a sleepy hug ihatemyguts: ☺️ inandout: it's less 🏥💉🩸 I guess? inandout: sort of 💊 and 🗪 ihatemyguts: Definite crossovers but not fully the same deal ihatemyguts: I see my pharmacist so often we're on date ... ihatemyguts: dread to think inandout: people don't wanna feel like others don't understand them somewhere where they're going for solidarity inandout: or that they can't get a sentence in over all the rest that are being typed ihatemyguts: it is pretty nervewracking ihatemyguts: even if yours is decent inandout: I used to be a big lurker inandout: some days I still am inandout: Lauren will always fill up the gaps ihatemyguts: you need all types, I reckon inandout: same ihatemyguts: like families ihatemyguts: even the creepy uncle inandout: if I don't have one does that mean I'm destined to become him? ihatemyguts: only if your brother finds a cheerleader ihatemyguts: you're probably alright inandout: he could adopt Robbie and let her live cage free ihatemyguts: that was a bit creepy ihatemyguts: oh my god, it's started ihatemyguts: 👹 inandout: damn inandout: much to think about inandout: a life to reassess ihatemyguts: if you're actually going ihatemyguts: thanks ihatemyguts: for being cool inandout: you were cool first inandout: I didn't lead a revolution ihatemyguts: you had to be cool enough not to shoot it down inandout: I'm so cool I've fallen at the creepy uncle fashion hurdle inandout: can't get a 🧢 on without a haircut inandout: it's all about the 🧦 now ihatemyguts: you know how to paint a picture ihatemyguts: even though I can now stalk your socials in my own time inandout: easier to explain you than Lauren inandout: my friends at school were shook by her ihatemyguts: I can imagine ihatemyguts: she'd be happy with that though 😏 inandout: she was inandout: [posts a selfie with his best attempt at a creepy uncle aesthetic because I doubt I'm finding a gem like that from Finn] ihatemyguts: oh my god ihatemyguts: 👏 ihatemyguts: that would be fully #triggering, top marks inandout: ♟ your move inandout: wine mum or vodka aunt ihatemyguts: Oh, I have perfect wine mum clothes ihatemyguts: had very bad taste a few years back and the 👻 are hanging about ihatemyguts: hold on inandout: I can't make the baited breath comment twice in a day, that's too much inandout: and I know I did in group ihatemyguts: 💔 I'm not special enough inandout: come back tomorrow for new puns ihatemyguts: [selfie in Amma's weird little girl/suburban mom clothing 'cos was not a mood] ihatemyguts: are you sure? inandout: damn inandout: come back tomorrow for a new photo challenge ihatemyguts: alright ihatemyguts: you're on inandout: cool

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angustully · 5 years ago

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hi, could i get the recipe for the soup you made recently? life has been, hm, bad, so i would like something cozy to counteract it!

hey friend! sorry youre having a rough time :( you should know its ham & bean soup so if you dont eat meat you can omit the ham all together or maybe add tofu? idk how good that would taste but if you try it let me know lol!

so the base recipe i used is this: https://www.budgetbytes.com/ham-bean-soup/ and ill put all my notes/modifications below bc i am nothing if not long winded for NO reason!

ok so firstly i didnt use a slow cooker, i just threw everything into the biggest pot i had in the house. this recipe is also based around a “16 bean mix” but i didnt even see that at my grocery store so i just got a bag of great northern beans.

i adjusted a lot of things to my liking: im not a big fan of celery or onion, so i only used 2 stalks of celery and half of a yellow onion (and i cut them kinda small so i wouldnt have big chunks of it) and i also only used 1 carrot though i probably could have put in a second one lol.

i just wanted it to be mostly beans (which i achieved!) but if i ever make this again ill prob throw in more veggies. i had pre-minced garlic (like in the jar) and i think i only used a heaping teaspoon or something.

OH and we had a bag of those little tiny potatoes so i quartered maybe 10 or 12 of those bad boys and put em in too, i would recommend that (i think any potato would work, the small ones were just easier to cut and i had them already). honestly i really did turn into my mom and just eyeballed everything lmao.

ALSO, the ham part of this came from my stepdad who cooked like a whole ass hambone on sunday and then let me have all the leftovers for this soup. the principle is the same though, you put the ham hocks (as it calls for in the recipe) in w the soup while its all cooking and then once the beans/potatoes/veggies are all cooked enough you just pull it out and shred the meat off the bone, discard the bone/fat and then put the meat back in w the soup.

as for spices, i mean it is literally just ham & bean soup lol so its kind of bland to begin with i guess but i think even the 1tsp was a little too much oregano (i always forget that i dont really like oregano), so if that would be a prob for you id add less than what the recipe calls for. i added a fuckton of pepper bc i like it, and i also added a ¼ tsp of liquid smoke which im not sure added THAT much flavor but my dad suggested it and hes a good cook so thats what i did lol. i also think smoked paprika would be a good addition to it. and i didnt use chicken broth/stock/bouillon or anything, i just added about 10 cups of water to the pot bc thats what it took to make sure everything was covered and mostly submerged.

tbh everything cooked a lot faster than i expected, the recipe says simmer for 2-4 hours but my beans and potatoes were all well cooked within 90 mins. it looked thin to begin with but as it sits it thickens up so if thats a prob for you too dont worry about it as much as i did lol.

and thats it!!! jesus i really wrote a whole essay about this for no reason im sorry lol! i also made cornbread to go with it, just a plain box of jiffy mix and it was perfect i would highly recommend. if you make the soup (or if you even read all of this post LOL) let me know how it is! and i hope it brings some comfort

#food tw #if youre on mobile and the read more doesnt work im SO sorry lmao #really why did i write a fucking novel about soup #ask #also would HIGHLY recommend budgetbytes for like. everything #the recipes are all simple enough that i feel confident tweaking them and combining one recipe for st with another one or whatever yknow #theres a recipe for hot & sour soup that i REALLY wanna try maybe ill do that next week... or when im out of ham & bean soup whichevers 1st #soupblogging

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springawakeningmovieideas · 5 years ago

Text

Act 1, Scene 2

Int. School- Morning

School. The Boys sit upright at their desks, reciting from Virgil's Aeneid. They stand, one after the other, for their recitation. Herr Sonnenstich walks the aisles beside them, listening.

The BOYS sit at desks, MELCHIOR and MORITZ, OTTO and HANSCHEN, ERNST and GEORG. Other students, ANGELIKA and SABINE, KARIN and SUSANNE, MARION and INGRID sit at desks, too. HERR SONNENSTICH is at the teacher’s desk, pointing at the board. The camera zooms in at each of them when they speak.

HERR SONNENSTICH:

Again.

OTTO (Mid-recitation):

... vi superum saevae memorem Iunonis ob iram …

HERR SONNENSTICH ("Well done"):

Better, Herr Lammermeier. Continue, Herr Zirschnitz.

GEORG:

... multa quoque et bello passus, dum conderet urbem.

HERR SONNENSTICH:

Herr Rilow. From the beginning.

HANSCHEN:

Arma virumque cano, Troiae qui primus ab oris

HERR SONNENSTICH:

Herr Robel. And …

ERNST:

.. Italiam, fato profugus, Laviniaque venit litora

HERR SONNENSTICH:

Herr Stiefel.

MORITZ is fast asleep at his desk.

Herr Stiefel.

EVERYONE is looking at him. MORITZ wakes up, slowly.

MORITZ:

Sir? …

HERR SONNENSTlCH:

Continue. Please.

(He hesitates)

Herr Stiefel …

MORITZ (Haltingly):

.. Laviniaque venit …

HERR SONNENSTICH:

Yes ... ?

