#Frank was so *offended* and mortified | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

slimeywooper · 8 months

Text

Labmas AU - Unintended Consequences

Chapter 5 Part 2 - Another Interruption

CW: Reader referred to as female.

It was an odd question that didn't seem to have anything to do with what you had just been discussing. "Um… I have no idea?" You uttered, tilting your head.

Languidly typing on his tablet, he explains, "Years ago, when Noku—,"

"Noku?" You questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Colress looked mortified. "Yes, Ha ha. That's… just a nickname I sometimes use for Nobori and Kudari when they're together." He clears his throat. "Ahem. Anyway, as I was saying. When they were around seven years old, we had a female researcher working with us. Very intelligent woman. She would help tutor them every so often. Eventually, Kudari got it in his head that she was his mother. No amount of evidence to the contrary would deter him. There came a day when she made to leave for the evening and Kudari wouldn't let her go. He clung to her waist with his arms while his legs were wrapped around hers, saying 'mama, don't leave me' repeatedly. She was terrified. A group of researchers and assistants had to pry him off of her. She put in her resignation the same day and never came back to the laboratory. So, since that time, I've felt it would be better not to present the possibility of a repeat of such events. However… With the loss of my last assistant, you were much too convenient of a replacement to refuse. As long as Kudari is locked up, there shouldn't be any more mishaps." Colress finished his monologue, searching your face for any discomfort.

"That's incredibly sad," you comment, feeling sorrowful for Kudari. "But one thing I still don't know is what happened to your previous assistant?" It was a simple enough question, but it appeared to make Colress uncomfortable. The doors to the elevator open at your destination.

"Surely that can wait for another day. Let's proceed." He takes a step off the elevator and you follow.

As you both enter the reception area, there is a researcher speaking with the Plasma grunt guarding the door. "Our tour was cut short last evening, so I wasn't able to introduce you to anyone." Colress begins, loud enough to catch the attention of the researcher. "This here is Frank. He's the one that made most of the progress with Team Plasma's study of Ultra Wormholes. If not for him, we never would have been able to come into contact with your world. Frank, this is (Y/N), my new assistant."

Looking him up and down, he appeared to be middle aged, sporting a bald spot surrounded with what was at one time red hair, but had been over taken by white. "Hello, it's nice to meet you." You smiled at him and held out your hand.

Glancing at your hand, then back to your face, he doesn't return the gesture. "S'pleasure. Good luck." Frank responded, earning a glare from Colress. "I've got work to do. Maybe I'll catch you around. Or not." He gave Colress a half-hearted, two-fingered salute and proceeded through the door.

Sighing, Colress turns to you, "Alright, let's save introductions for another day. After I've gotten with the rest of the crew and reminded them of what's expected."

You weren't offended in the least by Frank's behavior, you actually found it quite humorous. He probably had worked for Team Plasma for years by this point, so perhaps he was just done with everything and was only looking for a paycheck. You couldn't blame him for that.

Colress waited outside the locker room so you could grab your lab coat. Nobori must not have mentioned how you accidentally locked your name badge in the locker yesterday. Colress surely would have mocked you for it, even though it was because you were worried for his safety. You made a mental note to vehemently thank Nobori for that small mercy later. Once you were ready, you both headed to the elevator.

"Now, as I said previously, the second floor holds most of our essentials as well as a generator room. The first floor also has a generator for extra support in case of emergencies, but it's not given it's own room, nor is it as large as the two on the second floor." The elevator is summoned and then entered. "Since I've already shown you one of the observation rooms, I will give you a run down of the supply room and walk you to the rooms we use for our various experiments."

Exiting the elevator and turning left, Colress stops at the first door, opening it. He doesn't bother going in, content to give his speech where he's standing. You took a cursory glance inside as he began, "This is the supply room. We have just about everything in here. Batteries of various types, beakers, test tubes, chemicals, and cleaning supplies. All properly labeled and stored, of course. There are towels and first aid kits. Though these are present on all floors, I suggest only grabbing them from the supply room, so those floors aren't missing them should a dire situation arise. A few more intricate medical devices are present in here, but I'm not knowledgeable on their use, so just ignore them unless they are requested by someone." Stepping away from the door, it closes automatically. Colress leads you further down the hall commenting, "And here's the generator room. It has a stairwell inside that leads to the floor above as well as the floor below, just as a precaution if the elevators stop working. You likely won't ever need to enter this room." Turning right at the end of the hall, there's another long corridor. Colress seems to perk up when he announces, "My office is on the right here. If you're lucky, you'll never have to see the inside. Only when I'm reprimanding someone are they ever invited in. And at the end here, are the rooms where we set up our various experiments. Now, I don't plan on having you participate in these, just be a courier of sorts. If there is a need, you can run out and grab more supplies, so the researchers don't have to waste their time doing so."

Suddenly, you both hear running. Turning around to look down the hall, an assistant comes into view, peering around the corner. Upon seeing Colress, he jogs towards him and hurriedly says, "Sir, please,

I'm sorry to bother you, but it's Kudari. He's banging on his door and screaming."

Colress' smile faded. "Well, lucky for us his room is soundproof," came his unconcerned reply.

"But that's just it, sir!" The assistant was nervously playing with his hands. "We can hear him. It's really disturbing. Everyone is too horrified to work."

"Ugh… what's he saying?" Colress asked, more out of curiosity than concern, with a look of annoyance on his face.

"He's not saying anything, just screaming. He was banging on the door initially, before he started to vocalize his, uh, distress. That was a while ago. I can't imagine he hasn't sustained any injuries. But, anyways, Mr. Frank sent me to find you to request that you make him stop. He says, 'productivity has halted. Get Colress. It's his job.'"

"Of course he did. Fuckin' Frank." This was said under Colress' breath, but was still audible. "Did Frank even bother to hit the door and tell Kudari to shut up? Very well. Yet again, I will put what I'm doing to the side, to do something for someone else." Turning to face you, Colress coolly informs you, "You're free to do as you wish, though I'm loathe to pay anyone for not working. Enjoy the rest of your day." He looked back to the assistant and made a motion with his hand, shooing him away, then took off in the direction of the elevator.

Dear God. This man can come across as so charming, then in a few seconds show another side of himself. You wondered if the charm was an act he put on, or if he really did have such a wide range of personality traits. Well, you supposed you should find something to do for the rest of the day. Perhaps Nobori was free. You should thank him for his silence about your name badge accident. And ask him not to tamper with your emotions like he did last night, while you're at it.

The assistant that was speaking with Colress a moment ago had been wandering about the hallway, clearly waiting out Kudari's tantrum. "Hey! I'm (Y/N), I just started recently. What's your name?" You advertised, grabbing his attention.

The assistant flinched. "Oh… it's Alvis, nice to meet you. So, you're Colress' new assistant? Good luck." He offered this statement with sympathy.

"Thanks. Frank wished me luck earlier as well. I think I might need it." You told him honestly, wearing a smile. "Anyway, you wouldn't happen to know if Nobori is around would you?"

"N-Nobori?" Alvis became ambivalent. "I don't think he's been given any orders, so I would assume he's staying in his room now."

"Great, I might be able to speak with him today after all! Do you know where his room is?" Your mood perked up at the prospect of seeing him.

Alvis gave you a look that said he was screaming inside. "Yeah… his room is located on the third floor of the laboratory. The same floor as Kudari."

"Oh…" You were immediately crestfallen. It was now a fact that not only was Kudari forced to sleep in the lab, Nobori was as well. The one floor you had yet to see.

"Look, Colress has probably calmed Kudari down by now, so I should be returning to help Mr. Frank. If you want, I can let Nobori know you're looking for him." Alvis hesitantly suggested.

"Would you? Thank you so much for doing this! Can you ask him to come to my room in the dorms to see me? It's room 115. I have a feeling if I stay here and wait for him, Colress might see me and get pissy that I didn't leave the lab. I'll be heading up now, and thanks again!" You walked away from him with a bounce in your step.

"Yeah… no problem. See you around." Alvis grumbled, sounding regretful.

#labmas au #hybrid au #colress #nobori #kudari #submas au

1 note · View note

baoshan-sanren · 4 years

Text

Chapter 52

Emperor Wei WuXian And His Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Birthday

“Perhaps I do not actually require a palace,” the Royal Companion says.

XiChen hears the words clearly, each one perfectly audible over the sounds of the guqin. The Rogue Prince had taken his leave only moments ago, but Lady Jiang is still present, having settled at the head of the bed. The Royal Companion had settled at the bottom, with an ease that suggested he had done so frequently in the past.

The words sounds nonsensical to XiChen’s ears, but the atmosphere in the Imperial chambers noticeably shifts, the Emperor stiffening in WangJi’s arms. A silence descends, just as incomprehensible as the words had been. XiChen is not familiar with the Royal Companion’s mannerisms, but the young man is holding himself stiffly as well, his lazy posture doing little to conceal the tension of his muscles.

Perhaps the sentence is a code that only the Emperor and the Royal Companion understand?

Still being held up by WangJi, the Emperor turns his head and whispers softly, words that are clearly meant for his brother’s ears only. He is reclining easily in WangJi’s arms, their heads close together, their cheeks nearly brushing.

XiChen turns his gaze back to the guqin.

It is not uncomfortable, precisely, watching his brother be so easily intimate with a person he cares for, but it is very much out of the ordinary. WangJi’s cool demeanor conceals a heart prone to excess of emotion, a depth of feeling that has always existed beneath the surface, rigorously concealed from the world. To see the Emperor so easily coax that emotion out into the open is miraculous, but it is also unsettling; XiChen does not know if the Emperor comprehends the true extent of WangJi’s affection, or how precious and rare it is, to have it so visibly displayed.

“Young Master Lan,” the Emperor says, startling him out of his thoughts.

Lady Jiang and WangJi are helping him shift into a better position, propped up against pillows and covers, no longer having to rely on WangJi for support. Despite his obvious physical weakness, the Emperor’s tone is clear and forceful. It is a skill, the ability to don a mantle of power and authority all while being maneuvered about one’s bed in such an undignified manner. XiChen both respects and envies this ability.

“Your Majesty?”

“I am grateful for your assistance, but I believe you are long overdue for some much needed rest. Would you be so kind to escort my shijie back to her chambers? Lan Zhan will continue the Cleansing in your place.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

Of course, the insistence that he pass his duties to WangJi and rest, is nothing more than a polite method of removing him from the Emperor’s chambers. Any doubts he may have had would have been dispelled by WangJi’s vaguely apologetic look as he replaces XiChen at the guqin.

XiChen does not require an apology. He is tired and restless, his aching wrists welcoming any interruption of the tedious task. The two Imperial guards at the entrance are also ordered to take their duties outside, leaving WangJi and the Emperor alone with the Royal Companion.

In the hall outside the Imperial chambers, Lady Jiang smiles, “I hope you are not offended by such an abrupt dismissal, Young Master Lan. I am sure, once the situation at court has been stabilized, the Emperor will properly express his gratitude. We are in your debt.”

“There is no need,” XiChen says, realizing that he had not expected gratitude, nor does he know what to do with such a sentiment, “I am sure anyone would have done the same.”

“They would not have,” Lady Jiang says easily, her tone unchanging, “but thinking so does you credit. Please do not feel obliged to provide an escort. I am sure the Imperial guards will prove equal to the task, and my chambers are not far.”

Taken aback by the frankness of her words, he only bows in response.

He had not yet considered all the political repercussions of the Lan Sect having saved an Emperor who is so frequently a subject of assassination attempts, but Lady Jiang’s words raise many questions he cannot answer.

What will be the consequences of the Lan Sect aligning themselves so firmly with a Divine Ruler who does not intend to father an heir? Will their actions, committed over the course of the last day and night, be seen as monumentous as the assassination of the Empress had been? Can any succession of honorable deeds ever erase the dishonors of the past?

At this very moment, uncle has many more pressing issues to consider, and will doubtlessly remain occupied by them for days to come. But XiChen wishes he could simply yield to his uncle’s understanding of the matters, as he often had in the past, without having to reason out the answers to these questions on his own.

Chagrin immediately descends, propelling his restless feet to move, as if urging him to run away from such uncomfortable thoughts. XiChen is to be the future Sect leader, to occupy the same seat that uncle now holds. He should never shy away from being guided by those who came before him, but his deference has always been a little too excessive. It is a frequent source of his brother’s frustration, XiChen’s insistence on ceding ground to avoid disharmony and conflict.

It is not for the lack of firm beliefs that XiChen so often gives way. It is simply a habit, one borne of insecurity. In order to hold firm in the face of opposition, one must believe that their own understanding is impeachable, that their opinions have been properly formed, that they are indisputably in the right. XiChen firmly believes that Nie MingJue’s intentions are honorable and genuine, that his own affection is steadfast and unimpeachable, but he has never possessed the necessary self-confidence to insist on this belief in the face of uncle’s disapproval.

Lack of a spine is not a virtue, but XiChen had dressed it up as such, so that others may admire his amicable nature, while he, alone, is left to despise the roots from which it grew. He wonders how long he would have gone on this way, draping his self-doubts in a cloak of respectful deference, had Nie MingJue not entered his life.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Nie MingJue appears at the head of the hall, his stride quick and purposeful. Guards had been sent to inform him that the Emperor is awake, XiChen remembers, and the man doubtlessly expects to be admitted to the Emperor’s chambers without delay. XiChen is certain that Nie MingJue will be disappointed in his expectations. Any conversation that requires the removal of both Lady Jiang and the Imperial guards from the Emperor’s presence must be highly sensitive in nature, and is likely to go on for some time.

The General of the Emperor’s army is no longer wearing his armor, his Nie Sect uniform silver and black, the cut severe, clearly intended to project authority. In the early morning gloom, his face is a collection of shifting shadows, his mood impossible to discern. Faced with such a presence, the few servants finishing up their nightly tasks scurry out of the way with their heads bowed, the guards straighten their shoulders as if expecting to be scolded, even the walls themselves seem to stand at attention.

It strikes XiChen fiercely, how the attributes he admires so fervently in Nie MingJue are those he has always felt a lack of in himself. Even the man’s boldness, so often displayed in mortifying ways, is a trait that XiChen wishes he can possess. It has inspired a boldness of his own, although it appears pitiful when compared to MingJue’s. In the same vein, his own temperance is likely to have suppressed at least some of MingJue’s brashness. They fit, the two of them; one yielding while the other remains unmoved, one sure to hesitate while the other barrels bravely onward.

Do you truly think that there is a single part of you that I will not admire?

MingJue does not have a chance to express his obvious surprise at encountering XiChen during such an early hour, nor is he given an opportunity to ask any questions. XiChen is not certain what his course of action would have been, had MingJue resisted the firm grip on his wrist, had he refused to let himself be steered. To his relief, MingJue obediently allows XiChen to pull him aside, to push him past the unguarded doors of the Emperor’s study.

The room beyond faces south, the early morning light some hours away from reaching the single window hole. XiChen is relieved. He does not want MingJue to see the flush across his cheeks, or to discern the anxiety in his eyes.

Under his hands, MingJue’s braids are impossibly intricate, each one a tiny, delicate wonder. Under his mouth, MingJue is made rigid by surprise.

XiChen had not exactly expected an immediate response. This action, this impulse decision, it is so unlike himself that MingJue may as well think he has been accosted by a stranger. Still, each breath is centuries long, each one riddled with seeds of doubt.

Perhaps XiChen was wrong after all. Perhaps Nie MingJue does not wish to--

He is pulled forward with such force that he stumbles over his own feet. The cold steel of MingJue’s belt scrapes across the tender flesh of his stomach, an earth shattering contact even through two layers of robes. MingJue’s tongue, hot and insistent, licks into his mouth, sliding against his own. The sensation is a shock; XiChen feels it all along his spine, curving around his limbs, pressing into each sensitive stretch of his skin. He does not realize he had tightened his hold on the handful of braids until MingJue makes a sound, a pitiful noise that seems to border on pain. Even as XiChen struggles to release his grip, the arms around his body tighten, a searing hot palm pressed against his shoulder blades locking him in place.

XiChen has never kissed, or been kissed. The few times he had imagined such an act, it had been a rarely reached conclusion of some distinctly chaste fantasies, gone no further than lips pressing together, breathing each other’s air. He does not think that any stretch of fantasies could have prepared him for this.

He is certain that his lack of skill must be obvious. Yet, each hesitant lick of his tongue is followed by a series of shudders he can clearly feel cross MingJue’s shoulders. His own trembling, impossible to suppress, is made less shameful by the knowledge that MingJue is equally as affected. It seems impossible to concentrate on anything but the movement of their lips, the slick slide of their tongues, but XiChen manages to release the handfuls of braids he had gripped. MingJue whines softly, a noise that sounds suspiciously like a complaint.

When their lips part, XiChen finds himself struggling to breathe normally, his chest both too tight for the air he needed, and somehow larger than the space it must occupy.

“XiChen,” MingJue rasps.

His voice is raw and thick, the sound unexpectedly arousing. XiChen is moving to kiss him again before realizing that he has done so, and manages to pull back just in time.

Firmly placing his hands on MingJue’s shoulders, he tries to say what must be said, words he had avoided since his last argument with uncle, “You-- my uncle will only allow your presence at Cloud Recesses if I enter secluded meditation for the duration of your visit. I will not attempt to convince him to change his mind. He does not trust me to behave-- in a virtuous manner, nor do I intend to persuade him otherwise.”

MingJue makes a soft sound, but XiChen does not look up; he is embarrassed enough by the admission as it is, he does not want to know what expression MingJue’s face may hold.

“You had said once that your situation is not nearly as inflexible as my own. If you are still willing-- to offer me a lifetime, I am ready to listen.”

He has hardly finished speaking when MingJue’s mouth finds his own again, infinitely more careful this time, the act very close to the chaste kiss of XiChen’s fantasies. XiChen is the one who presses closer, deepening the kiss, feeling brave and reckless in the wake of his confession.

Perhaps he may never possess MingJue’s boldness, but he has managed to find some of his own in the process; as paltry as such a thing may appear to be, if it serves to ensure him a lifetime of happiness, he will never again view it with scorn.

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #nielan #m #ficlet #wwx emperor au #xichen is being silly and self-deprecating #the emperor's study sees some more action #some things are decided #but no things are fully resolved #and onward we go #ily chickens

226 notes · View notes

buoyantsaturn · 3 years

Text

A World Alone (10/10)

summary: Nico was ready to propose - now he just needed to figure out how. He convinces Will to celebrate Hanukkah for the first time in years. The problem is, Nico doesn't know anything about Hanukkah.

word count: 1,864

read on ao3

Nico woke up to the feeling of Will draped across his back, pressing kisses all over the only side of Nico’s face he could reach. When he seemed to notice that Nico was finally awake, Will said, “Good morning, my future husband.”

