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honestgrins · 3 years

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Can you write a Klaroline drabble where Caroline shows up in NOLA and shocks everyone but maybe Kol or Katherine when she says she's Klaus's wife? Cannon Caroline not original.

I Heard a Rumor

The club was filled with people and the chaos of a Friday night. Klaus preferred to avoid the rush of tourists, but Marcel kept the VIP lounge to a more tolerable set even during peak hours - usually.

“Don’t you just love this place?” Janet was hanging over the balcony to watch the crowds below, none too subtly pushing her ass back toward him. As one of the humans on staff to provide a live blood source, she was perfectly amiable to Klaus. He’d even become something of a regular customer for her given his penchant for the tinge of bourbon in her taste. However, it seemed she took the friendly flirtation of their transactions to heart, and she was testing his patience for more.

Unfortunately for her, his patience was wearing thin. With a barely polite grimace, he downed the rest of his drink and made to stand. “It’s a bit rowdier than I like, love, so—”

She gave a rapturous giggle, only to fall into his lap and sprawl across him. “I like that you call me ‘love,’” she murmured, her mouth clumsy against his ear. “Let’s get out of here, and I’ll show you how much I like it.”

Rolling his eyes, Klaus was ready to speed out of there without bothering to set her back on her feet. The only thing that kept him in his crowded seat was the biting and all too familiar voice coming from behind him.

“Sorry, love, he won’t be available to accept whatever appreciation you have in mind.”

Both surprised — though for very different reasons — they turned to see Caroline Forbes facing them with a pageant-ready smile and murder in her eyes. She was stunning. Klaus couldn’t help a grin despite his earlier annoyance, and his brow arched in challenge. “Hello, sweetheart. Fancy meeting you here.”

Her jaw shifted almost imperceptibly to the left, but his companion didn’t seem to sense the rising tension as a threat. “Who the hell are you?”

Just like that, Caroline’s smile turned sharp with her fangs on full display. “I’m his wife, and you’re in my seat.”

The club was home to any number of vampires who heard her perfectly over the music, and more than a few froze at the sudden silence coming from him. The Klaus Mikaelson they knew would have reacted instantly, either with murder or some other violence, and they all seemed to wait for the ensuing mayhem. Even Janet finally grasped the discomfort of the moment, and she extricated herself from his lap with all the delicacy a human could manage. “I’ll just— Yeah, bye.”

Whatever show the club was waiting for, Klaus had more pressing concerns. “Shall we continue this interesting discussion at home?” he asked, though they both knew it wasn’t a question. Gently gripping Caroline’s arm, he flashed them back to the manor. He heard Kol and Rebekah meandering somewhere, and Elijah was likely on the premises as well. With that in mind, he brought her to the privacy of his studio and its soundproofing spell. Wisely, she waited until the door was shut to yank her arm free with a disgruntled huff. He merely smiled as he went to pour them some blooded wine. “That was quite the display you gave, sweetheart,” he said lightly, handing her a glass. “I have to admit: I didn’t see it coming.”

“Bullshit,” she snapped, setting aside the drink without indulging. His lips pursed; it was an excellent vintage, yet he was more perturbed at her outright refusal of his hospitality. Perhaps this wasn’t their usual spat to be easily resolved. Proving just that, she seemed truly distraught. “You promised to leave Mystic Falls, that my life was my own.”

“It is. I haven’t stepped foot in Virginia since that day.” Brow furrowed, Klaus felt an urgent need to reassure her. “I understand you need time to accept what I’m offering, and I am prepared to wait however long it takes. What on earth made you believe I’m encroaching on that promise?”

Last he heard, she wasn’t even in the States. They did chat by phone every so often, and when she’d mentioned a tour abroad, he had offered a list of his various estates that would be available to her should she wish. It was the caretaker of his dacha outside of Moscow who alerted him to her softening boundaries. He certainly had no intention of making her regret the change, let alone whatever caused this latest upset.

Watching him with suspicion, Caroline apparently wasn’t sure of his intentions at all. “Seriously? It wasn’t bad enough I ran into the stalkers you have ‘looking out for me’ in every city, but the one time I take you up on borrowing a place, you have the staff literally bowing to me. I wrote it off as a cultural thing at first, then I heard the whispers.”

