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livfastdieyoung69 · 9 months

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It is currently 4:08 am and I can't get cody rhodes out of my mind😔✊️

Truly a struggle

Anyway reader x cody because love him

Maybe something with Brock again because he's always causing issues for some reason... maybe something with Brock saying some really messy shit abt reader during a promo and Cody going feral as he should and reader having to physically pull him back with a quick little it's fine😨😨 don't get injured again kinda thing something more fluffy after because cody can never catch a break😭

GUITLY CONSCIOUS

(Cody Rhodes x gn!reader)

“In the packed MVP Arena, here in Albany, New York and now on the road to Money in the Bank, we welcome you to Monday, Night, Raw!”

After the quick introduction, the fallout of Night of Champions begins, Seth Rollins beginning the night as well as a surprise visit from AJ Styles, and the Judgement Day. Ricochet wins his spot in the Money in the Bank match, Trish and Zoey have a quick segment, followed up by Indus Sheer and Jinder Mahal beating two locals. Imperium and Alpha Academy have a match, followed shortly by a Women’s Championship Match, Ronda and Shayna unfortunately winning and by disqualification Dolph Ziggler wins a match against JD McDonagh.

And finally, well into the night, Cody’s music hits. The crowd cheers just as loud as they always do for the man, even at the sight of no wrestling gear and a sling around his broken arm. Their cheers die down for a moment, before becoming even louder the second he starts talking, his promo skills shining bright and loud as he yells brave and rage-filled words against Brock.

“….if I am standing in a ring, I am standing there ready to fight you, Brock Lesnar!” The pitched screeching of Brock Lesnar’s theme song cut him off, followed by the surprise of the fans and even Cody himself. The Beast stepped out and into the arena, his own attire casual as well. This was nothing new. Sometimes, Brock would come out in tight-ass jeans and a cowboy hat for no good reason. But this time, he had a mic.

“Now..now, Cody, I don’t think that’s true. I don’t think any of that’s true. In fact, I think if we were to have another match, your little bitch would run right back out here and I’d have to break their arm too.” He spoke slowly, walking to the ring and making circles around it as he did so.

The crowd booed at the harsh words, especially the ones against Y/N. The boo’s didn’t last very long, as they once again rallied into cheers as Cody seemed to forget he had a mic and instead moved to yell at Brock over the ropes, giving the announcement table a front row seat to his anger.

Brock only laughed in his face at the threats, moving closer to the ring and continuing his harassment of words against Cody’s partner, forcing Cody to start clambering through the ropes, ready to attack. He never made it to Brock though, as Y/N came rushing out into the arena.

They quickly dived into the ring, rushing over to Cody, giving him a soft tug causing him to stumble back into the ring and right against Y/N’s chest. Cody attempted to pull away, still yelling over at Brock, but his lover held him tightly around his waist.

“Don’t you ever talk about Y/N! I’ll rip your tongue straight out, you son of a bitch, don’t you ever let their name leave your mouth!” Brock continued laughing back into the face of the man as his partner dragged him over to the other side of the ring, moving away from the announcers table and starting to walk up the ramp, making Cody try and force his way away from Y/N once again, but was once again unsuccessful. The pair stayed inside on the ring for a while before they were given the okay that Brock wasn’t near the gorilla or their locker room.

They walked quickly in silence, Cody radiating with an unseen anger from beside Y/N, his hand coming up to rub his face almost as if it would wipe the irritation away. With the chance of Cody possibly running to attempt an attack of Brock or take his anger out on an unexpected victim, even if the latter wasn’t likely, Y/N kept a hand on his back, bunched up into his suit jacket until they reached the small locker room. An awkward silence quickly filled the room as Cody moved to sit down, his love standing above him.

“You know I wouldn’t have done that if your arm wasn’t hurt, right?” They were given no response, Cody doing nothing but keeping his eyes on the ground, elbows placed on his spread knees and hands clasped together. Y/N moved to sit next to them after the silence continued, a sigh moving past their lips in disappointment but also understanding why Cody was so mad.

“Do you see this? Hm?” Y/N touched Cody’s casted arm gently as they asked, and though he still remained in silence their grasp was comforting. He looked over to them, blue eyes shining and wet with shame. “This means that you’re hurt. It’s my job to make sure you don’t get hurt, and you already are, so I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t get hurt more, even if it means you’re angry at me.”

Unable to find the words, Cody stayed silent, and instead let out a soft breath, eyebrows moving to furrow together over soft eyes. Noticing his increasing guilt, Y/N moved in closer.

“C’mere, baby.” They barely had to speak before Cody was moving into their hold with such force they fell back onto the small couch, the large man toppling over on them and blond, short hair tickling their chin as his face shoved into the space between their neck and the back of the couch.

“M’sorry.” Finally able to find some words, he muttered it into their neck, for some reason ashamed of his actions.

“I’m not mad, Codes. Could never be mad at you, never ever, I just need you to be safe. You did nothing wrong at all.” Y/N’s hand moved up to his hair while they spoke comfortingly, their tone holding nothing but love and endearance. Cody let out another sigh, his working arm moving behind Y/N to grasp around their waist while the other layer over top of them.

“Codes. Baby, look at me, please.” Their voice, still sugar-sweet, induced Cody to look up at them through adoringly long black eyelashes much to the contrast of his striking hair, diamond eyes shining from Y/N’s praise.

“I’m not mad. Okay?” The sweet, sweet boy responded with a nod and the mouthing of an okay, eyes clamping closed again. The pair returned to a silence, this time comforting and loving, Y/N’s hand running through Cody’s hair almost sending him to sleep.

“Wanna go home, sweetheart?” Cody responded with another nod. “Yeah? Okay.” Though they both agreed, neither moved from the grimy couch, Cody refusing to give up his spot on top of them and Y/N not wanting to make him get up. Instead, they continued their cuddle session, enjoying the softness they each pulled out of each other.

I kinda popped off on this one seeing Cody at summerslam ignited something in me

Sometimes i just wanna love on someone and it definitely shined through in this one oopsies

#liv writes;*!#cody rhodes x reader #cody rhodes #yeah i luv him

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abovetherainandroses · 1 month

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joetrick moment + patrick dancing + tail end of the lick lick salute (albany, ny 3/24/24)

#joe trohman #patrick stump #pete wentz #2ourdust #fall out boy #fob #joetrick #video #my video #i have so many vids across 6 shows but finding the energy to post them… ough

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grendelsmilf · 10 days

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was talking about king lear with my dad (as one does) and talking about how albany is so uniquely inscrutable and i was like “you know i do love a gay misogynist whose violence against his wife is so blatantly unforgivable and yet nonetheless displays a genuine insight into the logic and mechanics underpinning his world, and how the attempt of an audience to morally reconcile that violence with the thematic value they provide to the text reflecting their own attempt to reconcile their internal alienation” and then i had to catch myself at the very last moment because i nearly called him saionji

#o #utena #king lear #the albany problem the saionji problem potato tomato

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earlgreytea68 · 1 month

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I'll probably write something longer tomorrow but just a small moment from tonight in Albany: Pete was laughing at something during Mmrs (would love to know what!) and he went over to stage left and spoke into the mike only the band and crew can hear, then Patrick started giggling while singing, it was the cutest thing. Pete then went over to Andy and probably repeated his joke cause Andy laughing too. It just felt so good to see them so happy on stage.