Nico tried to tuck his face into his pillow to hide the smile growing on his lips. “I haven’t even gotten used to fiance yet,” Nico grumbled, finding Will’s hand in the tangle of blankets around his waist and covering it with his own, “and you’re already skipping ahead to husband.”

“I’m just trying to get into the habit,” Will told him, trailing his lips down to Nico’s neck until they stopped to rest just above the collar of Nico’s shirt. “I mean, you never know when one of us might get tired of planning a wedding and decide to run to the courthouse instead.”

Oh, Nico liked the sound of that. He started to roll back, at least as far as he could until Will got in his way, and turned his head to meet Will’s eyes. “Oh, that’s an option?” At Will’s grin, he turned over entirely and twisted their legs together beneath the bed sheets. “Then good morning, my husband.”

Will’s arm tightened around him, pulling Nico even closer until their noses brushed together. “See, wouldn’t you rather get used to that?”

Nico hummed. “I can see the appeal. But I’m having a bit of a hard time picturing you with a courthouse wedding.”

“It wouldn’t be my first choice, I’ll admit to that,” Will replied, “but it’ll be perfect either way. You know why?”

Nico rolled his eyes. “Because you’ll be marrying--”

“I’ll be marrying you!” Will exclaimed with a blinding smile. “We can do whatever you want, whether it’s just us at the courthouse, or a small ceremony with our friends, or something huge with, like, two thousand people. I mean, I’ll need to meet a lot more people if that’s the case, but--”

“I think I’d like something small,” Nico told him, his fingers tracing the outline of the sun tattooed over Will’s heart. “If that’s okay.”

“As long as you can promise me one thing,” Will said, and Nico hummed questioningly. “Small wedding, big reception.”

Nico hesitated before replying, “How big is big?”

“How small is small?” Will shot back. “I’m thinking, maybe ten or fifteen people at the wedding, maybe a hundred people at the reception.”

“Do we even know a hundred people?” Nico asked, his nose scrunching up with the question.

Will paused to think about it. “We...must, right? I mean, a hundred isn’t that many.”

Nico’s face cracked into a smile once more. “Okay, we can figure out numbers later, once we establish how many people we actually know. For now, we should probably get ready to leave.”

Will got that sappy smile back on his face again that had Nico simultaneously melting at the sight and bracing himself for what was about to come next. “Back to the place where I fell in love with you,” Will said dreamily, then gasped when he got an idea. “We should get married at camp! It’s huge, always has great weather, a magical border that can keep out monsters - since there’s no doubt that it’ll be mostly demigods in attendance. It’ll be perfect.”

“We can think about it,” Nico told him, “for the reception. I’m still leaning toward the courthouse.”

Will wore his Hanukkah sweater to camp despite the fact that Hanukkah had ended almost a week earlier. He insisted on wearing it as proof of how much Nico had spoiled him that month.

When they arrived at camp - driving there, because Will didn’t want to risk spending most of their stay in the infirmary with a half-conscious Nico - they dropped their bags off in the Hades cabin before crossing the green to cabin three.

Percy and Annabeth were already inside, as well as Grover, Leo, and Rachel. As soon as Nico stepped through the door, Percy was on him, dragging him into a hug and taking him a few steps off to the side. He set his hands on Nico’s shoulders, practically bouncing on his toes as he whispered, “Did you do it? Did you, did you, did you?”

Nico rolled his eyes, smiling fondly as he said, “Yeah, I did it.”

“Hell yeah!” Percy exclaimed and lifted Nico off his feet with the strength of his hug. “I’m so happy for you, dude!”

When Percy finally set him back on his feet, Nico frowned, looking almost offended. “Woah, I never said that he said yes.”

Percy looked like he was about to panic, but before he could say anything, Will slipped an arm around Nico’s waist and said, “He’s messing with you, Perce.”

Percy’s eyes flickered between them. “So…”

Nico’s lips curved up into a smile. “We’re getting married.”

“Dibs on best man!” Percy shouted, loud enough for the others in the cabin to hear.

Nico’s eyes rolled on their own accord, and he shoved at Percy’s arm. “You got to help pick the ring, give somebody else a role.”

“He spent a whole week buttering me up,” Will was telling everyone while Nico tried to hide his embarrassment in the corner of the room away from everybody else. A few others had arrived by then - Thalia and Reyna, Tyson and Ella, and Lou Ellen and Cecil. Hazel and Frank were expected to arrive the next day for Christmas Eve, and Piper had decided to spend the holiday with Shel’s family, so at most they were expecting an Iris Message from her at some point. “Obviously, I would’ve said yes either way, but it was sweet nonetheless.”

“Aw, you hear that, Neeks?” Leo teased, drawing everyone’s attention across the room to Nico. “He thinks you’re sweet!”

Nico’s arms tightened across his chest, and he pointed his glare at the wall. He was sure his face was already pink to begin with from the way that Will had been talking about him, but having everyone’s attention on him made it so much worse. They were definitely going to have a small wedding.

“Can we see the ring?” Rachel asked, pulling everyone’s attention back to Will. Nico was going to have to thank her for that later. When Nico glanced back at the group, Rachel shot him a wink.

Much later in the night, after the general excitement over the engagement announcement had faded to the background, Nico sat down beside Will on the couch and sunk into his side. Will draped an arm around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to the side of his head, whispering, “I didn’t embarrass you too much, did I?”

“I’m mortified, and the wedding is off,” Nico grumbled into Will’s shoulder.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I’m mortified, and the wedding will be at the courthouse,” Nico corrected.

“Alright, I’ll take it.” Will kissed his temple once more. “I’m sorry. I won’t embarrass you anymore this weekend.”

“No, you will,” Nico told him. “Once Hazel gets here tomorrow, you’ll do it all over again. But it’s okay, I forgive you in advance.”

Will rubbed his arm a few times, quickly, like he was trying to warm him up. “Are you having fun otherwise?”

“Yeah, it’s been okay. I still want to catch up with Reyna since I haven’t seen her in…”

Nico trailed off, his head tilting in confusion as his eyes followed Thalia across the room. She was suddenly decked out in fairy lights, wrapped in a garland and even wearing a tree-topper star on her head.

“Uh,” he started up again, “what’s going on?”

Will laughed. “You know, because she used to be a pine tree.”

Nico shot up, spinning back toward Will and looking absolutely bewildered. “That wasn’t a joke?”

Seeing as they were back at camp, they did have to abide by the usual lights out rules if they wanted to avoid being attacked by harpies - not that any of them couldn’t manage to take down a harpy on their own at this point in their lives - so as the night wore on, they all went their separate ways to their different cabins.

Nico and Will counted themselves lucky to have the Hades cabin to themselves, at least until Hazel and Frank were scheduled to arrive the next day. Unlike Cecil, neither of them had to try to cram into an open space in one of the other cabins with younger siblings. Nico and Will, on the other hand - just like Reyna and Thalia - had plenty of space to spread out.

(Unlike Reyna and Thalia, Nico and Will didn’t take a vow to be single forever, and would therefore not be taking advantage of the extra space to spread out.)

When Nico came out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth, he found Will standing beside the bed, pulling back the sheets, dressed head-to-toe in a monochromatic brown.

“I thought you promised that thing would never leave the apartment!” Nico exclaimed with a gasp, causing Will to jump and turn toward him, his Chewbacca onesie on full display.

Will pointed an accusing finger at him. “And I thought you promised to leave all card games at home.”

Nico spluttered. “I didn’t bring them!”

In the dim light of the cabin, Will found Nico’s backpack on the ground and lifted it up. The main pocket was mostly unzipped, and the single lit torch on the wall gave off just enough light for Nico to see the few packs of games resting inside. Nico winced at the sight.

“Okay, new deal: nothing leaves this cabin,” Nico said, then added, “except when we go home.”

“Deal,” Will said, and climbed into bed. The only two beds in the cabin were pushed up against opposite walls, so Will had to crawl across the queen size mattress in order to make room for his fiance.

Nico stood beside the bed, arms crossing with a hmph. “I’m not sleeping next to you in that thing.”

Will grinned up at him as he laid back against his pillow. “But it’s so cozy, and weirdly furry.”

Nico stood his ground. Will simply shrugged back.

“Alright, suit yourself.” He pulled the blanket up to his shoulders and settled in, sighing contentedly and shutting his eyes. A few moments later, just as Nico was starting to reconsider the risks of brushing up against Chewbacca fur in his sleep, Will groaned and shoved the blankets away. “Okay, never mind, I’m sweating.” In a few quick movements, he had unzipped the onesie and stripped down to his underwear, then practically kicked the thing off the foot of the bed.

Nico rolled his eyes at the overdramatics. “Here, maybe this will help,” he said, and reached down to press his cold fingers to the side of Will’s neck.

He cringed at the feeling, nearly crushing Nico’s hand between his cheek and his shoulder with the force of his movement. “Dear gods, you’re freezing,” Will exclaimed. “Get in here!” He grabbed Nico by the arms and pulled him down to the bed before covering them both with the blanket and holding Nico close to warm him up.

thanks for reading!!

buy me a coffee | more solangelo stuff

#solangelo #will solace #nico di angelo #mine #my writing #disclaimer: im protestant

33 notes · View notes

ladynightmare913 · 3 years

Text

Red Rose, Blood Moon

Greetings and welcome to Chapter 13! I apologize for the long wait but, reality got in the way of my story weaving. I have been doing much self-reflecting and I wasn't content with how it portrayed me. But after much deliberation, I decided to change the appearance of my blog until it showed what I felt is my reflection and made me happy. But do not worry, I have returned and links have been updated on the Masterlist.

This is an original story inspired by the tale of Red Riding Hood. As always, I would like to a special thank you to my best friend Olivia (@asunshinepuff ) for joining me in writing this world onto paper.

CW: This chapter contains a brief mention of gore, gruesome descriptions, creatures, fire, and things you can imagine in your nightmares! You have your warning!

This story contains only original characters created by Olivia and myself. For those who want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask to me or Olivia on her blog. If you have any questions, theories, or curiosities about any of our characters or how the story will progress, send them to the ask box!

Now without further Adieu!

Chapter 13: A Burning Night

The group gathered their belongings and traveled to the port of the river. The ferry they managed to secure passage from was not the most pleasant looking. The lumber was mellow and dull. It was fairly large, able to carry a hefty number of passengers, including a few horses.

Felis grumbled as they boarded the boat. Making comments here and there, saying his ship was far superior and making the occasional snarky remark. He would not allow the comparison of his “child” to this wreck of a boat, thank you very much. Who on top of it all, most probably had an inadequate captain. Cassandra simply rolled her eyes each time with a shake of her head, agreeing occasionally with Felis in order to finally get him to stop grumbling.

Rosabella walked behind the bickering couple, ensuring that neither Felis nor Cassandra was lost in the crowd. She would occasionally look behind her, not trusting Red to fade away into the crowd the moment she got distracted. She looked ahead, it made her uneasy, the way he would lag behind, and every time she turned to look at him, he would be looking right back. As if he was rather unimpressed that her consistent need to check on him was an offense.

Still, she supposed, Red still hadn’t made any mention of what occurred in the springs, to which was eternally grateful, she doubted she could live with the embarrassment. She would be mortified if anyone knew. Reluctantly, Rosabella hasn’t omitted to acknowledge that he has been acting like a gentleman about it. Now Rosabella prayed that it would remain that way.

Once they boarded the ship, along with their horses, there were few cabins so Cassandra and Rosabella would share one. Felis and Red would loiter about on deck. The ferry took sail just before the sun began to rise. Felis took to friendly conversation with fellow passengers, trying to get more intel about the missing persons and if anyone else had seen strange creatures. Red took to watching from afar. After getting a few hours of sleep, Cassandra and Rosabella joined the men when meals were offered.

The meal was noisy, but none of the lot weren’t used to it. Picking up a few choice words from the fellow passengers about mysterious figures walking in the woods at night. They would never respond to anyone’s calls.

“The strangest thing about them, I swear is their eyes. Glowing red they were.” One traveler revealed, “Twisted looking things, I bet it be another form of those thirsty bloodsuckers.”

“Do you mean the Night Stalkers?” Rosabella offered. She knew many creatures that feasted on human blood.

“I mean Vampires.” The man corrected gruffly. Unease when she spoke to him with ease. “You don’t suppose they moved into France do you?” he asked the other men.

“Oh, they’re already here.” One man commented. Some men choked on their food. Rosabella thought it best to not say anything. Felis and Cassandra’s silence was answer enough. Red scoffed. Sapphire eyes followed him as he rose from his seat before he left. After the meal, Rosabella searched for Red. She found him leaning against the wall, staring out to the water. She didn’t bother to announce her presence, she knew he would have heard her approaching long before he saw her.

“Will you not sleep?” She asks softly, stepping closer.

“Not if I can help it.” Only his eyes moved to look at her. “I don’t trust others, so I don’t sleep.”

“Surely you don’t doubt that we could keep watch while you slept?” She inquired.

His head tightly towards her, his eyes were scrutinizing her. “Is there something you needed?”

Rosabella did her best not to feel affronted at his shift in tone. She sighed deeply, she extended her arm, his cloak in her hands. “I simply wanted to return this to you.” Though she doubted he needed it, she could feel the heat burning off of him from where she stood.

His gaze relaxed, wordlessly accepting his cloak, and put it on before he carried on looking out to the river.

“And to thank you, for not saying anything about what happened.” She said sincerely, he didn’t say anything in response.

Rosabella placed her hands behind her as she leaned back to the wall. She was a respectable distance away from him. Looking out to the river, they stayed there in silence, and snow began to fall.

“Have you encountered vampires before?” Rosabella spoke gently.

“Yes.” He shifted, crossing a leg over the other.

“When?” She asked.

“Not that many years ago. Contrary to what people believe, vampires are not an old race. They’re new.”

“Really?” Her eyes blinked in bewilderment. “How do you know?”

“I’ve traveled far, I’ve met creatures older than myself. Vampires are young compared to the rest of us.”

She frowned at that. “Most people say they are terrifying, creatures of seduction and immense power.”

“I know of more powerful and terrifying creatures, Vampires are just overgrown mosquitoes. Vampires are entitled children, who play with their food. Get offended when their food supply fights back. ” He chuckled dryly.

“Do they fight you?”

“No, they didn’t stick around long enough to find out. They usually avoid us.” He looked to Rosabella.

“Us?” She leaned forward, her head faced towards him.

“The other old creatures and I. The oldest vampire would only be roughly three hundred years old.”

“I heard of wolves and vampires fighting each other. Is that true?”

“Yes. The vampires have no qualms about fighting any wolf that isn’t me.”

“Sounds like you don’t like them,” Rosabella nodded slowly, looking back to the water, “the other wolves.”

“To be frank, I don’t like anyone. Why would I make them the exception?” He eyed her skeptically.

“Because they are your kin?” She offered with sincere eyes.

“They are not my kin. I want nothing to do with them.” He replied coldly.

Disconcerted, she paused. “I would give anything to have kin,” she leaned back to the wall, her eyes solemn, “It’s the only thing I have ever wanted more than anything in my whole life. To not be alone.”

Red frowned, “What about your grandmother?”

“She adopted me.”

Red said nothing, only gazing down at her with an assessing gaze. “What about your friend Cassandra? She-”

“Will marry Felis. They will have a family. They will want to live their lives, and I will not interfere. Cassandra wouldn’t let me, but it wouldn't be right if I did.” She interrupted, her head turned to look at Red. “And I will be left to my own devices, they would never mean to leave me, but it is to be expected.”

“You sound like you’ve resigned yourself from finding your own pair.” He assessed. “Which is strange for women your age. You seem certain of it.”

“I am. I am something that men would find improper of a wife, and when they learn the truth,” she paused, looking back to the river, “I don't even know what I am. No one knows. I suppose that is why I have been searching for my kin for years, hoping that they would have answers.”

Rosabella looked down. They stayed silent for a long moment, staring out at the river. Red’s lips parted to speak before Rosabella interrupted.

“Goodnight Red.” She stepped away from the wall, walking to her cabin. Nox looked back to Red from his perch on her shoulders, ears perked up. Red stared out to the river. Rosabella went to bed, Nox curled beside her.

A monstrous roar resonated in the chill of the air. A scream. A struggle, and the sound of glass shattering to the ground. Flames spread across the ferry. Rosabella woke to the smell of smoke. Her sapphire eyes wide at the state of their cabin. Cassandra was already out of bed and standing, Lumi clung tightly to Cassandra’s arm as she hurriedly gathered what she could.

Rosabella was quick to her feet, Nox curled tightly on her shoulders, chirping as the women escaped their burning room and froze at the sight of the ship, Rosabella recoiled at the stench of burning flesh and the agonized screams of the ferrymen as they fell into the water. Stricken at the sight of the men, the women pushed themselves to flee. They came across Felis, whose eyes locked onto Cassandra. The pirate rushed spotting them over the sea of panicked passengers and rushed towards them.

“Cassandra!” His frantic eyes, his hand gently cupping her cheek. “Are you alright?”

Cassandra gives a meek smile, eyes softening briefly at the frantic look in his eyes, raising her hand to his on her cheek. “I’m alright. There’s no need to fuss, but we need to go.” Grasping the pirate’s hand, she pulled him along to find a way off this burning ferry.

“Where’s Red?” Rosabella called out as followed the couple.

“I don’t know, I ran to look for you when I saw the flames,” Felis responded.

Rosabella glared at Felis’ head. “You left him alone?!”

“Well excuse me for coming to your aid and leaving a grown man alone for a minute!” Felis replied as he turned a corner.

“And you didn’t think for one moment that leaving the Father of Werewolves to his own devices was a bad idea?!”

“To his own devices?! This wreck of a boat is in flames! I doubt he could do anything in this chaos!” The pirate retorted.

“When this is over, remind me to slap him, Cassandra,” Rosabella said.

Cassandra grinned. “Will do.”

The group turned at the final corner, stopping when their path was blocked by the creatures from back at the hot springs in Mirstone, in flames. Rosabella blanched.

“What are those things?!” Felis sneered at the smell of burning flesh. “They smell like fish vomit.”

“Fish vomit?” Cassandra asked in confusion. Looking back and forth at the burning creatures and the pirate.

“How did they even get on the ferry?” Rosabella muttered to herself.

“Don’t know,” Cassandra grimaced. “I hate that they're on fire, and they reek of dark magic!”

“We should probably abandon ship now,” Red spoke from behind the group. Catching the three off guard.

Rosabella sighed in relief. “Where were you?” She asked as Red walked toward them.

“Helping passengers and horses off.”

“By helping, do you mean throwing them overboard,” Felis interjected.

“Do you recommend they stay on the ferry and burn?” Red glance at the pirate.

“Alright, right now is not the time for this!” Cassandra yelled as she leaned over the railing, frowning. “They took all the lifeboats!”

