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salchat · 3 years

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The Yellow Room

It was the carving that triggered the memory; a small, rounded shape, which of course wasn’t an elephant, but fit into his hand in the way that he’d imagined those ebony elephants would have fit, had he dared to pick one up. John held the wooden animal now, and its curving sides were so smoothly polished that he could make it rotate just by the movement of fingers and thumb, over and over, the cool, slippery wood running across his palm, across the calluses on his fingers and the pad of his thumb.

He could buy it. Maybe he would, when Rodney had finished haggling over the collection of might-have-beens and maybes that he’d sorted out from the mass of treasures and junk. Maybe John would buy this little, hand-sized carving so that he could touch it whenever he wanted. He’d been far too scared to pick up one of the elephants; far too sad and confused.

They’d been visiting with his Grandma, who his Dad had taught him to address as Mrs Sheppard, so he did, because he always tried to do what his Dad told him to, even when he didn’t understand why. To himself he’d called her Grandma, though, because other people had grandmas and it sounded much nicer.

Her house hadn’t been nice. It was big, real big, but John couldn’t tell what most of the rooms were for. At home there was a room for eating, for watching TV, for playing games, for sleeping. There was the room where the big piano lived that John played sometimes, sitting on his Mom’s knee, pressing the keys she told him to press. And there was a room where you were supposed to sit and be polite and talk to strange people - he didn’t like that room. But at Grandma’s house, all the rooms were like that. There was a piano, but the lid was always shut and no one ever played it, not even Mom.

Mom was different at Grandma’s. She and Dad always said weird stuff beforehand, like ‘keep her sweet’ and ‘for the boys’ future’ and there was almost always an argument on the way home, where harsh, raised voices would fill the car and then Mom would cry which made John cry, which made Dad angry. Davey would cry too, but then he cried anyway because he was a baby.

John had made up his mind to be good that day, as good as he knew how; because he was almost certain that the car-arguments were his fault. After all, the grown-ups didn’t quarrel with Grandma. They were always real polite and nice to each other, even if their smiles didn’t ring true. John was the one who was constantly being told to stand up straight, keep his hands out of his pockets, do something with his hair (what? why?) and speak only when he was spoken to, as well as speak up and not mumble. So it must be his fault.

That day, he’d decided to be so good that no one would be able to find fault and then on the way home, they’d listen to music in the car and sing along like they did if they’d been on a day trip somewhere nice.

And to begin with, it had seemed like everything was going to work out fine. Grandma, no Mrs Sheppard, had opened the big, shiny door and led them into the hallway and she’d smiled and looked at Baby Davey, sitting up on Dad’s arm and her smile had broadened.

“How big he’s getting,” she’d said. “And how like his Grandpa! What a fine little man!”

Even John had had to admit Davey looked pretty good, for a baby. He’d had on a tiny little suit and tie and he could sit up straight now, not just slump in a heap in his highchair. His hair had grown in and it was soft and blonde and his Mom had damped it down and parted it with a precise line that ran straight to one temple, the hairs either side staying exactly in place.

Grandma had tickled his rounded cheek and he’d giggled and then she’d actually leant down and kissed him.

And she’d said again, “Just like his Grandpa! This one’s definitely a Sheppard!”

There’d been a subtle change in the atmosphere just then and, looking back, John wondered whether it was that as much as her repeated use of the word Grandpa that had led to his mistake. Tension between grown-ups had been nothing new to John and he didn’t usually try to do anything about it. But Grandma had kissed Baby Davey and she’d smiled at him and so she must like that kind of thing, even though Mom and Dad said she didn’t. And Dad was wrong about what she wanted to be called too - he must be. And also, standing straight and stiff and trying so hard to be good, to be ‘a Sheppard man’, John had just wanted someone to look at him the way she’d looked at his brother, to approve of him and kiss him and say what a fine young man he was growing up to be. He’d imagined them all smiling down at him the way they smiled at Baby Davey.

So he’d ran forward and opened his arms and said, (without any mumbling, because she didn’t like that), “Grandma!” And he’d hugged her, as far up as he could reach.

Or he would have, if she hadn’t taken a step back, her smiling face retreating behind a mask of distaste. Anger would’ve been better, somehow. An angry face and angry words were honest at least. As a small child, he hadn’t even had words for her expression, but now, a grown man, standing at a market stall on an alien planet, John could easily name contempt, derision and disappointment.

He remembered his mother’s indrawn breath and his father’s harsh bark, his name used as a rebuke. “John!”

He’d stopped, his arms falling to his sides, all his vows and wishes to be good shattered. This was bad. He’d been bad. He’d looked around at his Mom’s pale face and tight mouth, his Dad’s heavily frowning brows and accusing eyes and then back at his Grandma’s, no Mrs Sheppard’s upturned chin and sneer of condemnation.

But now, still holding the carved wooden animal, John huffed a soft breath of bitter laughter. No wonder he could face down a Wraith queen. No wonder he stayed stiff and straight under the disapproval of superior officers. He’d been trained for it.

And then he’d made it even worse, because he knew he’d disappointed all of them and there’d be an argument - no, a row, a furious ferocious row in the car on the way home, and it would all be his fault because he hadn’t been good, because he wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough to be a Sheppard. His chest had tightened and jerked, his throat had closed up so much that it hurt and his face had begun to crumple, no matter how hard he’d tried to keep it straight.

And now, all these long years later, he wondered if the jerk of his father’s head had been as much a thing of mercy as the curt dismissal that he’d thought it to be at the time. Because Sheppard men didn’t cry. That was a rule he’d learned by heart, even at that age. So he’d walked away. He’d walked, not run and he’d opened the door to the entrance porch and gone through it and shut it behind him, hearing three pairs of feet slowly retreating from the shiny wooden entrance floor into one of the many rooms where people sat and were polite to each other. He’d stay here, because he couldn’t be polite. He’d tried and he’d failed.

“You have got to be kidding me! Thirty? For this heap of junk?”

“That is quality merchandise, sir! It is worth fifty easily!”

Rodney should leave the bargaining to Teyla. She’d get him a good deal. But still, if Rodney had a good rant at the stallholder now, maybe he’d get it out of his system for a few days.

A gust of cold wind made the awning above the stall snap. There was rain in the air.

It had been raining that day, the day of the visit; raining and cold, and John, in the square space between outer and inner door, his only company an umbrella stand and its contents, had begun to shiver. The doors rattled in their frames and every time the inner door rattled he’d jumped because he’d thought someone was coming to get him and then the yelling’d start.

But he was cold and they’d gone into one of the big rooms and there were plenty of other places in the house where an unwanted boy could sit and wait - places that might be a bit warmer. So, John had turned the big round handle and eased the door open, slowly, slowly, wincing at the creak of the hinge and then wincing even more as he closed it behind him and the handle turned back into place with a click.

No one had come out, though, so he’d stepped forward, his best, shiniest shoes clicking on the hardwood floor. To his right was the room with the piano, but he wouldn’t go in there because then he’d want his Mom to come and sit him on her knee and play the piano around him and that was almost like having a hug, so he wouldn’t think about that. Maybe he’d only get hugs if he and his Mom were alone together now. In fact, maybe that was another rule. Maybe it was like the crying thing - you could do it as a baby, but once you got to John’s age, that was it, no more hugs.

His eyes had blurred. He’d sniffed, wiped the sleeve of his scratchy jacket across his face, swallowed hard and walked on. Past the dining room, where he had to slowly and carefully eat everything on his plate, even if it was liver and really, really green, bitter vegetables. Past the other sitting room, where you sat after dinner, as if the chairs in the other room could only take so much sitting in one day. He could go in there, but it wasn’t after dinner, so that was another rule he’d be breaking.

And there was another door. He didn't know what was behind it. Could it be a games room? Or might there be a TV? He turned the handle and pushed it open and the door brushed softly over a thick, golden carpet. The room was yellow. All golden and yellow, but not the gold and yellow of flowers or sunshine or new, bright things, but the old, faded gold of another place where you had to be polite and respectful. The heavy hangings at the window were thick, shiny fabric with big tassels holding them back, and even the walls were goldy-yellow with a repeating pattern of curly flower-things that looked like they’d be velvety if you dared to touch them. It was a rich, old, be-on-your-best-behaviour room. John went in anyway, because it was smaller than the other rooms and not so forbidding, although it seemed like this room probably didn’t want him here either.

He closed the door softly behind himself and trod slowly and carefully across the carpet. Maybe he should’ve taken his shoes off. They didn’t usually do that at Grandma’s house, because they were in their best things and he supposed it’d look pretty weird going around in just socks when the rest of you was all fine and neat. And their best shoes only ever went from the car straight into the house anyway. Nevertheless, he picked up one foot and then the other and inspected their soles. But, standing on one leg, he wobbled and flung out a hand for balance. His fingertips brushed over something hard and there was a rattle of a fragile thing about to fall. John’s heart pounded hard and his ears fizzed in terror. If he broke something, if he knocked over a precious antique and actually broke it - it was so awful a thought that he couldn’t even imagine the consequences. It wouldn’t just be yelling. He’d probably be sent away somewhere for bad children that couldn’t behave.

But nothing was broken. It was an elephant, in fact a row of elephants on a small, round side table. It hadn’t even fallen. All was as it should be, the three elephants arranged in order of decreasing size, traversing the tabletop in organised, trunk-to-tail dignity.

John was jerked out of his memory by a jostle to his shoulder and an arm reaching in front of him to sort through a stack of fabric. He needed to focus. Just because Ronon and Teyla were circling the stall, infiltrating the crowd, didn’t mean he could afford to daydream.

But the carved alien animal was warm and heavy in John’s hand, pulling him back into his past. Were those long-ago elephants as heavy for their size? They had probably been made from ebony, or some other endangered hardwood. And their tiny white tusks had certainly been real ivory, stolen from some poor elephants killed on the distant African savannah.

He’d wanted to touch them. He’d wanted to so badly, to see if holding their rounded wooden bodies in his hands would go any way toward taking away the ache in his chest, the emptiness in his arms and heart. He’d wanted to pick up the big Daddy elephant and turn it toward the Mommy and put the baby elephant in between them, guarded by both of their long, dangling trunks. And then he could’ve made them roam over the golden carpet like real elephants across the sandy grassland, and the two big ones would’ve made sure the baby was safe and helped him up if he fell, curling their trunks around his body and setting him back on his feet.

But even though he’d wanted to, he hadn’t touched them. John had kept his arms by his sides, his hands empty, dangling quietly, not in his pockets, not doing anything that anyone could say was bad or wrong. He just stood on the carpet, not even sitting down on the low, padded chair that was the same colour as the walls and the curtains, not even moving closer to the little round table that was the elephants’ domain. He just stood, wondering if he was like the elephants - just someone small and not real. He wasn’t a real Sheppard. He couldn’t be, because he wanted to be hugged and sometimes he needed to cry, and Sheppard men didn’t do either of those things.

“Are you buying that?”

He didn’t remember how the day had ended. He didn’t remember if anyone came to find him or if he’d made his way back through the hallway and waited until they went home. He certainly didn’t remember the inevitable row in the car.

“Sheppard, are you buying that? Hey, you! You can have forty if you throw in this elephant thing!”