MORITZ:

.. litora ... multum enim

HERR SONNENSTICH:

"Multum enim"?

MORITZ (Taking another stab at it):

.. multum olim

HERR SONNENSTICH (Losing patience):

"Olim"?! "Multum olim" ... ?! So then, somehow the Pious Aeneas has "already" suffered much "in the days still to come" ... ?

(No response.)

Herr Stiefel?

(No response.)

Do you have any idea what you're saying, Herr Stiefel?

MORITZ is too mortified to respond. MELCHIOR rises.

MELCHIOR:

If you please!

HERR SONNENSTICH:

Pardon me?

MELCHIOR (Covering gracefully):

If you please, Herr Sonnenstich ... can't we at least consider "multum olim" as a plausible conjecture for how the text might read?

HERR SONNENSTICH:

Herr Gabor. We are hardly here today to conjecture about textual conjectures. The boy has made an error.

MELCHIOR:

Yes. But an understandable error, sir. Indeed, if we could only entertain the fitness of the conjecture-

HERR SONNENSTICH:

"Multum olim"?!

MELCHIOR:

Look to the fresh rhetorical balance-"multum olim" introducing "multa quoque" -a parallel, sir, between what Aeneas has already suffered in war and those sufferings on land and sea just ahead.

HERR SONNENSTICH:

Herr Gabor, since the days of Servius, Aulus Gellius, and Claudius Donatus-nay, since the moment of Virgil's death-our world has been littered with more than sufficient critical commentary on textual conjecture.

MELCHIOR:

With all respect, sir, are you then suggesting there is no further room for critical thought or interpretation? Why, indeed, then, do we even-

HERR SONNENSTICH strikes MELCHIOR across the knuckles with a ruler.

HERR SONNENSTICH: I am suggesting no such thing. I am confirming that Herr Stiefel has made an error. And I am asking-nay, demanding-that

you amend his faulty text and proceed from there. Do I make myself clear?

MELCHIOR’S jaw locks.

Herr Gabor?

No response. He strikes MELCHIOR more forcefully.

Herr Gabor, do I make myself clear?

MELCHIOR:

Yes, Herr Sonnenstich: "litora multum ille."

HERR SONNENSTICH:

All of you-together with Melchior Gabor: "Laviniaque venit ... "

CHILDREN:

... litora, multum ille et terris iactatus et alto vi superum saevae memorem Iunonis ob …

The CHILDREN’S recitation grows louder, more insistent, more numbing-as if somehow we were entering into MELCHIOR'S psychic experience of it. A bit of contemporary, electronic music drifts through. Shimmering song light finds MELCHIOR. He turns out and sings-like a rocker in concert:

MELCHIOR:

All that's known

In History, in Science,

Overthrown

At school, at home,

by blind men.

You doubt them,

And soon they bark

and hound you

Till everything you say

is just another bad

about you.

All they say

Is, "Trust in What Is

Written."

Wars are made,

And somehow that is wisdom.

Thought is suspect,

And money is their idol,

And nothing is okay unless it's scripted in their Bible.

But I know

There's so much more to find just

in looking through myself, and not at them.

Still, I know

To trust my own true mind,

And to say: "There's a way through this . .. "

MELCHIOR begins to walk through the aisles of desks.

On I go,

To wonder and to learning

Name the stars and know their dark returning.

I'm calling,

To know the world's true yearning-

The hunger that a child feels for everything they're shown.

You watch me

Just watch me,

I'm calling,

And one day all will know

You watch me

Just watch me,

I'm calling,

And one day all will know

The song concludes. As he rejoins the CHILDREN in their recitation, the lights shift back to the classroom.

CHILDREN:

... multa quoque et bello passus, dum conderet urbem …

HERR SONNENSTICH (Onto fresh matters):

Thank you, gentlemen. Now, if you please: "inferretque deos Latio ... " The following seven lines of Pious Aeneas' journey. From memory.

The CHILDREN begin scribbling. HERR SONNENSTICH steps away. MORITZ taps MELCHIOR shoulder.

MORITZ (whispering):

Melchi, thank you.

MELCHIOR:

It's nothing.

MORITZ:

Still, I'm sorry. You didn't need to-

MELCHIOR ("Not to worry"; ironic):

Think what Aeneas suffered.

MORITZ:

But I should have known it. "Multum ille." It's just ... I didn't sleep all night. In fact, I, uh, suffered a visit from the most horrific, dark phantasm …

MELCHIOR:

You mean a dream?

MORITZ:

A nightmare, really. Legs in sky blue stockings, climbing over the lecture podium.

MELCHIOR:

Oh. That kind of dream.

MORITZ (nodding):

Have you ever suffered such ... mortifying visions?

MELCHIOR:

Moritz, of course. We all have. Otto Lammermeier dreamt about his mother.

MORITZ: Really?!!

MELCHIOR:

Georg Zirschnitz? Dreamt he was seduced by his piano teacher.

MORITZ:

Fräulein Grossebustenhalter?!

HERR SONNENSTICH grabs MORITZ by the arm, hoisting him up.

HERR SONNENSTICH:

Moritz Stiefel. I need hardly remind you that, of all our pupils, you are in no position to be taking liberties. I will

not warn you again.

MORITZ nods-absolutely petrified. An intense alt-rock guitar riff, HERR SONNENSTICH freezes. The world around MORITZ comes to a halt as concert-like light finds him. He turns out in song.

MORITZ:

God, I dreamed there was an angel,

who could hear me through the waII,

As I cried out-like, in Latin

"This is so not life at all.

Help me out-out-of this nightmare."

Then I heard her silver call

She said: "just give it time, kid.

I come to one and all."

MORITZ climbs onto his desk.

She said: "Give me that hand, please,

and the itch you can't control,

Let me teach you how to handle

all the sadness in your soul.

Oh, we'll work that silver magic,

then we'll aim it at the wall."

She said: "Love may make you blind, kid

but I wouldn't mind at all."

The other BOYS (except MELCHIOR) stand up, slamming their hands on the desks and joining MORITZ. OTTO jumps on his desk.

MORITZ AND BOYS:

It's the bitch of living

With nothing but your hand.

Just the bitch of living

As someone you can't stand

MORITZ and OTTO get down and GEORG gets up, while MORITZ and the BOYS pick up and slam down the chairs to the beat.

GEORG:

See, each night, it's, like, fantastic

tossing, turning, without rest,

'Cause my day's at the piano

with my teacher and her breasts;

And the music's, like, the one thing

I can even get at all,

And those breasts! I mean,

God, please, just let those apples fall . ..

BOYS:

It's the bitch of living

With nothing going on.

Just the bitch of living,

Asking: "What went wrong?"

Do they think we want this?

Oh-who knows?

Int. Locker Room - Afternoon

The scene switches to the boy’s locker room. ERNST is in the shower, looking down.

ERNST:

See, there's showering in gym class . ..

HANSCHEN is getting dressed. He catches a glimpse of BOBBY, a boy a year older.

HANSCHEN:

Bobby Maler, he's the best

Looks so nasty in those khakis

ERNST:

God, my whole life's, like, some test.

OTTO walks into the gym to see ANNA, hurling a dodgeball into OTTO’s stomach.

OTTO:

Then there's Marianna Wheelan-as if she'd return my call.

HASNCHEN walks out and playfully punches OTTO.

HANSCHEN:

It's like, just kiss some ass, man-

then you can screw 'em all.

MELCHIOR walks out of the locker room.

MELCHIOR:

It's the bitch of living,

And living in your head

It's the bitch of living,

And sensing God is dead.