“Though I refute your accusations of stalking, I will admit to warning some friends and enemies you are not to be trifled with in your travels. As for Dmitri, I merely asked him to welcome you as an honored guest, which you are.”

She scoffed and crossed her arms in defiance. “Yeah, well, he wasn’t welcoming me as an honored guest. I overheard him chatting with his wife about meeting ‘the new mistress of the house.’”

Klaus shrugged, unconcerned. Satisfied the situation wasn’t more dire, he allowed himself to relax on his sofa, daring to pat the spot next to him. Caroline remained unmoved, and he rolled his eyes. “Perhaps the nature of your significance was lost in translation. You’re the one who came to my town and introduced yourself as my wife.”

“Because half of Russia thinks I am your wife!” With an indignant stamp of her foot, she seemed ready to tear her hair out — but she frowned more sedately at the blankness on his face. “You didn’t know?”

Shaking his head, he honestly had no idea. “What happened, Caroline?”

Finally taking her drink, she dropped to the couch beside him with an embarrassed groan. “I stepped into exactly one vampire club, and people practically threw themselves out of my path. I assumed it was more of the same from you, until the guy I was flirting with was suddenly yanked away by a friend. He went white when he was told my husband would tear out his intestines and shove them down his throat.”

“A bit uncreative, that.”

“Klaus!”

“I don’t know,” he insisted, his frustration growing to match hers. Rubbing a hand across his mouth, he genuinely had no idea why anyone would think him married. Though he had many hopes and plans involving Caroline in his future, matrimony was a human tradition he’d never once considered. “Truly, this didn’t come from me.”

Sighing, she leaned back into the couch and nursed her wine, defeated. “Oh. Then, sorry for cockblocking, I guess.”

Klaus smirked at that, and he turned to face her more fully. “Are you really?” The lightest blush stained her cheeks, and he knew she was biting her tongue at the faint scent of her blood. Unable to resist, he reached his hand to rest on the back of her neck, his thumb rubbing into her hair. “New Orleans is a small town at heart, love, and you effectively announced yourself as my wife in the middle of town square.”

“To be fair, I thought you had told the whole world, and I wasn’t going to be the only one not getting laid because of it.”

“Ah.” He was torn between a wince and a laugh, so he settled for another sip of his drink instead. His other hand continued to massage her scalp, and he felt the tension slowly loosening within her. ��I never meant to restrict your choices,” he promised. “Tempt you into choosing me, absolutely, but not like this.”

Finally, she relaxed into him, slouching until he could tuck her against his side. Some doubt lingered, though, he could tell. Perhaps it was a sign of growth on both their parts that he didn’t take offense and that she trusted him enough be honest. “But who else would want to spread a rumor like that about us? It’s not like anyone benefits if we really did do the Vegas wedding thing.”

His mouth twitched, and he flashed to the door, barely sparing a brief kiss to the top of her head. He tore it open, only for her to slam it shut again. Pressing her back to the wood, she kept a heavy glare on him. “Put those away, we both know you’re not going to bite me.”

With a reluctant growl, he forced his fangs to recede. “It’s not your blood I want at the moment, and it’s certainly not pleasure I seek.”

“Yeah, ‘cause revenge isn’t a pleasure for you,” she answered snidely. “Tell me what’s going on before you kill the blabbermouth.”

“This is something I have to do myself, sweetheart.”

“Hi, I might want to help! They screwed with both of us here, not just you.”

A half-smile formed without permission, the fondness he felt for her softer than he was comfortable acknowledging at the moment — especially when someone had proven all too willing to use their connection against him. “Few in New Orleans know about you, let alone your...effect on me. Only two would maliciously speak out of turn about that. And just one of those would dare to bind you to me forever, lest I be challenged to follow through.”

Her face was an open book to him, and he hoped she never lost that human nature to share every feeling she had as it happened. Confusion, calculation, consternation, they all boiled down to an annoyed scrunch of her nose. “Your family knows I exist, at least, I think so. I never actually met Elijah, but you two seem to have gotten over whatever grudge match was going on at home.” He gave a brief nod, fascinated at the determined way she thought it through. “I also doubt you told him about your fling with a baby vampire. Kol and Rebekah, on the other hand, probably didn’t need to be told.”