John shivered. There was water running down his neck and the awning was snapping and flapping in sharp gusts of wind. Rodney was handing over some trading tokens, his wet hair plastered to his head, his cheeks tinged pink with cold. He nodded to the trader and began packing a slew of items into a wooden crate.

“D’you want to put that in here or are you still bonding?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve been playing with it for ages. Who is it? Dumbo? Nelly?”

“It’s not an elephant.”

“As good as.” Rodney paused in his packing. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“John?” Rodney, hand on hip, eyes narrowed, communicating through body language and willpower alone. They’d had an agreement about this - honesty, about feelings as well as physical stuff. “I repeat, are you okay?”

“Uh, well. This thing reminded me of something.”

“Oh. Something good or something bad? We don’t have to take it if it’s something bad! I can renegotiate. Hey, you!”

The stallholder kept his back deliberately turned.

“No, it’s okay, Rodney.” John tucked the elephant-thing in a pouch in his vest. “It’s kind of not good. But I think… maybe I can make it better?”

“Oh. Right. So, I can expect the full story when we get home?”

“Yeah. The full story.”

Rodney nodded in satisfaction. “Right, where’s the muscle when you need him. Ronon? I bet he’s found a bar to prop up. Ronon!”

John smiled and picked up the crate. And as they made their way back to the Gate, the four of them together, he almost didn’t mind the thought of pouring out his childhood memory to Rodney. He almost didn’t want to run away and hide and stamp everything down until he could reappear, blank-faced and stoic. Because with Rodney, there were hugs every day. With Rodney, you could cry if you needed to. And with Ronon and with Teyla. And maybe he didn’t make a habit of hugging his Marines and crying on their shoulders, but if they came to him with issues that needed that kind of thing he didn’t tell them to man up or expect them to stamp it all down, to bury their feelings.

He was learning. Slowly, gradually, he was learning that this Sheppard man could hug and he could cry and he could do all those things that he’d been taught were so wrong.

And when he got home, back to Atlantis, back to the rooms he shared with Rodney, he’d set the elephant-thing on the nightstand; the thing which wasn’t an elephant. It would glow golden-brown when he turned on the bedside light and he’d pick it up whenever he wanted and hold it in his hands until it grew warm from his touch - just like he’d grown warm from the touch of his friends.

He’d tell Rodney his story about the yellow room and the elephants, and then he’d be held, wrapped in warmth, and if he needed to he could cry all those tears that he’d kept inside himself when he was just a boy, just a little boy who wanted to be loved.

#stargate atlantis fanfic #mcshep #john sheppard #rodney mckay #angst #sentimental

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auroras-blend · 3 years

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First Day of School

Summary: AU one-shot of what would have happened if the Marks had won the custody battle. Told in Marilyn's POV

Sunlight peeked through the curtains and cast onto an empty bed, unusual since its occupant rarely woke up before then. No, instead little Miss Marilyn Winslow woke up with the birds who were singing joyfully outside and for once, she didn’t hiss at their loudness. Her mood reflected their demeanor as she whistled and sang along with them.

Marilyn clasped the white buckle to her mary-janes, before straightening in front of her mirror. Perfect! Her outfit was the most important thing that morning. It took her mind off of her nerves because she had a very big task in front of her: the first day of school. It was her first, first day of school since her Mama had passed and while the ache was there, she refused to go in sad. I have to make a good impression!

If there was one thing her Mama at least always tried to do, it was to make sure she looked good on the first day of school. Of course on their budget, most of the time it had been from the thrift store but once in first grade, she got a new dress. This year, Mrs. Marks offered to let her pick out her own and buy it new, but Marilyn insisted on going to the thrift store for a new dress or “slightly used” because that’s what she and Mama did. The old lady who ran the shop was happy to see her once again.

Marilyn, in a way to pay tribute to her mother, wore a green gingham dress because the color always looked so wonderful with her eyes. It was slightly tailored to fix a rip, but it was barely noticeable now. Pleased with her outfit, Marilyn fluffed her blonde curls and tightly set a white headband on her head before nodding in satisfaction and left her room. The smell of sweet maple syrup wafted from the kitchen, leading her like a moth to the flame. The minute her heels clicked on the tile, her parents smiled. “Look at you!” Daddy exclaimed, putting down his paper, “Look at how beautiful you are!”

Mrs. Marks smiled, “You’re a dream!”

Her mommy briefly abandoned plating the pancakes in exchange for coming to see her daughter’s first day of school outfit. “Thank you,” Marilyn blushed.

“You’re going to have such a good day, I know it,” Mommy said surely as she kissed Marilyn on the forehead.

It was rough for a long time, it still was, after her Mama died. Marilyn still longed for her real daddy, not that she’d ever tell Mr. Marks that, but the ache in her heart and mind started to dull. The small family sat around their table and said their prayers. “And Lord, please give Marilyn a wonderful first day of school,” Daddy said lastly, “Amen.”

“Amen,” she and Mommy finished before they began eating.

As they had their breakfast, Mommy went over the pick-up and drop-off routine. Marilyn knew it, they had been doing it since she started living with them. “We’ll both take you today, we don’t want to miss your first day,” cooed Mommy, “But Daddy will pick you up and take you with him to the church where you’ll be with me in the daycare for the last hour, okay?”

“Okay,” she said pleasantly, her mouth full of sticky, sweet, fluffy pancakes.

Her nerves were high, wondering if she’d be in the same class as Rodney Lord again or if she’d spend another year friendless, but she always felt that way on the first day. Mama, please help me have a good time. She wiped her stinging nose before anyone could notice, I don’t wanna be the class crier this year. She’d been on a pretty good no crying streak this summer, of course, there were days where she did, but it hadn’t been as often as before.

In all honesty, she would have preferred her summer to last a little longer with the Marks because she had truly been happy. Marilyn felt like she was finally part of a normal family, nourished in warmth and affection that she hadn’t ever received before. And she was so excited to share that when people asked her what she did that summer because she finally had a fun and exciting answer! They had been to the county fair, the fireworks show, went to Baltimore for some conference Mr. Marks had to go to, but it had been a real family vacation!

It had been a relaxing time as she got to know her new parents and their daily routines. She loved waking up early some mornings, yes I know, I liked it and sneaking to sit with her daddy and color as he read through his Bible before helping her Mommy make breakfast. Breakfast used to be a meal she had to forgo, but now every day started at the table. Life was structured and comfortable, and as if to prove it, the clock struck right when she swallowed her last piece of pancake to fill her belly before school.

“Oh, finish your milk, we’ve gotta go!” Mrs. Marks said as she got up, clearing the plates as Mr. Marks went to get their coats, keys, and Marilyn’s backpack.

Cupping her glass with both hands, she guzzled it down as she watched her parents scurry to get ready before she let out a refreshing “ah” and handed it over to Mrs. Marks. “Kay peanut, ready?” Mr. Marks asked as he helped her out of her seat and into her dark green coat and new leather satchel.

That’s right, it’s new! They let her pick out her own backpack that year and she swore to keep it clean and safe at all costs. You’re on a mission, Miss Marilyn! “Hey,” Mr. Marks leaned down, “Still on for ice cream?”

She grinned and nodded, “Uh-huh!”

He gave her an agreeing nod. Mr. Marks said it would be their “thing”, every year at the end of the first day of school and last day of school, they’d get ice cream and talk about her day. They did it the previous year on her last day and it was one of her favorite memories, one that she tucked away and pulled out whenever she was feeling particularly sad. Mr. Marks gently reached for her hand and his wife for the other and walked out to the car together, ready to start her on her next adventure.

The ride was too short and too long all at once. They chatted but when they parked, amid the flurry of walking children and their parents, she frowned. When they noticed she’d become silent, they turned around, “You’re going to have a great day!”

“I-I’m gonna miss you…I don’t want to go,” she said, sounding like a frog was caught in her throat.

“Oh peanut, you’re gonna have so much fun though. You’ll make new friends, have a new teacher, and you’ve been practicing your reading all summer so you’re all caught up!” Mr. Marks reassured her.

“What if people make fun of me?”

“They won’t,” Mrs. Marks said firmly, “And if they do, they’re not worth being around.”

Since the adoption, people had been nicer to her but she was still nervous. “I-I’ve never not had...my Mama,” she said.

It was starting to hurt again. “Your Mama is still here, watching over you. You’ve got me, Daddy, and your mom up in heaven. Three adults who love you, that’s a lot.”

“God too,” Daddy added.

He has to say that. He’s a pastor. With a little more confidence knowing she had more people in her corner, she was able to step out of the car when the pastor opened it for her. Hand in hand, matching all of the other families with their children, they walked her to the front of the third-grade doors. “This is it,” Mrs. Marks said, “You’re going to do so well!”

Her adults kneeled down and gave her a big hug and wet kisses on her cheek, though her Mommy gave her more. “I love you so much,” she whispered into her ear.

“I love you too Mommy,” Marilyn said, hugging her tightly.

“And your other Mama loves you too,” Mrs. Marks added.

“Thank you,” Marilyn whispered.

The fact that Mrs. Marks never tried to bury her Mama’s memory, meant the world to her. After another proper minute, the bell rang and the students congregated to their assigned lines. Marilyn bravely and confidently walked to her own, head held up high. I can do this! Have a growth mindset.

Her head did turn to see her parents waving goodbye to her before she was forced to move forward in line to the doors. When she passed the threshold, she became an official third-grader at Summerfield Elementary. Showtime.

The first few moments were chaotic as her teacher, a woman with dark black hair styled in a flick-up, directed students to put their items away on the coat rack. Marilyn was already in awe, the woman was incredibly beautiful with warm hazel almond-shaped eyes that made her feel comfortable. And the way her teacher was looking at her, she knew she’d already become a favorite of hers. Marilyn gave her a shy smile and wave before turning to find her desk, looking for her name tag: Marilyn Marks.

Part of her was thrilled that her last name was Marks, but she didn't know how to cope with not being Winslow. She already knew it was naughty, but she resolved to lightly trace the name Winslow underneath it later. To honor Mama. “Boys and girls, take your seats!” her teacher instructed, clapping her hands together.

Marilyn slid into the hard wooden seat and squirmed for a bit, before looking around. No Rodney Lord! Yesss! “I like your dress,” whispered a girl next to her.

She had dark red hair tied back into pigtail braids. Marilyn glanced at her name, Sara Barnes. “Thank you, I like your sweater,” she said sweetly as her eyes appreciated the blue cardigan.

“I’m new, wanna play with me at recess?”

Marilyn’s heart uplifted! “Okay!”

A friend! I can go and tell daddy I have a new friend after school! “I’m Sara.”

“I’m Marilyn,” she said as they quickly shook hands.

“Alright, settle down! Give me zero voices in 3,2,1!” her teacher said as a hush fell upon the classroom.

Marilyn’s soft green eyes landed on her beautiful teacher. Her teacher was a glamorous woman who wore a dark blue dress, as sharp as her cheekbones.

“I am so happy to see you all here today!” she cooed, clapping her hands together before picking up a piece of chalk, “I am your new teacher! You may call me...”

She began to spell out the letters: M-i-s-s. Miss. S-a-g-e-s-s-e. Sagesse.

“Miss Sagesse,” she said, making brief direct eye contact with Marilyn, “Welcome to 3rd grade.”