The GIRLS run out of the locker room, starting to pick up balls and throw them.

BOYS and GIRLS:

It’s the bitch of living

And getting what you get-

It’s the bitch of living

and knowing this is it

God, is this it?

This can't be it.

Oh God, what a bitch!

The CHILDREN drop the balls as the bell rings.

FRAU SHAFER:

Kids, hit the showers and grab your bags. I’ll see you tomorrow.

OTTO:

Well, I'm off.

ERNST:

Me, too.

HANSCHEN:

I'll walk with you, Ernst.

ERNST pauses, turns back.

ERNST:

You will?

HANSCHEN:

We'll huddle over the Homer. Maybe do a little Achilles and Patroclus.

GEORG:

Melchior, Moritz.

MELCHIOR: Home to Bach?

GEORG:

Fraulein Grossebustenhalter will not be kept waiting.

GEORG shivers involuntarily, and goes.

MORITZ:

Ach, Melchi! Sixty lines of Homer, all those quadratic equations ... I'll be up all night again, haunted by another of those ... dreams. And still I won't get through it.

MELCHIOR:

Oh, yes. Your dream.

MORITZ:

Melchi, why-why-am I haunted by the legs of a woman? By the deepening conviction: some dark part of my destiny may lie there between them?

MELCHIOR:

All right then. I'll tell you. I got it out of books. But prepare yourself: it made an atheist out of me.

(A beat.)

So-

MORITZ:

No no-not here! I can't talk it! No-do me a favor: write it down. All of it. Put it in my bag-after lunch-tomorrow.

(A beat.)

If you like, you could add some illustrations in the margins.

(A beat.)

MELCHIOR:

Top to bottom?

MORITZ:

Everything.

PRINCIPAL KNOCKENBRUCH and another teacher, FRAULINE KNUPPLEDICK, stroll past the gym and pause.

HERR KNOCHENBRUCH:

Unfathomable. Fraulein Knuppeldick.

FRAULEIN KNUPPELDICK:

Herr Knochenbruch-

HERR KNOCHENBRUCH:

Look at that. Melchior Gabor, a young man of distinct intellectual capability-

FRAULEIN KNUPPELDICK:

Thoroughly distinct.

HERR KNOCHENBRUCH:

A young man who could be our top student-

FRAULEIN KNUPPELDICK:

Top, Herr Knochenbruch.

HERR KNOCHENBRUCH:

But there he is, polluting himself, cavorting about with that, that …

FRAULEIN KNUPPELDICK:

Hysterical imbecile, Moritz Stiefel?

HERR KNOCHENBRUCH:

Thank Heavens we can only pass sixty.

#spring awakening #spring awakening musical #spring awakening movie #script #act 1 #scene 2

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starswornoaths · 5 years ago

Note

📔

I wrote these a bit lengthy, so I’m sticking a cut here bc spoilers for 4.5 but I was an indecisive bean and there’s an entry for Serella, Uthengentle, and just because I write him enough that I might as well, one for Aymeric as well! Thank you for the ask! \o/

(edit: OR IT JUST WON’T LET ME ADD A CUT WHAT THE ACTUAL SHIT TUMBLR I’M ON THE DESKTOP SITE SO FAIR WARNING SPOILERS FOR 4.5 AFTER THIS EDIT OKAY THANK YOU I’M SO SORRY WTFFFFFF)

Serella:

My name is Serella Arcbane. (her name is underlined)

Not so long ago I would have found it ridiculous that I needed to remind myself what my name is. Given that I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been referred to by my name instead of a title, however, I think I’m allowed. Now that I have another one, however temporary...it seemed a good time to remind myself.

Antecedent...the title carries with it too much pain. Too much loss. The remaining Scions approved of my accepting the title for lack of anyone else with any seniority willing or able to take it. I remind myself that it’s temporary, that the second even one of my companions wakes up, I get to just be the Warrior of Light again.

Just, I say. As if it were an inconsequential thing in itself.

At least then, when I was naught more than the Warrior of Light, I was able to still be Serella. I wasn’t made to isolate myself from everyone I know and love. It hurts, knowing that I had finally found family amongst so many people, so many I hold dear, who now can’t see me, either because they are unable to make the journey or because it would be improper of them to do so.

Ma came to visit me today. Her visit...I don’t know. When she called me by my name...I didn’t even respond to it at first. It was as if I had just...forgotten it. Perhaps I did. Perhaps I will again. She suggested I write it down. Said it’s how she remembers the little things about Da. I don’t know if it’ll help. I wish he was here, too. Of all the things I’ve forgotten, that I can’t remember what he looked like hurts me the most.

I’ve forgotten so many things I took for granted. So many little things about those I love. In writing, I hope I can remember at least a few- or at least, be reminded of them.

Raubahn has this deep belly laugh when I crack jokes with him- and really, he is the one constant patron of my puns, readily exchanging more with me for as long as we both have jokes to spare. Says it’s from years of being a father. I can’t remember how his laugh sounds.

Merlwyb would refuse to admit it- and if she ever catches wind of documentation of it, she’ll throw me to the Sahagin, of that I have no doubt- but I miss her singing. Low and rumbling as thunder, textured like velvet but fills the room like smoke. I’ve forgotten how the tune goes, which is ridiculous. I’ve heard her hum it a thousand times.

Aymeric...gods, for how he haunts my dreams you would think I would remember his smile. I should. I remember the things that made him smile. When I would bring sweets from that one chocolatier in town, or sweets from somewhere I had recently traveled. When I would move his bangs to kiss his forehead. Or sometimes...just when he looked at me.

What shade of blue were his eyes? Were they a deeper shade like the night sky over the Steppe? Or was that the blue of his coat that I’m remembering?

Why am I forgetting everything so quickly?! I have object permanence! It’s only been some moon and a sennight since I last saw everyone! I’m not some geriatric invalid rapidly losing who I am! I’m not some tempered thrall of a primal, adrift in want to serve my master and bereft of all concept of self! I am not-

(The following lines are writ with words made illegible with scribblings of ink and lines frustratedly crossed through them with enough force to nearly tear a hole in the paper. At the bottom, as if in triumph, there are only two more legible sentence:)

I am Serella Arcbane, and no one can take that from me. Not even a god.

Uthengentle:

Visited Ma over coffee this morning. I went fully intending to just say goodbye then and there. Made sense, I figured. We were leaving tomorrow.

I couldn’t say goodbye. I tried, Rhalgr knows I did.

Had written a letter ahead of everything just in case. Only makes sense, given our line of work. Left that instead. Didn’t even have the stomach to say goodbye at the door. I left while she went to make another cup for me. I’ll have to apologize to her later. If we make it back.

...When. When we make it back. No sense in the doom and gloom; we’ve been through such shite before. Doubt this would be the end of it, either, but I can hope.

Ellie’s been having worse episodes with that voice, nearly passing out a time or two from what F’lhaminne told me. I hate I can’t be more help. I wish I could at least understand what she’s going through. All I get is headaches, sometimes a flash of an image, but it never bothers me. Krile suspects that has to do with Serella being more sensitive to aether and the Echo than I am.

I just hope they stop once we leave. They should, right? If we’re going where we’re being called, they have no reason to keep callin’, I’d assume. Or their arseholes, and will do it anyway. Won’t matter. Let ‘em. We’ve got our family to save.

...Well. Some of ‘em. Still feels wrong to abandon everyone on the front lines. We should be there. The closer we get to leaving, the more ill I feel about it. From what Ellie said, she’s not faring much better in that regard. Said Aymeric told her to let them handle this fight, but he’s gotta know without us it could go either way. The man’s not stupid- none of ‘em are. Raubahn promised he’d defend the camp with his last breath...but I don’t want it to come to that.