“Bekah still likes to complain that we defiled the entire wood within earshot,” he muttered, not that he could be particularly aggrieved at the memory of a sunny afternoon. “And you are no mere fling, Caroline.”

That lovely blush rose again, and she looked anywhere but at him as he crowded her against the door. Gently brushing the curtain of her hair back from her face, Klaus waited for her to gather herself. After a deep breath, she finally met him with a half-hearted glare. “Which Rebekah loathes, so she’s definitely not daring you to marry me by telling everyone else you already have.”

Silently agreeing, he hadn’t lowered his hand from where it settled on her cheek, and a thrill came when she leaned into it. “Kol, however, enjoys sowing chaos wherever he goes.”

“Yeah,” she groaned. “That sounds on brand, and I played right into it with this stupid payback stunt.”

“We always did share a flair for the dramatic.”

The laugh built in her throat before it burst out, filling the air between them until they were both smiling like fools. Her hands had curled into his shirt, one at his hip and the other over his heart. The slight tug of fabric was tempting, but he still kept his tentative distance. “I promised you time, and I meant it.”

Biting her lip, Caroline nodded. She didn’t let go of his shirt, either. “Does it have be all or nothing right now?” It was half a whisper, the barest hint of whine in her voice endearing. “Because you smell really good and it’s been a long time thanks to your stupid brother, and I might have missed you more than I realized, so can you just kiss me alrea—”

There would be consequences from the rumors of their marriage, and more than just those Kol would face. Caroline would be a target, either for those seeking Klaus’s favor or those out to destroy him. Her presence or absence from his daily life would be a noted occurrence, and more rumors would arise should they be seen with others instead. New pressures would exert force on the evolution of their relationship, something he had measured in decades and centuries without such attention. But they could deal with those consequences in time, together.

Later.

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #to rely on the kindness of strangers #anon anon #fic: i heard a rumor

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samanthadalton · 4 years

Text

Star crossed lovers (au)

pairings: poppy x mc (bea)

warnings: throughout this fic (there will be a bunch of parts to it) there will be mentions of substance abuse, homophobia, sexual abuse, violence, NSFW, mentions of abandonment, depression and death including suicide

reader discretion is advised

(this chapter is more about setting up the basis of the story so is more context than anything else, part 2 will be more interesting I swear 😭, also it’s like 4am so if there’s any gramatical mistakes I’ll fix it later)

taglist: @somewillwin @save-me-the-last-dance @baexpoppy @cloud9in @simpforpoppy @ognenniyvolk (I’m pretty sure this is my tag list if you wanna be added or taken off for future chapters just ask 😊)

word count: 3.6k

Part 1: The introduction

As the sun began to set, the houses along the street began to bask in its warm glow. The neighbourhood is quiet, like always, excluding the occasional car engine rumbling through the roads until they disappear into the distance and once again the silence is deafening. This neighbourhood was your typical suburban type, their structures stood tall and bold. Looking from an aerial point of view, one could argue that it’s almost like the houses have been copied and pasted along the street, they almost look perfect. One theory is that they were purposely made to look like they're perfect because they don’t want anyone to find out their secrets. It’s harder to catch a true glimpse when everything looks flawless.

If you compare the northside and the southside of Greensburg, it makes it seem like they’re living in two different worlds and maybe they are. The polarisation between the rich and the poor only becomes bigger, demonstrated by the high socio-economic backgrounds of those who lived in the north who go to the best schools, have the best jobs and sometimes own more than one house. Compared to those in a low socio economic background in the south, who usually have to work two jobs just to feel some sort of financial stability in their lives or have no choice but to indulge in illegal jobs just so they can feel some sort of power and superiority and have money of course. Only a few in the south are able to lead a straight and narrow life and successfully do it without having to engage in the culture of illegal activities.