“Oh great, now what are we going to do?” Felis exclaimed with a slight roll of his eyes.

Red looked at Rosabella. “I really hope you know how to swim.”

“What?” Her brows creased in confusion.

Red moves his arm under Rosabella’s legs and the other supporting her back, then lifts her with ease. Her eyes widened in shock. Red turns quickly and tosses her overboard. Rosabella let out a small yelp as she fell into the freezing water.

Red turned to look at the pirate and sorceress. Cassandra immediately backed away from the wolf.

“Don’t you dare. I’ll throw myself off, thank you.” Cassandra glared as she climbed over the railing, and jumped into the river.

Felis turned to Red. “After you.”

“Ladies first.” Red smirked as he pushed Felis off, Red climbing over just as the creatures reached where they stood.

The group swam until they reached shore, and watched as the ferry sunk below the freezing river.

“It’s f-freezing.” Felis stuttered out as he shivered as he stomped out of the water, his arms crossed as he sat on a log.

“It’s the m-middle of winter, w-what were you e-expecting?!” Cassandra retorted, rubbing her arms as she walked towards the shivering pirate. Lumi swimming close behind her, and shaking off his fur once he reached dry land.

“Cassandra, p-please light a fire.” Rosabella looked at her sister while she soothed the horses that reached the shoreline before they did. Nox curled tightly on her shoulders for warmth.

The sorceress nodded before walking to the log Felis sat on. “Felis, I need your seat.”

“Find your own log.”

“Do you want to warm up or not?” She gave a pointed look.

Felis grumbled as he rose from his seat and watched as Cassandra crouched down, placing her hand above the wood, after a few brief seconds it ignited into bright purple flames.

Red walked out from the river and didn’t stop until he reached the trees.

“Where’s he going?” Rosabella asked her comrades.

“Probably to get away from the horses. They smell.” Felis answered

Gypsy gave an offended nicker. Felis stuck his tongue out.

“Leave him be for now. Handling one man-child is enough.” Cassandra teased, pulling her hand away from the fire as she stood up.

Rosabella sighed, taking a seat next to the burning log, warming her hands and petting Nox’s head. Cassandra sat close to the pirate. Lumi began snarling at Felis, who in turn hissed right back at the little ermine. Rolling her eyes, Cassandra scolds the two, prompting them to behave.

“Are you my fiancé or my child?” Cassandra inquired.

“At this current moment, probably your child.”

They sat in silence for a long while, finally warm and dry. Red still had not returned. The silence ended at the sound of grumbling. Cassandra, Rosabella, and a few horses all turned to look at the pirate.

“... What? I’m hungry. Swimming works up an appetite.” Felis admitted.

“Definitely a child.” Cassandra sighed as she rubbed her temple.

Rosabella smiled softly as she rose to her feet. “While I’ll go find us something to eat, I’ll look for Red.”

“Can we have venison?” Felis asked, Cassandra elbowed him.

Rosabella laughed softly as she walked into the woods. Nox happily trotting behind her. Both woman and sable walked for a long while, finding a few berries and mushrooms that weren’t poisonous. But no deer. Rosabella hummed in thought, she looked down to Nox.

“Well it looks like I’ll have to hunt as a wolf now won’t I?”

Nox gave a chirp, Rosabella accepted it as affirmation. With nothing much left to pick from bushes, Rosabella shifted into a wolf. She was far larger than any of the horses back at the campfire. Nox quickly climbed onto the wolf’s back, and off they went in search of food.

It didn’t take long for the she-wolf to find a wandering stag. Nor did it take long for her to claim her prize. Carrying the dead stag in her jaws, she trotted back to camp. Nox chirping happily on her head.

Nearing the clearing of the forest, Rosabella turned back to her human form but froze when caught Red’s scent. Her eyes darted to the blonde man, who stood beside a large oak tree. There he stood, eyes wide.

“You’re a wolf?”

Tag List: Let me know if you wish to be added!

@waltzintherain @spookypotato @purple-amaranthe

10 notes · View notes

captainillogical · 5 years

Text

Devil’s Ballroom Ch.8

A year after the events from the earth’s final attack, Little Homeworld is finally complete, and there’s a new jazz bar where gems and humans mingle and drink. - As you’re typing back a reply, someone pulls the stool out next to you and takes a seat. You see a sliver of pink out of the corner of your eye as you try not to actually Look. Oh god. It’s her. God can’t help us now.

Spinel/Reader

collab with my lovely wife @firstofficertightpants

(i’m sorry. i have terrible chapter pacing skills so the next one will be the last, not this one. thanks for all of ur patience p: )

Immediately you accidentally elbow Alex in the face as you try to get out of his grip, and he yells out in pain and drops you onto the ground.

"Wait! SPINEL!" You shout and run towards the direction she went, but you don’t see her anywhere. "SPINEL!!!" You shout again, eyes frantically roaming in every direction around for her, a couple of people stop to stare at you. She’s much faster than you, and could be leagues away by now.

You can't believe she would just run like that, without explanation. She was staring at you and Alex like.. did she seriously think that you and Alex.. oh god. She thought you were with Alex.

Okay. You try not to panic as you stand there, awkwardly. You feel a hand on your shoulder.

"What the hell was that?" Alex says beside you. You can't speak for a moment, and when you do, your voice comes out hoarse.

"Er.. I think some horrible misunderstanding just happened." You say, defeated. You look up at him, and you're trying to not be visibly upset. He looks down at you, and makes a face.

"That was her? She could've said hi, sheesh.. she even left cookies here." He shrugs, looking at the spilled cookies on the ground.

"Dude. How are you so fucking stupid." You say, nearly about to smack him again. He gives you a confused look. "Are you shitting me? She came to give me those cookies in thanks for yesterday, and what does she see? You kissing all over my face."

He still gives you a blank look.

"Ohhhh my god. You are such a fucking moron." You retort, staring at him for several solid seconds until a look of sudden realization hits his facial expressions.

“Oh. OHHHHHHHHHHHH.” He covers his mouth, and has the audacity to look mortified.

“Yeah.” You cross your arms. “Thanks for that.”

“I uh.. man, I just wanted some Y/N love, I’m sorry. I just got so carried away.”

“I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m like, romantically involved with you.. Oh god what if she thinks I like men?” You cover your face in your hands, groaning into them. “I never told her that I liked just girls..”

“You told her about your crush on Harper though? What about that?” He raises his eyebrows in question.

“Yeah but I never told her about any of the other shit, and I haven’t exactly like.. given her any signals..”

“But you flirt with her all the time! And she flirts back! I know, because you’ve told me everything, multiple times.” He bends down and scoops up the container, and picks up the cookies and places them all back inside.

“Alex, I really hate to break this to you, but girls flirt with each other all the time. Most of the time, it’s over compliments, and sometimes it SEEMS genuine, but really, they’re just being nice.” You say. “Unless you’re super bold, with girls you basically have to be frank with them about your feelings and intentions for them to realize you’re serious. I myself prefer to kinda be sure that the other person likes me back, before I stick my neck out, you know? Because getting the ‘Oh, I thought we were just friends’ shit fucking hurts.”

“I’m pretty sure she likes you, dude.” He says to you like you’re an idiot.

“I’m not so sure about that.” You say, because you refuse to believe anything unless the cold hard facts are slapping you in the face.

“For someone so smart, how are you so stupid?” He sniffs one of the cookies, and looks like he’s contemplating taking a bite. You scoff. “You know what? Don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter. My point is, even I can tell she likes you.”

"Coming from you, that means nothing to me." He immediately looks up, completely offended. “What? I mean, seriously. Do I have to remind you of all of our middle school and high school years? That should explain itself.”

“Okay when you put it that way, YEAH, I was stupid, but this is different. This is me absorbing someone ELSE’S love life, and even I’m not that much of a fool.” He sighs, and mournfully tosses the cookies into the bin closest to you. “I think you need to like, give her a call or something and explain yourself. She looked really upset.”

“Yeah, I..” You pause for a second to pick your screwdriver back up. You don’t even want to work anymore. “You’re right. I’m just nervous.”

“Just do it before you overthink it.” He replies.

“Ugh, okay.” You pull out your phone, swipe over to your contacts, and press the call button on Spinel’s name. Immediately, it goes to voicemail.

Of course.

You leave a voicemail for her to call you back as soon as she hears this, and you also shoot her a text.

“She’s not answering.” You say.

“Of course she’s not, I mean, I wouldn’t either. Give her a while and try again later, she probably just needs some time.” He says, and also pulls out his phone, typing something on it real quick. “Also, give me a minute, mom needs to call me about something for tomorrow.” He steps a couple feet away from you to take the call.

You stare at your phone, and for the first time in a long time, you really don’t know what to fucking do other than just stand there. What if she’s so upset, she never talks to you again? Will she give you a chance to hear you out? And are you ready to talk about your feelings with her?

Lord.

You haven’t really thought about them too much yourself, if you’re going to be honest. You’ve been keeping this all super casual in your mind, because it feels irrational to grow feelings for someone this quickly, considering you’ve known her for less than 2 weeks. But.. you admit, the more you push the thoughts away, the more you understand that you might like her a lot more than you originally considered, and denying them will just cause you issues like that one time when you were 19.

You sigh out loud. Off to the side you can hear Alex arguing with his mother about some errands she wants him to run tomorrow, and for a brief moment you consider just going home, but then remember that not even Mr. Smiley can cover the rest of the shift. You have a good two hours left, you can survive, hopefully. You make yourself busy with fixing the part you were previously working on - but you’re having a hard time concentrating. After a couple minutes, Alex taps on the side of the wall, and you peek your head out to look at him.

“Look, I hate to do this to you right now, but mom wants me to go grab a few things from her office, and pick up an order from the print place before it closes.” He pushes his curly dark hair out of his eyes, half leaning on the wall next to you. “I can probably be back by the time you’re done with your shift.”

“Hmm.. alright.” You mumble, trying to keep your mind on more positive things. He leans closer to you, stretches out his arm, and pokes you on the cheek.

“Don’t hyperfocus on this. Shit will be fine, you just gotta give her some time to get back to you, okay hun?” He gives your cheek a little love smack and stands straight, heading out already. You watch him go.

“Super easy for you to say..” You say to yourself, and busy your hands.

Most of the rest of the shift passes quietly, and you receive no messages from anyone. You hate that you can’t do anything, not really, so you send Spinel another text. She still hasn’t seen the other one, and it’s been nearly two hours.

Y/N: Can we talk? Please.

You aren’t in the mood to text anyone else, so you put your phone back into your pocket, and start all of your closing duties. The next twenty minutes goes by in a heartbeat, the crowds of tourists long since dissipated. There isn’t a lot to do. Once you clock out and grab your things from the breakroom, you feel your phone vibrate so you pull it out quickly to see who it is. You try and fail not to feel disappointed that it’s just Alex.

Alex: she wrapped me up in some other shit so like, im runnin hella late

Alex: im sorry

Alex: its gonna be a while, ill let you know when im done and ill just come over to ur place

Alex: if thats ok

You type out a couple replies to him, and sigh out loud. It’s for the best really. You don’t exactly want him to talk to you about all this stuff right now anyway. You head out, lock up the place, and walk in the general direction of your home.

By the time you’re home and settled, Alex has given you an update, and it’s been nearly four hours since you saw Spinel with no response. You’re seriously starting to worry, because she’s never not replied to your messages like this. You go to send her another text, and realize that she still hasn’t opened any of your messages. You send her another inquiry, and pop up your chat with Steven.

Y/N: Steven.

Y/N: I need you to answer asap.

You see that he’s online, and you wait for an answer. It only takes him a minute or two to get back to you.

Steven: Hey Y/N, what’s up?

Y/N: Have you talked to Spinel in the last couple of hours?

Steven: Not since this morning, why?

Y/N: Can you call her just to check up on her? I’m worried about something.

Steven: Yeah hold on.

You wait for several long minutes for him to get back to you.

Steven: Her phone’s just going to voicemail, which is pretty weird. Maybe she accidentally let it die? I’ll let you know when she answers back.

Steven: Are you guys okay?

Y/N: Uhh, I’ll get back to you on that.

Steven: Hmm, okay.

You go to lay on your couch face down, and scream into the cushions.

Apparently you fall asleep that way, because the next thing you know, you have to peel your drool covered face off the couch cushion. You blink away your sleep-heavy eyes, and blearily check your phone. It’s 5am.

The only message you’ve received is one from Alex saying he stopped by, but left since he saw you were sleeping. Okay wow, he could’ve woken you up into a better sleeping position. Your neck feels like shit.

You’re trying to ignore the growing feeling of dread in your stomach, pointedly not thinking about how Spinel hasn’t texted you back yet, and how long it’s been. You grab a glass of water from the fridge, trudge up the stairs into your bedroom, and flop on your bed. You pass out again nearly instantly.

When you wake up again, the sun is glaring into your window, and you groan. You roll over and pull the covers over your head. Fuck the sun today. You grab your phone from your nightstand, and notice it’s almost 1pm, the fuck? Why the fuck did you sleep so long? You look at all your notifications, and pretend that you’re not looking for a specific one from someone.

Spinel still hasn’t texted you back, and STILL hasn’t seen any of the messages you’ve sent her. You are starting to panic a little, so you shoot Steven a message.

Y/N: She hasn’t said anything to me at all, has she answered you?

You message your dad and friends back while waiting a few minutes for Steven to reply. It takes him a few minutes to get back to you while you're laying in bed.

Steven: Her phone is still off, and she hasn't replied to anything I've sent her. I'm gonna ask Lapis to check up on her since they live in the same building. I'll get back to you when I get an answer.

It's been like twenty hours since you've seen her, and you're worried. There's no point moping around though, so you get up and get dressed for the day. You make and eat breakfast, even if you don't normally. You need a distraction from your thoughts, so you give your dad a call to check up on him, and ask him when he's coming home this week. He talks to you about his long days in meetings after meetings, the silly shit he got up to with a coworker last night after drinking, and the new hobby he's thinking of picking up when he gets back home. You guys talk for a long while, and maybe it's something you really needed, because you momentarily forget about what you were so worried with in the first place, until your phone buzzes. It's ringing actually, and your phone screen lights up with Steven's name. You tell your dad you've got to go to take this other call, and answer Steven. You sit there, phone in hand for a moment, before putting it to your ear.

"Y/N?" You hear him ask, although a bit muffled.

"Yeah. Anything?" You reply, trying to keep the nervousness out of your voice.

"She's uh.. She's on homeworld with the Diamonds right now? Maybe they worked something out with whatever event they were planning." He says into the receiver, completely casual like this is no big deal. Like that answer didn't just shatter your morale.

"Hm, okay. I appreciate you telling me this." You want to hang up and cry.

"Why didn't Spinel tell you she was going? I mean, she doesn't need to let me know since I go back to homeworld frequently.. are you guys okay?"

"Uhhhhhhhhhh." You say, unable to form an answer that isn't too revealing. "I'm not sure. But I'll let you know if anything changes."

"You know you can talk to me, right?" He says, gently. You appreciate that he cares, but it's best if he doesn't interfere.

"I know. Thank you, Steven." You reply, holding back any emotion that will give you away.

"I'll talk to you soon, okay? See you, Y/N." You say goodbye as well, and hang up.

You sit at your dining table for several solid minutes without moving, staring blankly at your phone, mind swirling with thoughts.

Okay. Alright. You can do this.

You refuse to cry, and you pinch your arm to get the prickling feeling away from the edges of your eyes. Fuck. Okay.

So she just.. left. She left, when she was fighting with the Diamonds literally yesterday about something awful they said to her, so awful that she had an emotional breakdown over it, and couldn't even TALK about it with you afterwards.

She left for homeworld to escape you.

You, specifically.

Because of a misunderstanding.

You probably sit there for a good twenty minutes absorbing everything, weighing the gravity of the situation. Afterwards, you get up and distract yourself with chores. You refuse to put any more thought into this, and just figure you'll wait.

At around 6pm, Alex comes over, and the two of you play Minecraft for the rest of the night, and he pointedly doesn't ask about Spinel at all. You're thankful that he's here in person, for once, because you don't know what kind of stupid shit you'd do without him here.

He spends the night and crashes on your couch, and you lay awake for most of the night, restless.

When you wake up, Alex has coffee and oatmeal ready for you, which is pretty funny because he never makes food. He's usually awful at it. He's sitting at the table sipping his coffee and drawing in his sketchbook, and he looks up when you make your presence known.

"Wow, you kinda look like shit my guy." He says, taking another sip of his coffee, and setting the mug down.

"Thanks. Had insomnia pretty bad last night.." You trail off and move to grab a mug from the cabinet and pour yourself some coffee. It's a black coffee only kind of day.

You sit down on the opposite side from him, and slowly drink your coffee. It smells good. You're worried Spinel hates you and never wants to see you again. You pull the bowl of oatmeal towards you and take a bite of lukewarm mush.

"This is kind of awful but thanks." You say as you shovel more into your mouth, and consider adding more brown sugar to this.

"I ain't no Gordon Ramsay, but I try." He doesn't look at you as he shades the back leg of the deer he's sketching. You watch him bite his tongue in concentration, and you take another sip of coffee. It's kind of burnt tasting, but whatever. You've had worse. "What do you want to do today, anyway?"

"Mmm." You eat another bite of oatmeal. "Can you please pick? Cuz I'm kinda braindead right now and I don't really feel like concentrating." He looks at you with mild concern.

"Last time I got to pick, you banned me from picking out what we do for a solid year." He furrows his eyebrows, twisting his pencil in hand.

"Yeah, well.. I don't really care right now." You shovel more food into your mouth.

"Fine. You said so, okayyyy, so no complaining later." He rolls his eyes and huffs, pencil scratching against the paper. Your phone buzzes several times on the table, and you reluctantly grab it. One message from dad, and.. two from Steven. You open up Steven’s messages first.

Steven: What did you do?

Steven: She doesn't want to come home.

Your stomach feels like lead. Alex notices you immediately.

"Uh. What's wrong?" He asks, leaning over. You tilt your phone away from him and you can feel the tears coming. You swallow, trying to get your face to cooperate.

“Um..” You feel your voice wavering, so you take a steadying breath. Looking down at your phone again, you struggle to form any kind of coherent words at all. You push your phone over to Alex, he reads what's on your screen, and looks back over to you with a serious face.

“For real? Are you kidding me?” He says, and you can hear the frustration in his voice. “I’m gonna give her a piece of my mind.”

“No,” The words finally find you. “Let me deal with this, please.” You give him a half hearted smile, and pull your phone back to yourself. With shaky hands, you text Steven back.

Y/N: Listen, I didn’t do anything, but..

Y/N: I’d prefer to get this sorted with her in person.