AWWWWWWWWW!! That is ADORABLE.

I'm fascinated by that mike, can't believe I've never read a fic where Pete's just doing dirty talk in it and Joe's like, YOU KNOW THE REST OF US CAN ALSO HEAR THAT MIKE, RIGHT????

#fall out boy #fob #peterick

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albanyroyals · 4 months

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Christmas with the Lockwoods

Perfect time to test this new reshade, and @lucky-content's new pose!

#ts4 royal family #ts4 royalty #ts4 royal legacy #ts4 legacy #ts4 story #ts4 royal simblr #the sims 4 royalty #the sims 4 royal family #the sims 4 royal #the sims 4 monarchy #the sims 4 royal simblr #albany moments

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ilguna · 4 months

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Supply Run: Can I get #24 from prompt list 2 with Joel Miller?

☼ stepping stones (Joel Miller) ☼

warnings; swearing, undisclosed age gap, death mention, murder mention.

wc; 2.4k

prompt; 24. "Don't let your fears dictate your life."

notes; i'm picturing game joel in my head. and this is set in boston but before he smuggles ellie.

A couple months ago you made the mistake of telling Joel a little secret about yourself when it comes to him. It happened during a game of Texas Hold’em with Tess and a few of your other friends in the quarantine zone. It came so casually, mostly because you weren’t entirely sober, and you knew that Tess was talking over you, anyway.

You didn’t expect him to hear, much less remember what you had to say, but it must’ve been one of those facts about you that he knew he should save for later. Which you can’t hold against him, because you would’ve done the same thing if you were in his position.

When you told Joel that he can pressure you into succumbing to any request with just his gaze, you were halfway kidding. You were referring to the game you were playing, because while you’re normally good at keeping a poker face, he always manages to crack you without doing it on purpose.

You knew the moment it came out of your mouth that it sounded stupidly flirtatious, but you meant it earnestly. Joel is one of those people where you feel safe enough to open up to him, trusting him with practically everything. Even though it’s difficult for him to do the same.

You’d like to say that Joel liked you from the beginning, but the truth is that he kept a fair distance and a sharp eye on what you did. He could tell just by looking at you that you were trouble. Or, at the very least, you came from it. When you joined the Boston quarantine zone almost five years ago, it was done out of desperation.

And you weren’t exactly the friendliest face around, something that you couldn’t help. Tess later told you that you had this specific look on your face, as if you were always waiting for someone to jump out at you. Which probably wasn’t far from the reality you were living at the time.

Joel had a feeling that you came from a group of hunters, judging by the way you seemed to be prepared to defend your belongings at every turn. Since there was a period of time where he’d done the same, he couldn’t come down on you too hard, but everyone knows that the next generation of hunters are more brutal than the last. It’s because supplies are scarce to come by out there with every passing week.

Still, you preferred to be outside of the walls and not under the rule of FEDRA for the longest time. The only reason why you ended up changing your mind was because a group of travelers came through your hunting group and wiped absolutely everyone out.

You managed to escape by yourself. If there were any other survivors, you never got to find out, because you were trying to put space between you and your camp that they were taking out. And when they found out that you were still alive, they didn’t let you escape so easily. You think they were afraid that you’d come back for them.

So, they ambushed you repeatedly. The first time they did it, they had too much confidence in themselves. They came in daylight with just two people, thinking that it’d be more than enough to bring you down. Once they were dead, you moved a few miles further out, toward Albany.

Well, they tried it again, coming in the daylight with almost eight people to bring you down. Fortunately, you’d scavenged in the area frequently, mostly because no one else liked going toward the big cities. You only had to bring down one person in order to secure your way out, but they followed you.

You basically drove them straight through the heart of the city, the infected did a bulk of the work for you. It didn’t deter them, especially since a few of them had survived the attack. The final time they came was during the night, and you’re still not sure how they managed to find you in that office building. You covered your tracks.

Regardless, they were so set on revenge that they abandoned the camp they killed your group for, and settled into chasing you across Massachusetts. You went straight to the Boston quarantine zone, knowing that they’d have a hard time trying to get you, then.

The initial plan was to stay long enough to get your shit together, before going back out again. The longer you stayed, the more you decided that you liked the relative normalcy. You didn’t mind working, having a place to call home, food on your table almost every night. As soon as you started making friends, the nail on the coffin was sealed. You haven’t been able to bring yourself to leave since.

That’s why you can’t bring yourself to agree to what Tess and Joel are asking of you. It started out as a choice, but with Tess not feeling any better from the cold she caught earlier this week, they’re both telling you to help them. Which brings you right back to what you were saying ago with Joel making that face.

His steely eyes are piercing your soul right now, trying to get you to cave. You stare back at him, trying to replicate the intensity, but he’s so much better at it than you are. So, you resort to your words instead.

“I already told the both of you I’m not interested.” You raise your eyebrows, tearing your eyes from Joels, to Tess, who might as well be glued to her bed. “I don’t want to leave the quarantine zone.”

“You’ll hardly be going that far.” Tess holds her hand out in the direction of the window. “It’s just a few miles out. That’s where you’ll meet Wayne, he’ll give you the pills, and then you’ll come right back. Joel and I will do the work of bringing it to a different part of the zone.”

“The mileage doesn’t bother me, it’s being out there.”

“What are you so afraid of?” Tess scoffs. “You used to live out there.”

“Used to.” You emphasize. “It’s been five years, Tess. It’s not going to be a quick adjustment.” You turn your attention to Joel, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to find someone else, or do it alone.”

“We don’t have anyone else.” Joel says. “I can’t take the trip alone, I need a partner.”

You shrug, “I guess you’re going to miss the trade, then.”

“(Y/n).” Tess sighs from her bed. “Don’t make me get up to kick your ass.”

“Try.” You roll your eyes.

She ignores your comment, sitting up a little. “You have to miss it out there a little, don’t you want to experience it again?”

“I do.” You have no issue admitting this. “But I don’t want to get hurt.”

“You’ll be with me.” Joel stands up from where he’s leaning against the wall. “I’ll have your back.”

Your mouth opens, going to tell him no again, when you hesitate. You know that he’s not lying, Joel is the best person you can ask for while being outside of the walls. You can’t remember the last time he came back with a scratch on him after navigating the streets for days at a time.

He recognizes your hesitation, pushing it. “Don’t let your fears dictate your life.”

When you look at Tess, she has this knowing smile on her face. She’s won, and she knows it. You close your eyes, shaking your head slightly, and then you let out a sigh.

“Fine.”

There’s a moment of silence as Joel looks at Tess. “I told you she’d come around.”

She tilts her head, face impressed. “I guess you were right when you said she had a soft spot for you.”

Your eyes narrow at Joel. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not standing right here.” You tell them, crossing your arms over your chest. “What’s the plan, then?”

“Joel will take you to the apartment we regularly sneak out of before midnight. You’ll meet Wayne a few miles out, Joel will trade him, and then you’ll come right back.”

“Easier said than done.” You look at Joel to see that he’s giving you a halfway smile. “I still need gear.”

“One step ahead of you.” Tess waves her hand. “You’ll just use my bag, everything you could ask for is in there.”

You press your lips together, but give her a nod, agreeing. You wish that you still had your old backpack—FEDRA confiscated it as soon as they could. The only things you were allowed to keep from it was an old family picture and your knife. Everything else got thrown away or cycled into their own weapon supply.