Bea Hughes, a girl who lives in Greensburg is someone who managed to immerse herself in both worlds. She used to be part of the upper class lifestyle but after life fucked her and her family over at the tender age of 8 years old, she was pulled into another world, one that she quickly had to acquaint herself with, because in the south, survival matters. The luxuries she once knew as a kid had disappeared and she constantly lived in a fight or flight situation. Now as her senior year of high school looms ahead, she finds herself still living in a similar situation, but instead of dealing with gangs or her addict of a mother, she had to deal with stuck up rich kids in Greensburg’s most prestigious school, Belvoire, which may have been her toughest obstacle of all. Against all odds, Bea managed to earn a scholarship at this private school when she was 15, and in order to keep her place, she has to maintain a 4.0 GPA, join at least one extra curricular activity and immerse herself into the culture of the school (whatever that meant).

Even though life managed to be shitty most of the time, there was one constant, one thing that made life worth living, one thing that made her the happiest…

“Crap”, the brunette clung onto the branch of the tree trying to regain her footing after narrowly avoiding her death (or more likely a trip to the hospital). After recovering from her mild slip, she rapped on the window beside her and a few seconds later the window slides open and as she enters the room she trips up on her own feet landing face down on the floor.

“Real smooth”

Bea chuckles at the snark comment as she looks up and as the sunlight shines through the window, it highlights all the features of the other girl. She was shorter than Bea (although not in this moment since Bea was practically laying on the floor), her facial features were sharp and her strawberry blonde hair fell perfectly around her shoulders. Her plush pink lips were curled up in a small smile as she offered a hand to the girl to help her up.

“I totally meant to do that” Bea takes her hand and lifts herself off the floor, and after she quickly dusts herself off and grabs the blonde’s wrist pulling her towards her while her other hand settles on her waist. “So how much time do we have?”

The petite girl wounds her arms around the taller girl’s neck and slightly tip toes to whisper, “my dad has dinner with a bunch of investors so he’s not going to be back until midnight”. A huge smile appears on her face as she leans back slightly taking in the appraising look of the brunette.

“Perfect”.

Bea moves in to kiss the blonde, passion already igniting as their tongues tangle in a fight for dominance until Bea suddenly pulls away, foreheads touching, eyes blazing with desire as she whispers against the other girl’s lips, “I missed you Pops”.

The other girl rolls her eyes and unwinds her arms from Bea’s neck, slightly pushing her back and while maintaining eye contact she walks backwards towards the bed and sits on the edge, “shuttup, you literally saw me yesterday” her tone attempting to come across as catty but instead comes out in a more playful manner.

Bea raises an eyebrow as she saunters to where the girl is sitting and places two fingers under the girl’s chin lifting her face until their eyes meet, “so? I’m suddenly not allowed to miss my girlfriend?” She leans in, her lips ghosts around the blonde’s lips.

“You talk too much, come on we’re wasting daylight” the blonde grabs Bea’s shirt and pulls her down onto the bed with her as they tussle in the sheets, lips crashing against one another reigniting the same passion from the kiss before.

“Poppy..” Bea all but moans when Poppy places wet kisses along her jawline and begins biting at her neck. Not wanting her to have all the fun, Bea suddenly flips Poppy over pressing her deeper into the mattress as she ravenously kisses her, as if Poppy is the only one who can satiate her desire, and honestly speaking? She probably is.

“No more foreplay, I want you now” Poppy breathlessly says, breaking the heated kiss. Bea sits up to straddle Poppy, intertwining both hands with hers and places it above the blonde’s head and grinds on her hips earning a low groan from Poppy.

“Ask and you shall receive my queen”

In response, Poppy rolls her eyes and her tongue darts out of her mouth, teasingly moving against her own soft lips and as Bea leans in for another kiss her slender fingers move lightly above Poppy’s inner thigh, touching everywhere except where Poppy wanted her the most. After a few pleads from the blonde, Bea finally indulges her desires and they moved in perfect syncopation.

…..

After a while, Bea and Poppy collapse into each other’s arms, exhausted but satisfied recovering from their physically demanding rendezvous. Bea lays on her back with one arm behind her head and one arm wrapped around the petite girl who fit perfectly in her larger frame. Poppy relaxes her head on Bea’s chest, feeling lulled by her heartbeat which brings her a sense of calm and security. Bea softly kisses her forehead and looks down at the girl, entranced by her beauty, enrapturing the way her breaths are slightly longer and deeper than usual, the way her hair falls around her face and how her fingers subconsciously ghost around Bea’s stomach drawing lazy shapes.