She knew it was too early, but Marilyn allowed herself to smile at the promising start of her first day back at school.

#marilyn winslow #emilie marks #john marks #princess aurora #au to the au #bonus chapter #?

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beaumoumanatee · 3 years

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Friday, January 8, 2021: Geocaching in Stratton Woods Park

After work today, I met Rodney for lunch at Santini's where we continued to talk over the domestic terrorism from earlier in the week, and then I decided to go geocaching. I was one cache away from achieving all 7 Modern Wonders (each cache is currently associated with a different wonder, and if you find all of them, you get a "souvenir," which is kind of like a badge that you display on your profile). I was eager to find the last one, Machu Picchu, so I could begin collecting the Ancient Wonders as well (they don't get unlocked until you finish the modern wonders). So off I went to Stratton Woods park:

The first cache took me along the short park path that dumps out into the Curiously Empty Cul-de-sac.

But then, the GPS led me right back into the park through a path that I had never noticed across the cul-de-sac before:

"Ground zero," as hard-core geocachers like to call it (I am resistant to the abbreviations and lingo but know I'll probably adopt them eventually out of convenience), was in a wooded area between houses and one of the athletic fields. If anyone had been in the field or looking out of the back of their house, I’m sure I looked super-sketchy meandering in the woods.

I knew from the clues that the hiding place had something to do with a stump, because people kept making puns about being “stumped.” Well, my definition of “stump” is different from other people’s, I suppose - perhaps this was a stump once, but when I found it, it was a log. A pretty heavy one, that when rolled onto its side, revealed a hole in the ground where the cache lay:

That was the first time I had ever seen a cache fully hidden underneath something. I’ve seen some containers hidden beneath a flat piece of bark, tented against a log or the base of a tree, but usually those are somewhat visible. This one could not be seen at all until the log was rolled over.

I still had some daylight left, so I decided to pursue the first of the Ancient Wonders caches that was not far away from my first find.

The most direct route cut through some rugged, thorny terrain. One of the nice things about wintertime is that my gigantic Hagrid coat protects me from thorns and allows me to generally plow right through them.

I knew from the hints that this one was under a rock. I skirted this big rock for quite some time once I arrived at the destination coordinates, turning over smaller rocks with my foot to no avail. Then I crouched down and looked beneath this one and, sure enough, I saw the glint of plastic way under there.

I was a little nervous about grabbing this one since I figured a crevice like this would be the perfect habitat for spiders and other creepy crawly creatures. I tried to fish for the container with a stick, but that didn’t work - I couldn’t get the right angle on it. But I didn’t see any bugs being disturbed by the stick either, so I sucked it up and reached in there - success!

Despite my rugged trek through the woodland, I noticed that there was a path that ran alongside the hiding place of this rock cache. I climbed up onto the nearest part of it and found a Curiously Empty Circle of Grass, surrounded on all sides by woods (though on one side, you could faintly see houses through the trees).

The Curiously Empty Circle of Grass reminded me a little of the Devil’s Tramping Ground in North Carolina - not sure why, except they’re both circular and strange. This one was only strange because the path led here but there was nothing in the circular meadow to explain why it was a destination at all, or why a circular meadow had been made in the first place instead of just more trails. That being said, it would be a good picnic location, so I’ll probably return for that purpose once the weather is nicer!

At the end of the evening, I saw a fox along the path in the picture above. He sat and looked at me for a moment, but then scampered off before I could get a picture of him or ask him what foxes say.

I’ve created a second post for the remaining photos...

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lastbluetardis · 4 years

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Family of Six (14/14)

After James and Rose bring their newborn twins home, they work to find a balance between all four of their children, and each other. Ten x Rose AU, Soulmates AU.

This chapter: Teen, 7600 words

Ages of the Tyler-McCrimmons at the start of the chapter: James: 39, Rose: 34, Ainsley: 9, Sianin: 6, Twins: 5 months

If you like reading my stories, consider leaving me a tip? Or leave a reply on this post to tell me what you thought? And as always, reblogs are very much appreciated so more people can see this.

AO3 | TSP | FF | Perfectly Matched Series

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14

The Monday after his blowup with Rodney, James dreaded going into the university. It broke Rose’s heart to see him dawdling through his morning routine, allowing himself to get distracted with the girls to keep him from leaving for work. He asked to bottle-feed the twins, and while he did that, he played a game of Scrabble with Ainsley over the breakfast table.

Rose stood behind James’s chair and draped her arms around his neck to watch him play the word “veneer”.

“What’s that?” Ainsley asked, cocking her head to the side.

“A layer of something to make it more aesthetically pleasing,” James answered. “Usually applied to old wood or stone to make it look a bit nicer.”

Rose could almost see the gears of Ainsley’s mind working as she catalogued the word, then shifted her attention to her own playing tiles.

“You don’t go easy on her, do you?” Rose murmured into his ear.

“She’d fillet me alive if she knew I let her win at this,” James retorted.

Rose watched her daughter set down the word “quiver” with a proud smirk that looked just like her father. The ‘q’ landed on a double letter bonus and the ‘e’ reached the double word bonus, earning her a grand total of fifty-six points.

“Do you feel sorry for her anymore?” James pouted, scribbling down her score. With that word, she had soared into a healthy lead.

“Not one bit,” Rose said, grinning. “Though I’m beginning to feel sorry for you.”

“How is that game any fun?” Sianin asked as she stuffed a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth. “It’s like school all over again. We’re on summer holiday, Ainsley.”

“It’s fun to try and make words from a random assortment of letters,” Ainsley said, pulling a new set of tiles from the velvet bag.

“We have very different ideas of fun,” Sianin grumbled.

Rose snorted, and contented herself to stand behind her husband and watch the progress of the game. When it was over—with James narrowly winning by three points—and the twins had finished eating, James jumped up to help with the dishes.

“No, you’ve got to get to work,” Rose said gently, placing a hand on his chest to halt him from going to the sink.

His face fell.

“We’ll be by for lunch,” Rose reminded, rubbing her hand up and down his chest. “Just think of that. A little less than four hours to get through before you see my glorious face again.”

The corners of his mouth lifted in a halfhearted attempt at a smile.

“I love you very much,” Rose said, sliding her hands up until she could wrap her arms around his neck.

He hugged her tightly.

“It’ll be okay, love,” she whispered into his ear. “It’ll be okay. You’ve got some students coming to your office this morning, then you’ll have lunch with me and the girls, then you’re covering what’s-his-name’s class this afternoon. After that, you can come home. See? Easy peasy.”

“I know,” he sighed, turning his head to kiss her cheek. “Thanks.”

She gave him one final squeeze then released him. After goodbye kisses to the girls, James scooped up his bag and coffee thermos and headed out the door.

“What’s wrong with Dad?” Ainsley asked, settling beside Rose at the sink to help with the dishes.

“He had a small argument with one of the people he works with, and he’s a little nervous to see him,” Rose answered.

“What were they arguing about?” Sianin asked.

“It’s none of our business,” Rose said.

“But Daddy told you,” Sianin pointed out.

“Okay, it’s none of your business,” Rose amended. “It’s grown-up problems.”

Sianin let out a long-suffering sigh, but didn’t push any further.

All morning, Rose worried about James. She wrote encouraging messages on her arms, as well as little doodles and outlandish declarations of love. He drew smiley faces beside each note, or a series of x’s and o’s, but otherwise didn’t respond.

When it was time to meet James for lunch, Rose corralled the girls into the car along with a bag of swimming gear, as she promised to take them to the pool that afternoon.

“Sian, take Ainsley’s hand,” Rose commanded as she worked on getting the twins set up in their pram in the university car park. “And don’t go anywhere.”

“There’s no one around,” Sianin said.

“It’s good practice,” Rose said. “Besides, in a couple years, you and Ainsley will be big helpers to make sure the twins don’t go racing off across the road.”

As she buckled the twins into the buggy, she heard Ainsley and Sianin sniping at each other. It didn’t sound too rude, so she let them handle it themselves.

“Ready?” she asked.

Ainsley and Sianin turned to her and nodded. Ainsley kept hold of Sianin’s hand as they walked towards the science building. Once inside, Rose waved cheerily at the employees in the front office and ducked inside so they could ooh and ahh over the twins and exclaim about how big Ainsley and Sianin were getting.

Five minutes later, Rose loaded the kids into the lift to take them to James’s office on the sixth floor. Knowing the way, Sianin bolted out of the lift the moment the doors opened and nearly jogged down the corridor.

“We use our walking feet when we’re indoors,” Rose called after her.

Sianin made a small effort to slow down her pace, but when James poked his head out of his office, she sped into a full-out sprint.

“Daddy!” she squealed, as though she hadn’t seen him in four days rather than four hours.

“Indoor voice,” Rose chastised, but she couldn’t help but smile as Sianin jumped into her father’s open arms.

“How is my favorite six-year-old doing today?” James asked, pressing a kiss to Sianin’s cheek as he stood with her on his hip.

“Good,” she replied. “How’s my favorite daddy?”

“Favorite daddy?” James squawked. “Last I checked, I was your only daddy.”

He bounced her in his arms and tickled her ribs, making her squirm and laugh, batting at his hands. The sound of an office door—Rodney’s—slamming shut startled him into stopping.

“Oops,” Sianin whispered, cringing. “Sorry.”

“It wasn’t you, darling. Your volume was fine,” James said firmly.

He gave her a squeeze and set her on her feet, then greeted the rest of his family. He kissed the top of Ainsley’s head, then peeked into the baby buggy, but both twins were napping. With a bright smile that never failed to turn her bones to liquid, he turned to Rose.

“Hi,” she said, smiling back at him. “Have a good morning?”

She tilted her cheek towards his offered kiss.

“Yeah, it wasn’t bad,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. Addressing the girls, he asked “Ready for lunch?”

Ainsley and Sianin led the way back to the lifts, leaving their parents behind. James slipped his arm around Rose’s waist and kept pace with her down the long corridor.

oOoOo

James hadn’t been lying to Rose when he said her opinion of him as a father and husband was the only one that mattered to him. However, it wasn’t enjoyable to be surrounded by people who, he now realized, had been silently judging him. Nevertheless, he kept his head high and a smile on his face as he passed his coworkers in the corridors.

With his shortened summer term hours, he didn’t need to spend too much time at the university. Any time he did spend there, he was either teaching, marking papers, or meeting with students to help them with material they didn’t understand. After all of his work was finished for the day, he was free to go back home to his family. He wasn’t sure how he would adapt when the fall term started; he certainly couldn’t hide in his office for eight hours every day.

Lunchtime was the hardest for him. He usually would eat in the faculty lounge with the rest of his coworkers, but ever since that dreadful confrontation between him and Rodney that everyone had witnessed, it had become awkward.

So James took to eating alone in his office. If he felt particularly pathetic, he would ask Rose to join him. If the weather was nice, he would eat outside or trek to the dining hall, where there was a faculty lunchroom on one of the upper floors.

He usually sat alone, but one day, a stranger decided to dine with him.

“You’re new here.”

James was absently twirling his fork through noodles when a woman slid gracefully into the seat across from him at the little two-person table he was eating at. The woman was around his age, give or take a few years, with big bushy curly hair.

“I’m Professor River Song,” the woman said, extending a hand towards him. “Anthropology department, focus in archaeology.”