You had a really nice gun, too.

“Tonight it is.”

—

For someone that didn’t want to do this a few short hours ago, you find yourself glad that you caved and agreed. It was anxiety inducing for the first hour or so, as you jumped at every sound and searched every shadow. But it’s like riding a bike after a while—you get the hang of it.

Besides, there’s not many infected surrounding the quarantine zone due to the consistent FEDRA patrol. By the time you realized they were there, Joel had already taken them down and was moving onto the next house. This eased your mind considerably, allowing you to relax and mindlessly follow hi,.

A part of you is disappointed that this had to be done during the night, and not during the day. Not only would it be easier for you to see, you like inspecting the area around to see how it’s changed over time.

When you brought this up to Joel, he wasn’t very impressed, remarking that had you listened to them earlier in the week, he could’ve arranged that. Since it’s so late and they’re going to miss their window, there’s not much of a choice left in the matter.

You couldn’t help but to roll your eyes at him. You weren’t looking to complain, you were actually going to skate directly into a conversation about what he likes best of the great outdoors. You decided that it would be best to leave it, despite knowing that he would likely realize as soon as you asked.

There are times where you can’t tell if Joel wants to have a quiet day or if he’s willing to let you chat his ear off. He seemed pretty fine earlier this afternoon when you were visiting Tess, but when you regrouped with him in the apartment complex, he was gruff and slightly irritated.

It makes you wonder if it was something that Tess said after you left. He did tell you that he was going to stay back with her for a little while longer to talk about the deal with Wayne. That way he’d be able to catch you up to speed on the way to the fire station, which is just outside of Brookline.

Why you’re traveling so far for a bag of pills is beyond you. And you would be mad about the distance, because Tess blatantly lied to you, but it’s not the first time she’s successfully deceived you. It’s your own fault for believing her.

The pills must be pretty important if you’re going out of your way like this. You know they make a pretty good income with smuggling. They’ll be so well-off sometimes that they’ll slide extra ration cards your way, as if they aren’t practically made out of gold.

Either way, Joel hasn’t let you in on what’s happening. You’d say he’s forgotten, but he’s got a pretty good memory. He’s choosing to keep the reasoning from you. Which could be for a number of reasons—like he’s afraid you’re going to freak out. You’d like to think you’re level-headed enough to hear him out first.

A sigh escapes you, pace slowing. Joel glances over his shoulder at you, seeing that you’re not walking as quickly as before. He matches your speed, even turning his body to look at you better.

So he is open to conversation.

“Curiosity’s going to kill me.” You start, Joel raises his eyebrows. “You said that you were going to fill me in, and I’m all empty.”

He looks away from you. “Tess told you all there is.”

“Did she? ‘Cause all she said was that we’re picking up pills from Wayne.”

“That about sums it up.” He says.

You squint at the back of Joel’s head, not liking the answer. Maybe you read the situation right earlier. “Okay, sure.” You murmur, looking away from him, to the houses off to your left.

It’s quiet between the two of you for a few minutes. This must be burn for Joel, because he ends up clearing his throat. “We’re supposed to work out an agreement with him.”

Your eyebrows twitch. “What?”

“Tess and Wayne got into a fight last month, he said he’d settle it the next time we met.”

You come to a stop in the middle of the road. “Are you telling me that we’re walking straight into an ambush right now?”

“No.”

“What was the fight over?”

Joel hesitates, “Tess cut his payout.”

You stare at him for a long second before looking away, around at the neighborhood you’re walking through. There could be dozens of people in these houses, and you won’t know until it’s too late. You’re not sure what was going through their heads with leaving a detail this large out, but Joel was right to try to keep this from you as long as he could.

Sometimes you wonder why you even consider yourself a friend of theirs.

“Do we have enough to make it up?” You ask, he shakes his head.

“Honey, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“You were going to let me walk into a fight blindly.” You raise your eyebrows. “How do you even know Wayne?”

“He’s a friend of Bill’s.”

Your face drops completely, as you reach up with one hand to grab your temples, turning away from him with another sigh. You met Bill once, and it was before you’d joined the quarantine zone, but it was while you were on your way there. You ran across him by accident, and got the full force of his insanity and violence.

“If he’s anything like Bill, then we need to go back to Boston.” You point down the road you’ve been walking. “I’m not prepared to deal with something like that.”

Joel reaches up, hand grabbing your shoulder to squeeze it. “I’ve got you.”

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

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k-marzolf · 7 months

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Shadows fall over my heart.

yandere, mentions of Billy’s abandonment & time in the group home, mentions of death, abandonment issues, kissing, hair play (I try not to describe the hair, but there’s braiding), fem!reader.

Tag list; @idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate @aoi-targaryen

Wicked Game Masterlist.

Billy sat behind you, fingers playing with your hair in the gloomy afternoon light, the soft pull on your scalp making your eyes flutter. “I used to play with this girl's hair in the group home. She was sweet like you.” He said, separating your hair so he could begin braiding.

“You were in a group home?” You asked, surprised.

“Ma left me in a fire station in Albany.” He said, quietly.

“Did you love that girl?” You asked softly, sensing his mother was a sensitive topic. And feeling jealous over this nameless girl, playing with the hem of your skirt, listening to the rain pelting the windows.

“I don’t know.” Billy hedged, pausing to pin your hair to the side so he could braid the left side first, and beginning to braid as you sighed softly. It felt good to have him playing with your hair.

“What happened to her?”

Billy was silent for a moment, “She died from complications from lupus.” He said quietly.

“Is that why you’re afraid to lose? Because of your mama and that girl?” You asked, looking over your shoulder.

You’d guessed by how he held onto you with an ironclad grip that something had happened. A grip you encouraged, having grown up lonely yourself.

Billy tugged hard on your scalp as though you’d hit a nerve, and he couldn’t seem to find the words to answer you, and you turned over, looking at him, your hair half braided, hanging over your shoulder. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, Billy.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he rasped, taking a sip of his beer to avoid looking at you.

You kissed his mouth, tasting the beer on him, a distant reminder of a grandfather who had loved you, but died when you were young. You climbed into Billy’s lap, shivering in the cold, and pressing against his warm body.

He knew no matter how hard he held onto you, death, or old age, or a disagreement could still pry you from his hands. It made him feel helpless. But for now Billy enjoyed the feeling of you in his arms, the smell of your shampoo.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader

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moremoyokean · 3 months

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Veronaville/Académie Le Tour Makeovers

I'm finally sharing my Veronaville/ALT stuff! Hi, if you're just finding me I'm Moyo. Here's my primary blog, where you can see my Strangetown/LFT gameplay as well as where my CC and everything else is. But I didn't want Veronaville stuff to be mixed in and be confusing. So here we are. Anyways, ⬇️

Consort, Tybalt, Juliette and Hermia. Yes, I'm keeping Tybalt's mask.

Patrizio, Isabella, Mercutio and Romeo. Idk how Mercutio ended up so adorable.

Oberon, Titania, Puck and Bottom. I did make them fairies and gave them wings after I took this screenshot. I went back and forth whether I liked the wings or not for a long time but decided yes while playing them.

Albany, Goneril, Miranda, Hal, Desdemona and Ariel. I kept Desdemona's facepaint because it's kinda cute.

Cornwall, Regan, and Kent. I've heard a lot of people have Kent be asexual and/or aromantic so I gave him both traits. But his in-game preference is men so that'll be fun.