Riol’s been scouting in Thancred’s place- from what he’s been able to gather, the Garleans are holding their cards to their chest. They have something big planned, and they’re just waiting for the right time to use it. Is that time when we’re out of the picture?

I hate that I don’t know, and I can’t find out before we leave.

I hate even more that we have to leave at all, but it’s clearly not something we have a choice in. Either we go to them, or we’re pulled to them. Better we still have our bodies and our senses and just bite the bullet.

Warned Hilda to up the Watch with the Templars out of Ishgard. Not that she needs that warning; woman’s an unstoppable force already. It could be her and her alone standing at the gate if the Imperials march on Ishgard, and the safe money would still be on Hilda, far as I’m concerned.

I know my friends are capable without me around. I know they don’t need the Warriors of Light to keep them going. Doesn’t mean I don’t just want to be there to protect them- or failing that, die with them- and just fuck off to some far flung wherever.

We’ll be back before we know it. I’ll see to it myself if I have to.

Aymeric:

The battle continues into its fifth week, now. Though we have not lost an ilm to the Imperials, nor have they lost ground to us. Losses on both sides are mounting. We are hitting a breaking point, everyone can sense it. That there is a turning point fast approaching is not in question, but to which side the tide shall turn.

O Halone shield your children from the encroaching dark, I beseech thee.

The Warriors of Light make to leave in search of the Scions. The Alliance had to all but force them into leaving this battle to us, a turning point that came with the fear that (there is a name crossed out) the acting Antecedent had fallen to the same affliction that had claimed the rest. With her restored, however, they yet have hope to find those whose souls have been set adrift from this star. I only hope their path leads to victory, and then to home.

(the remainder of the entry is written in a different ink, presumably at a later point in time. The letters are splotched in places with drops of water.)

I nearly lost her. When Estinien laid her lifeless body in front of me, I feared the worst. We bore her to Ishgard with the full expectation that she would not wake. By the Fury, but when she did...

We are...no longer courting. I remind myself of this every time I am made to respond to one of her missives. That we are only separated by temporary obligation is beside the point: whatever relief I might have felt, whatever ache I carry in my chest will have to stay there, so long as she holds the title of Antecedent.

Only for now. Another reminder to myself.

She yet shields me, even now, so far from the battlefield as she is made to be. Her promise still sits upon my hand. It shall do so unto death, and longer yet. I have already requested she not be allowed to take the ring from my finger. I have no need to be freed from it in Halone’s halls; regardless of her own heart, if I am the first to fall, then I will wait. I had long since decided thus, even before we were betrothed.

I only wish I had not been so reserved with her for so long. I should have made more time for her. I swore to her I would never take her for granted and yet to dwell on our courtship, I always took her return as given. Now...now I only pray, and continue to fight that I might live to see her return.

(there are entire swaths of sentences scratched out, only some words such as, “promise,” “love,” and, “forgive,” are barely legible)

She must return. I know not what to do without her otherwise.

O Halone guide my beloved home in victory.

#chysgoda #thank you for the ask!#why yes I'm still on this feels train!#spoilers for 4.5 #ffxiv rp ask meme #Serella Arcbane #Uthengentle Arcbane #Aymeric de Borel

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itsme690 · 6 years ago

Text

Bad Day part 3

_________

The following week Rami was off to LA. Luckily this round he was only going to be gone for two weeks and would be home in three more days! He called me every morning at 7am, which in LA it was the ungodly hour of 4am, just to tell me to have a good day and that he loved me. We texted anytime he was free, and facetimed each night when I was going to bed. I loved him so much for always thinking of me even while he was away.

I had put in my two weeks notice at the office a few days after Rami asked me to go to London with him, so I only had the reaminder of this week left!

It was Wednesday morning and promptly at 7am, my phone buzzed.

"Good morning, handsome." I said into the phone, starting to get dressed for work.

"Hello love. Just think, three more days and you'll be done with that place and you can come home and I'll be there waiting for you with open arms! And then you'll be with me on a longgg 9 hour plane ride with meeee!!"

"Oh..great...." I teased him.

"Hey, you know you love me!" I wish I could see his face, I bet he had that little smirk on.

"Yeah yeah yeah...I do.." I giggled back.

"I miss you (Y/N), I can't wait to be back home with you...doing filhy things with you..." he whispered that last part in a teasing way.

"Don't you dare start..."

"I want to take you in my arms, kiss you har..."

"RAMI!!"

"hard..slowly undress you...slide my hand down...."

"RAMI I have to get ready for work!"

"...down to your good spot...cupping your wet warmth..."

"Fuck it..ill be late. You got me babe, don't let me down now..."

"Have I ever let you down baby?" I got myself back into bed now, only half dressed. His words were definitely making me feel some sort of way.

"Never." Shaking my head. "You always make me feel so good. I love your touch, I crave you to be inside of me.." I said, tucking my hair behind my ears.

"Oh yeah baby. Tell me, what are you wearing?" he sneered.

"Wouldn't you like to know.." I winked even though I knew he couldn't see me.

"As a matter of fact I do..it would really help me out right now."

"Bra and panties."

"Color? Lacy? Silky? Come on, help a guy out."

"Blush pink, silky. But they are in the works of coming off...." I teased and unclasped my bra and slid my panties down my legs.

"Thats so hott (Y/N)! I bet your nipples are rock hard, and your pussy is wet."

"Yes sir. Very wet. What do you want me to do?" I asked seductively.

"Place your hands on your breasts. I want to feel those beauties so bad...sucking your nipples."

"Mmm yes baby, I love the sound of that. I want to take your cock in my hands..and then in my mouth. Sucking you. Bobbing my head up and down your length."

"Fuck (Y/N) you're good. You make me so fucking hard."

"Oh yeah? I want to make you cum so fucking hard, swallowing every..last..drip.." By now I slithered my hand down my stomach to begin touching myself. Our phone sex may not be the greatest, but its the best we can do when we are apart.

"Shit..really? That sounds so fucking hott! Start rubbing your clit now."

"Oops I'm already doing that..and it feels so good."

"Quick slide in a finger!" He demanded. I did as I was told.

"Mmm Rami, now what?"

"Add another! Then curl those fingers baby!" He said. I curled my fingers as he told me to, finding the spot he can always find so easily by himself. "Pump em' in and out baby."

"Oh shit, I'm so close. Talk to me..tell me what you want to do to me!" I said, pumping my fingers in and out, curling them. It didn't feel nearly as good compared to when Rami did this.

"Yes baby, cum for me! I want to suck and flick your clit while pumping my fingers in you. You squeezing my head with your thighs."

"FUCKK RRAMI..don't stop! Don't fucking stop!" Pumping my fingers faster, grinding my clit on the palm of my hand.

"Then i'll lick my fingers clean of your juices. Then kiss you, sliding my tongue to meet yours."

"I need you inside me me baby, right fucking now!"

"I guide myself in you, filling you. Fuck (Y/N) you are so fucking tight around me! Slamming myself into you.."

"MMMM...FUCKK YESS OH GOD!!!" I moan as I let myself go. Hearing his voice saying these things to me just made me so hot. "Ahhh I..I..love you so much Rami!!" I kept going with the sexy talk to help him get off. After a few loud grunts and moaning of my name I knew he was in his ecstasy.

"(Y/N), you make me feel so amazing. You never cease to amaze me. I love you too, so much." He said, panting and out of breath. "I really really can't wait to be with you in a few short days."