Poppy Min Sinclair, a 5’2 blonde beauty who is Bea’s entire world. Everything about her screams perfection in Bea’s eyes. She’s a straight A student, captain of the cheerleading team, and likes to spend time volunteering at her local animal shelter and is secretly an amazing artist. Though her family was one of the richest families in Greensburg, Poppy wasn’t your average highschool rich girl. Though she would often go on regular shopping sprees and refuse to wear anything that wasn’t designer (unless it was Bea’s clothes), she never treated Bea any differently than how others would. She was a bright girl, who was loving, friendly, fierce when she needed to be and extremely loyal. When it was just her and Bea she could show her true self, not pretend to be someone she’s not or play a certain role, she could just simply be Poppy instead of Poppy Min Sinclair. Poppy often felt the gravity that came with her name, especially since that’s all her father pressured her to be, a Min Sinclair.

Hayden Min Sinclair, Poppy’s father, owned an entire empire of companies, differentiating from technology based businesses to architecture and finance. To say he was a businessman was putting it lightly, he was almost like a god or at least someone who was highly worshipped by business moguls. He built up his family’s name and within a decade he was a force to be reckoned with. Hayden Min Sinclair worked his ass off to lift his companies off the ground because as a person of colour he knew he would have to work 10x harder to get what he wanted. All he ever wants is life for his daughter to be easy, the irony is, that he’s one of the main reasons why it’s so hard.

He’s a man of honour and pride and has never expected anything less from his daughter, hoping she would keep the dignity attached to the Min Sinclair name and bring it to new heights. So his traditionalist and conservative views means that he’s expecting Poppy to marry a man, who’s also an aristocrat, in which Bea is 0 for 2 for Poppy’s father’s expectations. Hence, Bea and Poppy have to keep their relationship a secret, a way to protect both Poppy and her future but also Bea from Mr Min Sinclair’s wrath. Reputation means everything to the Min Sinclairs and to Mr Min Sinclair specifically, especially after Poppy’s mother passed away when Poppy was 10 after an unfortunate incident of a drunken hit and run which left Poppy permanently broken from the loss of her mother but had all the socialites gossiping about the tragedy for months. To this day Poppy and her father still mourn her loss and Poppy often turns to Bea for comfort, for her companionship could provide the means of making her forget the empty presence of her mother that was left behind.

They’d known each other since they were 7, when Bea used to live in the very same neighbourhood after the Min Sinclair’s moved into the neighbourhood, and they spent almost every waking hour together, attached by the hip. They were the best of friends and almost nothing could get in their way. Emphasis on the ‘almost’.

When Bea’s father left Bea’s mother, Isabella when Bea was 8 and her sister Aria was 2, after finding out that Aria wasn’t his child as a result of a one night stand Isabella had, Bea’s family struggled to afford to live in the neighborhood especially since Bea’s father was the breadwinner of the house and their main source of income. After a series of bad decisions resulting in Bea’s mother losing her job as a banker, the 3 girls were forced to move to the south of Greensburg since it was the only thing they could afford.

Bea and Poppy were still inseparable at this point, either Bea would take 2 buses to go to Poppy’s house or Poppy would call the family’s driver so she could go over the Bea’s. The breaking point for their friendship was the day when Bea’s mother once took the girls to the park when they were 11 and after she had gotten so intoxicated to the point she threw up in front of all the children, and Poppy’s father prohibited Poppy from seeing Bea again.

“That girl and her family will bring shame to our family’s name, imagine what your mother would say” Poppy can still hear her father’s words ringing in her head from time to time, but everytime she looks at Bea, all her expectations would disappear and she would just simply be happy.

They began dating when they were 14, after Poppy had managed to scrounge up all her courage to kiss Bea on valentine’s day, after the two girls had snuck away to a diner to hang out like they would usually do. Poppy looked as if she was going to pass out from embarrassment when Bea didn’t reciprocate the kiss at first, however in Bea’s defence she was more startled than anything else. When Poppy was about to apologise Bea moved in and gave Poppy a sweet and chaste kiss on the lips and from then they decided they would be together. Bea couldn’t believe her luck when she was able to call Poppy hers, she felt like she didn’t have much to offer Poppy as she had yet to have earned the scholarship to Belvoire, the same school that Poppy had been attending. As well as coming from a troubled family life she didn’t want to implicate Poppy in any way but staying away from her had proven to be too difficult.