James set down his fork and took her hand, shaking it once. “Professor James Tyler-McCrimmon. Physics department. And chemistry, I s’pose. They’re in the same building. They sort of overlap, don’t they? Well, depending on the topic. But they complement each other nicely.”

James’s cheeks heated at his rambling, but the woman just smiled at him in amusement.

“How long have you been here?” River asked, spearing her fork through her plate of pasta.

“Oh, I’m not new,” James explained, remembering her opening line. “Nah, I recently decided to take my lunches here. New experiences and all.”

The woman looked like she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t press it. Instead, she asked him about his research interests and what he had studied in graduate school. She, in turn, told him about her graduate school experience, and how she’d gotten to travel across the world to various archives to write her thesis.

They talked for over an hour until River’s phone chimed.

“Oh, hell,” she sighed. “I’m twenty minutes late for a meeting.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you,” James said, hoping none of his own students had stopped by yet for office hours. “I should probably get going too.”

“This was nice,” River said, sliding her phone back into her pocket. “We should meet up again some time.”

“I’d like that,” James said, smiling.

“Laters,” River said with a wink, then she strode out of the dining hall.

James met up with River a couple times a week for lunch, talking about everything and nothing. They had similar interests outside of the university, and often discussed politics or sports or books. Taking lunch with her made the work day much more tolerable; he was glad to have a friend who wasn’t associated with any of the drama happening within the department.

Rodney had well and truly written James off and barely acted as though he existed, causing the rest of their coworkers to walk on eggshells around them both. Mark, it seemed, was the only one who stood up for James; however, James often saw Mark chatting and laughing with Rodney, too. He tried not to be too offended.

He confided in River a little bit about what was going on between him and his colleagues without going into specific details. He merely told her that he and his mates had “very different opinions that made situations slightly uncomfortable”.

“That sounds like a load of shit,” River said cheerfully. “And extremely unprofessional. Grown adults should be able to put aside their differences, eh?”

James rolled his eyes and sniffed. “I won’t set aside my morals to make peace with someone.”

“Not sure taking the high road is working in your favor, mate,” River drawled.

“I made a new friend out of it,” James said, gesturing towards her.

Her eyes twinkled as she grinned at him, and they continued their banter until James’s phone buzzed in a text.

Pipe burst under the sink in our room. Plumber can’t come ‘til tomorrow morning. I’m currently sifting through the mess.

“Oh dear,” he murmured under his breath. “So sorry, River, but I’ve got a wee emergency at home. Burst pipe.”

“Sounds like a delight,” River said, sipping her coffee. “Take care, James.”

He hastily bade his goodbyes than rushed home to help Rose. He didn’t know exactly what he could do to help, but he was sure she would appreciate another set of hands to clean up.

When he arrived at the house, he found the twins in the living room and Rose in their en suite, sitting before a damp vanity and shoulders-deep into the cabinet beneath.

“Where are Ainsley and Sianin?”

She flinched. He winced when he heard a thunk.

“Shit,” she hissed, massaging her elbow as she retreated from the cabinet.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, folding his legs under him as he sank to the floor beside her.

“Your dad offered to entertain them for the afternoon,” she said. “Good luck to him, though; Ainsley’s in a mood today.”

“Oh?” he asked, frowning.

“Yeah, it was weird. She had a bit of an attitude and was short-tempered with everyone. Not sure who pissed in her cereal, but I was so tempted to shut her away in her room until she sorted through whatever mood she was in. Then I lost my temper with her when she flat-out refused to move from the sofa to grab a bag of nappies from the nursery. She then claimed I’m a lazy mother for always making her look after her little siblings.” Rose rubbed her palm into her eyes. “I thought she liked helping with Sianin and the twins.”

“She does,” James soothed. “She’s just… having a really bad day, I suppose.” He rested his hand on her thigh and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sorry love. And I’m sure she is too. You can talk it out when you’re both in better moods.” He jutted his chin towards the open cabinet door. “Have you shut off the water line to those pipes?”

“Nah, I figured I’d let it keep dripping all over our stuff.”

James pinched her leg, then scooted closer to the cabinet to reach inside and haul item after item out for inspection.

For the next hour, they worked together to mop up the water and sift through everything to determine what could or could not be salvaged.

“We’ll have to remember to replace those,” James said, inclining his head to the soggy, ruined box of tampons and pads. “And soon. You’re just about due, aren’t you?”

Rose hummed noncommittally, as though she hadn’t particularly heard him, and continued taking inventory of her makeup kit. Entire palettes of eye shadow and rouge and foundation had been lost.

James chucked a couple rolls of toilet paper into the garbage bag between them when Rose asked, “What’s the date?”

Her voice was faint, and he turned to her. Her cheeks had lost all color.

“You all right?”

“What’s the date?” she repeated impatiently.

“Ehm… August seventh? Eighth?”

Rose scrabbled for her mobile and began tapping at the screen, muttering under her breath. She ticked her fingers against her leg, as though keeping count.

“Rose, what’s the matter?”

“It can’t be… I can’t be!” Before he could ask again, she said, “I didn’t get my period. It should’ve come… I don’t know when. Two weeks ago? I can’t bloody remember when it was I last had it.”

James’s ears began to ring dully, sure he’d misheard her. “Excuse me?”

“I missed my period.” She buried her face into her hands, digging her palms into her eyes. “I can’t be pregnant. I can’t be. We’ve been careful!”

“Not necessarily,” James said, his stomach churning uncomfortably. “There have been a few times we’ve chanced it, when you said we were safe.”

“So this is my fault?” Rose snapped.

“Of course not. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Rose’s shoulders slumped. “Shit. Shit shit shit!”

James mechanically rose to his feet, his brain full of cotton and static as he tried and failed to process the influx of information. But he took it one step at a time, and the first step was to actually confirm their suspicion. “I’ll go out and buy a test. I’ll be back.”

“Shit, James. What are we going to do?” The helplessness in her voice broke his heart.

“You are going to stay here and continue cleaning up,” James said, nodding to their soaked cabinet. “I am going to go out and buy a pregnancy test. And then we’ll figure out what to do. Together.”

James walked out of the room without another word. He gathered his keys and wallet and made his way to the chemist’s.

Pregnant. Rose might be pregnant. Again. The universe must be playing a cruel joke on them, for making it so difficult to conceive the last time around, only to bring them an unplanned pregnancy mere months after they’d had their twins.

She might not be, said a little voice in his head. Don’t panic until you know for certain.

James tried to listen to the little voice in his head, but it was hard. He didn’t know if it made him a worse father for wishing Rose wasn’t pregnant, or for dreading the idea that she was.

Time blurred around him. He was vaguely aware of the drive into town then back home again, a small bag of pregnancy tests in the passenger’s seat.

Rose had made no more progress on cleaning their en suite, but he didn’t blame her. She was sitting in the exact same position as when he’d left her, and she jumped when he called her name softly.

He wordlessly handed her the bag of three pregnancy tests, then sat on the floor to wait. She joined him a minute later, and together they stared at the developing tests.

Slowly, a faint little negative sign bloomed across three different test windows.

Not pregnant.

James breathed out a sigh of relief, the tension flowing out of his body.

“Dodged that bullet.” Though Rose’s words were grateful, her tone was clipped.

He turned his head to look at her, but she had her eyes locked on the three tests in front of her.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah.” She smiled at him, but the expression was brittle, and her eyes made it seem like she wasn’t seeing him. “Really. I didn’t want to be pregnant.”

He nodded slowly, wanting to believe her.

She stood abruptly. “I need some air. I’m going for a walk.”

“Talk to me,” he said, shooting to his feet.

“Please, James. I need a minute.”

Déjà vu squeezed his lungs until he couldn’t breathe. How many times had she been so disappointed by a negative test result that she’d gone on a run to brood in her thoughts? How many times had she gone off on her own and cried over her heartbreak and feelings of failure? How many times had he overlooked just how upset she was?

“Don’t shut me out,” he begged. “Please. Talk to me. Please.”

“How can I talk to you about what I’m feeling when I don’t even know how I feel?” Rose asked, her tone a little sharp. “Please, James. I need to think. Let me think. Then we’ll talk.”

“Promise?” he rasped, feeling childish for making her swear it.

Her face softened. “Cross my heart.” She drew an X across her chest, then across his, like he always did with their kids. “I need to be alone for a little while, but I’m not shutting you out.” Something in her eyes cleared, and her brows furrowed. “Are you okay? Will you be okay if I leave?”

Part of him selfishly wanted to tell her no, but he wouldn’t make her stay when she wanted space to think alone. So he nodded, and focused hard on breathing. Rose said she was okay, and that they’d talk. He had to trust that, to trust her. They would talk. They would sort out their emotions. They would be okay.

He repeated that mantra again and again as Rose pulled on her shoes.

“I’ll be back within an hour,” she promised.

He nodded, and then she was gone.

His brain screamed at him to go after her, to demand that they talk right now and fix whatever it was that was bothering her. He needed to know if she genuinely was happy that they weren’t pregnant.

What if she realized she was upset by the test result? Unbidden, he was taken back five years, to when Rose had taken a pregnancy test that turned out negative but sparked their desire for another baby. Was history repeating itself? Would Rose realize she wanted another baby, and they would go back down that road of uncertainty and failure and heartbreak and…?

Stop it, he hissed.

Desperately needing a distraction, he wandered into the living room where the twins were napping in their swings. The knot in his chest loosened as he beheld the two beautiful babies that were the end result of his and Rose’s pain. They were worth it. He would do it all again if it meant having Hannah and Maddie in his life.

But he didn’t particularly want to do it all again. He didn’t want to see the devastation on Rose’s face as they tried and failed month after month to make a baby. Besides, wasn’t their little family perfect as it was? Did he even want more children? Surely if he said he was finished fathering children, Rose wouldn’t make them try for another baby? But was he even one-hundred percent sure that he was done fathering children?

He tried to think ahead a few years. The spread of ages of their children was quite varied. By the time the twins were toddlers, Ainsley would be almost a teenager. Would he want to start over again with a baby when Ainsley was going through puberty and Sianin was only a few years away from it, too?

But on the other hand, if they wanted another baby, it would probably be a good idea to have one within a couple of years so that the new baby would be relatively close in age with the twins. However, they had twins. They already came as a paired, package deal. They could entertain each other as they grew up.

James’s head began to throb, and he sank to his bum in front of his babies. “Oh, my darlings, your daddy is having a day.”

He slowed the rocking of the swings and unbuckled each twin, bringing them onto the floor with him. Though they each stirred upon being moved, they eventually fell back to sleep. He lay down beside them and gazed into their faces.

They were the most gorgeous things he’d ever seen. Their soft, pale skin. Their little button noses. Their fair hair. He grudgingly had to admit that Rose might be right: their hair did appear as though it was growing in red. He made a note to ask Rose where the red-haired gene came from—her father had had red hair, hadn’t he? And Donna had gotten her red hair from somewhere. Though they were distantly related, those genes were swirling somewhere inside of him too.

“I love you both so much,” he murmured to the twins, his throat closing. “I love you so, so much.”

Tears burned behind his eyes as he watched his babies sleep. He didn’t know how he could feel simultaneously happy and sad. How he could feel like smiling and crying.