Antonio, Beatrice and Benedick. Benedick's blue eyes threw me for a loop and I spent far too long looking all over the wiki to see where he got them from.

Bianca.

Max Flexor and Mitch Indie.

Delilah O'Feefe. I've been waiting for a reason to use those glasses for ages.

Roxie Sharpe, Edwin Sharpe and Jonah Powers. I might change Jonah's hair because I've since downloaded one that I might like better idunno.

And then to save myself households to play I've just lumped the bin young adults into one dorm all together so Tom Freshe, Emily Lee, Phineaus Furley, Chaz Whippler, Ellen Frost and Marla Biggs.

At the moment I've played the Veronaville households all for their 1 day of summer. I've not played the ALT households yet. Now to start filling up my queue.

#moremoyokean #sims 2 #the sims 2 #ts2 #sims 2 veronaville #sims 2 academie le tour

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mikkaeus · 10 months

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house md fic recs — short fics (<10k). hilson + rarepairs

Other house rec lists: long fics | episode tags | postcanon | infidelity trope (all of these are mutually exclusive apart from the infidelity one)

highly recommend not skipping out on the non-hilson fics!! scroll to the end for a list of some really great ones. No huddy though because I'm not the biggest fan.

house/wilson and gen fic

I decided to just lump the gen fic together with the slash because really most of them can be read as slash with a G rating. Before we get into the fics, here are some notable authors that have written several house fics. Not all their fics are going to be listed individually, but if I have the author there I've read all or a lot of their stuff and enjoyed it, so I recommend going through their backlog.

otter: Some really excellent prose and great atmosphere. A little soft, a little pensive. And they nail the characterisation and dialogue.

ignaz: im sure everyone has read ignaz's longfic (a modest proposal and its sequel — the one where house and wilson get married so wilson cant testify against house in the tritter arc) but absolutely check out all their other stuff — it's all quality.

bironic: I really enjoy the bit of edge in bironic's fics. It makes them so yummy.

bethfrish: What stands out about their fics is how they peer into all the pointy edges of Wilson and Julie's relationship, thus making them excellent and unique Wilson character studies. Great prose and dialogue that rivals the show's.

Transformatron: fics that are transcendent and porny, all featuring a d/s undertone or theme (wilson as the dom)

astolat: if u dont know astolat idk what to say to u. just go read their fics.

blackmare (livejournal / ao3 pseud 1 / ao3 pseud 2 / lj pseud third_owl for slash fics i think) Does really great short fics (mostly gen) that slot into episodes. Like meta but in fic form. All of them are worth a read. Some of their fics are on ao3 but a lot aren't (like nearly all the episodic ones).

Namaste (livejournal / ff.net): Some short fics, some much longer ones. Mostly gen focussing on H&W friendship, with some fics on canon pairings. Interesting character studies and exceptionally discerning prose that is a pleasure to read.

In order of length. *faves, ***underrated faves

***Touch by zulu (<1k) (2007) The number of ways House could embarrass him with touches, Wilson thinks, is practically endless.

Silent Sigh by thedeadparrot (<1k) (2009) Wilson, autumn, melancholy, and House. Second person.

Heartbeats by thedeadparrot (<1k) (2009) Three moments in which House and Wilson are almost kind of functional.

No Pain by bironic (<1k) (2008) House finds a permanent solution to his pain problem and convinces Wilson to give him what he needs. Vampire fic! Frottage! hell yeah.

Also check out the sequel: No Mercy by daasgrrl (3k)

***The Game of Wilson: Six Cards in a Five Card Game by paradisecity (1k) (2006) If you're going to play a game like moving in together, decide upon three things at the start: the rules of the game, the stakes, and the quitting time. Fun and snappy. Great dialogue.

*we're getting good at this by ad astra dean (1k) Wilson had a migraine. Established relationship. Soft and sweet and realistic esp after 8.19. fuck. Premium hurt/comfort.

**********three more stories by besselfcn (1k) The first time it happens is (New Orleans, 1991 | Albany, 2009 | Augusta, 2012) and they are (drunk | sober | out of time). This fic emotionally obliterated me. I’m obsessed with the format like it’s prose halfway to poetry, so creative and unique and well-executed??? I cried so much. I am UNWELL and immeasurably fucked up about them put me in my grave. (Yeah I said these lists were mutually exclusive but this fic is the exception bc idc)

The Awakening of Wils-Ankh-Amun, Royal Concubine by blackmare, Nightdog_barks, pwcorgigirl (1k) It was a rather unusual 'morning after.' This is hilarious. Reads like a classic prank episode. They're so dumb together I love them.

The One Where House Has Always Been a Woman by thedeadparrot (1k) (2009) Despite the hospital gossip, House is not, in fact, a man-hating lesbian. Genderswapped House but not Wilson.

Gray Morning by starlingthefool (1k) All he remembers is that the transition between a stupid joke and the meeting of mouths was almost seamless. Christmas fic that takes place one year after "Merry Little Christmas" (3.10).

Loser Day Blues by blackmare, Nightdog_Barks (1k) February fourteenth is just another day, and another evening in which Wilson winds up at House’s, although — this time — not for the usual reasons.

*indefinable by PaintedVanilla (1k) House can hear Wilson getting ready for bed; he can hear him brushing his teeth, undressing, being unusually quiet. Normally there’s a humming; a breathless energy that House won’t admit to loving about him. He doesn’t hear it tonight. It’s dead silent.

criteria by PaintedVanilla (2k) “I don’t think they know that we’re married.”

***We Live Together in a Photograph of Time by ignaz (2k) Wilson's hair curls when they're fucking. God I'm devastated. The ✨atmosphere✨. This is so in character. And can we talk about the banger title and summary??? I was gnawing my arm before I even opened the fic. Set in s4.

***Things To Do Before You Die by thedeadparrot (2k) In which Wilson turns thirty-eight and a half, thinks about kittens, and doesn't have a midlife crisis. But not necessarily in that order. Prank war with a twist. I’m so fond. Hits all the right cadences with the writing.

So Let Us Melt, and Make No Noise by ignaz (2k) (2007) "You kill patients all the time," House said. "You never stay at work until--" He peered at the clock. "--Four in the morning to make sure they're really dead."

***Curiosity by Namaste (2k) (2006) From Cameron's perspective. Fun character study of her and by extension House and the other two musketeers. Not shippy.

Welcomed Change by JammiesDodger (2k) A cute G-rated getting together fic.

Alone, Together by daasgrrl (2k) Finding new ways to be intimate.

*Keep Your Eyes Wide by deepimpact (2k) There is no specific amount of time passed, no big event, no one thing that Wilson can pin as the catalyst. Obsessed with this. Great atmosphere, excellent prose, and and everything feels authentic and in character. Set pre-season/s1.

***Carrion Eaters by ignaz House, in some indeterminate future or an alternate universe, from the perspective of a new hire. I really loved this story. It's sharp and sad, with great build up.

***Projection by bironic (2k) Remember Ali, that really pretty 17/18 year old clinic patient that was obsessed with House? This fic is Wilson's elaborate fantasy about fucking her, which is of course as much about House as it is her. Post 3.04.

***No Exchange of Payment by otter (2k) The gifts that House gives to Wilson. I adore this. It's about the little things. Otter has exceptional prose and always nails the characterisation, which makes their writing a real pleasure to read.