Y/N: I don’t want to play the messenger game

Y/N: I want her to hear it from me.

You don’t have to wait too long for his reply.

Steven: Okay well, I don’t know how well that’s going to work

Steven: Considering she refuses to talk to me about any of it

Steven: Let me know if you end up wanting me to do anything?

Steven: And I’ll message you if anything happens on my end.

Y/N: I appreciate that. Thanks.

You sigh and look up at Alex, who’s watching you with his chin in hand, leaning on the table.

“Anything?” He inquires.

“Nothing.” You say.

“Well, let me clean up the mess I made and let's go out. Mom let me have the car today, so we can go wherever. You said I can choose and no take-backsies, just give me a few minutes, alright?” He stands up and takes the both of your plates to the kitchen, and you watch him for a moment before deciding to get up and get dressed.

You head up to your bedroom and open your closet, rummaging around for something cozy. You grab a soft long sleeve shirt, and sweatpants, because who gives a fuck honestly. You’re looking inbetween all your sweaters for your favorite one that you’d like to wear today, before realizing that Spinel still has it. Instantly, your eyes fill with tears at the reminder, and you let yourself cry quietly in frustration where no one can see you.

After a few minutes, you wash your face in the bathroom and get dressed, settling for a different sweater. You take a couple deep breaths, and head downstairs to Alex.

You spend the rest of the day with Alex, and he takes the both of you to Empire City to browse the mall and window shop, and he buys the both of you dinner. You feel like he’s being extra sweet to make you feel better and you appreciate him so much for it, but Spinel’s on your mind literally all day and you can’t distract yourself enough. He gives you a big hug after dropping you off at home, and before leaving he makes sure that you’re okay. You’re not, not really, but he helped you not spiral further downwards today.

The next day you only work a half shift, so you get to sleep in and you take full advantage of it. It has now been three days since Spinel disappeared with no word since, and you’re beside yourself with worry. But you can’t let this stop you living your day to day life, so you do what you do best and keep on with your routine.

The fourth day goes quickly as you work a full shift, and you’ve got quite a few things to do before your dad gets home tomorrow. You’re excited to see him, as he’s been gone for nearly three weeks now. The house will be back to normal, and way less lonely.

Your dad comes home the fifth day and you spend the entirety of it with him, and you don’t think about Spinel at all. The both of you go to the movies, and then to the beach to have a relaxing afternoon as family bonding time. When you guys head home, you make him his favorite steak and potatoes and he talks about all of the things he had to do and how much he missed your company while he was gone. You think he notices that your mood has slightly been off today, but he doesn't ask about it.

The sixth day, Steven sends you a text about her still not being home, and you wonder why you even bothered opening the message. At this point you’re no longer despondent, you’re now just frustrated with the growing feeling of anger building inside you.

By the tenth day, you’re rightfully pissed. You gave her more than enough time to get over whatever feelings she felt - and she’s not taking any of your feelings into consideration. She left you to deal with the aftermath of what she assumed to be true, and never even gave you the chance to explain yourself. You haven’t sent her a text since that last one you sent over a week ago, and you think you’ll send her one more.

Y/N: Whenever (or IF, I guess) you decide to pop back in on earth, I’d like to have a chat. :)

Steven hasn’t said anything much in the last week, either. You kind of feel like he’s avoiding you because of this, but it doesn’t matter now. If she never wants to come back, that’s on her.

Two more days go by - pretty uneventfully. You spend most of your time at work, or playing minecraft with Alex and the occasional Harper when she’s actually in a motel versus camping. The two of them haven’t asked about Spinel at all - and you know they’ve talked about it extensively in private. You’re secretly relieved that you don’t have to talk about her, though.

Two weeks pass, and you give up entirely. Life goes on.

One of these late afternoons you’re lying in bed after work and texting your friends, and for a moment you think about shooting Spinel a last message. You don’t think she’ll come back to earth at this point, but you want your sweater back if she ever visits. You swipe over to your chat with her to let her know this, and your eyes glance at the ‘seen’ icon at the bottom, timestamp dated nearly 36 hours ago.

Huh.

Wait. What the fuck.

You sit there for a moment, frozen in shock. Shock that quickly turns into boiling anger, and you find yourself texting Steven faster than you realize.

Y/N: So she comes back and you say nothing, yeah?

Y/N: Remind me to not do you any favors for a while.

Eyes stinging, you go back over to shoot Spinel an angry message, but before you can even type out half a sentence, Steven rapidly texts you back.

Steven: Hold on for a second, okay?

Steven: Let me explain something.

You don’t really care at this point.

Y/N: nah man.

You get up from bed, pocket your phone, and waltz downstairs. You put on a sweater, toe on the nearest flip flops, and head out the front door. Dad’s at work currently, so you lock the door and head over to little homeworld. You walk briskly over to the bar you met Spinel at, and after a small hold up with the bouncer, head in and move directly to the counter, facing Bismuth.

“Hey Bis,” You say to her, and she glances over to you from her current patron, and smiles at you.

“Y/N! It’s been a minute. How’ve you been?” She replies, facing you.

“I’ve been alright,” You lean a bit over the bar. “I actually just have a question, if you don’t mind.” Bismuth looks at you inquisitively, and you continue. “What’s Spinel’s address? She never gave it to me.” You smile sweetly at her.

“Hold on, let me get a pen and some paper.” She says as she sets down her glass, and grabs a pen and some receipt paper from the register. You watch her scribble something down, and she hands it to you.

“Bis, I ever tell you that you’re the best?” You take the piece of paper from her hand.

“Only once,” She grins. “But I could stand to hear it again.” You laugh at that, and pocket the note.

“Thanks for this. I’ll pay you back later, promise.” You wink at her, and turn to leave. You hear her chuckle and pick the glass back up from the counter.

“I’ll keep you to that!” You hear as you leave the building, pulling out the note again to glance at the address.

It’s over a mile away, and you figure now or never, and walk towards the general direction of her place. You try and fail on calming your nerves on the near 30 minute walk, and by the time you get to her apartment building, you’ve worked yourself up into a whirlwind of emotions. Also you’ve pointedly ignored your phone this entire time, and you’re pretty sure you’ve missed 5 calls and dozens of texts, but you knew that if you looked at any of it, you’d lose face and chicken out.

Spinel’s apartment is on the 9th floor, and you marvel at the technology side of the building for a bit. These gems really knew how to build stuff. You take the elevator up, and once you’re on the floor, you take a sharp left to the odd numbers side of the building. You reach her door and stop, almost touching the frame to knock on it. Although it’s pretty quiet in the building, you can hear a faint voice, or voices, coming from inside her apartment if you listen closely enough.

You take a deep breath, and let it out. You take another three, and consider leaving altogether. You steel your nerves, lift your arm, and knock on her door frame twice.

You think you hear the voice quiet down as you stand there, waiting. Several seconds go by, and you can hear your own heartbeats.

For a sec you think that she won’t come to the door, but after a few more moments you hear quiet movement towards the door you’re standing in front of. You make a point to step to the side, so whoever is answering the door can’t see who’s standing there through the peephole.

Very slowly, you see the door handle turn, and the door swinging open several inches. You watch Spinel peek her head out the door, her phone in her hand, and turn to make direct eye contact with you. She freezes instantaneously, like she expected it to be anyone else other than you standing there.

Her hair is in a messy bun, and your eyes trail down to notice that she’s wearing your sweater.

This pisses you off immediately.

#spinel #spinel x reader #spinel su #spinel self insert #steven universe #my fic #devils ballroom

146 notes · View notes

futurewriter2000 · 5 years

Text

Thieves - pt. 3

A/N: So I wrote this on my phone because my comouter is broken. Until then I have my undepending phone with me... Hehe... But dont worry. Tomorrow my sister is working so that means I can steal her comluter for a while. Yas. Note to self: Never drink coffee next to your computer.

A book was placed in front of you. Below it caused a thud and above it spread dust. Firstly, you observed it. Despite the sound it emitted and the weight you logically concluded in your head, you hoped for a nice, thin book. You laid your head on the table just to see how that hope would disappear.

You could say you were mortified.

"500 PAGES!" you shouted at your roomate as you lifted the book in front of her. "YOU THINK I HAVE TIME FOR 500 PAGES!"

"It's 494 pages plus 3 pages of foreword."

You stared at your roomate and with a blink of an eye you repeated what you said. "500 BLOODY PAGES!" you lifted the book under her nose and she laughed.

"It's not that lot once you start it."

"Marilla..." you put your hand on her shoulder. "You know I love myself a good book but 500 pages of boring, useless details that can dig me a grave isn't my type of genre." you continued to look at her with empathic eyes but she only rolled hers and walked away, leaving you and the 500-page book standing alone.

"What is your genre, little Bee?" an arm wrapped itself around your shoulder, squeezing you tight. "War books? Spy books? Stolen books?" he winked. "Books about everything?Oooor..." he was now standing in front of you, close and steady. His hand went up to your loose strand of hair and tucked it behind your lovely ear. "A book about a handsome British man." he proudly puffed out his chest and grinned.

You wrinkled your nose and took a step back. "All is nice until a book about an obsessive stalker comes at me." you clashed with his shoulder and walked away.

When you entered the class, you believed it would be over but for him but it never was. He sat on the chair in front of you and sat opposite of how he should. His arms were laid on the back of the chair, his eyes wondering on yours. "I would hardly call myself a stalker, let alone obsessive stalker but if I am being frank with you- can I be?"

"Oh, please. Dont hold it inside just for me." you rolled your eyes.

"I would much rather be an obsessive stalker of that fine young woman who owned this book in the past. Merlin, the way she looked." he bit his fist and let out a pleasing groan.

"You talk about my sister?" your mood dropped and so did your tone.

"Yes. She was fun and gorgeous and sexy and talkative and trusting and- and just wow." he swooned and twirled on his chair meanwhile just that caused something ugly to form in your stomach.

Jealousy?- Of course it was jealousy. How can it not be that? - Even if she was long out of Hogwarts, three years to be exact, students and professors continued to swoon over her like the Gryffindor in front of you. You never liked Sirius, in any sort of way that would make you want to date him or even hold hands with him because to you, he was just someone with good genes and ignorant personality. Yet, when a handsome boy talks to you, the last thing you would want to hear is how your sister is much much better than you. In beauty and intellect.

But in a way.... That's how you always felt.

You looked down on the parchment that was laid in front of you and let your mind wander.

Sirius waited for your snarky comment or any kind of teasing remark but nothing came. His eyes glanced up at yours and he knew- he just knew you were sad. Plain sad. Has he offended you? Even if he planned to, he didn't mean to cause you that much hurt. Just some teasing as both of you were used to.

Your fingers tugged on the edge of the paper and you bit your lip subconsciously. "Yeah." you replied with a shallow voice. You took a deep breath and smiled. "Yeah she is." and with that you packed up your school supplies and sat at the other corner of the room, far away from the reminder.

He looked at you confused. He couldn't know what he could hit so close to the middle that made you walk away.

---

The class was close to the end and the teacher decided to give the results of your exam taken last week. You weren't surprised to get a good grade but at the same time, you were sad.

What had happened to you? All your life you have been rebelling towards your sister, trying to get out of her shoes, trying to run away from all the pressure your parents put you through because of her. You've been doing nothing but complain about her. Of how she treats you, of how different she is with you then with others.

And this grade? This great mark you got from the help of your sister... It only made you feel like a hypocrite.

So as you were packed back in your dorm with nothing but a pack of books in front of you and another, only one book, your sister's book, beside them, you decided to make a decision.

You grabbed that one book and without any look in the mirror you went to the Gryffindor tower.

You knew the password. Your cousin is a Gryffindor, your whole family was. He was the same age as you and another acute reminder of how you stand out from the family.

You walked up to the boys dormitory and searched it whole until you found a certain name written on it. You raised your fist to knock and with all the bravery you could manage, you did.

A boy, a mixture of black and hazel, opened those doors and smiled at you. "Hey there, (y/n)."

"Hey, James." you smiled and felt yourself grow nervous. He always did have that affect on you.

"It's good to see you. What can I do for you?" he leaned on the door frame and curved his lips into a smile.

Merlin if you had a penny for each time he made you melt inside.

"Uh, well... I'm looking for Sirius."

"I thought you would sooner or later." he chuckled and opened the door wider. "Come in."

You nodded with a smile and entered the room. Four heads, eight eyes were now all on you.

"You know Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew." he pointed at each and you smiled at both of them. "And our lovely malodramtic Sirius Black."

"How can I forget the culprit?" you narrowed your eyes jokingly at him and shook your head. He only rolled his eyes in return.

"I thought that was water under the bridge."

"Not yet." you simpered and took a few steps forward. He stood up frkm the bed and started making his wat to you. The two of you met in the middle, only a few feet apart. You tugged your sleeves under the book your were holding and yet again, bit your lower lip subconsciously.

He looked down at the hidden book, furrowing his eyebrows. "What's this?" he then pointed.

"A book." you finally showed it bare and with no sleeves covering it.

"Thank you for that observation." he rolled his eyes and showed his birght teeth in a smile. "I mean why are you giving it to me? Are you giving it to me?"

"Yes." you said fast and pushed it at his chest. "Take it."

"It's not mine to take." he lifted his arm above his shoulders.

"It was a week ago." you continued to push it at his chest.

"Can we not do this here?" he said and nodded at the door, gently supporting the book with his hand.

You sighed. "I don't want it, Sirius and I bet you want it more as me." you spoke clearly with a sharp tone. The book was now at his hands and with a wave to the other boys, you left the room.

'I don't need her book. I don't. I can make it without her. I can make it better without her.' your thoughts ran through your mind over and over again. You don't want to feel so small everytime your perfect older sister is there or even slightly mentioned. It was so... so wrong for you.

"(y/n)!" someone shouted and you turned around to see the same boy running towards you.

"I told you, Sirius. I don't want the bloody book!"

"Can we stop about the book for a second?!" he stopped in front as he always did but this time his hands were firmly placed on your shoulders. "What's wrong?"

And at this point you wanted to collapse in those gentle arms and tell him you were far from okay. But he was a stranger and you don't trust strangers.

"Nothing."

"Nothing is always something, (y/n)." he simpered and you smiled as well.

"So he does know my name." you tried to avert the attention to another subject than your emotions.

"Took me a while." he smiled and offered you an arm. "Want to walk."

"Uhm-well-"

"Oh, you're walking with me alright." he took your hand in his and pulled you with him.

"This is abduction." you tried to get your hand out of his but he only took your arm and interlaced his fingers with you.

You blushed at the action. You hated your hands for some odd reason. They were never much for ring wearing or fancy handwriting but with his hands, they just fit so perfectly and the feeling was ever so warming.

"Is it?" he glanced at you with that infamous smirk of his.

"Yes." you tried to hide your blush yet the smile was illuminating just that.

"Then why are you walking with me?" he continued to smile so lovely at you. He noticed the two burnt cheeks just as the castle lights shone on them and that made him satisfied for pressuring you into a walk.

"Because...."

"Because?" he kept doing the same gesture. They way his eyes leaned on you and his smile caused a feeling abrupt in your heart. You stared up to those light eyes that transformed so dark at when the light was at its worse. So many thought ran through your head that all you ever wanted was to make sure they were somehow true... But then again... He said it himself he'd prefer your sister over you. Not in so many words but he said it.

You pulled your hand from his grasp and tugged it under your crossed arms. He looked confused for a moment, sobered up from the spell your touch caused him. Why would you do that? He loved holding your hand, it was... Nice- in his own words.

His hand now felt cold and alone, so he put it in his pocket. "I have to appologise to you about this morning." he swayed on his feet lightly. "Whatever insulting I said, I didn't mean to hurt you and I definetly didn't mean to make you want to give your sister's book to me."

You looked up at him, again with those doe eyes that made him feel.... Nice. A gentle laugh left your lips and you began to walk in front of him, walking backwards. "So you appologise for something you said but not for something you stole?" you quirked an eyebrow and he snorted at the irony.

"Stole? I have no clue what you mean."

You backed away to his side and walked his pace. "You didn't say anything insulting to me this morning. I just... Drifted at the mention of my sister.." you said intentionally.

"Your sister?" he asked, unsure if he heard you correctly.

"When it comes to her I just become so... On edge." you shrugged, avoiding his eye contact.

And for that moment of silence Sirius could feel himself see a different person in front of him. Not this overly-confident small Hufflepuff who kneed him in the crotch and stole his leather jacket but this- well, he couldn't find the right words to describe that person at the moment.

"I don't understand. I remember her coming to your classes just to check up on you and yell at this Slytherin for bullying you..."

"Yeah, I like that sister too but you know most of the time all I hear were her ugly remarks about me and how I am doing everything wrong over and over again. To see just how much my mom prefers her over me, how she spoils her, loves her, praises her... It's like this cage I can't get out of. She's different towards me than she is with anybody else, Sirius. " you now stopped in front of him and looked up." But you like her, the whole world likes her and she is this perfect beautiful witch, contrast to me. "you looked down on your sweatpants and hoodie. Just now you remembered your hair wasn't all tidy and bewitching as well.

"What are you talking about? You're just as cute as her."

"Cute, Sirius. Not beautiful." you let it leave your lungs carelessly.

"You were beautiful on that Hogsmeade trip." he took your hands and stepped closer. "The jeans, the yellow bold top, the oversized sexy leather jacket." he was now close as you smiled.

He was almost leaning on your chest, his warm breath touching your skin and his hands gently put on your waist. It was almost euphoric.

But it just couldn't get out if your head. "I'm not her, Sirius." you stepped away.

Sirius felt his breath fade away. He didn't know why he held it in at the first place. It was surely not because of the moment that happened between the two of you just now was "nice" but something else- something he didn't want tovend the way it did.

He watched you leave with your grey hoodie, your sweatpants and two-coloured socks standing out in the night of all of it. Few more seconds and those bright-sock feet disappeared around the corner.

128 notes · View notes

keelywolfe · 5 years

Text

FIC: Coquelicot

(A Spicyhoney ‘The Village’ AU)

Note: This chapter contains lemony goodness as Rus makes good on his promise from last chapter

The story so far:

Crimson

Yellow

Blue

Blush

Sallow

Russet

Spice

Whiteout

Sable

Blue on Black

Midnight

Ebony Falling

Golden

Magenta

Marigold

~~*~~

Read ‘ Coquelicot ’ on AO3

Read More here

~~*~~

When Rus came of age, Blue threw him the traditional party, which turned out to be a horribly awkward event where many of the villagers who knew Blue stopped by to offer distant well-wishes and a few gifts so shoddy they bordered on insulting. Rus had no doubt that Blue noted the worst offenders and while he would never allow anyone’s health to suffer for petty revenge, he was sure his brother’s bedside manner took a turn towards brusque for those villagers.