“Do you think you two would like having a baby sibling one day?” he mused, watching the rise and fall of their chests as he breathed. “Or do you think our family is complete as it is. A family of six. Six is a great number, innit? Half a dozen. Way better than the family of four that we used to be before you two came along. Though what about a family of seven? Oh, Lord. What if we had another set of twins? Family of eight? That might be a bit much, eh? Oh, I dunno…”

He heaved out a sigh that was loud enough to make Maddie flinch. “Sorry, darling. Daddy’s having a bit of trouble right now. You see, your mummy thought she might be pregnant again. She’s not. And I think she might be a wee bit upset about it, even though she said she’s not. Am I being paranoid? Am I overthinking things? I probably am. I wish she’d come home so we could talk.

“What if she wants another baby, though? I have no idea if I want another one. I mean, we just got you two. I’d like to enjoy you both for a little longer before considering adding a new baby to the mix. Obviously if your mummy fell pregnant a couple months from now, I would love that baby so much. I love all of my babies. But I think it’d be a bit hard.

“What am I even doing? Why am I obsessing over this when I don’t even know what your mummy is thinking?”

He scrubbed a hand over his face and continued chatting softly to his sleeping babies as he waited for his wife to come home.

True to her word, Rose returned home fifty-three minutes later. He was still on the floor, but pushed himself to a sitting position when she walked in.

“I’m so sorry,” she said by way of greeting. “I’m sorry I just… ran out on you.”

“Are you feeling better?” he asked, patting the floor beside him.

Rose plopped down beside him and scooted the twins closer to them. She began absently playing with Hannah’s feet as she said, “Yeah, I am. I’m sorry. I got stuck in my head, in my memories. Seeing those negative tests brought back all the times I sat on that very floor in our loo, praying for a positive result. Only today, I was praying for a negative one. And even though the test came out the way I wanted it to, I couldn’t seem to escape all of the times I’d had my heart shattered again and again over the course of four years. And not just my heart, but yours too. I kept seeing your disappointment and hurt in my head, and being in that room, sitting there with you… it made it all come rushing back, and it was just as painful as it was the first time ‘round. But at the same time, I was so relieved to not be pregnant again. I was confused and needed to be alone somewhere that didn’t have memories associated with it. I’m sorry.”

James placed his arm around her shoulders and tugged her into his side. “I understand. You don’t need to apologize. I completely understand what it’s like to get stuck in your head. Well, my head. You know what I mean. Are you okay?”

“I am, yeah,” she said. “Are you?”

“I am now,” he replied. “I… I’ll admit I was panicking a little bit while you were gone. But Hannah and Maddie are great little listeners.”

“Your turn. What were you panicking about?” she asked.

“It’s stupid,” he confessed, because it really was now.

“It’s not,” she argued. “Please, James?”

“I thought you would decide you wanted another baby, which would put us back on the track we were in five years ago. I began panicking that we were about to spend the next four years trying and failing to get pregnant.”

Rose let go of Hannah’s feet and turned into him to wrap her arms around his waist. He clutched her fiercely to him, burying his nose in her hair. It smelled like wind and sunshine and summertime.

“I love you,” she whispered into his neck.

“Love you, too,” he mumbled into her hair. He pulled back to look her in the eye. “We’re okay, right?”

“Yeah, we’re okay,” she answered, smiling faintly. “Though I’m upset this brought back bad memories for the both of us. I mean, it’s been years, and we’ve got the twins now. I guess I’d thought we put all of those demons to rest, y’know?”

“We went through something traumatic,” he said gently. “An old wound is still a wound, no matter how healed you think it is.” He paused, but then asked, “So… is this indicative that we’re done having children? If we were so relieved we’re not expecting again, does this mean we’re happy with our family as it is? If so, we can get some sort of permanent birth control performed. It doesn’t even have to be you; I’ll gladly have my bits snipped away, just say the word and…”

“Slow it down, love,” Rose said, amused. “I don’t know how permanent I want our birth control to be. I don’t know if our family is complete as it is. I am perfectly content with my life, and I’m so happy and in love with you and our girls. But I don’t know if I’m done having children. Unless…” She cocked her head to the side. “Are you finished having children? Are you dead set against any more?”

“What if I said I was?” James asked carefully, trying to buy himself some time. Despite brooding over it for the past hour, he still hadn’t come to a conclusion about whether he wanted to have more children or not.

“Then I’d happily drive you to the hospital tomorrow to get your bits snipped off,” she said playfully. More seriously, she added, “I don’t want any more babies unless you do as well.”

“Before anyone snips at my bits, let’s take some time, eh? I think I’m in the same boat as you… I don’t know if I’m ready to permanently close myself off to the idea of having more children. I don’t want any more right now, but within the next couple of years?” He shrugged. “And maybe I’ll never decide that I’m ready for another child. But can you make me a promise?”

“I’ll try,” Rose said, wary.

“If you decide one way or another—either you really want another baby or you really don’t—let me know immediately?”

“I will make that promise as long as you do, too,” Rose said.

“I promise,” he said. “Cross my heart, pinkie swear, deal.”

He drew an X across both of their chests, then hooked his little finger around hers, and finally shook her hand, sealing the vow. He grinned when Rose laughed at him.

“Oh, I love you, you daft nutter,” she said, her eyes bright.

“Your daft nutter loves you too. Very much.”

“I’ll have a chat with Elizabeth about alternate forms of birth control,” Rose said. “I don’t want to go back on the pill again; it threw my hormones and emotions all out of whack the last time I tried to go on it after Ainsley was born. But maybe there’s an injection or an implant or something I can get. I’ll try to remember to give her a call to schedule something.”

“Sounds good.” He leaned his head against hers. “Shall we go back to cleaning up?”

It took another hour or so to clean up the mess. When they were done, they loaded the twins into their car and drove over to Robert’s house to collect their eldest children. Robert and Sianin were in the front garden playing when they arrived.

“Mummy!” Sianin said, racing up to them.

“Hi, baby. Are you having fun with Grandad?”

“Uh huh! Grandad said we had to play outside since Ainsley’s ill. He taught me something called football. But not football. American football! It’s played with a weird-shaped ball and nobody actually touches it with their feet.”

“Ainsley’s ill?” James repeated.

“Sianin, why don’t you start cleaning up?” Robert suggested. While she picked up the toys and games from the grass, he explained, “I think she might have gotten a migraine. She complained that her head hurt, then all of a sudden she said everything hurt. The TV was too loud, the lights too bright, her clothes too scratchy. I set her up in her bedroom. She’s been asleep for nearly three hours now.”

Rose made for the house, and James followed on her heels. They walked to the room Ainsley and Sianin shared when they slept over at Robert’s house, and saw their daughter curled in a tight ball with her pillow over top her head. She was utterly still except for the slight rise and fall of her chest.

Not wanting to disturb her, they backed out of the room.

“That might explain her short temper,” James mused.

“God, why didn’t she tell me she wasn’t feeling well?” Rose asked.

“Maybe she didn’t know what it was?” he suggested. “I’ve gotten migraines before where the first symptom was irritability because everything was too overstimulating. It’s not ‘til later that the headache and sensitivities began.”

“Still feel awful,” Rose mumbled.

“Speaking of feeling awful, we left the twins in the car.”

Rose groaned and jogged outside, but Robert had taken the babies out of the car and was sitting with them and Sianin in the grass. Sianin had both babies’ hands in each of hers and was rocking them backwards and forwards. Each baby was giggling and squirming with delight.

“Mummy, Daddy, watch this!” She then proceeded to push and pull the babies, sending them into another fit of laughter.

They stayed at Robert’s for another half hour. Ainsley eventually found them outside, and though she claimed she felt much better, she was pale and shaky.

James and Rose bade Robert farewell, then loaded up the kids into the car and drove home. Though she’d slept all afternoon, Ainsley immediately went to the couch and laid down.

“Let’s try to be quiet since Ainsley’s not feeling well,” James whispered to Sianin. “Indoor voice only, and the television must stay quiet.”

Sianin nodded and, to their surprise, she went to the sofa and sat by Ainsley’s head. The six-year-old stroked her elder sister’s hair and turned the television volume down so low that it was virtually impossible to hear.

Ainsley fell asleep almost immediately, and after a while, so did Sianin.

James and Rose took this opportunity to play with their babies. They cringed any time a baby squealed with delight, but when it was clear their oldest children were dead asleep, they stopped worrying so much about Hannah and Maddie staying quiet.

Both babies rolled all over the floor—the newest trick they’d learned—and James and Rose amused themselves by placing objects around the living room floor for the twins to roll to.

“James, look!”

James tore his attention from Hannah, who was more interested in sucking on her toes than rolling towards her stuffed rabbit, to look at Maddie. His heart nearly stopped when he saw his five-and-a-half-month-old baby was on her hands and knees. Though wobbly, she maintained the position.

“How’d she do that?” he demanded, racing across the floor to plop beside Rose and Maddie.

His sudden appearance startled Maddie, who flopped face-first onto the floor. Her eyes went wide, then scrunched as she let out a wail.

“Oh, no, darling,” James cooed, picking her up to set her on her bum. “Daddy’s sorry he frightened you. You’re all right. No harm done.”

Maddie blinked big wet eyes at him, her bottom lip pouting out. James smiled reassuringly at her, and she grinned in return.

“There we are,” he said, tickling her ribs lightly. He swiped his thumbs under her eyes to wipe away the unnecessary tears.

Maddie babbled out a string of sounds, then she reclined onto her back and rolled onto her tummy. She lifted her head to look at her parents, as though making sure they were watching her.

“Go on, Maddie,” Rose urged. “Let’s get up on those hands and knees again, eh?”

Maddie beamed, then she looked down at the floor, enthralled by her hands like she’d never seen them before. She then planted her palms on the rug and began doing pseudo-pushups.

“Come on,” Rose said. “You can do it, love.”

Maddie surged her weight backward, finally getting her knees under her.

“How marvelous, darling!” James breathed. He reached behind him for Rose’s mobile, and he opened up the camera app. He snapped a series of photos of Maddie on her hands and knees, then took a short video as she rocked herself.

She soon tired of the position, and she sprawled onto her stomach and rolled onto her back. She let out an annoyed squawk and lifted her hands into the air. Rose placed her index fingers in Maddie’s palms, and helped the baby sit up onto her bum. She grinned at them.

“Who’s my strong little girl?” Rose cooed, bouncing the baby’s hands in front of her. Maddie squealed happily, flailing her hands wildly. “You’re my strong little girl!”

Maddie leaned forward towards Rose, reaching out and babbling. Rose picked Maddie up and brought her to her chest. Rose leaned back against the couch, taking care not to disturb Ainsley and Sianin, and brought her knees up, letting Maddie sit back against her thighs.

“She’ll be crawling before we know it,” James said, tucking himself into Rose’s side.

Hannah noticed that her parents were no longer paying attention, and so she let out a loud shriek. James winced and crawled to his other baby. She beamed as he stared down at her.

“You can roll over to us, darling,” James said dryly, picking up the baby and crawling back to Rose and Maddie.

“But why would she when she has a daddy to carry her around everywhere?” Rose asked sweetly.

He stuck his tongue out at her.

“It’s going to become a madhouse when these two can get around on their own,” Rose said.