"I can't wait too baby." I said, trying to compse myself to get up and get dressed for work, I was going to be so late! "So, how am I going to explain why I am so late this morning?"

"Stop at Dunkin' on your way in, grab a dozen donuts and a box of joe. Tell them the line was really long but you felt like treating everyone since its your last few days." He suggests. A huge smile appeared on my face.

"Rami Malek, have I ever told you how brilliant you are!? Thank you! I will do just that!" I blushed.

"Thank you, thank you very much!"

"I'll talk to you later babe, have a great day!! I love you!" Not wanting to get off the phone with him but I knew I had to so I could finish getting ready and head to Dunkin'.

"Thank you love, You as well. I love you more!" He said.

"Not in a million years." I said and we hung up. I was being honest though, I don't think he could love me more than I love him. Equally, maybe. But not more!

__________________________________

It was finally Friday! The whole office threw me a Bon Voyage party for my last day. I was a bit surprised by it honestly, I didn't think any of them even liked me. I loaded my car with flowers and cards that some of my co-workers had given me. My drive home was the best, knowing I never had to go to that place again, knowing that Rami was home waiting for me. Anxiously trying to get home as quick as possible, I unfortunately hit every red light.

I pulled into the driveway and jumped out of my car. Running to the house, leaving the flowers and cards in the car, knowing he could help me transport them to the house later. I just HAD to see him!!

I unlocked the door and opened it to Max whining and wagging his tail, happy to see me. "Honey I'm homeeeee!" I called, hanging up my coat and purse.

"SURPRISE!!!" said from a few familiar voices. Rami, had invited both our familes and some of our closest friends over for a surprise last minute going away party! I ran straight to him and took him in my arms.

"Thank you baby, you didn't have to do this! I love you so much!" I looked at him in eyes and pecked his lips. He took me around the corner to a more secluded room so he could kiss me more passionately without the audience.

"I know baby. I know we haven't been together for two weeks but I figured we should see our friends and families before we leave for London on Tuesday." He was such a family man, I loved him for that. We went back out to entertain our guests. I talked with my parents while Rami was joking around with his twin brother, Sami.

I went to the empty kitchen to grab myself another glass of wine when Yasmine, Ramis older sister, came in behind me.

"So, are you excited to be going to London?" she asked.

"Ecstatic! I know I won't be going on set a lot of the days but I have always wanted to go sightseeing in London, so here is my chance! As well as being with the love of my life!" I said grabbing the wine from the fridge.

"Well, you sure are glowing! You will love it over there! Just don't go too crazy!" She said and left the room. What did she mean by glowing? Shit. When was the last time I had...? I ran to look at the calendar. I looked down and placed my hands on my stomach. Could I be? No....I can't be.... right? I'm on birth control!

The rest of the party I couldn't stop thinking about Yasmines comment. GLOWING. Sami and Rami hugged it out on the front porch and I waved from the front door. Rami closed the door behind him as we went in to clean up the house. He was washing dishes in the kitchen as I wiped down the kitchen table.I was so nervous to talk to him about what his sister had told me, but I was dying inside, I had to tell him!

"So Yasmine told me something interesting tonight.." I said anxiously.

"Oh my God, please dont tell me she told you the time when I...." he started to say. I interrupted him.

"No no babe not that. She said I was glowing..." I forced out. He stopped washing the glass in his hand and looked confused.

"What does she mean by that?" he asked, running the glass under the faucet to get the soap off and placing it in the drying rack.

"Well, most of the time when people say that women are 'glowing' they mean.." He instantly turned around to look at me. He had an indifferent look on his face.

"(Y/N) are you pregnant?" he asked in different tone. I couldn't tell if he was angry, scared, or happy.

"I don't know. I didn't even realize I was late until she mentioned I was 'glowing'!" Rami just had a blank stare on his face. "Please, please say whats on your mind love."

"I mean, you know...I'd be delighted if you are. Its not the best of timing, but we will take things as they come if you are pregnant." He walked over to me, grabbing my hands, bringing them to his chest. "I'd love to see a little you or me running around!" His answers made me so relieved. Yes, were going to London, not the best timing but..we will be happy.

"Oh thank God! I was so nervous of what you would say. You would be an amazing father, Rami." I said and took him in my arms tighter than ever.

__________

The next morning I woke up and rolled over to where Rami had been sleeping right next to me. My eyes still closed, feeling around for his body but he wasn't there. I rubbed and opened my eyes to find a note on his pillow. 'Good morning love, Ran out to pick up a few things, be back soon. I love you! -Ram.'

I stayed in bed wondering what he could have possibly needed to go out so early for on a Saturday morning! He was not a morning person and would always sleep in later than I would. So this was definitely odd behavior for him to be up and out before me!

I heard him close his car door when he got home. I was just so excited that he was back. His keys jingled in the front door. I wanted him so bad, I took off my pjs and hid anxiously under the covers for him to come find me! His footsteps getting louder and louder the closer he got to our room. I sat up, wrapping the blankes around my chest.

"Good morning baby" he said, carrying a few bags and two coffees. "Got you your favorite coffee and a muffin!" He kissed the top of my head.

"Thank you honey! But whats with all the bags?" I asked curiously. He dumped out the bags on the bed. Tons of pregnancy tests came falling out.

"I didn't know which brand you preferred or which is most accurate. So here is one of every kind thats out there!" he said looking down at them. " I could barely sleep last night, thinking about this too much."

"Oh, Rami!" I giggled. "Come here baby!" Still holding up the blankets to cover my chest. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed next to me, resting his head on my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around him, his head now holding up the blanket against me. "Thank you, I love you." I smiled and kissed the fuzzy side of his head.

"Lets go, I want to know. I need to know love." he said, urging me to get up to take one of the many many tests. He tossed me the throw blanket from the chair, he must have known my original intentions of the morning. I wrapped myself up in the warm, flannel blanket and grabbed one of the tests.

"Alright, it says we need to wait 5 minutes to get the results." I set the timer on my phone. I threw on my bathrobe to stay warm.

"5 minutes!?" he said, pacing around the bedroom. I took his hands in mine, kissing his knuckles.

"Baby relax. We are in this together. I am just as anxious." I sat him in the arm chair beside the bed and sat on his lap, throwing my legs up over the arm of the chair. Cupping his face in my hands I turned him to look at me. "Seriously, are you okay with all of this?"

"I'm excited and nervous. Especially since I'm not sure how long we will be in London for still. I just want you to know I will be there for you no matter what the outcome. I love you (Y/N)."

"I love you too Rami."

The sound of my phone started going off to let us know it was time. "Are you ready?" I asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be." he said, picking me up in his arms, kissing me and gently placing my feet on the floor. We went in to the bathroom to check. A single red line was the result. "What does that mean??" He was fidgeting with the tests intructions to figure out what it meant.

"Negative." I said.

"Take another!" He said, running back in the bedroom to grab me another test. "That test was a bad one. You've got to be pregnant, Yasmine is always right!" He stopped and looked at me with narrowed eyes.."don't you dare tell her I ever said that!" We both laughed. He left the room so I could take this second test. Luckily I had that coffee. I came back out and sat on edge of the bed, head in my hands. "Whats wrong love?" He was digging out our suitcases out of the back of our closet.

"What if...what if i'm not pregnant?" I said sadly. He came over and sat next to me.

"Well then we will try again, a lot." he sneered. "(Y/N), don't worry about it. The timing isn't the greatest, but if you are, thats great too! I really want to be the father of your baby. You will be a wonderful mother when the time is right. I love you, sweetheart, forever, regadrless of this outcome." He always knew the right things to say.