There was also much smaller, intimate moment with his brother where they shared a cake and tea, asking for the Angel to bless him and that was the party Rus preferred to remember.

It was there he was gifted his first saffron cloak, a sign of his adulthood that had been equally delightful and unnerving, but none of it, the uncomfortable party, the gift, could have prepared him for the next day when his brother sat him down and announced they needed to talk.

That frank discussion still made him cringe a bit to think of, and at the time he’d been horrified. Reluctant curiosity came later, but in that moment Rus had rather glumly assumed the information about what might happen in a marriage bed would do him little good. Had he but realized what the future held, or indeed that his brother had been discreetly urging him to find a playmate, Rus might have paid better attention, because now he was at a bit of a loss.

A few weeks of unrealized courtship and brief instance of lovemaking in the woods did not offer him many ideas on how to seduce a husband. He could simply ask, Rus supposed, Edge understood enough that he was sure the meaning would be clear. But what was he to do if Edge declined? The very idea was more mortifying than any discussion with his brother.

Rus spent an entire day thinking about it; while he made their morning meal, while he painted, and anything he came up with seemed ridiculous. Stripping off his clothes and lying bare on the furs for Edge to return from his afternoon trap check? He’d be more likely to catch a chill than his husband. Climbing atop him while they were bathing seemed shamefully bold, but how was he supposed to lure Edge without words?

In the end, all his ideas seemed absurd, but he still tried, with all the determination of an impulsive fool.

Lingering close to Edge while he was making tea earned him extra kisses and a gentle arm around his shoulders, pulling him in for a hug. But he was quickly released and Rus could only sip his tea in disgruntlement, all his grumblings kept within his head.

Meeting him at the entryway when Edge returned from checking traps earned a similar kiss and hug, perfectly tender but not even close to what he wanted. Edge seemed pleased at the greeting but didn’t linger, striding into the cave and leaving Rus to glare after him in frustration .

In desperation, Rus even tried deliberately smearing a streak of paint on his cheekbone, his theory being that Edge would lean in to wipe it away and that was when Rus could pounce, stealing a kiss that would surely lead to other things. That was ruined when Edge startled him by leaning over his shoulder, rumbling a laugh as he wiped away the smear and was gone back to his own painting in an instant.

Subtly was lost in the language barrier, Rus supposed, or maybe he simply wasn’t very good at it. Honestly, it looked like the direct approach was going to be the only option.

He would do it, Rus decided stoutly. He had some spousal rights as well and he was going to demand they consummate their marriage, tonight.

But that night when he was settled into bed in his nightshirt, freshly washed and waiting for Edge, his courage faltered, nerves jittering uncertainly.

Edge always stripped bare before climbing into their pallet, folding his clothes away and unconcerned at his nude bones, not seeming to notice that Rus was torn between blatant staring and blushing avoidance.

That night, he reached out as he always did towards the wall and usually he would murmur a few unknown words, dimming the lights. Rus mentally dubbed it as ‘banking the wall fires’, but that night he blurted, “wait!”

Edge hesitated, his hand resting on the wall. His look was questioning and had he been able to voice it, Rus was sure he would say, ‘Whatever is the trouble, dear husband?’

“leave it on?” Almost too weakly said to be a request.

The questioning in Edge’s expression softened, gentled into sympathy and to his dismay, Rus realized that Edge thought he was fearful of the dark.

Wonderful, now his husband would see him as even more childish than before. That was sure to help along the path to seduction .

“no, i mean—“ Rus stopped, frustration warring with his embarrassment, but honestly, he’d had enough of being treated like a fragile plate that was only brought out for company. He’d managed to prove he was useful in the kitchen and even with painting, curse it all, he wanted…he wanted Edge. All of him.

Rus nervously ran his tongue along his teeth, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, then met Edge’s gaze, “come here?”

That questioning expression returned, but Rus didn’t think he imagined a glimmer of something beneath it. Edge obeyed wordlessly, striding across the room and even that was an enticing sight. Not only the bareness of his bones, but the way he moved, with the fluidity of a predator, the same graceful prowl of the village cats.

Instead of lifting the blankets and furs to settle next to Rus as he’d done every night thus far, he knelt atop the covers by Rus instead. His hands rested loosely on his femurs, all those sleek bones on display.

Edge raised a brow bone at Rus and it seemed to say, ‘Well? Here I am. What now?’ What now, indeed.

Rus sat up, letting the covers slide down to his hips, and reached out with one trembling hand. They’d touched, many times, in the bath, lying snuggled together in bed. None of those touches made Edge inhale sharply, shivering as Rus traced his collarbone, his sternum, exploring the long, flat bones of his ribs.

Edge’s interest was obvious, stirring between his femurs, and Rus swallowed down a sudden eager flood of wetness into his mouth. It seemed a request from his body for a kiss and Rus obeyed it, leaning in to press his mouth to Edge’s.

His expectation was for Edge to take control, for the strong, eager curl of his tongue against Rus’s. Instead, he remained still, parting his teeth and allowing Rus to explore the velvety heat of his mouth, the sweet-spice taste of him.

It seemed almost backwards that they’d already made love without the chance for Rus to investigate him. Unaccustomed boldness filled Rus and when he gave Edge’s shoulders a gentle push, he fell back readily in a loose sprawl, the line of his body offering.

Rus moved to straddle him, his femurs on either side of Edge’s pelvis, ignoring the feel of heat rising in his face. Shamelessly, he pulled his nightshirt over his head, leaving him as bare as Edge. But instead of being appalled at his brazenness, Edge’s gaze was eagerly appreciative, his hands hovering over Rus restlessly, as if he couldn’t decide where to touch.

Rus took hold of them, guiding them to his own bones and he groaned aloud as Edge’s touch, so tender and caring these past days, began to move over him boldly. It was not enough to distract him from his own explorations. Beneath his fingertips, he could feel scars, many of them, broken bones that had healed into rough ridges. Perhaps he should be horrified by the knowledge of the wounds Edge had endured, but Rus could only be elated, even aroused. Edge was a survivor, had proven himself a capable protector. His scars were a badge of honor to Rus, proof that he could keep them both safe and it only made him seem all the more appealing.

His hands strayed lower, down to Edge’s pelvis where his shaft rose up, hard and heavy with desire. It was his first chance seeing it so clearly without a scrap of clothing to disguise it, and Rus faltered. It seemed enormous, how had that possibly fit inside him?

A delicate touch between his own legs was a formidable distraction from uncertainty and Rus moaned in surprise as Edge’s skilled fingers parted his folds, carefully exploring.

Even as he rocked his hips into that touch, a trill of fear fluttered up Rus’s spine. He did want it, wanted them to make love again, but he was struggling to relax. His nerves were returning and Edge’s fingers between his legs felt good but also uncomfortably dry, his body offering little wetness to smooth the way.

Reluctantly, Rus was about to ask him to stop when Edge did it on his own, a faint frown curving his mouth.

Disappointed, surely, Rus decided unhappily, and embarrassment flared. He was wrong, he couldn’t do this, and now he’d led Edge on with cruel teases. Edge wouldn’t press, he knew, certainly wouldn’t force, but perhaps he was rethinking things, perhaps regretting his choice to offer for Rus and—

A light touch on his chin startled him from his dismal thoughts, Edge leaning up on an elbow to follow it with a soft kiss and a gentle admonishment, “Rus, easy.”

Easy. A complicated word when offered by Edge, uncertain of the context. But Rus clung to it gratefully nonetheless, nothing in that word or Edge’s tone hinted at regrets. That left frustration in his wake, because Rus did want this, only his body, his imperfect, often sickly body was refusing to cooperate.

Rus yelped, forced to cling to Edge’s rib cage as his seat abruptly became unstable. Edge shifted, moving them both closer to the side of the bed where there was a little hollow in the cave wall. It had served as a sort of nightstand and Rus often put a cup of water within it at night where it wouldn’t be tripped over.

This time, Edge rummaged briefly and took out a small, lidded pot. He set it to the side and as Rus watched in confusion, he removed the lid, dipping two fingers in. When they withdrew, they came out glistening and oily, and Rus yelped as they swiftly returned between his legs. “oh. oh!” His surprise shifted quickly to delighted shock. “oh, oh…oh, edge, that’s. oh, please!” Rus could only moan brokenly, crying out as that slippery touch moved against him, thumb circling against that little pleasure point.

This time those fingers slipped easily inside him and Rus gasped, oh, it felt good, moving in him, stretching him deliciously.

Despite that, Rus was not to be deterred from his own explorations. Reaching out, Rus dabbled his own fingers in that little pot until they were oily, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger curiously even as it trickled in slick rivulets down his wrist. It smelled sweetly bland and the sound Edge made as he wrapped his slickened fingers around his shaft was lovely. The oil allowed it to move smoothly in his hand, and Rus gingerly pushed back the foreskin to rub his thumb over the flared head. To feel Edge jerk beneath him, moaning with obvious pleasure, was nearly as wonderful as the clever movements of his fingers. Suddenly, those slender fingers inside him weren’t enough, they couldn’t fill him properly and Rus tugged frantically at Edge’s wrist, urging him to stop. He did, pulling free with an embarrassingly wet sound but Rus was past caring. He shuffled forward on his knees, until the tip of Edge’s shaft was pressed to his slick entrance, almost slipping inside, and there he hesitated, briefly caught in shameful uncertainty.

Warm hands settled on his hips, Edge groaning his name, entreating him with soft desperation. He could do this, for them both. Rus exhaled slowly and sank down. His memory of their first, only, time was distant, seemed as uncertain as a dream in the first moment after waking when compared to the stark reality of Edge pressing inside him. Edge didn’t move, his hands only rested and made no attempt to guide as Rus worked his way down. It didn’t hurt, only an unfamiliar fullness, and whenever the pressure seemed too much, Rus paused, panting, until he couldn’t help squirming again, sinking lower until finally his pelvis was grazing against Edge’s. Inside him, all the way inside, Rus thought dazedly. He felt like an overfilled cup, ready to spill over. He sat there, focused that feeling so deep inside him. “Please.” A desperate, wet gasp and Rus opened his sockets. Edge lay beneath him, sheened in sweat and frantic need lit his eye lights. His breathing was erratic, ribcage rising and falling with each gasp and for once, he seemed the lost, vulnerable one. It made a certain mischievous tenderness swell in Rus’s soul. Carefully, he rose up on his knees, until only the tip remained inside him, then he sank back down and Edge’s cry seemed to come from deep within his soul. Rus quickly found an uncertain rhythm, thinking with distant, wry amusement that it was not unlike riding a pony. Once, he rose too high and Edge’s shaft slipped out. Rus reached down and held him in a trembling hand to guide him back inside, whimpering at the feel of being filled and stretched anew. The hands on his hips made no attempt to control, only allowed him to find his own path while Edge groaned his name, urging him on with unknown words and the slight, helplessly shift of his own hips, rising up to meet Rus. There was a peak approaching, Rus could feel it and it was one he’d ascended before. He tried to move faster, dropping down with enough force to make bones clack and clatter, but it remained frustratingly out of reach. He startled as Edge caught hold of one of his wrists, pulling his hand away from Edge’s ribcage where he’d settled it for balance. Edge drew his hand down between his own legs, urging him to touch himself and Rus did, a deeper blush invading his overheated cheekbones as Edge watched with obvious appreciation.

Tentatively, he felt further back where they were joined, felt the slide of Edge’s shaft as it moved in him and oh, it was shameful and surely perverse and wonderful, knowing they were together as one. It was enough to send him shuddering over that peak, his pleasure rising until it quivered on the point of unbearable. Deep within, Rus felt a rush of wet heat, felt the vibration of Edge groaning, his hips rising strongly enough to lift them both off the bed. An endless moment lost in the throes of pleasure and Rus wished wildly that it would never end.

It was a wish that couldn’t possibly be granted, and as his peak receded, Rus collapsed weakly down to rest against Edge’s ribcage.

“i did it,” Rus mumbled, more to himself than anything, but he dimly felt Edge murmur something like agreement, felt fingertips stroking down the length of his spine.

Sleep seemed less a sweet afterthought and more a stern requirement, and Rus gave in without a single protest. The feel of a damp cloth on him only made him grumble a protest, trying to roll away and swatting at that persistent cloth. He swore he could hear soft laughter, but perhaps that was just a dream.

Soon enough he was swathed in warmth, bundled in blankets and strong arms that cradled him, holding him through the night.

~~*~~

When he woke the next morning, Rus was sleepily aware that there was a certain satisfying soreness between his legs, but at first he didn’t understand why. It was only after he opened his sockets to find Edge watching him with an expression of pure smugness that he remembered.

“you needn’t look so satisfied,” Rus told him drowsily. He firmly ignored the embarrassment that tried to take hold at the memory of his own boldness. “i believe i did most of the work.”

To his delight, Edge chuckled, leaning in to steal a kiss. He murmured against Rus’s mouth tenderly, “Love Rus.” Rus managed a laugh of his own. It seemed Edge liked his boldness and very much at that. “i love you, too.”

That kiss trailed down his jaw, lower, and Rus squirmed, torn between the delightful touches and his own rising hunger, “did you want breakfast?”

“Rus breakfast,” Edge agreed and Rus quickly learned Edge didn’t mean for Rus to prepare breakfast.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have insulted his husband’s prowess because he seemed intent on making up for any perceived lack. He slithered down between Rus’s femurs and Rus could only lay back against the furs, whimpering as Edge made a delicious attempt at devouring him.

That was another problem solved, he decided hazily, and right at this moment, he couldn’t think of any other, not at all.

He let the pleasure carry him away, unknowing and uncaring about the heavy snow falling right outside their hidden door.

~~*~~

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #village au #lemon goodness

44 notes · View notes

crabrangoonluvr · 6 years

Text

im not going to pretend to be surprised about pittsburgh

ignorance has always been.

i am seven years old, recently moved to texas from long island. i tell a classmate not to tell my other classmates that i am jewish. my new friend urges me to say “oh my gosh” instead of “oh my god” because the latter is a sin

i am eight years old, my well-meaning classmates tell me that i have to believe in jesus or else i will go to hell. my shul classmates tell me that next time they do it, i should tell them i’ll “save you a seat by the fire”

i am nine years old, and a classmate asks me if i am “chanukian” because i celebrate chanukah. he asks it genuinely, but i can’t help but feel like an “other”, part of a minority so tiny that people don’t even know its name

i am ten years old, and it’s december. excited for chanukah, i talk about it a lot - my teacher asks me to tone it down, saying that “we won’t shove christmas down your throat if you don’t shove chanukah down ours”. the stores have been playing christmas music since november 1st and don’t stop until well into january. i read anne frank.

i am eleven years old, freshly a middle schooler. kids from the other elementary schools again ask me why i don’t believe in jesus. again, they tell me i will go to hell if i don’t. i get to offer them a seat next to me by the fire.

i am twelve years old, and my best friend attends the local private christian school. he begs me to enroll, claiming that he knows a girl who was jewish, but she came to the school and became a good christian and it wouldnt be weird for me to do the same. we start talking about the holocaust in school. the class turns to look at me

i am thirteen years old, and i’m suddenly obsessed with the thought that at any moment, nazis could break into my school and demand to have all of the jewish kids, and my classmates could easily point them to me. they make a show of dispatching us in the cafeteria and no one does anything. i get to read the part of anne frank in english class. we go to the holocaust museum that year. i search the walls for my mother’s maiden name.

i am fourteen years old, being asked how i could be jewish if i didn’t have a jewish accent. being asked if i drink bar mitzvah. they’re funny misconceptions, but there’s apprehension in my laughter. a boy at a friend’s party finds out that i am jewish and tells me “no offense, but i hate your people and entire culture”. i have to laugh it off because this isn’t my party and i shouldn’t start anything. (but the disheartening thing is, this doesn’t come from a white boy - it comes from a black boy, who experiences racism and prejudice as well but despite that is prejudiced himself.) in my history class, another girl states that she wishes she could marry hitler and kill all jews. she’s a minority too.

i am fifteen years old. the boy who had been hitting on me in algebra class sings “i love hitler” under his breath for ten minutes. i text a friend across the classroom to tell the teacher. she texts me back to not take it seriously, that he probably doesn’t mean it. i keep my star of david under my shirt for the rest of the year.

i am sixteen years old. donald trump is elected. my friends stand in solidarity, telling me that if anyone ever gives me shit for being jewish to tell them, and they’ll handle it. the boy from last year is openly a neo-nazi. i hope that he forgets about me.

i am seventeen years old, drunk at a friend’s house, talking about my race and religion. my friend’s father discovers i am both biracial and jewish and exclaims “so wait- you’re a nigger jew?” he shows me a few books about slavery and asks if i’m offended by it. i say i’m not, because telling the truth could get me in more trouble. a few weeks later, i spot a freshman with a yarmulke in the hallway, playing with it like it was a toy. i don’t recognize this kid. i go up to him and ask him if he’s jewish. he proclaims that yes, of course he is! i pull out my star and start talking to him about being jewish myself and he pales. he laughs and says “why would i wear this if i wasn’t jewish?” i say “well, in this political climate, you know how it is.” he nods and rushes off. he takes off the yarmulke and pockets it. a few weeks after that, i catch a freshman girl making a nazi salute when the teacher is out of the room. i tell her to knock it off and to her credit she’s mortified, but i can’t begin to fathom what she thought was the punchline to her oh so funny nazi salute joke.

i am eighteen years old. my university is one of the most jewish in the country. the tree of life synagogue is attacked. they’re calling it the most brutal attack on jewish people in american history. we all mourn, but i can’t say i’m surprised. i hope that my synagogue isn’t next.

but the scariest part is that i know it will happen again, and i know it will get worse. american antisemitism is escalating fast - from jewish graveyards, neighborhoods, and synagogues being vandalized, to nazis marching in the streets of charlottesville, to eleven murders at a baby naming ceremony in the tree of life - it’s not slowing down. it’s not going to slow down. the only way to stop it is if our non-jewish allies take a stand and help us denormalize this shit - because otherwise, it will gain legitimacy and standing until it becomes socially acceptable to once again openly wish death upon my people.

#arden.txt #judaism #tree of life #antisemitism #politics #goyim can reblog

329 notes · View notes

monigheandonn1743 · 6 years

Text

Ceart-leth

Previous Chapters

Chapter 6

They’d ridden in silence to the ravine. Jamie had been right, it wasn’t far from Craig na Dun, and when they’d arrived he’d left her seated on Donas as he’d filled her rucksack with large rocks and launched it into the middle of the deep, dark pool of water.

That had been hours ago, yet still they were silent, lost in their own thoughts, as the sun set and the night closed in around them. She was exhausted, hungry and uncomfortable riding sideways on a saddle designed for a man. But she didn’t complain, and as much as she longed to, she didn’t lean back against the warm, welcoming expanse of his chest.