“Gotta start being conscious with baby proofing,” James agreed. “And getting Ainsley and Sianin to realize how important it is to be more careful around the house, too. No more leaving small pieces of things laying around. Covering electrical outlets.”

Rose sighed, taking Maddie’s hands in hers and clapping them together gently. The baby cooed and watched her hands in fascination.

“All right?” James asked.

“Yeah. The house just… it seems so much smaller now at the prospect of these two becoming mobile.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… Ainsley and Sianin have their toys spread throughout the whole house. But we’re going to need to move them. At least the ones with small, loose pieces. We can move some of them to their bedrooms, but there’s already loads of toys in their rooms.”

“Sounds to me like we need to have a toy cleanse,” James teased. Rose didn’t answer, and James knocked his shoulder against hers. “What are you thinking?”

“That we ought to consider moving into a larger house,” she said honestly. “Meaning we ought to consider moving up to your family’s manor in Scotland.”

“Oh?”

Rose nodded resolutely. “Our kids are only going to get bigger and start accumulating more stuff. And yeah, we can try to limit the amount of stuff they have, but I don’t want to force them to get rid of things they’re not ready to part with. And it’s just… all of the rooms in the house are taken. I feel awful that you have to mark papers in our bedroom when you want someplace quiet to go. And I don’t have a space with good lighting to work on my art, unless I want to do it here in the living room. And from our conversation this afternoon, what if we do decide to have another baby in the future? We have nowhere to put them. The manor is probably far too much room than we actually need, but—maybe I’m spoiled for saying this—I’d rather have too much space than not enough.”

“Rose, breathe,” James said, amused. “You don’t need to defend yourself, love.”

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly.

“You’ve clearly been thinking about this for a while,” he noted curiously.

“Maybe a little bit. Though it’s always been in the back of my mind since learning we were having twins. D’you remember?”

Now that she’d mentioned it, he did recall the conversation they’d had upon returning home from the sonogram exam with the knowledge they were having two babies. They’d discussed moving to the Scottish manor one day, and clearly that day had arrived.

“Okay. So let’s say we decide to move up to Scotland,” James mused. “When would this move take place? Now? In a couple months? In a year?”

“I was thinking next summer,” Rose said. “That gives us plenty of time to get the girls mentally prepared to leave the only home they’ve ever known. And we would have time to get the manor ready, if any repairs or updates or renovations are needed.”

“We’d have to find a time to go up to Scotland to check out the house. Get an idea of what work we’d want done to it.”

“Christmastime,” Rose supplied. “We’ll be there anyway. Might as well poke around and make notes and maybe talk to a contractor or two.”

“You’ve considered everything, haven’t you?” he asked, tugging at the end of her ponytail.

“Perhaps,” Rose said. “And if we moved in the summertime, there’s the added bonus that the kids will have the summer to adjust to the move and their new home before starting at a new school.”

James smiled at his wife, incredulous and impressed with how well thought-out and planned her idea was. He reached over and rubbed Maddie’s belly slowly, watching the slow blink of her eyes as she succumbed to sleep, then turned to Hannah. She was chewing on the side of her fist, drool dripping down her chin and cheeks.

“Charming,” he drawled to his baby.

She beamed and gurgled up at him. He couldn’t help but smile back at her. His heart was so full of love for his family. Though a small pang went through his chest at leaving behind the home that he and Rose had raised their children in, he couldn’t deny that he would love to share his childhood home with his family.

“Would being in Scotland be too difficult?” Rose asked quietly. “For you or your dad? Because your mum…” She trailed off with a small, helpless shrug.

“I can only speak for myself, but no. I miss my mum, and will always miss my mum, but thinking of her doesn’t hurt anymore. At least, not usually. All I have left of her is my memories, and those are happy things. So no, I don’t think it would be too difficult to live in that house. Besides, I grew up mostly in the United States. From growing up, the Scottish house holds memories of holidays, and we’ve already had loads of holidays there since Mum died.”

“Will you let me know if you change your mind?” Rose asked, slipping her arm around his waist.

He nodded, and rested his cheek on top of her head. He glanced to the two babies in their arms, listened to the quiet breathing of Ainsley and Sianin behind him, and basked in the warmth of Rose radiating into his side. His entire world existed solely in this room, and his heart swelled with how much he loved his perfect little family.

“I think moving to Scotland is a good idea,” he concluded, kissing the crown of Rose’s head.

“You don’t want to think more about it?” she asked.

It felt like he’d already been thinking about it for eons. When he imagined his family in Scotland, a sense of rightness settled over him like a blanket, as though that was always where they were meant to end up. Part of him knew that it was inevitable; the house was always passed down through the family, and so he knew he would one day inherit it. But that didn’t mean he had to live there. However, he wanted to.

“No,” he said simply. “It logically makes the most sense, but more than that, I’m excited to move back home. Maybe I’ll get my Scottish accent back.”

He reverted back to the brogue that had disappeared as he had gotten older. He’d often been teased as a child for his Scottish accent, and so it had slowly morphed into a more refined English accent.

“You have no idea how sexy that is,” Rose murmured, eyes darkening.

He gave her a theatrical wink and knocked his shoulder into hers, leaning close to rumble, “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind later tonight… If you want…?”

She shoved her shoulder into his. “Behave.”

He laughed and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Right. So a new chapter awaits our little Tyler-McCrimmon brood, eh?”

“Seems like it,” Rose said, nestling her head into the crook of his shoulder. “So. Reconnaissance mission at Christmas, renovations next spring, relocation next summer?”

“Sounds like a plan,” James said with a happy hum. “A very alliterative plan.”

It was a good plan, and they both were smugly satisfied with themselves for such preemptive thinking.

They relaxed into each other, confident in the new direction their family was headed in.

The End

We’ve made it to the last chapter! This turned out to be nearly double the length I originally thought it would be. Thanks to everyone who has read this story.

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated.

#ficandchips #dwfic #doctorroseprompts #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #soulmates #soulmates au #james x rose #soulmates verse #perfectly matched series #family of six #my fic #family fic #kid fic #baby fic

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fuck-customers · 5 months

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I know we always say not to negatively comment on a stranger's appearance, usually in reference to acne or weight/size. And that is correct. However I feel like I'd like to expand on that and say: DON'T MAKE RUDE/NEGATIVE COMMENTS ABOUT ANOTHER PERSON, PERIOD.

So I have what I suspect is an undiagnosed anxiety disorder, possibly something else. And one of the physical signs is that I chew/rip my fingernails/skin. Not the best habit, I know, but it doesn't affect anyone other than myself. I also want my nails short anyway, since I have some kind of vitamin deficiency or something (idk) and if I DO grow them out, they're very weak and brittle and break off anyway.

So I was checking out this customer, having a seemingly average transaction at first. Then she noticed my hands and proceeded to lecture me as if I was a child. Starting with her making a face and saying "oof your nails are horrible" (didn't ask) "don't bite your nails, they could look so much nicer if you didn't" (again...didn't ask) "see? Let them grow out and they'd look like mine" (STILL didn't ask, plus your nails look like an elementary schooler painted them) This went on for several minutes and when the transaction finally ended, she insisted that I promise not to bite my nails any more and honestly? What is her fucking trip? Drop it!

Posted by admin Rodney.

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cardandpixel · 4 years

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9 Board Game YouTubers I Follow & Why (plus a few others)

In the literal dim and distant past when I started boardgaming (honestly, the biggest threat was tallow wax on your board), the internet was still accessed by whatever IP address you could remember off the top of your head (there’s no place like 127.0.0.1 as they sayI) - and the only TikTok was the clock ticking, waiting for half of Louise Nurding’s left leg to download only to realise it was Anne Widdecombe and you’d hit the wrong link on a BB. Boardgames had some quiet and shady corners of the internet, in those same Bulletin Boards, there was one for HeroQuest and Space Crusade when they came out. But sadly, if you wanted to see a boardgame being played or learn the rules, you either had to go round to your friend Tim’s house where he had a new chits-for-days wargame going, or sit down and actually read the rulebook yourself. As a result, I bought some interesting games in my time, including a game called Operation Overlord - a mighty chit-tastic WW2 N African campaign monster that I bought in desperation from the Games Workshop in Manchester on the first morning that it opened in 1979 (?) as we were so far back in the queue that there wasn’t a space marine to be had for miles. But now, we have a plethora of kindly folk available on our blistering shiny Windows NT 486sx machines to inform and delight us in full 8-bit glory. Everything from reviews, buying guides, rules tutorials and even painting & crafting guides, we can be bathing in just about whatever aspect of board or wargaming we so desire in an effort to stave off the clattering realisation that it’s been over 3 months since we spent any quality time with another breathing soul outside our houses. The question gets frequently asked on boardgame FaceAche forums “What YouTube channels are worth my time and why?” so in an effort to throw my own towel into that controversial ring, here’s my pick of probably 9ish, maybe more by the end, but let’s start with 9 in no particular order..... 1) 3 MINUTE BOARDGAMES

One of the first board games ‘er across the table (TM) and I bought together was a copy of Gloom from a little games and comic shop halfway round the world in Hamilton NZ, Mark 1 Comics. As we were achingly close to moving to NZ a few years ago, we’ve kept up with many aspects of what might have been our life over there, so it was a delight to discover Jarrod (and now Stephanie) on YouTube, a friendly and familiar accent reviewing board games. But it’s not just the NZ vibe that I love, Jarrod does a great job of cutting thru the hyperbole and bloat often associated with trying to keep YouTube vids ‘long for the algorithm’ (ugh) and just gives very pragmatic reasons for a game either joining or leaving his collection. He has a great approach, and it’s nice to see him finally on camera instead of the disembodied voice. Great reviewer, and Stephanie is utterly hilarious. 2) THE BROTHERS MURPH

Mike & Nick are two of the most engaging brothers on YouTube let alone just in the boardgaming community. Their series on thrift shop finds has dredged up some hilarious and often tragic specimens from the grand days of Palitoy, MB and Parker Games. They are also masters at ‘speed reviewing’ often piling reviews of 50 or 60 games into the same number of minutes. I think I favour the ‘don’t outstay your welcome’ approach to YouTube in general, and the Brothers Murph are at great ease with this philosophy and yet they take on simple party games thru to the heaviest euros with the same distillation equipment, and yet their reviews are never trivial or throw away. We had the chance to chat to Nick at Airecon this year and he was a lovely guy, slightly blown away by the fact that people liked his channel. He’s also an awesome artist too.