"I love you too. I just, I dont know. I really want this. I have always wanted to have kids but never really thought when I wanted them. And now, I really want this." His hand on my cheek moved my face to look at him.

"I really want this too." He said and kissed my lips. We went back in to check this test together. Hand in hand. I closed my eyes.

"I can't look Rami, what does it show?" I asked, covering my face with my empty hand.

"A plus sign?"he questioned.

"OMG!" I squealed, opening my eyes to look at it myself to make sure he was right.

"Baby, whats it mean!?!?!" he turned to me to see the look on my face.

"Rami, WE'RE PREGNANT!" I yelled. He grabbed me in his arms and spun me around. Kissing my whole face.

#rami #rami malek #rami malek fluff #rami malek smut #rami malek fanfiction #rami malek fanfic #fluff #smut #rami malek x reader #ramixreader #bad day #locw of my life

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bluepenguinstories · 6 years ago

Text

Intention Headaches Chapter Three

Hung atop aside, hinged off a chiseled face of a cliff rest a vestige some know as home – a domed structure, bolted on by nails and years of structuring and reconstructing. Inside lie bodies, torsos and limbs, abreast a bereft vestibule. Bodies moving, some stationary. Animated, alive, lively for all the motions and immobile actions.

Without the use of movement, chromatic machinery lit up a main hall, where piles of ancient manuscripts lie among magazines of a bygone era (beside a pile of magazines ready to be loaded into weaponry).

“We have been assigned a new mission,” One such figurehead, poised in such a figurative manner, walked in with a voice of a sultry honey badger in heat.

“Out with it, Virgil!” Roared an uproarious uproar amongst munches of an ultra rare steak. One human poised seated, having counted her losses and after counting her winnings had decided she had earned an ultra rare steak, but therein lies the problem – one should never count winnings amongst their losses.

“Very well,” veracious Virgil henceforth found footing. “Underway, we have been requested to assassinate Hemingway.” Overhead, stiff air in a stuffy room supported a cough. “Should we...?”

“Accept it, dammit!” Growled and howled a huff from a mouth stuffed.

“Now Adeline, I know you have a personal vendetta against the Hemingways, but we must remember those words we read on the side of the mechanic caterpillar, written through the use of an aerosol can. 'Love comes close, but it eludes me'. Do you remember what that means?”

“As our leader has said, 'love is a labor and we are indentured servants'. But I've always hated how she said that! Tryin' to pretty up her words!”

“Yes, and as such, if we deny this mission, we may lose funds for the month. However, if we accept it and fail, we may lose lives in the process as well as our funds. Is such a high risk worth the reward?”

Adeline, fulfilling a carnal desire, tore into the pieces of meat, ravaging and pillaging what once belonged to a cow. Deep down, remnants of cow burrowed within the conscious and melded the mindset, a just cause for such a lass to be on the prowl.

“I know you have been voted best girl in the wake of Virginia's illness, however, she still makes the final decision.”

“She better say yes is all I'm sayin'! After our loss against the Plaths the other night, we gotta show this town our fangs!”

“I will pass that message along and inform you of her decision.”

Virgil walked over to the console just two footprints away, where Adeline could still see. Silent hums from the machine greeted the two. Displayed in the air were options, in which Virgil knew just which combination created the recipe to speak with the ill.

“Dear leader, mission request to assassinate Hemingway. Should we accept it?”

On the other end, crisp and clear as less than apple and closer to day, yet still miles apart, enshrined the vocal choral reef of an undersea beauty. Or, that of a tenor.

“A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to brew potions. Some drink glitter, I find porcelain dolphins in my lobotomies; vases taped shut to suitcases, some know of my return, but only upon your graves shall I utter the names of all the best breads for those to eat. Under each table are necessary supplies. Glue to hold us all in times where we can feel the cracks from the Earth. Ground beneath our little toesies. We know of the days spent, shrouded in cement, unbearable societies, yet we chisel away. If we are to work as a union, we must commune in each room, rooms of our own.”

“Thank you, miss.”

“I know you all will betray me!”

Adeline was slurping on fat. Loud and clear; queer findings, she heard it all.

“So in other words, yes,” Adeline concluded.

“Indeed,” Virgil was somewhere nearby, having made a reply.

“Excellent!” Added a line, aggressive in the grin department. Teeth spread, some sharpened on the ironing block. Forged ahead was a stomp across the base hall.

Plump aplomb, plum bedsheets plopped a volatile, stomach first, face smushed down against down pillowcases. Middling mutterings uttered outside an open mouth, drool exiting stage right.

“I won't rest until I hear an adverb...”

From outside a room of her own, two shapes with two sets of limbs gestured to one another.

“How could you let her just accept the offer?” Gyrated gruff giving of words.

“Adeline is best girl. It has been decided,” replied other set of limbs.

“That may be so, but look at us! We've taken a shitton o' hits over here! At this rate, we're gonna need new members! Remember when one Ka wanted in? Y'know what Virginia said?”

“'Only fools Russian'?” Virgil took a guess and hit outside the target.

“Excuse, em, me?”

“Apologies. I know no enunciation.”

“Anyway, no! She said, 'we cannot allow practitioners of magic.' Yet magic ain't even a thing! Did'ya see Ka claim to be a churchgoer? Nah! Ka ain't nah churchgoer! Far from, Ka a free woman!”

“Yes, however, Ka married. As she said, 'love is a union inside a megacorporation.' Under those circumstances, suspicion becomes necessary caution.”

Vinny volunteered to vanish; Virgil followed suit. Pinstripe, tuxedo, two-piece. All there inside closets. Both made their turns down the aisles, Virgil reassured.

“I will ensure this mission is as close to success as possible.”

Plan underway, assassinate Hemingway.

Adeline had a way, then lost it. Made one again so as to meet the main hall where members conversed. Virgil, unconsumed with conversation, consumed instead in an ancient manuscript well before days of neon.

“What's that ya got?” the best girl addressed.

“Research material on the Hemingway gang.”

Within Virgil's hands rest a book titled 'The Importance of Being Earnest'.

“What's it say?” Insistence increased.

“Unsure just yet. From what I gather it is a biography on the gang's leader, Ernie.”

“That bastard oughtta gimme an adverb 'fore he bites the dust, all's Im'ma say on that!”

Added to the tension was the pace meat muncher found herself in. Add a line and Adeline followed. Two steps one way, two steps back.

Preceding preparations post-declarations, another bold statement was made:

“Remember: if he breathes, he's a thought.”

“All gang leaders are queens,” Virgil made due diligence to remind those with high steaks.

“This one's diff'rent. Doesn't use adverbs. Shorter than the rest. Merely a thought.”

Virgil nodded a virginal nod. Sole male sorely knew his place.

“I shall sit this one out.”

Fruits of labor at times may involve blue. While quiet and sulfuric as the night, certain arrangements could be made to blue gear armed to the teeth, about 26 of them, give or take a few here and there depending on how many punches had been served. Blue hats, blue vests, blue as their cold, dead hearts.

Knocked upon one door of an aromatic adornment stood a blue, awaiting the pace of a refined romantic enamored with the allure of romance in times of war.

So soon, frozen. Door opened, quiet creak. No bells and whistles. Just wood application.

“Your purpose?”

“I have a report of smuggled narcotics in the area,” blue blathered before blasting barrels of bionic explosives packed into a tangible L-shaped device, small enough to fit inside such small hands.

Swaths of graceful age, reduced to meaty chunks and disintegrated charred bits where once stood tall a perfect paragon to the finer things in life. Also gone, were parts of the door. Door hinges, unhinged.