***All the Effects of Intoxication (3k) by otter This only happens when they're drunk. Just as yummy as that one-line description suggests. I love this a lot — the characterisation and dialogue are excellent and I think this scenario is very realistic for them.

Leave This Harbor for the Sea by otter (3k) House was never the kind of friend who'd help you move, even when he'd had two good legs, not to mention two good arms perfectly capable of lifting boxes. He'd always been the sort of friend who'd stop by while you were packing, make cutting remarks about the failures of your romantic relationships, and use all the half-filled boxes as an excuse to root through your things.

***the growing up, the falling down by riceonrye (3k for the series) Wilson is trying to buy a nice make-up present for his girlfriend, but there’s a guy in the shop with him brazenly shoplifting. Wilson, meet House. This is so good!!! I grinned like an idiot all the way through. It captures the throw-bottles-at-windows side of Wilson so well. A very cute AU of a different first meeting whilst still remaining true to the characters. Don't forget to read the sequel as well.

***never rains (but it pours) by Transformatron (3k) So... remember that episode where House can't pee? I present you some excellently written pisskink pwp. Nails the hilson dynamic, so even if piss isn't your thing, give it a go?

***Blind Spot by blackmare, Nightdog_Barks (3k) Wilson becomes blind after a head injury. genfic.

***Four Blocks South of Eden by bethfrish (3k) If you wanted paradise, you're a little off. I loved the tentative, slightly off-kilter feeling of this. Bang on characterisation, dialogue, and use of 2nd person POV (House). Set in s1 — Wilson's marriage is falling apart, and it leads to a night that could be the start of something new.

***Lie To Me by zulu (4k) It's terribly simple. No one ever dies, and everybody lives happily ever after. Exuberant ketamine summer House!!! Equal parts sexy and heartbreaking. Check out the sequel as well (1k).

Stumbling Towards Something Real by ignaz (4k) House and Wilson on holiday in Mexico. (A flagrant excuse for smut, basically.) I'm soft. In character and well-written.

Goes the Neighbourhood by Dee_Laundry (4k) One month into their permanent positions, the new fellows catch a case on the weekend and have to track House down.

***Easy by GoldStarGrl (4k) James Wilson is the easiest person in his dorm. At McGill. In all of eastern Canada, maybe. A fleshed-out version of their first meeting, as well as an insightful character study of Wilson. Slots nicely into canon, whether you believe in the "wilson has cheated on every wife with house" version or the "they fucked when they first met and never talked about it again" version. I really enjoyed this — they’re beautifully in character, and it's excellent writing.

***A Momentary Lapse of Reason by otter (5k) Wilson and Julie through House’s eyes, from the beginning to the end. Skips back and forth between the past and now. The quiet yearning!!! Also *standing on the table with a megaphone* have i mentioned how GORGEOUS otter's prose is??

*Blow the Candles Out by bethfrish (5k) Another year older, another year wiser, another divorce lurking just around the corner. So good!!! Wilson celebrates his birthday amongst the detritus of his marriage. The prose is really exceptional here. House's dialogue is also especially well done. It's a fun read that holds up well on a re-read.

***midnight rain by GoldStarGrl (5k) Wilson can't possibly know the pain. But he wants to. I am vibrating!!! Set precanon, in the aftermath of the infarction. Infidelity, spanking, hello??? Hot, vivid, excellent characterisation, excellent writing etc etc. A+ no notes.

***Through The Looking Glass (The Male Gaze Mashup) by zulu (5k) "If Wilson didn't know, great. What he didn't know couldn’t hurt him. If Wilson did know, it didn't matter, because if he hadn't berated House for it yet, then it was permission to continue." Interesting character study of Wilson and the way House slots into his life. Imaginative and fun descriptions. I did feel slightly lost at some points but it was still a great read. Excerpt: House tears open every envelope, even those addressed to Occupant, then brings back the well-read contents like a cat offering half-dead moles to its hunting-deficient human.

Empathy, Inc. by sassyjumper (5k) Cuddy hires a company that provides 'empathy training' to doctors. House reacts. Set in an earlier season.

***All's Fair In Love (and war) by Transformatron (6k) House and Wilson are enjoying the last day of their holiday when an urgent call comes through from Princeton-Plainsboro - a medical mystery that only House can solve. And he does intend to solve it, despite Wilson's best efforts to distract him. (Established relationship.) Wilson making House do a case whilst fucking him?? I'm an absolute sucker for this trope and I was delighted to find a fic with it.

A Towered Citadel by Namaste (7k) A differential diagnosis for Wilson’s serial cheating.

***And the Borders of Old Cities Get Redrawn by blackmare (7k) Continuation/canon divergence from 8.02 "Transplant". Ch1 is the most perfect episode tag I am vibrating . The way they fall back into their old rhythm!! House seeking out his touch like a cat and Wilson accepting it, even liking it!! The hints of pre-relationship are so delicious. (This is a rare slash fic from blackmare.) Ch2&3 are also absolutely brilliant!! Great characterisation, pacing, and tension-building.

A Voice in Ramah (Welcome to Holland) by ignaz (8k) Cuddy POV on her pregnancy journey. Diverges from the show. Really well done. ignaz did this topic and Cuddy's character justice. I also particularly liked House in this one.

Singapore by thedeadparrot (8k) (2009) In which the boys go to a medical conference in Singapore, House has a few surprises up his sleeve, and Wilson figures some things out.

*A Helping Hand by bironic (9k) Wilson has an unusually rough day and House decides (somewhat despite himself) to help. Things go further than he planned. A believable foray into non-platonic territory, set in between 2.22 (Forever) and 2.24 (No Reason). What better way to take your mind off your patients than a good-ol handjob between friends? Chuck in an absolutely delicious fucked-up overtone characteristic of them and we're golden.

Rarepairs

Chase/House

***pretty doctor by spqr (5k) AU where Chase is a hooker. House becomes obsessed with him after he off-handedly gives the correct differential diagnosis. spqr is an excellent writer that I've followed across multiple fandoms, and this fic did not disappoint. Well-written, great chemistry, hilarious. I could read 100k of this.

***atonement in the locker room after hours by missaa (2k) robert chase makes two mistakes in one day Tags: Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, degradation, God Complex, Catholic Guilt This is just as yummy as those tags make it sound. Someone needed to capitalise on the whole *waves hand vaguely* thing that Chase has going on and by god did this person rise to the occasion. Love the characterisation and the elegant prose, and the structure that flashes back and forth between two scenes. I'm insane!

Chase/Foreman Shoutout to ignaz who sold me on this pairing.

*Pretty Harsh (Confirmatory Testing Remix) by everybodylies (2k) Foreman might have flirted with Chase six months ago for like thirty seconds. Chase can't stop thinking about it.

***Two For The Road by ignaz (3k) For the first ever Foreman Fest, prompt 107 -- "after a break and enter gone wrong, Foreman and Chase are both sentenced to 300 hours of community service, which it looks like they're gonna spend picking up trash on the side of the road." Really solid writing (I mean it’s ignaz), believable characterisation and relationship building. I love them 💓💓💓 just overall a real pleasure to read. Also it's hilarious.

***Eric Foreman Doesn't Take It Up The Ass (But If He Did, It Might Happen Something Like This) by ignaz (6k)

Self-Defense, or The One Where Foreman Teaches Chase How to Throw a Punch by ignaz (1k)

Cameron/Foreman/Chase

Third Wheel Rolling by ignaz He's not jealous, but he's been the third wheel for so long that it's hard to tell the difference. Sexy + great characterisations.