Something had shifted between them at the base of the hill, they’d shared a moment and, for some reason, it had caused him to barricaded himself behind the titanium wall that shielded his mind. For the first time since they met, he’d been the vulnerable one, and she wondered if that had something to do with it, or if it had been her need for him to kiss her that had disturbed him.

Unlike Jamie, she’d never quite mastered the art of hiding her thoughts or emotions, and they were more often than not, written plainly on her face. If he’d seen that and hadn’t felt the same, it was understandable that he’d want to create some distance.

And he was right to do so.

She had only known him for a few hours, but she was emotionally wrung out, and had most likely sought some form of comfort from the only available source. It was psychology one oh one, the victim who forms an emotional attachment to their rescuer. If it wasn’t so awkward, she’d apologise and explain what had happened and why. But she wouldn’t even know how to start, so she kept her silence, and left him to his.

To compound all of that, she was still trying to process the fact that she was wrapped in his plaid, and had been almost every day for the past three years. It was mind boggling to think that he was wearing the exact one that she was, and that the two could even exists at the same time. How he must be feeling about that she couldn’t even begin to imagine.

What she was trying not to think about, and failing miserably, was how Joe had come to own it, and the real reason he’d given it to her.

Kilts had been banned after the rising of ’46, but it stood to reason, that if Jamie’s had survived, that like his father before him, he would hand it down to his son. Then he to his, and so on until it had been given to Joe, and ultimately her.

But why had Joe given it to her?

Was it just because she liked it? Had she been the first none Fraser to own it since Ellen had made it? Or had it been packed away with her diaries and come full circle? The next time a version of herself came through the stones would she bring two? Or had there always been two, but one had been kept or lost to age?

Christ, her head hurt!

Joe had said in his letter that he wouldn’t reveal her surname, that it was for her to find out for herself, and she was almost too afraid to admit that she may have done just that. It wasn’t until Jamie had said his mothers name that Claire had remembered that Joes mother was a Fraser, and she’d almost swallowed her tongue.

Up until that point, his mothers maiden name had been irrelevant. Though Joe said that they were related on his mothers side, she could have descended from a long line of female relatives, and her name could have been far removed from the line Claire was to become a part of.

But even she had to admit that it was all just too coincidental. At some point in her life she might just become a Fraser, but which Fraser would she marry? Having his plaid suggested that it could be Jamie, but he may have a brother or a cousin and, for reasons yet to be determined, they could inherit it.

On the other hand, she may never become a Fraser at all. It could be that she has a daughter that marries his son. For all she knew, he may already have a son to give it to, and possibly a wife at home waiting for him.

The thought made her feel sick and she groaned quietly, mortified by her behaviour. She’d practically thrown herself at him earlier and now she was all but planning their wedding! And all without really knowing a damn thing about him.

“Are ye well, Sassenach?” He spoke quietly, but they’d been silent for so long, that his voice startled her and she almost jumped out of her skin. “Easy, I dinna mean to scare ye.”

“Sorry. Yes, I’m fine, just tired.” She lied.

The truth was, she was so far from fine that it wasn’t even funny. She was beyond exhausted, emotionally raw, and losing her bloody mind. It was just too confusing, which was why she was trying not to think about it in the first fucking place.

“We canna be far off now, but rest a wee bit. I’ll no let ye fall off.” He promised, reminding her of their earlier conversation, as he shifted his arm and attempted to nudge her back against him.

She held herself ridged in her seat and shook her head. She was already getting attached to him, falling asleep in his arms would only make things worse.

“You’re injured, and I’m fine, honestly.”

“Are ye sure ye no a Fraser? Ye’v got the damn stubbornness for it.” He chuckled lightly. She wanted to scream. It was like he’d read her damn mind, but she simply took a deep breath and shrugged.

“I’m not sure of anything right now.” She murmured. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Aye.”

“You don’t have to answer and I don’t mean to offend you, but, what’s obstruction?” She asked quietly. It hadn’t gone unnoticed that he’d mentioned attempting to escape from Fort William. If he’d been imprisoned, he must have done something. But in this day and age it wouldn’t take much for a redcoat to lock up a Scot.

Obstruction sounded like a trumped up charge to her.

“It’s whatever Randell deemed it to be at the time.” He answered just as quietly. “In my case, I was obstructing him in his attempt to rape my sister.”

“What?” She gasped, turning her head so she could see him. It was dark, but she could clearly make out the ghosts of pain and anger lining his face. “I’m so sorry, Jamie. I shouldn’t have asked.”

She felt terrible for being it up, but he made that deep Scottish noise in the back of his throat and shook his head.

“Dinna fash. It was nigh on four years ago now. Just after I’d returned from Paris. It’s no but a memory.” He explained, as he settled further into his seat and pulled her against him, giving her no chance to refuse this time.

She gave in and nested against the right side of his chest, and rested her head. His arm tightened around her, and he was so warm, and smelled so good, that she instantly forgot every reason why she shouldn’t be doing this.

“When I saw ye by the stream with Randell, ye kent him by name. How, if ye’d only just arrived?” His voice was hesitant as he asked. But it was a valid question and she was surprised that he’d not asked her before now. For all he knew, she could have been in cohorts with Randell.

“One of the people I was travelling with is called Frank Randell. He’s a decedent of Black Jacks. When you both came across me at the stream I didn’t know what had happened and I thought he was Frank.” She told him, biting back a yawn. “Remind me, when we have a chance, and I’ll show you a photograph of him. They’re practically twins.”

“He’s a friends of yours then?”

“More of a friend of a friend. He knows Joe, so unfortunately I’ve had to spend more time with him than I would have liked. I don’t think the apple’s fallen very far from the tree there: he gives me the creeps.” She shivered and snuggled closer to Jamie, remembering the feel of Franks eyes on her as she attempted to wash yesterday.

“Were ye promised to him?” He asked. His voice was barely above a whisper, and she pulled back and frowned up at him.

“To Frank?” She gasped, disgusted by the idea.

“No. To Joe. Ye speak of him with fondness.” She laughed quietly, and shook her head as she snuggled back against his chest. If, God forbid, her and Joe had ever had a thing, it would have been the strangest form of incest she’d ever heard of.

“No. Joe’s my best friend and I love him like a brother, but it’s never been more than that.” She explained. “My parents died when I was five and the only family I had was my Uncle Lambert. He raised me until I was fifteen when he was killed in an accident. When I moved to Oxfordshire I had no one really until I met Joe. He’s older than me, and he took me under his wing. Him and Gail are getting married next April.”

“I’m glad ye had him.”

“Me too.”

She wanted to ask him if he was married or engaged to someone himself, but she was too afraid of the answer. After every disastrous date she had, Joe always promised her that’s she’d meet, and fall in love with the right man when she least expected it. She just hadn’t realised how literal he was being.

In the midst of the most earth shattering day of her life, when nothing but the magnitude of what had happened to her should be on her mind, she’d met him. Whether it was “romantic rescue syndrome” or honest to God sexual attraction, she didn’t know. But she was hoping she’d have time to find out.

If she discovered now that he had a wife she’d have to distance herself from him, and he was all she had in the world. She’d already lost Joe and Gail today, and she was too scared and too selfish to loose him too.

“If Randell imprisoned you once, how is it that you’re free and he’s the one in irons?” She asked, needed something less intimate to talk about. He remained silent for a moment, and then sighed, and she felt guilty for bringing it up again.

“When Randell an’ his men visited Lallybroch, it was under the guise of collecting provisions for the garrison at Fort William. As I’ve said, I’d no long been back from Paris. My da had been called away to London and he’d left me in charge.

“Murtagh, my Godfather, wrote him to tell him what had happened. He arrived back just after my second floggin’ with a pardon. Randell had no choice but to let me go.”

“Your second flogging?”

“Two hundred lashes.” He grimaced, “One hundred the day after I’d arrived, an’ another seven days later. He’d wanted to administer them the next day, but the doctor advised against it, an’ I suppose there’s no fun in floggin’ a dead man.”

“The fucking sadistic bastard.” She spat, horrified. What kind of monster would flog a man who had already been flayed to the bone? Who but the most sadistic fucker on earth, would flog someone a hundreds time, never mind two!

“I dinna ken what that is, Sassenach, but from ye tone, it’s no a pleasant thing to be.” He laughed, his humour slowly returning.

“A sadist is someone who gets…sexual pleasure from hurting someone, and I’m sure you know what a bastard is.”

“Aye I do. An’ I think ye’v the right of it…he’s a sadist alright. But what’s fucking?” He asked, so seriously that she almost choked on her own spit.

Bloody hell!

“Umm…it’s…well it’s…” She could feel a rare blush burning her cheeks and let out the most ridiculous, nervous giggle she’d ever heard. She was a doctor for God sake…well almost…but she should be able to explain it without turning into a child.

“That bad?” He laughed, tightening his arm around her.

“Yes, and not very ladylike at all. In the truest sense of the word it’s a…primal, rougher way of…making love. But it’s used as a way of expressing or enunciating a statement or opinion like…it’s fucking beautiful, or he’s a fucking idiot. Something like that.” She rushed out, her face on fire.

It didn’t help matters that she was sat so intimately between his legs, so close to the appendage that would be needed to complete the act, or that she wouldn’t say no if he asked for a demonstration.

It was only her imagination, but as close as they were, she could almost feel said appendage pushing against her hip, and fought to keep as still as she could, least she bang into it as the damn horse bounced them about.

“Ah.” He murmured, not helping her embarrassment at all, “ye right, it’s no very ladylike, but I take ye meaning.”

“Good. Now, to the second part of my original question.” She rushed on, “why have you captured him? Not that he doesn’t deserve much worse.”

From what she knew of Black Jack. He’d been almost a military hero before he’d died at Culloden. Frank had mentioned his time at Fort William and Wentworth, as well as his association with the Duke of Sandringham, but never anything about him being captured.

Or about him being a complete wanker!

Had something changed or had those blights on the family name been buried along with him?

“I’m no the only man he’s tortured. He’s pillaged, stollen, kilt and raped. Man, woman and child. He had protection for a time, but when it was uncovered it was put to an end. He’s a wanted man. When they came to arrest him, he escaped, kilt one of his men, an’ has been on the run ever since. He was spotted last week on Mackenzie lands, attacked a young lad, and we managed to track him down. He’ll most likely hang for his crimes.”

“That almost seems too quick and painless. Let’s see him flogged two hundred time, raped and then hung.” She huffed.

“Ye’v a bit of a sadist in ye an’ all, Sassenach.” He laughter, “we best all sleep with one eye open tonight.”

“An eye for an eye.” She huffed playfully. “So his association with Sandringham, that was uncovered?”

“Ah, ye ken about that do ye?” He asked rhetorically, “Aye, they canna hang a Duke, but he’s been stripped of his title and he’s a guest in the tower. I expect he’ll stay there for a good long while.”

Something had definitely changed. That wasn’t the history she knew. Sandringham had played a huge role in the Jacobite rising, riling up the Scots via the redcoats, and giving fifty thousand pounds to the Bonny Prince, before dying under mysterious circumstances.

She was too tired to try and puzzle it out now. But she would have to before she told Jamie about Culloden and the aftermath.

They fell silent again and, with Jamie’s warmth and the slow movement of the horse, she must have dozed. The next thing she knew, she was surrounded by rowdy laughter, and Jamie was gently nudging her awake.

“Ye back with me, Sassenach?” He asked quietly as he carefully untangled her from his arms.

“Yes. Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” She blinked, attempting to clear her vision, and take in her surroundings.

Just like her imaginings this morning. There was a group of highlanders sat around a roaring fire, laughing and handing around a skin, of what she presumed was whiskey. She smiled at the sight, then sat up away from Jamie and stretched.

“Ye needed it, lass. Ye’v had a hell of a day.” He told her softly as he shifted behind her and jumped down from the horse. “We’ll get some food in ye belly, then ye can sleep some more. We’ll no move till daybreak.”

“Ach, Jamie lad. Ye meant to bone a hoor, pay ‘er due, an’ leave ‘er behind. No keep ‘er. Did ye da no teach ye nothin’” a small heavyset man chided teasingly. Raucous laughter went up around the campfire, but Jamie remained silent as he reached up and lifted Claire down off the back of Donas.

She bit her lip, trying not to laugh as she thank him quietly. She’d grown up in a predominately male environment, bawdy humour was a staple part of her up bringing, and she thrived on it.

“House rules, I’m afraid, gentlemen.” She sighed, as she straightened her skirt and pulled the plaid tightly around her. “You break it, you buy it.” she shrugged and limped dramatically towards the fire.

There was a beat of absolute silence before a chorus of rambunctious laughter rose up and rent the still night air.

“Ah, Sassenach,” Jamie sighed close to her ear, “Dinna encourage em, lass. Rupert’s no joking, ye ken? One threat to ye virtue is enough for the day, aye?”

She stopped and looked up at him, shock, guilt and laughter battling for dominance on her face. Jamie shook his head, looking unimpressed.

Shit!

She’d promised not to embarrass him, and at the first opportunity she’d done just that. If she could kick herself in the arse she would. She was such a fucking idiot. She wasn’t in the twenty first century anymore, women didn’t just join in with the men here. She’d never been a wallflower, and she knew she could never just blindly follow a man, but she had to make an effort.

If and when she ever married, she could be herself with her husband and family, she wouldn’t marry a man that expected her to be something she wasn’t. But that time wasn’t now, and if nothing else, she owed it to Jamie to behave as a lady should.

Just like she’d promised him.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” She apologised just as quietly, “It won’t happen again.” She promised, but it was too late, the damage was already done.

“A hoor wit’ humour!” Rupert chortled, “I never heard a lass tell a joke afore.”

“Ye ken she’s no a hoor, ye cockwomble,” Jamie snapped, smacking Rupert across the head as he passed. “Come, Sassenach.” He was heading towards Randell, who was tied to a tree with two men standing guard. She followed him, walking properly this time and not daring to look at the men as she passed.

The smaller of the two guards approached Jamie and hugged him, patting him on the back as he did, never once taking his eyes off her. She could clearly see his assessment of her, but if he’d made an initial conclusion, she missed it. Like Jamie, he seemed to have a knack of hiding his thoughts too damn well.

“This the lassie tha’ castrated the bastard?” He asked roughly, looking at the bruises on her neck, as Jamie pulled away and stepped back. She wanted to reach up and cover them, but clasped her hands instead and bore the brunt of his gaze.

“Aye,” Jamie smiled, his bad humour hidden, if not forgotten, as he turned to face her, “Claire Beauchamp, my Godfather Murtagh Fraser.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She told him politely, and unsure whether to shake his hand or not, she kept hers clasped in front of her.

“Aye.” He nodded dismissing her and turning his attention back to his Godson. “I’ve sent Willie on wit’ word to His Grace, an’ young Callum on to Leoch. The Mackenzie will ready a cell, an’ we can keep him there until His Grace can rally a transport.”

“Aye,” Jamie agreed, “That was my thinkin’ too. Has he given ye any grief?”

“Ack, just whining about his bollocks. Ye did a fine job of mangling em, lass.” He praised. She bloody blushed again and unsure how to respond to that, she looked to Jamie pleadingly. He smirked and blinked at her owlishly again.

Is that supposed to be a wink?

God she hoped so, because if it was, it was the cutest damn thing she’d ever seen.

“That she did, I’d no mess with her after seeing that.” He smiled proudly. She let out a quiet laugh, but stop short when he frowned and gently touched her neck. “But he didna give her much choice. Near choked her to death using her as a shield. Cowardly bastard.”

Murtagh was watching their interaction, his eyes trained on them like a hawk, but she didn’t care.

“Jamie,” She whispered reaching up to squeeze his hand. But before she could make contact, or tell him to stop fretting, she found the drink skin thrust into her grasp. “Oh!” She gasped, spinning to face the small, round man from earlier.

“Hoor or no, ye a hero t’nite, lassie so drink up, aye. Slàinte!” He tipped the bottom of the skin, pushing it towards her lips, and not wanting to spill it, she took a mouthful and swallowed it quickly.

Tears filled her eyes and she pulled back, coughing and spluttering, as the liquid burned down the back of her throat. She couldn’t catch her breath, and that wasn’t helped by the large hand that patter her back roughly.

She waved it away, clutching at her throat with her free hand as she glared up at Jamie. Laughter sprung up around her again and she shoved the skin toward him.

Jesus Christ!

She’d never had whiskey before, she was more of a wine and beer kind of girl, but she was almost positive that twenty first century whiskey was quiet so corrosive!

“Definitely no a hoor!” Rupert chortled grinning at her toothlessly. She glared at him too, but that just seemed to encouraged his laughter. “But a feisty wee lassie.”

“Aye, so mind ye bollocks, Rupert, I’ll no stop her if she tries to rid ye of em.” Jamie warned, making no attempt to stem his own laughter. “Come, Sassenach. Let’s get ye some food an water then ye can sleep.”

Chapter 7

#outlander #jamieandclaire #outlanderfanfiction #outlanderAU

117 notes · View notes

ficdirectory · 6 years

Text

Somewhere Inside (Disuphere series #4) Chapter 4

(To listen, click here) - 12:39

Jesus tries not to be bothered by the presence of a random kid, but it has to be said: surprises are so not his thing. And Pearl knows this. So what’s the deal?

The conversation in the rental is stiff and kinda fake. He’d been hoping to be able to let his guard down a bit when he got here - to breathe - to be honest and real about all the ways this trip was going better than the previous one. And the ways he still struggled. He’d been looking forward to having time with Pearl to really talk and understand what was up with her.

This kid - Levi - had to be one major part of what was happening. He sat in the very back with Dominique. She strangely seems okay with him, even though, with Jesus she had been nervous as hell. He tries not to let it bother him. But everything bothers him.

Like how much does Levi know? Does he recognize Jesus? Is this gonna be one of those weird as hell dynamics where he’s asked about all the worst parts of being There just to satisfy someone else’s curiosity? Because Jesus is so not here for that.

Also? Cleo. There’s no denying she’s a cute dog. A small, black pug with huge eyes and an innocent as hell face...but she is so not Gracie. So far, Dudley is on his best behavior, probably just happy to be off the plane like Jesus is. Mariana’s crashed, sleeping in the front passenger seat. Francesca’s asking twenty questions about Cleo.

Jesus had prepped so extensively for this. But he hadn’t planned for this.

For Pearl to be actually living with somebody. (Seriously? What were they? Roommates just sounded wrong.) Jesus had it on good authority that Pearl is 37 and Levi looks like a pipsqueak. Maybe 18. The whole thing just made Jesus hella uncomfortable, but mostly the fact that he just wasn’t told about this.

Does Pearl not trust him anymore?

Six years is a long time. A lot can change. But Jesus never imagined it would change this much.