Surrounded in response were other gentlemen, prior sharing cups of tea, now enraged at the blue at the door. Shotguns in tow, cocked and barreled past the point of reason. One blue life, no more.

“Shameful,” one bearable bear body decreed, observing in equal measure dead hired hitman in blue as well as one who understood preciousness of presentation.

“Highest esteemed gentleman breathes,” a relief voiced by one who could wrestle bears with words.

“Attack meets retaliation,” forewarned one higher up on the respectable ladder. Rungs wrung out followed a pattern, polka-dots unruly, all things considered. One atop such a ladder may have sat, whiskey in hand, whispering of days of old.

Sure, just, fair, and true to form, each and every one of the single employs and envoys met such a lament, seated on a throne of regret. Sipped and chipped away at old days, one known as a leader of Hemingway. However, one day, Hemingway knew not the way. Such a day was an older day, when blood lay in a more sporty pool where all could drink and swim from sans the sanguine anxiousness of urination.

“We fight,” Ernie avowed, having taken to declaration.

Such strutted men, taken to streets. Outside, street lights with camera lens flares and a crimson radial temperature. Men in heat, overall, such men wore overalls.

World weary childlike syntax stopped the men in their tracks before reaching too close to the liminal space between Woolf and Hemingway.

“Stop,” commanded one without subordination and to his subordinates.

On the ground rest many pairs of mittens made of leather the size of a mouse, or smaller. Such mittens small enough to fit a foot (a pair fitting feet) who had given their introduction from out of a womb. In spite of having been strewn across the grime of the ground, such leather mittens fitted for feet were in such a condition as to suggest having not having a pair of feet placed inside of them.

“Baby shoes, never worn,” observed over three feet, yet less than five feet tall a man who looked to be between 10.2 and 12.9 years of age yet bore the voice of one with at least five ten's worth or greater years lived as a breathable human.

Men looked at each other. In unison, looked toward their miniscule pioneer.

“What must be done?” Question given.

“Stand back and ready shotgun.”

Command placed upon a chess board meticulous as the one which does not exist and all men were knights in the absence of pawns or bishops. At once and arms drawn before bidding them farewell; arms raised, as if to wave goodbye. So too, baby shoes.

Explosion in response to removed baby shoes from the battlefield. Erupted choruses of men who forged ahead.

Moon above and bereft. Sky of sulfur.

Once threshold had been crossed, howls took form. Henceforth Hemingway gang on guard, arms raised, scanning their environment once more. Dense streets ought have been arid, or lucrative, yet instead, invalid. Buildings best sat where better to stand and homeowners would have fled. Better yet were those without homes who could have found temporary residence within their wits. Instead, homes of abandonment.

Cascading howls hinterland. In earnest, Ernie sent signals to extraordinary gentlemen and such gentlemen took residence searching for shadows in each home.

“Dens for wolves,” muttered breaths.

Blood sprinkled, an inverted rainbow in only one color as howls from both friend and foe sprang forth once more. Fashioned by the Woolfs were claws used for burrowing into chests of burly men. Such claws, equipped with electricity, stacked with static. Even those to stand and breathe would see immobility.

Upon noticing injury and deaths of comrades, shot into the air spiked forward, launching itself forth as a gleeful missile would.

More Hemingway sprang.

“Jolly good,” all sang.

From afar, two jars in place of binoculars, a line added in the line of danger.

“Damn,” damned the one handing out damnations. “Curses,” cursed the same person.

To top things off, to even the odds, the 1's and 3's became 2's and 4's. In other words, rugs, carpets, and mats, make for good deceptive works of art. All one has to do is lay them flat and the world gives itself a pat on the back.

Wolves got to work working carpentry just in time for bundled burlap surgery to unfold. Backed away was a way with hemming. All rest were irons struck hot and forged ahead of schedule.

One step and a splintered acorn fission created flame and flash alike. Spectacle of smoke, specifically of the destructive variety.

Vicious visage which was voted greatest seized the confusion or upstaged clarity to make leaps and bounds across building tops and plunge to the bottom with her claws spread. Observant owl watched such a display.

“Carpet bombs,” his two words said and his look of disapproval said everything else.

Stepping forward once more were the Hemingway men, unscathed.

Unable to deny, Adeline, awe, star, and dumbstruck, struck a look of disgust.

“How the fuck?”

“Shielded clothing,” sang jolly good fellows.

“Thought you fuckers 'ere against modern shit!” Feral lady gave a series of barks which translated rather well into English words and phrases albeit some creative liberties taken.

“Everything with purpose,” next verse.

“Men,” preached a prophet little more than four heads tall.

Ways of hems aimed and took potshots at wolves inside buildings. Claws could not save those without shield.

Last whimpers made by canines slain. Growled a displeased pooch, lines added were diminished by the one who adds lines via combinations of finesse, razor sharp claws, and a ducked head.

Joyous chorus became showered confetti of blood crystal droplets, which Adeline collected and lavished.

“Your gang's mostly toast! You're definitely next!” Proud roar of a wolf.

“T'is Sunday,” gave a friendly reminder from a gentlemanly gentleman. Hiding underneath Ernie's underpants rest a righteous rod which he pulled out gracefully for all the world to see. Split into two, one rod became two, smaller rods. Each rod lit up, beams of pure energy, until the energy took the shape of a blade.

Ernie on a Sunday, blades of energy in tow, sliced down upon the arms of the one always adding lines. She saw two limbs dropped, plopped, and a jetstream of ruby liquid, tasting of salty iron shot forward before fizzling out.

“Farewell,” saluted a man in earnest.

She, in response, took to knees, and/or a scream.

“Does this mean defeat?” She asked of Ernie.

“Absolutely.”

#intention headaches #writing #surreal #crime #street gangs #fiction #literary #hemingway #woolf #cyberpunk #gangs #a farewell to arms #the importance of being earnest

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myownsuperintendent · 6 years ago

Text

Fic: “A Tale of Two Nosebleeds”

Even family life can sometimes lead to accidents. Fluff set in a universe in which Scully gets to raise all three of her children. Warning for blood, as the name implies. Also here on Ao3.

.....

One

Scully’s heart nearly stops when the kids come into the kitchen. She tries not to worry about them, at least not more than your average parent. Emily is healthy now and has been for a long time; no one’s come after them since William was a baby. They have a form of peace, as much as they ever can.

But while she may have more reason than most to be worried, while she can’t help thinking back to her own past illness now, she thinks that even the average parent would be justified in being concerned right now. Emily’s face is practically covered in blood. It’s oozing from her nose, and both of the kids are shouting at once, so she can’t make any of it out, and she gives a little cry herself, dropping the plate she’s been washing into the sink.

She can tell Mulder’s worried too, looking at him, but he’s the one to get things under control. “Woah,” he says. “Woah, slow down, both of you. What’s going on?”

“They took Patricia!” William says into the sudden silence, loudly and indignantly. This doesn’t explain anything, since the much-loved, much-worn Patricia—she’s been going strong since the 1960s, despite all the times Will chewed on her head as a baby—is currently dangling from Emily’s hand.

“Patricia’s right here,” Mulder says, taking the doll from Emily—probably a good idea, since the blood is already running down onto Emily’s shirt. “See? Who took her? What happened to your nose, Em?”

“They were being mean to Will!” Emily says, and her voice would sound very fierce if it weren’t so thick. “So I punched them.”

“Who?” Mulder asks again. He looks confused, and Scully can’t blame him.

“Jim and Mike,” Emily says, finally. “The ones who live on the fourth floor. They were teasing him and they took Patricia and I punched them. Both,” she adds. She sounds fairly proud of it. “And then Mike punched me. But I got Patricia back.”