Cuddy/Stacy

***Your Reflection and Mine by Starlingthefool (3k) Sweet, hot, well written.

Amber/Thirteen

***Hate (to the power of 13) by ijemanja (2k) (lj) Porny, with snappy writing and believable characterisations.

Hen Night by zulu (<1k) This is how breakups go. Amber's seen movies.

Release by zulu (1k) Wilson dies on the bus instead of Amber.

Chase/Wilson

Erase by bethfrish (<1k) Featuring a bar and crossdressing. Precanon. Second person, Wilson POV.

Patrick Bateman/Wilson

Just Like You, Only Worse by bethfrish (1k) Ok before you raise your eyebrows at the pairing, give it a chance. Bethfrish is an excellent writer. This fic is really a Wilson character study, and it's an interesting read. Second person POV Wilson, set in s1.

#house md #hilson #house x wilson #house fic rec #house md fic #house md fic rec #my rec list #please let me know fi there are any formatting issues or random chunks of text that shouldnt be there or whatever because tubmrl sucks #i spent way too much fucking time on these rec lists

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opheliaintherushes · 11 months

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There really was so much of Lear in the finale, which says as much for Shakespeare's indomitable understanding of humanity as anything, and I don't just mean Tom finally fulfilling his role as Albany, a man who sways with the wind and stumbles into leadership by virtue of his wife poisoning the waters in a fatal act of jealousy:

There are many tragic moments in King Lear, but the most perhaps is that once Lear has finally had his revelation of humility and reconciled with Cordelia, he is at last content. Away like caged birds they go, he consoling Cordelia that at least they'll be together in defeat: "So we'll live, and pray, and sing, and tell old tales and laugh at gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues talk of court news." And then even that acceptance is shattered by Cordelia's death, the final unfairness in an unfair world. And here in Succession, the tragedy is that the siblings had it, a moment where they had each other's company and that was enough, but they couldn't be satisfied and so brought their own ruin, leaving Colin to shadow Kendall to the riverside like Kent following Lear to eternity.

It's a double dose of tragic, because Logan was never able to reconcile with his younger children, and I think my favorite scene of the episode shows why: the dinner recording, Logan relaxed and enjoying himself with his old comrades and his eldest son. There is a Logan there that Kendall, Roman, and Shiv never got to see because they were successors. But not Connor, harmless and ineffectual; not Kerry, devoted and without history; not Gerri and Karl and Frank, who had been in the trenches, who knew the rage of Logan's whims but always came back: "The oldest have borne most; we that are young shall never see so much, nor live so long."

#Succession #also the eyes!#eyes everywhere!#King Lear is all about the eyes

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alaskashigh · 3 months

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May I ask thee for NY hc’s 👁️👁️

*not forcing <3*

omg i've missed asks. (pretending I don't have many half answered asks in my inbox rn)

you can have ALL of the headcanons!!

New York has very cold hands and feet. His body is freezing but those areas are the coldest. On bad days when its really cold his hands and feet will get very stiff and numb, so he can't move them much.

I know that i've probably said this before but he loves making things. He makes clothes and stuffed animals for his boyfriends and his kids all of the time. It isn't uncommon to see him crocheting things in meetings.

Always has a rat or pigeon in his pocket. Whenever he's bored or overwhelmed he pets them. Calls them his comfort rat or pigeon depending on which one he has.

Always has a bat on him. Nobody knows where the fuck he gets them but one moment his hands are free the next he's wielding a bat and chasing one of the states or one of his kids partners. Albany and Boston aren't even dating New York chill. (yet) (California and New Jersey are working on him not throwing hands with every partner their kids get. It's going...) ((they can't lie and say they aren't a little protective of them too though.))

Nose is permanently crooked because of the amount of times he's broken it. He's tried to fix it once but ended up breaking it again so he just left it alone. It's a little weird to breathe sometimes

Hangs out with Greg sometimes. Found out that he has a skateboard and ended up riding around his city with him. New York came back home with a matching tattoo that day

Any clothing he gets immediately gets covered in patches, cut up, painted, spikes, etc. He loves to diy stuff and always dressed in many layers. (Unless he's sick or not feeling it. California and New Jersey thank whatever God there is and Lady Gaga when he wears sweatpants and a tank top)

Body is always cracking and popping. Trying to stand? Knees pop. Goes to grab something? Arms/elbows pop, wrist cracks. Trying to do literally anything? Pop crack. Some days it isn't as bad, some days it's a living nightmare.

Watches Matpat with his kids and listens to their rambles about FNaF. (No this isn't about Matpat what are you talking about ((I miss him)))

#wttt new york #wttsh new york #wttt #wttsh #welcome to the table #welcome to the statehouse #ben brainard

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rom-e-o · 4 days

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Forever and Ever. (Constance DoGoode lore)

@quill-pen proposed an amazing idea, and I ran with it into the first, concrete store of exactly how little Connie's life began.

Full story beneath cut. For all ages, though this story does describe fictional child abandonment.

"We have to go. Leave her."

"I can't."

He shuddered at the reluctance oozing from his wife’s weepy voice, and detested how it threatened to make sobs rise in his own throat.

The man, mid-thirties in age, watched in agony as his wife, a copper-haired woman of similar age, hugged their daughter tightly. He saw her staring up at him over the bony edge of the woman's shoulder, and it hurt too much to stare.

Wide eyes, bright as twin stars, stared up at him as if he was her whole world. And she had no clue that he was casting her away.

“S-She’ll be in better hands here,” the man added feebly. “They have money in this part of town! She’ll have a better life than we could ever give her. You know that. We owe her that.”

The woman fired a glare at the man at the mention of the word ‘owe’. As if an infant owed anyone anything.

"I still can't, Emeryk,” she hissed through tears. “It’s not fair!"

He paused, hand settling on his hips. His head hung suspended in a slight swing between his shoulders, his brow furrowed.

“We … can’t support three children,” he finally reminded her. “The boys are home. Crying. Waiting for us.”

“I…I could…”

“We have tried, Myrna. Let her go. Someone here can give her the life we can’t.”

Her sob was strident enough to send a nearby rat scampering from its post as the garbage pile. The man checked around them frantically to make sure the sound hadn't drawn the attention of any humans. It was the dead of night, but New Yorkers had a pesky tendency to be light sleepers, even after long hours of toiling.

"Myrna, please," Emeryk beseeched, his agitation causing his words to slur into a hiss, accentuated by his Polish accent.

She swallowed another cry. "S-She doesn’t deserve this. She doesn’t deserve to not have a mama.”

"These people will give her a new one,” he replied, gesturing up to a large engraving above the doorwaythat read, Albany Center for Children.

“It’s not the same!”

“It must be, kochanie. We have no options left.”

Myrna was still; a silent admission that her husband was horribly correct. With another steadying breath, she placed a tender kiss on the little girl’s head. “Oh, my angel…please. Whether you forget this day or hate us forever…please know that we love you.”

The word ‘love’ made the girl smile. She nodded, and Myrna’s heart nearly shattered.

“Myrna.”

“We loved you so much, słońce.. As hard as we could and knew how to.”