Mariana wakes up in time to feel the SUV slow and pull into Grandpa’s drive. The cabin looks different without snow. She hesitates at the drop. The SUV is kinda high off the ground and her brain is all sleep-drunk. Like, she can’t figure out how to get from the seat to the ground.

All of a sudden the new kid is there. Mariana blinks.

“Need help?” he offers. “Not sure we’ve met. I’m Levi.”

Mariana just stares, speechless. She has no words right now for random attractive strangers that offer help when she probably looks eggstra sleepy (like the egg pajamas she’s wearing under her jacket say.)

“I can give you a lift…” he tries again, and Mariana nods, against her better judgment.

Once she’s on the ground, she mortifies herself, hanging onto him for balance. She hopes he doesn’t think she’s one of those girls with zero boundaries.

“Sorry. Balance,” she manages.

“Hey, yeah, no. I’m a fan of balance,” he says.

By now, Dominique’s joined them, pulling her own suitcase and Mariana’s.

“Jesus is inside,” Dominique passes along.

“That’s good,” Mariana nods. She’s aware of Levi and Pearl at the back, unloading the rest of their bags.

They stand by while Francesca puts her shoes on and manages to climb down out of the SUV. “I got out myself,” she says, breathless. Proud.

“I saw,” Mariana nods with a smile. She still feels like the minute she sees a bed, she’s gonna fall into it and sleep for a million years. She doesn’t have her 16-year-old stamina anymore. She misses it.

They walk inside together and find Jesus, with a huge smile on his face, taking in the giant box of Junior Mints and Hostess snack cakes and other junk food on the counter.

“Whoa! Did Grandpa Frank send us candy from heaven?” Francesca asks. (They’re not particularly religious but Francesca in particular seemed to need to believe that Grandpa went somewhere nice like heaven when he died.)

Mariana sees Jesus and Pearl exchange a knowing look. Sees how Jesus smiles a little and nods his thanks at her.

“Yeah,” Pearl nods. “See? He remembers what you guys like, even. How cool is that?”

Francesca pulls up a chair. Touches everything.

“So....you guys know what you’re doing for dinner yet?” Pearl asks. “Because, if not, I have a ton of soup that I was thawing in case you needed something quick. It’s homemade,” she assures Jesus.

“Sounds great,” Jesus offers, relieved.

Pearl gets busy bringing over her massive supply of soup and warming it on the stove in a giant pot.

“What kind is that?” Francesca asks, coming up next to Pearl at the stove.

“This is chicken wild rice soup. With some vegetables.”

Francesca wrinkles her nose. “Jesus says you taught him to make hot chocolate on the stove. I wish this was hot chocolate soup.”

“That would be interesting, wouldn’t it?” Pearl asks.

“Need help?” Dominique asks.

(Pearl still hasn’t gotten used to this new friend of theirs who’s dressed like a man with questionable taste. She’s trying not to pass judgment, but they just don’t see many characters like this around Deerwood. People would talk.)

“No thanks,” Pearl says, at the same time as Dominique starts opening cupboards in search of bowls.

The soup is weak and not seasoned well, but Jesus doesn’t have the heart to tell Pearl. He adds salt and pepper on his own, hoping she doesn’t notice and take offense.

“So, tell us about your trip,” Pearl offers. “Was it okay?”

“Better than last time, definitely,” Jesus nods.

“Dominique had to--” Francesca starts and Jesus shakes his head at her, hoping she’ll take the hint.

Francesca says, “Oops,” and ducks her head. Jesus knows she’s still working on what’s private and what’s not. Sometimes, it’s still hard for her to tell.

“It’s fine,” Dominique allows. “Security. You know,” she shrugs like it’s no big deal, but Jesus had seen how she locked eyes with Mariana during it, and Mariana just kept nodding at her and saying it was gonna be over soon.

Jesus was glad it wasn’t him this time. And then, he felt selfish.

He sees Levi’s eyes get concerned as he listens to Dominique talk. But he nods, like he understands, too. Maybe he does. Still, that doesn’t mean Jesus is ready to accept him just like that.

Levi stirs his soup. He’s not hungry. He sneaked some Junior Mints from their candy stash, after he moved it out of the way for dinner. He doesn’t need anything else. But he works slowly on a piece of bread, just to be polite.

“So, you guys have been up here before?” Levi asks.

“Yeah, but I don’t remember it. I was four,” Francesca says.

“How old are you now?” he wonders.

“I just turned eleven,” Francesca grins, proud.

“Wow. Happy birthday,” Levi returns, his mood lifting just a little.

“Thanks,” Francesca ducks her head. “This is my present. Coming here with them,” she nods.

“That’s awesome,” Levi nods. “I’m happy for you.”

The rest of the meal, though, no one talks to him. They don’t really mention Dominique either. Levi notices when she excuses herself and goes outside alone. He doesn’t go after her, but he wants to. Wishes they knew each other well enough for that.

Instead, he helps clean up. Jesus is thorough, and keeps following behind Levi making second passes at everything, like Levi’s terrible at wiping up. He tries not to be offended.

But if he’s honest? This whole situation’s got him pretty offended.

He’s missing out on sleep and work, for what? To be dragged along on a six hour car trip where none of the people even wanted him there or knew he existed?

It makes Levi wonder what he’s even doing here? Living with Pearl? Does she even want him in her cabin? Is her inviting these four strangers and not saying a word about him her way of saying she’s over having him? Has he overstayed his welcome?

Maybe he should just go home…

But where is that?

Back to Denver, where Dad isn’t, but where every memory of him lives and hurts because of how he just isn’t here?

Back to Brainerd with Mom, who has managed to put his every nerve on edge just by caring. (But also by moving back here, when she didn’t know the first thing about what happened to him here.)

Finally, he steps outside. It’s a nice night. Cool. He’s almost ready to head next door and hibernate forever, when his eyes catch a flash of pink at the end of the dock.

“Can I join you?” he calls softly, not wanting to startle Dominique by tromping down the dock.

She waves him down. She’s on a chair, staring out at the water.

Levi sits on the dock itself and dangles his feet in.

They don’t talk.

“You know that thing in high school, where if you’re not in a clique, you’re nothing?” Dominique asks evenly, after a long silence.

“Yeah,” Levi nods. “I just graduated, like, less than a year ago, so…”

“So, you know,” Dominique says, sure.

“Yeah.”

“This is so like that.”

“Oh my God, I thought I was the only one…” Levi breathes.

“I can’t get past the feeling that...I don’t know...this feels like their trip. I’m just the tagalong, you know?”

“At least people knew you existed…” Levi remarks.

Hurt flares briefly inside Dominique. Remembering a time no one knew she existed. But she takes a deep breath. Levi probably didn’t mean anything by it. She’s about as anonymous as she can get here, even in full costume.

“So, what’s up?” she asks, serious. “I mean, you’re obviously not just her roommate.”

“Oh, obviously…” he scoffs gently. “Is it that obvious?”

“You’re not her boyfriend,” Dominique keeps going.

“Ew. No. Definitely not.”

“Why, definitely not?” Dominique wonders, intrigued.

“Because she’s my sister. Half-sister. We shared a dad. Whatever.”

Dominique sits back, shocked. “Wow. How long have you been living with her?”

“Six months?” Levi squints behind him at her.

“Six months and she didn’t say a word about you? That’s cold.”

“Right?” he asks. He seems relieved to have someone know. He’s quiet a while looking out at the lake. “I thought she wanted me here...and now...I’m not sure. And it’s not like I have anywhere to go.”

“Well, I’m kinda stuck here for the next week…” Dominique offers. “You can stick with me, at least until the week’s up.”

He offers his fist.

Dominique curls her own fingers against her hand. Gives him a dap. Solidarity.

He doesn’t even flinch.

Maybe the sun’s in his eyes.

“Where’s Dominique?” Francesca whines. “It’s boring in here with all you guys talking…”

Jesus, Mariana and Pearl are drinking hot chocolate and eating snacks. Francesca had drunk all her hot chocolate, eaten some chips and played with Dudley and Cleo, but she wants to actually do something. All they want to do is sit and talk about stuff that annoys them.

“She’s out on the dock with Levi, but you can’t go out there without a life jacket,” Mariana warns.

“No fair. How do you know that Dominique and Levi can swim? They don’t have to wear life jackets!”

“They’re adults,” Jesus puts in and doesn’t help at all.

“I fell off that dock as a kid. Your mom saved me.” Pearl shares.

“So, none of you would save me? Mean…”

“None of us want to have to save you…” Jesus says, like that explains everything but it just makes Francesca feel more like an outsider. And like she’s too much.

“The point is, I should’ve had a life jacket on,” Pearl says.

“The point is, this trip is zero fun…” Francesca complains and walks outside.

She walks as close to the lake as she dares, knowing Jesus, Mariana and Pearl can all see her from the giant windows.

She squints in the sun at Dominique sitting in a big white chair. Levi’s on the dock. Francesca wonders if he’s got his bare feet in the water. Wonders if Levi and Dominique are boyfriend/girlfriend. Or if they will be after this?

She kinda wants to yell to them. Tease them about it. Because she feels left out, and she hates feeling left out. But she guesses it’s better than being at home by herself, with Moms making her feel bad all the time.

Still, she misses Dominique. Wishes she would come back.

#fic: somewhere inside

4 notes · View notes

soldiergirlscorned · 6 years

Text

Call Me Rio and I’ll Call You Jack Ch. 1

AU Note: THIS HAS MANY SPOILERS FOR PURPLE HEARTS, IF YOU HAVE NOT READ IT, DON’T READ THIS.

Now that that’s taken care of: we didn’t get to see a lot of the budding relationship between Rio and Jack after the war. But guess who has a few ideas about what happened. Me. The answer is me.

So, this little story will have a lot of fluff and maybe a little smut. Maybe? I lied. It will have smut, but later on. I’ll tell you when it’s coming and when it’s done so you can bypass it if you don’t want to read.

1964

Kid knew something was familiar about the man that limped up to her desk, cane in hand. She knew the signs of veterans, being one herself and working with them for almost ten years now.

But, studying the man, she knew that him being a veteran wasn’t why he was familiar.

“Can I help you?” she asked, noticing that he wasn’t in uniform, when he had pressed up against the desk to get out of the traffic in the room, “Sir, how did you get in here?”

The red-haired man smiled and pointed to the man right behind him, battling the many people trying to push him out of the way, “Frank let me in.”

“Not even close,” the supposed-Frank said, “Child, right?”

She nodded.

“He’s here to see your boss.”

The caned man turned to her and smiled, “I’m here to see your boss. I’m assuming it’s Rio?”

Kid made a confused face.

“Richlin. Rio Richlin. West Point. Medal of Honor. I don’t know what her rank is anymore. She was a sergeant when I knew her.”

“And what’s your purpose for being here?” Kid asked.

“Well, Child, a scary Sam—“ he turned around fast and the man behind him shook his head, “Damn. I’ll guess it right, don’t you worry. Anyway, this scary man in the suit showed up at my flat in London and told me by order of Rainy Schulterman that I was to pack a bag and leave with him. I got on a plane and now I’m here.”

Kid was silent for a second and then, “I’m sorry. Are you--?”

“Jack Stafford, at your service. You are?”

“Sergeant Melinda Child.” She shook his hand, “Wow. Okay. I had read about you, from, you know, the memoir, but I never thought…. I’m going to see if Colonel’s available.”

“Please do.”

Kid almost ran to Richlin’s office, knocking softly before entering and closing the door quickly behind her, “Colonel.”

She shot a hasty and somewhat sloppy salute towards a bewildered Rio, “There’s someone here to see you.”

Richlin looked back down at the papers in front of her, “Tell the major that whatever it is, I don’t care.”

“Ma’am. It’s not the major.”

When Rio came out of her office she was both the most happy and nervous that she had ever been in her life. The folks in the office were known for pulling pranks, but never against her. And the way that Kid had seemed completely flabber-ghasted meant that he was really here. He had to be. It would be a cruel joke if he wasn’t.

But there he was, still so utterly recognizable even if his face had aged and his clothes changed. It was still Jack. And it was still his smile.

“Hey, Sarge.”

Rio’s awe-filled gaze changed to one of pure joy, and before she knew it she was across the room and in his arms.

The whole room stopped. Literally. People stopped moving, phones dropped from ears, conversations died instantly as everyone watched their lieutenant colonel throw herself into the stranger’s arms.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, finally withdrawing, but not really letting go.

“Well, I am a gift from Rainy.”

“Rainy?! That bitch. You know she’s working for the ‘commerce department’ now?”

“No shit.”

“Just saw her about a week ago.”

Jack turned to look over his shoulder, “Bob, do you work for the commerce department?”

The man in the suit crossed his arms, “My name is not Bob. And sure, I work for the commerce department.”

Jack twisted again to look at Rio, “You know, he also told me that his name was Ben, but I didn’t believe him then either.”

Rio laughed, “It’s good to see you, Jack.” Realizing that it was too quiet, she turned towards the soldiers working, “Don’t you all have a job to do? I can give you one!”

Jack smiled as the government building returned to normal (while still watching the Colonel of course). “Well, some things just never change, now do they?”

“I thought I had gotten a lot better at that!” Rio said, half-heartedly offended.

Jack laughed, “You doing that yelling anywhere else these days?”

“What do you mean?”

“Kids, of course.”

Rio laughed, “The only kid I have is Kid,” she said, pointing to Melinda Child, “I got out of screaming households a while ago.” At Jack’s raised eyebrows, Rio explained, “I’m divorced.”

“Oh, yes! The pilot. Castain sent me a letter. Told me you were getting married and also told me not to worry because it wouldn’t last long.”

“You’re kidding me? She did that?”

“I’m not lying.”

“Oh, God!” Rio covered her eyes mortified, but before long was smiling up at him.

“Say, Rio, do you have a lunch break soon?” Jack asked.

Child was right behind Rio, “She already went to lunch.”

“But coffee will do just fine,” Rio smoothly interjected. “Let me grab my things. Kid, if that major shows up, tell him to fug off. I’ll be back before the meeting at two.”

“Got it, Colonel.”

As Rio came back, tying a scarf around her neck, she turned to Rainy’s agent, “Tell your boss that she’s not being very subtle.”

Then, the whole building watched as their boss left work early for the first time.

(*&*)?><>?><>?><>?><>?><>?><>?><>?><>?><>?><>?><>?><>?><>?><>?><>?>>?><>?><>?><>

“What have you been up to, Jack?” Rio made sure to slow down her pace to match Stafford’s limping steps.

“Working mostly. As a real-estate agent in London.”

“Really?”

“Shocking, I know. Your job, however, is not shocking. I always knew you were bound to abandon your own and become an officer.”

“Ouch, Stafford. That hurts!” Yet, they both laughed at the familiar joke. “Any kids of your own?” she asked, looking straight ahead.

“Never married actually.”

Rio looked up, shocked, “Really?”

Jack shrugged, looking straight into her eyes, “I never found anyone that measured up. I went on a couple of dates, of course, but no one ever stuck around.”

“I can’t imagine why they would ever leave.”

Rio realized her mistake as soon as she said the words. “I would assume you wouldn’t have to imagine, since you should know.”

“Look, Jack, I—“

“Did you come visit me? When I was at the medical station back in Germany?”

“You don’t remember?”

Jack thought back to that time, “I remember the shape of you, but I don’t know if that was real or a dream. I didn’t know what to believe I was on so many painkillers.”

“You had a whole conversation with me. And I sat by your bed until they knew without a doubt that you were going to live.”

“What did we talk about?”

“You. Going back to Britain. I told you that your job was done, and you told me that you weren’t going to give up fighting until either the war was won or I left it. Then you went back to sleep and I made sure you were on a ship headed home before you woke up.”

Jack was silent for a moment, “I don’t remember that.”

Rio looked up at him as they entered the coffee shop, “For what it’s worth, the whole platoon went home after that. What was left of it, at least. Those who were POWs got released a week after the Russians took Berlin.”

“You didn’t let me come back with you,” Jack stated.

Rio shook her head.

“Why?”

Richlin shrugged, “For lots of reasons: Britain was your home, you were injured, I was your sergeant, I had already given myself to someone else—“

“I thought you didn’t care about that. That’s what it said in the memoir.”

“God, I hate that thing.” She took a deep breath, “I didn’t care when I was on the battlefield, but back out here…I knew it would mean more. I knew that people would expect me to marry Strand and if I had brought you back here, you would have married a fallen woman.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have cared.”

“Maybe. But other people would.”

Jack laughed, stepping up to order his coffee. Even by the time they were sitting down with the steaming cups, Jack was still shaking his head, “I should have known. I should have known that it wasn’t that you couldn’t have been happy with me. It was because of your stupid sense of self-sacrifice.”

He laughed a little, and Rio looked down at her cup.

“Rio. Just answer me one thing, honestly: would you be happy with me? If I stayed here, could I make you happy?”

Rio shook her head, “Jack, you have a life in Britain—“

“That’s not what I asked, Rio. Could you be happy with me? Can we try it? Just for a little while. And see if this, us, is worth looking into.”

Rio looked at him, as he shifted nervously in his chair. She grabbed his hand in hers, “Jack, I would love to try. You just need to make sure that this is what you want. I won’t leave the States, which means if this works out, you would be giving up your life. You need to think about what you’re doing.”

Jack shook his head, “I don’t need to think. I would give up the world for a chance to be with you.”

#rio richlin #rio headcannons #Jack Stafford #Call me rio #soldier girls #soldier girl #frangie marr #rainy schulterman #front lines #Silver Star #purple hearts #purple hearts spoilers

6 notes · View notes

nenya85 · 6 years

Text

Top Ten Fictional Ladies

I was tagged by @ariasune – Thank you! I’m sorry it took me so long to reply!

I wasn’t sure how to answer, but I decided to give a quote by or about each character that sums up who they are or why I love them. I also had a hard time thinking of what order to put them in, then realized the characters were all at different stages of their lives so I put them in age order. (Well, Sophie of Howl’s Moving Castle could have gone either towards the beginning, but given the quote, I put her at the end.)

Hermione Granger, Harry Potter series, J.K. Rowling

“Honestly, am I the only person who’s ever bothered to read Hogwarts, A History?”

Meg Murry, A Wrinkle in Time, Madeleine L'Engle

Meg, I give you your faults." "My faults!" Meg cried. "Your faults." "But I'm always trying to get rid of my faults!" "Yes," Mrs. Whatsit said. "However, I think you'll find they'll come in very handy.”

Catherine Norwood, Northanger Abbey, Jane Austen

Had she been older or vainer, such attacks might have done little; but, where youth and diffidence are united, it requires uncommon steadiness of reason to resist the attraction of being called the most charming girl in the world, and of being so very early engaged as a partner.