3) ACTUALOL

There are many reviewers on the web who have cost me a fair amount of money, the worst being Zee Garcia, however, a close second is Jon Purkiss aka Actualol. Jon has a terrifying gift for finding games, and especially ridiculously affordable games, that I buy on spec and then end up absolutely loving. Jon has a light and breezy style which is instantly engaging - I also really want his comfy chair (surely in exchange for a nice review on here Jon???). His videos are tidy and concise and yet still convey a deep enthusiasm and joy for games. His reviews very clearly portray what the setting of the game is and what you’ll be doing, without getting embroilled in the rules. He always has great footage of the game on the table (please reviewers - look at the ratio of your face to the game you’re talking about - less than 10% game and i’m walkin’) and often favours the less pricey end of the market which suits me fine. Brilliant games I love thanks to Jon include: Second Chance, Magic Maze and Ninja Academy

4) OUR FAMILY PLAYS GAMES

There’s not much to be said about Mik & Starla Fitch that cannot be gained from watching a mere 3-4 minutes of their channel. For sheer exuberance aimed squarely at a love for bringing families together via our glorious hobby, you cannot top these guys. If you are ever - EVER - feeling slightly lacklustre about gaming or losing your mojo for whatever reason - heck if you are just feeling slightly down, treat yourself to 10 minutes in the company of these two excellent human beings. Their reviews and playthru’s have all the humanity you need in a game and after five minutes you are thinking “Is the US too far to go just for a gaming evening?” We’d both utterly love to sit across the table from these lovely people and just play, and I can’t say that about every reviewer, I’ll be honest. Their reviews are often centred around unloved classics (watch their vid dedicated to why they love Catan as an example - you’ll be clicking Buy Now before your know it) and also some great quirky unknowns that I’m trying to hunt down even now. They’ve just had a brilliant couple of boosts from both a spot of Good Morning America recently, and becoming reviewers for the mighty Dice Tower. I’m immensely grateful for a tweet by Rodney Smith for pointing me in their direction, my social media is a much brighter place with the Fitch family in it.

5) RAHDO RUNS THROUGH

“Heeeeey Everybody”. One of the first board game reviewers I ever caught on YouTube was the inimitable Richard Ham aka Rahdo. And I’m so glad I did. I would genuinely never sit down and try and learn a game from one of Rahdo’s playthrus, they are what I imagine being in a wind tunnel full of 50 tonnes of feathers is like. BUT and this is crucial - if I want an idea of what a game is going to feel like to play, there is no finer deliverer of the remote game experience than Mr Richard Ham. His unique ability to explain how a game is going to work, turn by turn; the decisions you will make; the things you’ll have to consider; the short and long term goals; are all brilliantly covered in one of Rahdo’s videos. His ability to make different choices for his ‘ghost partner’ Jen (who does exist in real life, we have bought jewelry off her, she’s lovely) also adds a real dynamism to the games, showcasing the flexibility in a design for different play strategies. Rahdo tends towards 2 player games and usually at the heavier end of the scale, but if there’s a game you are thinking of buying, check Mr Ham out first!

6) WATCH IT PLAYED

It’s often been said that Canadians are some of the politest folk on the planet, but when it comes to ranking Canadians, well, I’m sure they’d be too humble to rank each other so I’ll have to. Rodney Smith is the loveliest man in the world. There, end of article. But it’s true. We’ve been watching Rodney since we first got confused about the rules for Mice & Mystics (which we still got wrong but that wasn’t Rodney’s fault) and his ever chirpy, ever positive approach to his rules rundowns is utterly remarkable and frankly, enviable. And it’s his attention to detail and clarity for explaining rules that have rightly made Rodney one of the most important resources in the gaming hobby. If you have ever struggled over a rulebook and haven’t raced to Watch It Played, I will guarantee you will have spent far longer on that rulebook and lost way more hair than you ever needed to. We had the great honour of playing Rajas of the Ganges with Rodney at Airecon in 2019, and I mugged up on the rules sooo much. Regular imbibers of this rag will know my sloth for reading rulebooks is legendary but fortunately ‘er across the table (TM) loves them. But, for the 3 days running up to our trip to Harrogate, I did nothing but read that rulebook - this was THE Rodney Smith, you can’t get a rule wrong with Rodney. But of course, nerves kicked in and I could barely remember the rules of Snap, but the nicest man in the world could not have been nicer. Really, quantum mechanics has proved it. He was just the same man off the computer telly. Funny, engaging, warm and happy to chat as well as play (which I was also really nervous about doing!), if you don’t watch Rodney, are you really internetting?

7) TABLETOP MINIONS

“Pachow” From boardgames to wargames. As well as my slight addiction to cardboard, my other opiate overlord is 28mm plastic miniatures. Specifically those involved in tabletop skirmish games like Malifaux, 7TV, Fallout Wasteland Warfare, GuildBall and a smattering of others. Though recently more focused on the frankly insane amount of content being released by Games Workshop, Tabletop Minions is presented by the splendid Uncle Atom. (In fact, I identify his content so much as Uncle Atom’s stuff that I honestly had to double check the name of the channel for this article!). My plastic habit uncle (sounds so wrong, but so true) has possibly the gentlest delivery of anyone on the internet. It’s not so much content, as therapy. I know the net is awash with AMSR channels at the mo, but if you don’t want to listen to some overmonetized southern californian with some bubble wrap and a large capsule condenser mic, just hop over to TTM and listen to the Uncle for 5 minutes. He’s like a soothing bubble bath of content about painting figures, philosophy of the hobby, general art & design principles, and great life advice. He also wears a fez.

8) GIRL PAINTING

“Hello Tchoobies!” I painted my first 28mm figure when i was about 12ish - it was, ironically, a space marine of some sort - the old clunky Ral Partha ones. It looked terrible, but each model got a bit better till I stopped for some reason a few years later. When I got into Malifaux a few years ago (ie decades, several of them, later), I knew I was going to have to get back into painting; heaps of grey plastic does not a skirmish game make. (Little did I know I would have to revisit my microscopy days either when assembling damn Bayou Gremlins!) Two channels were recommended to me, the Esoteric Order of Gamers (more later) and Girl Painting. EOG put me on the path to believing I could paint again, but Alexandra at Girl Painting actually made me believe I could learn to do it well. GP’s approach to painting figures, terrain and vehicles is based on solid art theory. Her explanation of colour relationships and the colour wheel is something I can quote to this day. All of the techniques that I lean on so heavily in day to day painting both for table and display I learnt from Girl Painting. Correct use of washes, wet blending, non-metallic metals, shading, drybrushing, highlighting, model reading, all of it from studying intently, often with a brush actually in my hand while watching the channel. I cannot recommend GP enough if you want to put paint to plastic. Whatever your ability, you will learn something from this hidden gem of a channel.

9) ESOTERIC ORDER OF GAMERS

Another dang fine antipodean and another slightly unusual channel. I have a terrible, terrible memory when it comes to rules. In our early days, we also had a a lot of games with seemingly very over-bloated rulebooks - FFG games basically. I suddenly realised what I wanted was to lift the lid of a box and find in the lid, a summary of the important stuff i needed to remember about the game. Apparently I was not the only one. In 2013 a chap known as Universal Head started publishing an amazing series of rules summaries which condensed down some of the bloatiest rulesbooks down to often one or 2 pages of A4. It was a (pardon the pun) gamechanger for me. I can’t count the number of games in our collection that have a friendly sheet of A4 now as the first thing you see when you open the box. They are brilliant. And he’s still doing it to this day. I would argue that the more useful leg to his activities is the website rather than YouTube channel, but his channel does have the aforementioned brilliant figure painting tutorials, unboxing videos and some crafting stuff. The website is definitely the place for the rules summaries and also a fantastic resource for build-it-yourself foamcore box inserts. Though Folded Space have now made box inserts pretty affordable, there’s still no feeling like the satisfaction of building your own, and I would argue that some of EoG’s designs actually make more sense than some of the Folded Space ones anyway. AND THE OTHER ONES (Who probably don’t really need the exposure, but hey, only 11 people probably read this so......) Why aren’t these on the list above? Just because I wanted to highlight some of the more marginal channels above or more specialist rather than the pure reviewers. SHUT UP & SIT DOWN Possibly my favourite channel on YouTube, whose name sounds more like a menacing Yorkshire greeting than a boardgame channel. SU&SD seem to be a real Marmite issue on the board game communities. And I genuinely don’t understand it. Yes, their reviews are often really funny but honestly, if that’s all you take away then you are missing some amazingly detailed and thought provoking work. Quinns and crew’s reviews are some of the most measured and balanced reviews in the gameyverse. Their reasoning for the conclusions they come to are incredibly well thought through and often very surprising based on the tone of the rest of the review. They have steered me to some games I would never have looked twice at and steered me away from some very shiny games that I might have blown a lot of money on otherwise. Flagposting great alternatives is also a signature of their reviews, and that again has often lead me to some fantastic games. We don’t always agree (their recent review of 10 Oink Games was savage imho) but we always disagree for the right reasons. Again, I would argue their website is actually a better overall resource, especially their podcasts which are superb, but all their content is fantastic.

in a highly similar vein I would add NO PUN INCLUDED. Efka & Elaine produce some of the most thoughtful and intelligent boardgame review content today, and often for some of the deepest and most complex games. The joy of boardgaming is that it is highly subjective and there are lots of times when NPI like/dislike a game that I do/don’t, but they are engaging and warm enough as presenters to hit you with a gentle subtext that says “It’s ok - I know we like this game, we get that you don’t, it doesn’t make any of us bad people, just people y’know, have a sandwich with us” Efka criticising a game reminds me of when Dennis Healey once described an argument with Geoffrey Howe as being ‘savaged by a dead sheep’, though not in the cynical manner of the original. The criticism is loaded with that crucial dose of ‘hear me out’ that is sadly lacking in 90% of all other reviewers out there. Efka & Elaine are no GoggleBox reviewers, they are the real deal - they genuinely understand how games work and why. The sheer moral turmoil that Efka expressed over the cultural issues in Rising Sun was some of the most thoughtful YouTube content I have ever seen. I just wanted to do a little shout out to Johannes & Sunniva at BOARD GAMING RAMBLINGS - I don’t have as much to say as they are relatively new on my radar, but I have really enjoyed their content so far and find them to be like one of those adorable gaming couples that you might see every once in a while at your gaming group and have a blast with, and then not see for months and go “Awh - I really miss Johannes & Sunniva - where’d they go?” that feeling, you know the one. Adorable, with a hint of the esoteric. Also, a quick but important mention to the other titan of boardgame rules explanation that is Paul Grogan of GAMING RULES!. Like Rodney Smith, Paul is meticulous about rules explanation and is really clear and simple to follow, even for very heavy games, which Paul tends to do more of than Rodney, which is probably why I end up watching Paul slightly less, but certainly not for any less quality. Paul has such a reputation in the industry that he now works closely with many designers and publishers to help craft the best rulebooks around as a consultant. So that’s it - congrats for making it through folks. Didn’t think it was going to run this long, but turns out.... I quite like a lot of the YouTubers I watch - who knew? Until next time... happy gaming y’all.

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mylittleredgirl · 5 years

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What Can Even Be Said About “The Storm” And “The Eye” seriously it’s just 90 minutes of me squeezing a pillow and shrieking at the TV. We’re flashing back to LJ era so let me say the rest of this will be “behind the cut”:

General Highlights:

Everyone Wet Pretty Gnnngghghgh Okay, so. Young friends. Before this episode, stills were released. Everyone’s soaking wet. We don’t know why. Forget the episodes themselves, I have still never recovered from that.

By Walk I Mean Run: The banter is so good in “The Storm.” It’s setting up this vibe where there’s a parallel episode when John, Rodney, Elizabeth, and the two marines hang out and play cards for ten hours while the storm rages and nobody gets killed or taken hostage and they have a good time. I want that for them. I mean, for me I want them to suffer in really attractive ways, but they could all use a rain day from work.

Nice Job Special FX Team: It’s been 15 years and the water effects still hold up pretty well!