After a final squeeze, hugging the girl as tight as she could without pressing her into her heart, the woman gently nudged the girl out of her arms. “Be happy in your new life, my love.”

In a shaky voice, she then pointed to the stoop of the orphanage. The wide step was cradled by iron fencing and littered with leaves from a swaying English elm. "S-Sit."

The redhead girl stared at the space for a moment before obeying. She waddled to the step, and after a moment of struggle to pull herself on the second step, rolled over on her bum and sat up as primly as she could on the steps of the orphanage. All the while, she stared at her mom with wide, cornflower blue eyes. She was barely a toddler, but old enough to see the distress on her mother's face and feel it through her frantic movements.

The little soul could sense and see something was terribly wrong, but was powerless to ask what was amiss, let alone do anything. “M-Mama? Sit. I sit.”

"Good job, angel," Myrna said, scrubbing her red eyes with the frayed hem of her shawl. The threads were so worn and caked in grime that they felt like straw on the sensitive skin.

Upon feeling the chilled cement on the backs of her legs, the little girl let out a whine of discomfort. She rocked in place, her brow furrowing.

"Cold, mama."

"I know. I’m sorry."

"C-Cold..." the girl repeated, shivering as a strong wind tugged at her threadbare onesie, which was taut and ripped at the elbows and knees. She pulled her chubby legs close, rubbing her bare feet together like a cricket in an instinctual gesture to try and warm up.

As the breeze passed, the child reached her arms out, seeking comfort and warmth from her mother. He fingers splayed frantically as she rocked in place, as if trying to will them closer to her.

Myrna’s expression crumbled as she turned away. “No.”

Checking over his shoulder again, Emeryk squeezed his wife's shoulder before looking down upon his daughter. “We have to go, little one. Goodbye.”

She kicked her feet in excitement, ready to get out of the cold. "D-Da..."

"No," he repeated with a heavy sway of his shaved head.

"No?" The girl didn't understand, her expression only growing more confused with each moment. She flicked her head to her mother, only to see her cowering against the form of the other adult.

The little girl started to push herself off the step to go to her guardians, the only two people in the world she knew. When she’d barely teetered forward, the man pointed a finger at her.

“Stay.” His tone was hard as granite, and unlike before, he did not stutter.

The girl waddled forward another inch, not understanding the word. Moonlight caught the fury in the man’s eyes at the perfect moment, his gaze startling her like sparks from a spitting fire.

“Sit down, and don’t move!”

His voice rose to a dangerous growl, and the young girl bristled in fear. Reassuming her stop on the stoop, she lowered her head and blinked back tears.

So, without any other order or hope, the little girl sat back down on the stoop.

After one last check to make sure nobody was watching the couple and waiting to confront them, they joined hands and started to run. They bolted down the road together, their fingers twined and eyes ahead, even as tears clouded their vision to near uselessness. The two adults were spry, and in a blink of an eye, they had vanished like nymphs in a shadowy glade.

All that was left in their wake was the silence of the city.

After waiting a few moments, the child peeked down the road. A sense of alarm from not seeing her parents took over, and despite her orders, she clumsily slipped off the stoop and tried to run after them. However, her small legs stood no chance of carrying her within hope’s reach of her parents. Almost instantly, she tripped and crumpled on the pavement, skinning her knees. She whimpered, laying in the road for a moment before pushing herself upright.

In the cold and dark, she returned to the steps of the orphanage, waiting for parents that would never come back to get her.

She waited.

And waited.

Even when she heard voices up the street or saw a light flicker on in a nearby window, she didn’t call for help, for none of the voices or shadows belonged to her parents. The girl was too terrified to try, fearing that something would distract her at the exact precious moment that her parents would come back to get her.

She kept waiting, all through the cold night.

That following morning, when one of the center’s groundskeepers emerged from his basement-level apartment to start the day, he saw the red-headed girl curled up like a kitten on the doorstep.

Fearing the worst, he threw his jacket over her and furiously knocked on the main door.

When the live-in staff did answer and saw the girl balled in his arms, they were shocked. Nobody had heard a sound or a cry all night, and the realization that she’d survived an entire night alone on the streets of New York sent them reeling with shock.

“Do you think she’s lost?” one staff member asked. The others swung their heads, skulls heavy like solemn, weighted pendulums. Children that arrived on their doorstep were never there by accident, after all.

“They couldn’t even bother to ring the bell?” one social worker asked another as they mounted the stairs to the W.C. “They have to know people live here!”

“Probably terrified of getting tossed in the bin if they got caught.”

“Cowards.”

“Hush! We don’t pass judgement. We can only hope they made this … decision with a heavy heart.”

“Hope. I suppose so.”

The redhead was immediately brought inside and doted upon in every way possible. The girl was changed, bathed, and given clean clothes. They then gave her porridge, which she ate in silence while a doctor gave her a physical. Upon seeing her knees, he took care to clean the wounds and patch them up. The girl remained catatonic despite the kind and insistent prodding, even when bribed with stuffed animals or candy for any information. The entire time, she didn’t so much as mutter a word.

Meanwhile, staff spent their early morning hours sending correspondence to every member of their board to alert them of the emergency take-in. After all, the center wasn’t exactly swimming in funds. They couldn’t turn away a child, but in the same breath, they had to be transparent with their sponsors and fundraisers about the use of their funds. Lots of care would need to be paid for, and the center was already bursting with children in need of foster homes, or permanent homes.

However, one particular member of the board told them to tally the charges, then charge them to her name.

“I’ll bring my bank book,” the woman wired in return. Then, the line went dead.

Fifteen minutes later, Theresea DoGoode strutted into the children’s center.

Entering in a flurry of fur and floral perfume, the woman removed her pillbox hand and stole. After smoothing her belted dress, she entered the foyer of the building that she and her husband had contributed a small fortune to build and support.

As a result, she was greeted with enthusiastic salutations and many thankful praises and comments from the staff. While obviously thankful, she brushed them off with poise and grace. After all, today was not a day that she had made a trip from Manhattan to speak to the center’s crew.

“Here,” she said, handing the lead social worker a small piece of paper. “A blank check, already signed and authorized. Write the amount I need to pay on it, and feel free to cash it now.”

She then made a beeline to the in-house physician’s office, her heels clicking with the rhythm of a heartbeat.

When she rounded the corner, she saw her.

A small, redheaded two-year-old, sitting opposite a doctor. The doctor looked stressed and forlorn at his lack of progress with the mute child, but Theresea absorbed none of it. Instead, she walked forward and beamed a gentle smile.

She kneeled down softly, careful to make no sudden movements.

“Hello.”

The little girl said nothing. She kept her blue eyes averted, staring at the wall.

Theresea, ever patient, lowered her body further. Sitting cross-legged allowed the child to have a slight advantage in height over her, which was mostly attributed to the chair. It wasn’t made for a child so small.

“What’s your name, love?”

“She won’t talk, this one.” The little girl had looked up, but the strident baritone of the doctor had startled her back into silence. “If she had a name, she may not remember it.”

Holding back a groan, Theresea kept her tone airy and easy. “Well, every little girl deserves a name. Do you know yours, angel?”

‘Angel,’ The girl’s eyes welled up at the familiar word. A word she knew was for her, but spoken by the lips of a stranger. “M-Ma…”

Tears had barely begun to fall before Theresea leaned in and hugged the child. The little girl crumbled into Theresea’s embrace, crying audibly as her fists gently pounded the woman’s shoulders. It wasn’t a gesture of aggravation, but rather, the only way the girl could think of siphoning out the horrible dread that she didn’t have a name for yet.