The consequences of their forbidden love was much harder on her than it was on Poppy, still nevertheless she would do anything for Poppy, which was proven time and time again when they have to act like strangers at school. In spite of that, the stolen glances, the stolen moments, the stolen kisses, it made it all worth it.

“Are you ready for school tomorrow” Poppy’s soft voice vibrated against Bea’s chest.

Bea lets out a soft chuckle, “What do you think Pops? I’m the school’s lonely girl”

Bea’s reputation at Belvoire could not be worse, in a school filled with entitled brats, it was difficult for her to make any friends considering her economic background. She also couldn’t rely on Poppy and her popularity since she couldn’t be within any vicinity of the girl she loves. Bea and Poppy’s friends had a history of not getting along, and since Poppy couldn’t allow the true nature of her relationship with Bea to come to light, Bea had to deal with all sorts of harassment and bullying from them. Bea often had to remind herself that she was only a target because with money comes a lot of entitlement, especially from snobby teenagers. Moreover, the consequences of her mother’s actions also didn’t help Bea as the stories followed her everywhere, causing all sorts of rumours to spread like wildfire.

Poppy lifted her head slightly to look into Bea’s eyes, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant it’s the last year of highschool, that means one last chance for us to win nationals and for you to come on top for volleyball.”

As mentioned beforehand, the extra curricular Bea chose to partake in was volleyball, not only did being part of a winning sports team look good on a college application, it also helped Bea with releasing her pent up anger and dominating her competition. Her favourite thing in particular was the smaller group of cheerleaders, including Poppy, who were at every game after Poppy made a compelling argument to the principle about the importance of raising school spirit in all sport related inquiries. Bea would often steal a glimpse at Poppy, who always came up with extra dance moves and cheers, sending secret messages that she was rooting for her girlfriend.

“One more year of highschool, do you know what that means Pops?” Bea smiled devilishly at Poppy who returned the smile and leaned her face in, lips ghosting around Bea’s.

“Why don’t you remind me?”

Bea grabbed the blonde’s waist and stole a quick kiss, “One more year means that next year we’ll both be in New York, and we can finally be together for real”.

“I can’t wait to live off campus with you, we should start looking at places now so we can get ahead and find a good place sin-” Bea cuts her off with a kiss while Poppy smiles, “I hate when you interrupt me with kisses”

“No you don’t”

“You’re right I don’t, but you better not slack this year Bea Hughes otherwise I’ll beat your ass if you don’t get into Columbia”

“I would never, I’m literally a better student than you babe. I would say you shouldn’t slack either but we all know daddy’s going to help you get into NYU.”

Poppy playfully slaps Bea on the arm who just laughs, “hey, no way in hell am I going to use the Min Sinclair name like that, when” (she made sure to put extra emphasis as she spoke) “I get into NYU it will be because of how amazing and talented I am”

“Not to mention damn right gorgeous and smart and incredibly flexible”

Poppy moves to straddle Bea, hands on either side of her head and she leans in, “hmm, you think the admission office will be looking at those particular things?” her tone teasing and inviting.

Bea attempts to move her head up only for Poppy to quickly place her perfectly manicured hand around her neck and push her down, Bea’s eyes flash as her voice pulsates with desire, “well I’ll definitely be looking, for educational reasons of course”

Poppy breaks out into a wide grin as the girls share a passionate kiss, tongues tangled together as they fight for dominance, Bea tries to envelop Poppy’s entire mouth with her kiss but Poppy’s unrelenting perseverance pushes through as she tightens the grip around Bea’s neck, pushing her deeper into the mattress. Bea succumbs to Poppy’s kisses and allows the blonde’s tongue to explore the inside of her mouth, getting lost in the wave of pleasure that emanates from Poppy’s lips.

After a few more kisses, Bea looks at the digital clock sitting on top of Poppy’s dresser, “damn it’s getting late I should go”

“Wha- it’s barely 10 o’clock”, Poppy pouts as her eyebrows furrow slightly.