Even Nicer Job Practical FX Team: How did they not have to cancel filming for a month while everyone recovered from pneumonia??

John Sheppard’s Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day:

Maybe I Should Do The Negotiating From Now On: You know, if Sheppard and Ford hadn’t threatened Smeeden, would he have even contacted the Genii? I mean, probably, but I’m sure it didn’t help.

KOLYAAAAAAA

I Am Going To Kill You: The little pause he takes, blinking in the rain, after he finds out that she’s dead before he takes a breath and heads into the fray -- MY HEART.

John Sheppard Is Very Good At His Job: Can we just appreciate that he essentially singlehandedly saves the city? This pilot knows how to fight on the ground and I am IMPRESSED.

Let Me Talk To Her: Everything changes on a dime here and I love it I LOVE IT. He runs straight from here into an ambush because suddenly there’s a chance to save her and he knows what it’s like to have failed to save her and like I’m not even pretending this is About The Romance because he has had zero seconds to think about this but you’d better bet that he never sees her the same way again after this.

I’m Not Aiming At Her: I’m honestly surprised he didn’t shoot Kolya in the head, but then I was distracted because he grabs her haaaaaaaaand.

I Can’t Give Everyone Their Own List So:

I Take It Back They’re No Longer My NoTP: Rodney and Elizabeth are great together throughout this and I’ve been really appreciating them during the rewatch. I don’t think it’s sexual, but he loves her. Her amused affection for him from day one is repaid here in spades -- not only does he step in front of a gun for her, but he’s got his arm around her while they’re in the rain waiting out the ten minutes until Kolya’s probably going to kill her, and it’s so sweet, in case anyone’s out there wondering, I might OT3 this now.

How’s This For Credibility: The actor whose name I’m not bothering to look up does a Really Good Job with this character. I like the little pauses he takes in key moments and we can see the decision being made -- specifically, when he decides to tell Sheppard that Weir is dead, and you know I love the moment when he decides to let Sheppard talk to her because Sheppard just blinked and Kolya’s found a weakness he can exploit. The character himself belongs as the lead a Shakespearean tragedy, because he’s literally won and then he sees the opportunity for greater power and seals his own doom. It’s all set up at the beginning when you can see him chafing against Cowan’s orders. GENII POLITICS I LOVE IT.

THEN END IT: So a big difference for me watching this now over fifteen years ago is that I’ve since lost a parent, and Sora’s reaction in “Underground” and her actions here have this real grief undercurrent that slays me. She fails to avenge her father and Teyla won’t kill her and UGH. I FEEL IT. WHY THE FUCK DIDN’T WE GET MORE SORA I’M STILL MAD ABOUT THIS.

Shut Up, Doctor Beckett: I love this man, don’t get me wrong, and it’s certainly not Ford’s finest hour, but sweet holy mother of pearl is Carson ever annoying in “The Eye.” When Sora knocks him out, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Teyla Emmagan Can Do No Wrong: That’s just the theme for Atlantis, honestly.

There Can Never Be Enough Fanfic About This Episode:

They sit in the storm for Many Hours once the shield goes up and for fifteen years, heroic fangirls have filled that time with lost and lots of closet sex. Honestly, though, I kind of want everyone to just surround Sheppard in a six hour group hug.

#there's so much more here this just scratches the surface of my love for this episode #it holds up man it HOLDS UP #atlantis rewatch #sparktober

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redactedfing-blog · 5 years

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Megamind Modern Cowboy AU (Part 1)

@all-these-trees-stealing-mah-o2 cheers for the motivation I did the thing:

NOTE: It was heavily inspired off of a post by the aforementioned person and in the film, it sounds like Megamind is called “Lee”, so I used it as his name. I also found out cowboys still exist in America so there’s that too.

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Usually, it was said that the city was more predictable than the country.

So when Warden John Taylor heard a loud crash coming from the prison courtyard one Christmas morning, he was perplexed. Three prisoners huddled around the foreign object, gawking at whatever was inside.

He expected it to be a bomb, or some failed attempt to smuggle contraband into the prison by some gang member who still had contacts on the outside. Most unexpectedly, though, it turned out to be a rather frightened, and equally confused baby. The shock made him see past the infant’s cerulean blue skin, wide emerald eyes and abnormally large head almost immediately. Why would a child end up here of all places? Not even his brother Shaun, a prison guard, could believe his eyes. Both of them thought they had seen everything down where they grew up in Louisiana, but they were wrong, it so seemed.

The blue infant had a fish, which looked unnervingly like a piranha. Any hand going towards the infant was met with a stern, toothy glare. There was also some sort of pacifier, which glowed with hues of electric blue. John thought it might have been toxic, the way it was glowing, but the infant seemed unharmed when they had it.

Speaking of unharmed, the kid hadn’t managed to come here without a few bruises, much to both John and Shaun’s anger. The infant couldn’t have been more than just a week old, but despite the fact the child appeared bright and well, both feared that they may have suffered some brain damage on their journey here. A long wait in the prison infirmary negated these worries, as well as giving new ones. The infant, (now confirmed to be male), had a strong immune system to the most bizarre of diseases Earth could offer. The more common ones, however, did serious harm. One dose of the common cold wiped him out, leaving John unsure if the kid would even make it to a year old. Luckily, it appeared he would.

Sure enough, John adopted the infant and was very quick to let Shaun know of his new position, which was now Uncle Shaun. The infant, now named Lee, began to grow up into a happy (though not very tall) young boy. For the first four years of his life, he went between staying in the prison and traveling down to the family ranch in Louisiana. John saw it fit that he could grow up alongside the rest of the family, and adopted or not, they were quick to like him. Grandma and Grandpa Taylor were happy to have another grandchild to spoil with treats, and Rodney, his cousin, became his best friend (second to Minion, of course).

There were times where Rodney and Lee could pick up an ice pop, run into the valley and now return for hours, insisting that they were playing cowboys and that they had to go and hunt the thieves. Brandishing their ice pop packets and folding the top, claiming they were ‘guns’. They would dash through the marshes, squealing and laughing as they hid behind trees, clamber up hills, and even go far enough to pet some of the cattle. They would return hours later covered in sweat, boots and their kerchiefs covered in dirt, grinning with traces of sugar around their mouths. They never went very far, only how far their short legs would take them, and Uncle Boe always kept an eye out while they were adventuring.

Lee always began crying when they had to go back to Michigan for the other part of the year.

When they lived at the prison, back in Metro City, John could see that his son was easily influenced by the other prisoners. Most of their “advice” wasn’t too bad, but John didn’t see the need to be telling a young child to hit anyone who got in their face, especially without reason. At least John could be assured that Lee wouldn’t be hurt, given that the prisoners closest to where the kid was were moderately harmless in nature. He didn’t bat an eye when Lee was enrolled in kindergarten the following month and didn’t really think about how the other children would react to his appearance. Not only was he blue, but he had a rather solid Cajun accent, which would be enough to make anyone raise their eyebrows. Now, John himself had that same accent, and he was quite proud of it, but young kids rarely understand how differences work, and this was one of those times they didn’t.

The school was a disaster. Every day John watched his son return to the prison with bruises or cuts, and every dad he came back quieter and quieter. It was odd, really, considering the fact that he had a reputation for being a rowdy child back home. Seeing him barricade himself in his room, without a word to anyone, was incredibly worrying. What was even more worrying, however, was when he returned without the invention he had made that morning, or when a note saying “space-freak cowboy” was taped to his back in what John couldn’t shake looked like the teachers handwriting. Whatever the prisoners had taught him to suddenly came to light, when he was sent home early for punching (or at least trying to) another kid. John was aghast at Lee’s hand because it seemed that his hand had suffered more damage than the other student. The bones were shattered, with multiple breaks and fractures from his wrist to his knuckles. It was almost as if he had punched a brick wall.

The school fiasco went on for four months, with complaints from a parent that Lee was trying to ‘attack’ their child. The complaints only came from one person, and whenever John, or whoever was investigating, asked for proof - the parent never delivered any. They always claimed that it was the ‘emotional’ damage done to her son, who John found out was named Wayne, and not the physical damage, despite teachers reports and the parent originally claiming that Lee had physically attacked him. Whenever John went to speak to his son about this Wayne kid, all he could see was that Lee began to physically tremble, followed by him seething with anger and crying about how horrible Wayne was, but that nobody wanted to see it.

It wasn’t until one day, where Lee set off a blue paint bomb in the school, that John found out everything that had happened. He had been expelled, and through a stream of tears, Lee recited everything that was said and done to him throughout the past number of weeks. This time, it was John, and by extension, Uncle Shaun, who were seething with anger, and remarks that the parents of these monsters of kids were entitled and ignorant. One call back home to the rest of the Taylors sealed it, and a month after his fifth birthday, Lee was told that he, along with Uncle Shaun and his dad, were moving to the Louisiana ranch permanently. John remarked that he had never seen Lee look so eager to go somewhere following going to school, and the sluggish, unwilling attitude that the school had given him had turned into one of excitement. Shaun was worried the kid would fall out of his car seat should he become even more eager.

Once everything was settled, all of Lee’s aunts and uncles were quick to tell him about how he didn’t need to be worried about the ‘dirty rats’ that were the children and teacher of the Lil’ Gifted school, and that the ranch was going to be far more fun. Like Rodney, Lee began to be homeschooled, though his family remarked that they needn’t be bothered given that Lee was exceptional at learning, and could already breeze through physics textbooks intended for college students. This didn’t stop him from teaching Rodney, however, and they would always rush around the ranch afterward. In between the horses, the metalshop, the kitchen, the garage, there weren’t many places where they wouldn’t go.

Rodney, to Lee’s description, looked vaguely similar to Wayne. Though he had more freckles, dotted across his face and arms, and his hair was more wavy and poofy, in comparison to Wayne having rather flat, combed, (“dumb”, as Lee put it) hair. Rodney was two years older than Lee, unlike Wayne only being one year older, and Lee was quick to mention that Rodney was obviously, much cooler and nicer than Wayne could ever be. Rodney took pride in this and said that if he ever saw Wayne, he would deliver him a smack in the face. Lee never mentioned that Wayne was invulnerable, partially because he really did want to see him get slapped across his smug, entitled face, and partially because he didn’t want to bring up what happened to his hand months prior.

As far as Lee was concerned, whatever happened, had happened. It didn’t matter because now he got to stay at the ranch forever and he didn’t have to see his stupid classmates or the loud city or that ugly superman-imitating Wayne again. Still, he missed some of the prison ‘uncles’, and he didn't want to remember how much weight the words that the teacher had said to him held. He wasn’t a monster, nor was he very evil, despite what she insisted. His dad had reassuringly told him that she would lose her ability to teach, and wouldn’t be able to teach anywhere ever again. It had still hurt him, though. Still wounded whatever pride he had. It was the one thing he never mentioned to his dad, even during his outburst. However, that didn’t matter right now. He could do something about that later.

For now, he was going to settle down in front of the (only) television and chow down on the apple pie his grandparents had lovingly made beside Rodney, and watch Tom and Jerry until he could put Minion in his tank, go to his new room and go to bed. As far as he should be concerned, everything was going to be great.

#megamind #megamind fanfic #megamind modern cowboy au #megamind au #cant believe i wrote something #i hope yall like it #cowboy

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