Theresea lifted her off the chair and into her lap, cooing as the little girl clung to her like an infant cloth.

The doctor was stunned at the sight, and even more stunned when Theresea turned and regarded him with an unyielding stare.

“I’ll stay with her while you finish the check-up,” she said, “Once she has a clean bill of health, I’d like to submit a form.”

“A…payment form?”

“An adoption form.”

Arthur DoGoode was a truly, truly happy man.

Despite hardships in life that had made him frail and delicate than most other adults, he had surpassed them all and amassed quantifiable success that could be measured by both his bank balance, and his social standing. He'd had the privilege of being able to work hard and cultivate a career as a prestigious property owner and investor in New York. Through those ventures, he'd met an aspiring philanthropist traveling from Morocco to New York, looking to make a difference. They shared a passion to help others and change the city for the better. Their shared passion culminated into a blissful marriage.

To him, it felt almost lucrative to have such a wonderful life. What had he done to deserve such grace?

Then, one day, an unfortunate situation turned into yet another blessing.

An abandoned two-year-old left was overnight on the doorstep of a New York orphanage. Staff had sent for his wife, and she'd made the trip while Arthur stayed back to tend to the real estate business affairs and make the meetings he'd scheduled. The entire time, the minutes ticked by more slowly than sap from a tapper.

Two hours later, Theresea came back through the door of their Manhattan abode with a swaddled, red-headed babe in her arms.

That day, a tepid April 30 in New York, at just before 9 a.m., Arthur DoGoode became a father to a voiceless daughter.

An entire year had passed since that fateful day.

"Papa!"

At that moment, on a cue uncannily parallel with his wandering imagination, said daughter manifested in the doorway. A copper-haired girl with bouncy pigtails bounded into the Manhattan breakfast nook. Her dress was trimmed in pounds of lace, and the layers shook like the pelt of a dog shaking itself off after coming in from a deluge.

Seeing her father seated at the table, she used all her strength to jump up onto the wooden chair next to her father's seat.

She jumped, then faltered, and her polished Mary Janes lick-clacked against the tiled floor.

"I-I can do it," she said, tiny fingers holding onto the wooden arm with all her might. "I can do it!"

He nodded.

"K-Keep watching, I can do it!"

He nodded again, further encouraging her while simultaneously restraining himself from reaching over to help her, even when she struggled.

When the three-year-old did pull herself upright finally, she raised her arms in victory, and he clapped as if he'd just watched a running cross the first-place marker at a marathon.

‘Well done!’ he mouthed out, beaming ear to ear.

Arthur never spoke much. Or, more accurately, he couldn't. He was a frail man; a delicate soul since birth. It hurt his lungs and throat to speak, and the pain was only heightened by a lurking dysphonia that made breathing some days difficult as trying to manually fill a hot air balloon with just his lungs. So, he conveyed his emotions with expressions and hand gestures.

To Constance, her father's lack of speech wasn't an absence of any communication, for there was never a statement between them that went misunderstood.

The same could be said for Arthur and his wife, Theresea. The love of his life, and the one who had brought their daughter home. For that, and many other things, he’d be forever thankful.

"Well, well, look at this!"

Dressed in a navy jumper and white skirt, Theresea entered their kitchenette with a wide grin, hands balanced upon her hips.

Unbeknownst to both Arthur and Constance, Theresea had watched the toddler's monumental feat from behind the arched doorway leading into the spacious kitchen.

"I say,” she started with a cheeky lilt, “Did you pull yourself up all by yourself, my girl?"

The girl nodded proudly.

"Well, you are a clever young girl, aren't you?" the mother inquired with a teasing tilt of the head. She reached down and tousled her bangs playfully, then placed a painted kiss atop her crown. Theresea always wore dark plum or deep, mahogany-tinted lip paints. Yet, by magic Arthur couldn't fathom, Constance never had so much as a trace of a lipstick mark on her forehead after kisses.

“Well, well, what are you two schemers up to so early?” she asked while pulling out a chair to join them. “It’s Saturday, and the sun is barely up! Last I saw you before my bath, you were like a rock.”

Arthur pointed subtlety to the oven. which was on and baking … something. Theresea closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in a sweet aroma that she noticed building in the kitchenette. The smell was one she knew. Vanilla.

“Ah, baking a cake?” she asked, and he nodded.

Arthur then pointed to Connie’s festive dress and done-up hair, his fingers starting at his forehead and spiraling down in loops to convey the shape of her pigtails.

“Yes, she roused me a little earlier than normal,” she said, “So, I brought her into my powder room for a little girl’s pampering session. Hair, clothes, nails, the works!”

She reached over and tickled the young girl through the lacy layers of her dress. The toddler screamed in mirth, her strawberry-seed teeth bared in a full grin. Not for the further time that day, Arthur’s heart sang with joy. “After all, today is a very special day!”

Constance paused her laughter to stare at her parents in intrigue. Her cornflower eyes bounced between them as they took turns humming and making dramatic ‘pondering’ gestures. Even a audience member in the back seats the Globe Theatre – if it still stood today – would have rolled their eyes at the over-dramatic display, but Constance was enthralled.

“What?” she asked, bouncing up and down on her chair. “What? What day? Spe-thial?”

Then, in unison, both parents gasped in mock-shock.

“Why, it’s your birthday!” the parents expressed in tandem.

Theresea cheered while Arthur went to check the delicious cake in the oven, hearing the timer ping just moments before.

“Birf-day?” the girl repeated as Theresea kissed her chubby cheeks.

“That’s right. It’s the very special day when you came into our lives and made us very happy.”

Connie’s mouth formed an ‘o’ shape, which quickly shifted into a sheepish grin. Her fingers steepled in front of her face and she rocked from foot to foot. In her large dress, she looked like a tipsy snowball. “I did? I made mama and papa happy? For real life?”

“You did.” She reached out and folded her tiny hands into her own. “You do, my love. Every day.”

Arthur lightly spread a layer of premade glaze over the surface of the round cake. Then, he sifted a blanket of powdered sugar and cinnamon on top of the perfect, circular surface. After sticking on a paper topper, which was cut into a kaleidoscope of swirls and flourishes, he scooped it up proudly.

With a skillful pirouette, he turned and placed it before the young girl. Upon seeing the vanilla cake, her face lit up. It was her favorite kind, even down to the dusting of cinnamon. How had her father known? She loved everything he baked, after all.

Arthur smiled as he gently placed a candle in the middle of the topper. Then, with a hand as steady as a surgeon, he struck a match and lit it.

“Now,” the woman said, nudging her forward, holding onto her side to prevent her from drifting too close to the frame. “Blow out the candle and make a wish.”

She thought hard. What was her wish? There wasn’t much she wanted, she supposed. He lived in a very pretty house, had a really nice bedroom with a real mattress, warm clothes (although they were sometimes itchy) and she had the best parents in the whole wide world. Her beautiful mama and handsome father; the two people she loved more than anyone.

That, she realized, was the part she loved most.

With a mighty inhale, she blew as hard as she could, dashing the flame out swiftly. As her parents clapped, she settled between them contently. She held the wish in her heart, content with the warm buzz it generated there.

Please … stay my mama and papa forever and ever.

#oc constance dogoode #lore

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