Elizabeth Bennet, Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen

"His pride," said Miss Lucas, "does not offend me so much as pride often does, because there is an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so very fine a young man, with family, fortune, everything in his favour, should think highly of himself. If I may so express it, he has a right to be proud." "That is very true," replied Elizabeth, "and I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine."

Elinor Dashwood, Sense and Sensibility, Jane Austen

“Always resignation and acceptance. Always prudence and honour and duty. Elinor, where is your heart?”

Amanda Jones, The Tightrope Walker, Dorothy Gillman

“Sometimes I think we’re all tightrope walkers suspended on a wire 2,000 feet in the air, and so long as we never look down, we’re okay, but some of us lose momentum and look down for a second and are never quite the same again: we know.”

Éowyn, Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien

“Come not between the Nazgûl and his prey! Or he will not slay thee in thy turn. He will bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured, and thy shrivelled mind be left naked to the Lidless Eye." A sword rang as it was drawn. "Do what you will; but I will hinder it, if I may." "Hinder me? Thou fool. No living man may hinder me!" Then Merry heard of all sounds in that hour the strangest. It seemed that Dernhelm laughed, and the clear voice was like the ring of steel. "But no living man am I! You look upon a woman. Éowyn, I am, Éomund’s daughter. You stand between me and my lord and kin. Begone, if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him.”

Riza Hawkeye, Full Metal Alchemist/Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood, Hiromu Arakawa

“You’re useless in the rain, sir.”

Molly Grue, The Last Unicorn, Peter S. Beagle

“And what good is it to me that you're here now? Where were you twenty years ago, ten years ago? How dare you, how dare you come to me now, when I am this?" With a flap of her hand she summed herself up: barren face, desert eyes, and yellowing heart. "I wish you had never come. Why did you come now?" The tears began to slide down the sides of her nose.

Sophie, Howl’s Moving Castle, Book: Diana Wynne Jones, Movie: Hayao Miyazaki

“When you're old, all you want to do is stare at the scenery. It's so strange. I've never felt so peaceful before.”

And a Depression era screwball comedy addition, because how could I resist?

Clarissa Saunders, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Director Frank Capra

“Look, when I came here, my eyes were big blue question marks. Now, they're big green dollar marks.”

I didn’t tag anyone because I know December is such a busy month – but please answer if you have time and want to! It’s a lot of fun!

#thank you for tagging me #fictional women #favorite characters

5 notes · View notes

entertainmenttoday101 · 7 years

Text

The Music Industry: Treatment of Male Singers vs. Female Singers

The music industry, teams of people working together to enable artists to record, release, and perform music. Sounds simple, right? It's like that iceberg analogy. We only see the little that's above the water, not that huge chunk of ice under the water. With the music industry we only see the music and performances not what happens behind the scenes. But what kind of problems would arise within the music industry you ask? Quite a bit from money problems, rights to music, getting dropped from labels, not enough people listening and buying. The bigger problem though seems to be ignored by most, and that is the treatment of male singers versus female singers.

Feminism is the social, political, and economic equality of sexes. Many people support, fight for, and protest that to make it happen, especially in the workplace. To most, at first thought the workplace would consist of office jobs, teaching jobs, etc. but how many people would consider the music industry as an immediate workplace? The music industry is a career for many and deserves all the rights as other places do and so do those who work for it. Just because singers are singers, doesn't mean that they should be treated less. They are human beings with real feelings.

How we treat female artists compared to male artists is morally backwards. We praise men for doing certain actions or defend them to the grave but with women we bash them and never forgive them for something they've done. Let's start by looking at some popular singers or the most controversial singers.

Ariana Grande is this generation's pop princess dominating the charts with her high range outstanding voice on her hits that differentiated her from the Mariah Carey comparisons. Most people call her a "diva" but that's not the real issue. In July 2015, Ariana was caught on camera licking Donuts at a shop and was heard saying "I hate Americans." Of course it immediately upset many people. The first time she apologized people thought it was vague and missing the point of the problem with her actions because she was mostly focusing on obesity in America. It wasn't good enough for people so she later posted a video where she sincerely apologized and even acknowledged her weak original apology. But even today, 2 years later, people are still not letting her hear the end of it and for some, that's their only reason for hating her. The White House even cancelled the gig they had with her because of the mistake. It was a mistake that people can't let go and move on from.

Another action Ariana did was a few months ago when she posted a picture on Instagram and captioned it "the hardest working 23-year old in the world." https://www.thesun.co.uk/news/2639485/singer-ariana-grande-faces-backlash-after-claiming-shes-the-hardest-working-23-year-old-human-being-on-earth/

Instantly she was criticized for it. Many people commented on the picture talking about all the other people who have it harder and have to work harder. Ariana never spoke up about it it's assumed that perhaps she was joking or being sarcastic. But again, to this day people take that as another reason to hate her and call her a "diva."

Justin Bieber is probably considered this generation's pop prince. He was discovered on YouTube by Usher back in 2008-2009 and started off with a clean image but somewhere along the road as he got older and more popular, his behavior took a downward spiral. Justin started misbehaving and constantly doing things that upset or harmed others. He's been arrested a few times for speeding, drag racing, and driving while under the influence. These actions are very dangerous and have serious consequences because not only could it harm him, but it could injury others as well. But his fans don't care. They defend him by saying he's a human being, he made a mistake. Here's a video clip showing fans waiting for him after his arrest and supporting him: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kk9nOPI1ueM

People know that speeding is bad, they know drag-racing is worse, and they know that a DUI is extremely dangerous. It's not a simple mistake like accidentally cutting someone off. Justin knew what he was doing and still continued with it and his fans don't understand that.

Justin had also visited the Anne Frank historic museum and offended most people when he left a message in the book stating that he hoped she "would have been a belieber." Not only is it incredibly arrogant of him to say that, but it also disregards the whole point of the museum, the history, her life, and her legacy. Yet his fans once again defended it as a mistake. Those are just two of his intensive record of bad behavior, and those two examples are worse than the scandals Ariana was caught in yet she was treated worse. They are both two of the most successful artists in this generation but Ariana was treated more harshly simply because she is a woman. If Justin or any other man did what she did, they would've found the donut situation funny and agreed with the Instagram caption. That probably came across as slightly sexist but that's how society points views. It seems to be expected.

Sometimes artists aren't punished for their bad behavior and are still being rewarded, like Chris Brown. Chris Brown started off with an innocent image too until in 2009 he physically assaulted R&B singer, Rihanna. The pictures were so gruesome that some people couldn't even look at it. He served time and it's been the one thing still being held over him to this day. Domestic abuse isn't forgivable. You would think that after that incident it'd be the end but over the past years since then he's had a history of abuse and assault towards women. Once during an interview with Good Morning America he even stormed off backstage angry and smashed the dressing room mirror, which can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q-lXVFOBRwk

You would think that after all of that, his career would plummet but no, people are still supporting him. In fact, they defend him calling all the incidents mistakes or the Rihanna incident "a thing in the past." A person who engages in domestic abuse will always be an abuser and the fact that his behavior continues that he can still get worse. If a female acted like this, she'd be viewed as crazy. Male artists can get away with dangerous stunts and bad behavior but women artists can't go a day without a non-harmful mistake being held over them.

It doesn't just stop there. The over-sexualization of female artists grows and grows. Most female artists start off with clean, innocent images but then a few years they change and they're older and dress more mature, sophisticated, and somewhat revealing. But when that happens, people comment all the time that now they dress like "whores" and such. If they have provocative dance routines or provocative songs, then they're also deemed as "sluts" and a "bad role model." Then you have male artists who also start off with a clean, innocent image then transforms into an older image that also shows some skin and their songs also become more provocative, along with their videos and performances. But are they bashed? No. They're praised for their "hot bodies." They'll take their shirts off while on stage and he audience will swoon over them, but if a woman strips down then she's a whore. Jade Thirlwall is one of the members of the British girl group Little Mix and she discusses in their book about being over-sexualized. “In the beginning on The X Factor I think they expected us to be a band that wore skimpy outfits, a kind of womanly and sexy look, and at the time that wasn’t us, so we had a bit of a struggle trying to get across that that wasn’t what we were about” (Our World, pg 169).

Is it the females fault though? In their defense, many female artists explain that they're growing up and that is why they dress more revealing. It's a reality check though that not all women need to start showing skin as an indication of growing up. So it proposes the question, is their explanation genuine and true or are they forced to dress like that? “I remember we did an X Factor M&S advert and they put everyone in certain outfits, and when they got to us they wanted us to wear underwear. We were mortified. I was only eighteen, I couldn’t be on telly in a bra and knickers. I think on The X Factor they were used to girl bands being feminine and sexual, but that wasn’t us” (Thirlwall, pg. 169). Camila Cabello, a former member of the US girl group Fifth Harmony, explains that she felt over-sexualized while in the group, “Especially with being a girl group, there's been a lot of times where people have tried to sexualize us to just get more attention. Unfortunately, sex sells.” (Lenny Letter). So is it the industry's fault that female artists are more susceptible to harassment for the way they portray themselves? There was an article of Rolling Stone where the Australian band 5 Seconds of Summer was on the cover, fully naked while covering their genitals and had their song lyrics written all over them. Instantly fans commented on the pictures with heart eye emoji’s, loving it and praising them. They are the same fans who in the past have slut-shamed the girl group, Fifth Harmony. Many people don’t understand the problem and either go along with it or ignore it.

Like Ariana Grande once said in an interview, “The incredible double standards that we [women] face on a daily basis, in the industry and just in the world, it’s shocking,” (dose.com). The music industry is much more than A&R’s, producers, singers, songwriters, CEO’s, etc. It’s not all peachy and keen. There is an obvious imbalance between the treatment between male and female singers and it’ll continue until more people take it seriously and fight just as hard to change it.

-Entertainment Today 101, June 28th, 2017. 3:36 pm.

#entertainment today #journalism #journalism student #feminism #music industry #women #men #ariana grande #justin bieber #chris brown #little mix #jade thirlwall #article #essay #college

14 notes · View notes

sybilltrxl · 7 years

Note

[ ☻ ]

Sybill did not go to parties. They were too loud and too vibrant and too much effort. But here she was, because Lily had invited her, because maybe for once she should make an effort. Through the night Sybill rotated through basically every room of James’ house, always seeking out the quietest and most low key zone to be in at any one point.

It was exhausting, to be frank. Everyone was kinda drunk- including Sybill- and all it served to do was make her head pound. Not even in time with the music, just a relentless throbbing behind her left eye. At some point it all just gets a tad much, and Sybill secludes herself in the downstairs closet space. Where all the noise is muffled and there is a heavy wooden door between her and the other party guests. It’s warm and piled high with coats.

And then that was it. Sybill didn’t remember falling asleep, just the deep and solid laughter of James as he opened the closet door the next morning, to the sight of her curled up among coats and scarves.

Apparently when she vanished people just assumed she had gotten sick of the party and gone home, which didn’t offend Sybill, really. She probably would’ve done had she not fallen asleep in a fucking closet. It would’ve been mortifying had anyone else found her. but as it happens, James- for as annoying as he can be- was a gracious host, even hungover. So Sybill got breakfast and a cup of tea before she left, with a teasing promise that next time James would leave a blanket in the closet for her, just incase.

#inspo #thejameseffingpotter

1 note · View note

mybumpbirthandbeyond · 3 years

Text

The High

The progress was coming so quickly I started to wonder if it was too quick. I was waiting for the shoe to drop. I never in a million years expected to be back doing chin-ups (even banded), or press-ups or sit-ups this early. I also started to worry my physios would think I was being disrespectful or undermining the process because of the exercises I was trying myself. That was the very last thing I would ever want so I discussed it with all of them. They all assured me they didn’t feel like that at all and in fact, thought it was fantastic that I was progressing the way I was and at the rate I was – I was progressing at the rate that was right for me.

The next in person consult was with Gráinne, almost a month after I had seen Lyndsey. As I said before, the in person consults with Lyndsey and Gráinne at the beginning were the ones I had been thinking about since I got pregnant. This would be my 5th attempt to try and see Gráinne – we had planned that I would try to get over in each trimester of pregnancy but it never worked out and I was gutted. I didn’t actually believe this one was happening until I boarded the plane.

I was as nervous, if not more nervous before this appointment. It’s one thing to be measured by someone’s hands which is completely relative to their size; it’s an entirely different thing to be measured by ultrasound. Those numbers are stark and there is nowhere to hide. I had the feeling the ultrasound would either confirm what Lyndsey and I felt (11 fw plus) or potentially worse. There were also the other muscles to consider – would there be atrophy and if so, how bad would it be?

We had arranged a team consult while I was over but I arrived early enough that Gráinne was able to do an assessment prior to joining online. She actually found there had been an improvement in the gap at rest – I had gone from 11 fw at the widest point to 8 fw. Mental. That part is still sinking in now, a week down the line. I really couldn’t and still can’t believe it. 3 fw might seem like nothing. Indeed, some women are lucky enough that that is the extent of their gap. However, when you have a gap as wide as mine, 3fw in less than one month is bloody brilliant. I barely came down 3 fw in 8 MONTHS last time!!! We’re talking a matter of weeks and it’s improved. It’s mind blowing. She also found the tension had improved – she wasn’t able to sink down as far where Lyndsey and I did. The tension was a big thing for me last time – it took ages for that to improve, so again, any small improvement this early on is a win.

The consult was awesome. I genuinely think the world of my team. I cannot praise them enough, and I couldn’t hold them in any higher regard than I already do. It’s much more than a physio/patient relationship to me; I count them as friends. Plenty of banter, plenty taking the mick and endless support from three incredible, lovely people.

I probably did at least 50 head lifts in that consult and a few other things. I ‘flexed’ a good 10 times, did numerous double leg lifts with a crunch, loads of pelvic floor contractions and an objective test holding one position for as long as possible. By the end (about an hour and half later) it was obvious I was starting to fatigue.

Practically the whole time, I was probably grinning (not that you could tell behind my mask). The linea alba was bright and thick at certain places which is a great sign. The muscles were not atrophied, they were a lot stronger than anticipated and the comment was made a few times that I had decent abs. It’s like the iceberg analogy – you really can’t tell what’s happening underneath. My tummy may be the first thing people see and may not look normal, but my work is paying off where it counts. The rectus was barely anchoring like it was when I was over the first time in July, telling me that I was generating tension enough that it didn’t need to anchor. Even more surprising, was that my physios actually COULD see an aesthetic change in my tummy. Slight though it undoubtedly is, that may be the biggest achievement, even if I couldn’t quite see it myself.

There were a few times I was asked how I felt. I couldn’t really put it into words. I was shocked, delighted and in complete disbelief. Antony told me I had been working my ass off, the implication being that I shouldn’t be surprised. I pointed out I worked my ass off last time and didn’t necessarily get the improvements as quickly. He agreed and even though someone could work as hard, it won’t necessarily translate to the same result. From that perspective, I’m definitely lucky.

After the consult Gráinne and I ran through some exercises I wanted to double check – press-ups and side plank with a balloon. I was delighted when she said I could progress back to full-press-ups. I need to get cracking with these to help with the goals and I’ll need to keep building my strength and start to improve my technique again – over 9 months out I’m definitely going to need to work on these!

I was completely exhausted after the consult – once again as much as I was physically exhausted, the emotional and mental exhaustion was more telling. I had to wait 9 months since my last in person consult with Gráinne and the fact that so much had improved that I hadn’t expected was pretty overwhelming. They were delighted and I was buzzing. As always, there was stuff I didn’t quite understand, but the consult was recorded so I would be able to watch it back. The only thing I will say is, it felt like it passed too quickly. You look forward to something for weeks or even months and it feels like you blink and it’s done. I quite often feel like that after physio consults: the high is often followed by a flat feeling because it’s over.

Having watched the consult back, there are definitely parts I didn’t take in at the time and some of it is still sinking in. It’s become very clear that although I want to make the changes I did last time, this time is going to be VERY different. For a start, I need to keep reminding myself that I hadn’t even been seen by a physio at this stage last time. I’m already making pretty significant progress, and at this stage in 2019, I hadn’t even had my first appointment; that’s just crazy!

I shared a quote recently that said: “Recovery is the only high that keeps getting better as you do it.” It wasn’t until after I posted it that my husband pointed out it probably was to do with alcohol or drug rehabilitation. I was pretty mortified but only for a minute. Even if he’s right, that quote still fits my situation perfectly. That’s why I was addicted to the progress the first time. That’s why I worked to the point I did, 6 days a week for a couple of hours at a time. That’s why I never did burn out. The feeling got better with every bit of progress – aesthetic or functional – it’s a high of your own making; a culmination of all the hard work, all the persistence and consistency. I want that again this time.

This time I’m obviously working towards surgery. Here’s a goal I haven’t really shared before now: when my surgeon opens me up, I want them to think my muscles are strong, and for it to be obvious that I’ve worked my ass off. If that happens, then I know I’ve done everything right.

The rate of progress in terms of what I’m already doing in rehab is still playing on my mind. I have mentioned before that everything I am doing is individual to me. It is no doubt the result of what I did before, and during pregnancy, that I am able to progress in this way without any detrimental effects, and maybe it’s down to the way my body is and how it copes. Being judged is not the problem – people are entitled to their opinion and to be frank, there are only three opinions that truly matter to me. I take that risk by sharing this journey and making everything public. The reward of being able to share something that might just raise more awareness, or might just help one other person, is far greater than the risk of offending someone – you can’t please everyone at the end of the day. What makes me uncomfortable is the thought that this is setting some sort of precedent for others. I actually considered not sharing what I was doing in rehab because of the rate I was starting to progress. I would like to think that people do not just go out and copy what I’m doing without seeing a physio, but there are no guarantees. So, once again, if you are reading this as a person with diastasis, please seek help from a pelvic health physio before attempting any of the exercises you see on social media and the internet (including mine). Everyone is different and the body copes in different ways – you need to find the exercises that work for you and you alone.

I made the decision to keep sharing thanks to my team. We’ve all discussed the possibility that some people and some physios might be a bit shocked at what we’re doing, but we all agree the benefit that sharing can bring will be greater. While people have been curious, I personally have received nothing but support throughout this from everyone who is following the journey. I am still blown away by the number of physios who are recommending their patients to my page - I couldn’t think of a better compliment. I cannot say how much it means to have received so many messages telling me how I’ve inspired someone. All the remarks and looks and comments on how I look pregnant are worth it to hear something I have posted has resonated or motivated someone. That is incredible and that beats the high of progressing hands down every time. So, I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank every single one of you following along. It blows my mind that what started as something so personal and felt so disheartening, is now (even in the smallest of ways) helping others.

“One day you will tell your story of how you’ve overcome what you’re going through now, and it will become part of someone else’s survival guide.”

#mybumpbirthandbeyond #postpartumrecovery #diastasisrecti #rehabilitation #pelvichealth

0 notes