“I can see you did,” Scully says. Right now, she feels faintly relieved, although she knows they should get more of the story, and maybe talk to the other kids’ parents, and maybe talk to Emily about violence. “Come here, Em. Let me get you cleaned up. Tip your head and pinch your nose.”

Emily follows her obediently, but once she has her head bent over the sink and Scully’s dabbing at her chin with a wet paper towel, she starts talking again. “They were being so mean,” she says, her voice sounding funny through her pinched nose. “They said Will shouldn’t even have Patricia. Because she’s a doll and he’s a boy.” She shakes her head vigorously; Scully puts out a hand to hold her still. “That’s so stupid.”

“It is stupid,” Mulder agrees.

“You did the right thing to help Will,” Scully says. “But maybe you shouldn’t have punched—”

“But they’re bigger than me, Mom!” Emily protests. “And a lot bigger than Will.” Scully isn’t sure how old the boys in the apartment who live upstairs are—around Emily’s age, she thinks. She’s seen them, briefly, in the courtyard area of their building, where a lot of the kids who live there play. As of today, she’s not impressed with them. “I did talk to them first,” she says. “But they wouldn’t listen. And you always say I should look out for Will. You always say that.” She raises her head, gingerly. “Besides, they punched me too.”

“You punched them first,” Scully points out.

“I told you why,” Emily says. She looks indignant, as if she expected nothing but sympathy. Maybe she’s being too harsh, Scully thinks, because she really doesn’t blame Emily; maybe she’s overcompensating. Mulder certainly doesn’t look like he’s about to scold their daughter. William is gazing at his sister adoringly, clinging onto Patricia.

“I know,” Scully says, gently. “You were right to look out for your brother. Just make sure you think, okay? Don’t jump to violence.”

“What your mom is saying,” says Mulder, “is that you shouldn’t punch anyone who doesn’t deserve to be punched.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Scully says, but Emily starts laughing, and William too, and she gives up. “Does your nose hurt?” she asks Emily.

“A little,” Emily says.

“I’ll get you an ice pack,” Scully says. “Just go change your shirt first, okay?”

Emily heads to her room to change, and when she reappears, Scully hands her the ice pack. She squeezes her shoulders quickly as she does, smiling, and Emily looks up and smiles back.

Two

It was Emily’s idea, for the two of them to be in charge for the weekend. “It’s Mom and Dad’s anniversary,” she told him. “Don’t you want to do something nice for them?”

“I’m just not sure how nice it will be,” Will said, “when they come back at the end of the weekend and find that two of their kids broke the third one.”

“We’re not going to break Susanna,” Emily said. “She’s not really a baby, anymore.”

“She’s not exactly self-sufficient.”

“Well, obviously not,” Emily said. “If she were, we wouldn’t need to watch her. Mom and Dad haven’t had this kind of time to themselves in a long time. Because they’re always thinking about the three of us. It wouldn’t kill us to think about them.”

She was right, he knew, and so he let her talk him into it. She talked their parents into it too, when they told her that her idea was nice but not necessary—Emily has that kind of steamroller power when she wants to. They left today, for a weekend by the shore; Susanna gave them her version of a goodbye kiss, which Will knows from experience is mostly spit. And so far, believe it or not, the afternoon hasn’t gone disastrously. He and Emily made dinner together and talked: it was nice to spend that kind of time together, now that they’re both out of the house. They managed to feed Susanna without making too much of a mess. And now they’re sitting in the living room, chatting while Susanna lies on the rug, playing with a large stuffed bunny.

“What do you have?” Emily asks her, cooing. “Is that your bunny?”

“Bunny!” Susanna says. She’s not yet at the stage for having real conversations.

“Can I see?” Emily asks. Susanna stares at them for a minute, clearly considering the suggestion. Then she gets up, toddles towards them, trips over one of the bunny’s ears, and falls, slowly and inevitably, onto her face on the coffee table.

She immediately starts to wail, but that’s not the worst of it. When she looks up, her nose is bleeding. Pretty dramatically.

“Shit!” Will exclaims, starting towards her. “Sorry. You didn’t hear that, Susanna.” He picks her up. “It’s going to be okay.” But she’s crying and crying, and he isn’t sure what to do.

Emily joins them, looking equally frantic. “Oh my god,” she mutters, looking at Susanna’s face. “It’s okay, Susanna. Shh.” Susanna does not shush in the slightest, not that Will can blame her.

“We should do something,” he says. “There’s the first aid kit? I think Mom keeps it in the bathroom.”

Emily nods quickly. “Good thinking. I’ll go get it.” And she darts off down the hall, leaving Will to hold Susanna and try to get her to stop crying.

“Yeah, I know,” he tells her. “It hurts. We’ll fix you up, Em and I.” He feels so guilty, looking at her. “I told you we were going to break her,” he says to Emily when she comes back, first aid kit in hand.

“Don’t even say that!” Emily says. “Here. You hold her and I’ll clean her up.” They sit back down on the couch, and he tries to hold Susanna so that she won’t bleed all over the cushions, while Emily dabs at her face with a wipe. She’s trying to soothe Susanna while she does, singing a little, but she’s pretty off-key, and her voice cuts out altogether whenever she’s concentrating. He takes over the song, and she gives him a grateful look. Susanna’s sobs start to lessen. “There, now you’re all clean,” Emily says. She pinches Susanna’s nose gently, but it’s not bleeding much, not now. “I don’t think it’s broken. Will, it doesn’t look broken, right?”

“I don’t know,” he says, looking. “I don’t think so. You want me to look it up?”

“Please,” Emily says. She takes Susanna onto her lap while he goes through his phone, googling variants on toddler with bloody nose until he finds what he’s looking for.

“It says you should keep pinching it,” he says. “At least five minutes. Here’s some of the symptoms for a broken nose.” He holds out the phone so she can look.

“She seems okay now,” she says eventually; Susanna’s sitting up on her lap and not crying anymore, although she doesn’t look that happy either. “Maybe we should take her to the doctor in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Will says, “we could do that.” Emily looks even unhappier than Susanna does, though. “Hey,” he says, “she’s fine. I’m sorry I said we were going to break her. You’re okay now, right, Susanna? You want your bunny?” He picks it up from the floor and hands it to her, even though he secretly blames it for the whole mess.

She grabs it and chews on its ears. “Bunny!”

“Yeah, that’s right, bunny,” Will says. “See, Em? She’s okay.”

“I guess,” Emily says. “I just…I feel bad. We’re supposed to be taking care of her. Not letting her get hurt.”

“I know,” Will says. “But it wasn’t your fault.” He looks down at Susanna, who’s still chewing on the bunny, very enthusiastically. “You don’t blame Emily, do you?”

“Emily!” Susanna says. She gives her sister one of her sudden hugs, which seems to settle that question, and Emily kisses the top of her head.

“Well, there you go,” Will says. He’s starting to feel a lot better, himself. “Anyway, it’s a badge of honor, Susanna. Emily once got a bloody nose. Back when we lived in our old apartment. She was defending me and she punched some kids.” He hasn’t thought about it in a while, but the scene comes back to him now. “So you’re in good company.”

“I didn’t know you remembered that,” Emily says. “You were only three.”

“Of course I remember,” Will says. “Don’t feel bad about this, Em. You’re a good older sister. Not to get all mushy about it or anything.”

“Oh, of course not,” she says, rolling her eyes. But she’s smiling again.

They put Susanna in her crib to sleep. Then they go back downstairs and move the coffee table into their dad’s office and shut the door behind it, firmly. Better safe than sorry.

#my fic #the x files #fluff

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