“I know” Bea places a hand on Poppy’s face gently brushing against her cheekbone, “but you need your 8 hours of sleep and I gotta make sure everything is ready for Aria tomorrow”.

Poppy sighs defeatedly as she knows how important Bea’s half sister is to her, she’s practically an older sister to Aria and is also incredibly protective of her too. “Well tell Aria I said hi”

Bea moves to stand and Poppy grabs her hand, “wait, you didn’t tell me, how’s your mom?”

Bea nonchalantly shrugged and gazed at the floor, “same old, same old, she drinks herself into oblivion not giving a shit about the rest of us”

Poppy rubbed comforting circles on Bea’s hand, “don’t worry Bea one day it will get better”

Bea lets out a humourless laugh, “I’ve been saying that for almost 10 years”

She stalks over to the window and lets half of her body hang out ready to reach out to the tree, Poppy moves over and gives Bea one last lingering kiss, “You know you can use the front door, my dad’s not here”

“Yeah I know but it’s always so awkward when I run into Rita at this time because she knows that I’m screwing you”, Bea smiles while Poppy raises an eyebrow

“Screwing me?”

“Sorry I meant making love to you” she gives Poppy a quick kiss

“Much better, and anyways Rita doesn’t care, she’s been rooting for us this entire time”

“It’s okay, don’t worry P, I’ve been climbing in and out of these windows and over that gate for years, how else do you think I got these muscles”, she flexes her toned arms while Poppy runs a hand over them, “I love you”

“I love you too”, Poppy watches as Bea moves out of the window, gripping the tree and making her descent, “wait” she shouts down, “where did you leave your bike?”

Bea smiles up at her, “I parked it a couple of blocks away from here it’s fine, I’ll text you when I get home” she blows a kiss to Poppy and begins making her way over the gate and into the street which shone bright from the lampposts. Poppy sighs and closes her window and begins getting ready for bed until a knock at her door catches her attention. Rita, her nanny and keeper enters the room and looks at Poppy with a knowing glance, ‘Bea didn’t want to stay for dinner?’

Poppy laughs slightly and shakes her head, “no she had to get home to make sure her sister is okay”

Rita leaves a plate with a few cucumber and cheese sandwiches on the dresser, “don’t stay up too late Miss Min Sinclair,” and with that she gives a little wave and leaves the room closing the door behind her. After eating half of her sandwich and going through her extensive nighttime routine, she receives a text from Bea

💖 B

Just got home now

Love you and goodnight my love

Poppy smiles at her phone and then sets her phone on her dresser, not before putting it on charge, and drifts off to sleep.

Bea on the other hand was wide awake. When she safely parked her motorbike near her house and texted Poppy as she entered the house. She looked up from her phone into the dark room to see the tv quietly playing while her mother was passed out on the couch with a half drunk bottle of vodka on the table. She moved towards the couch covering her mom with a blanket and then went into her bedroom to check on her sister who was soundly sleeping in her bed. Bea headed into the kitchen took some cold pizza from the fridge and did some last minutes checks to make sure both her and her sister were equipped and ready for school tomorrow. She settled in her bed, her mind racing with thoughts about school and how challenging the first day back will be.

read part 2:

#playchoices #queen b #poppy x mc #poppy min sinclair

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wefeg · 3 years

Text

That after the tying, whipping

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to import dependent companies with taxes aimed at penalizing them for not buying "Made in America" goods.

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 4 years

Text

12. Watch This

"Okay," Erik paused. "Wait." One more shallow curve of his small black blade. "You can look," Erik breathed, eyes alight with excitement. Slowly, his face lowered closer to her thigh, catching the details of his work. He had gone over it twice ensuring that the lines were cut evenly in width and depth, the curves round with no breaks or edges, the picture pristine and clear. There would be no mistaking this time of what he had crafted. He was sure that what he made.. was absolutely perfect. His best work yet.

Briefly he glanced at Ivy's face strewn with tears which stained her youthful cheeks and reddened her once cotton white scleras. She hadn't made a peep, but she couldn't stop her tears or the lip she'd bitten throughout the process. He thought she'd chew through it. That would've been fun to watch.

His thick fingers traveled through blood from her thigh, rubbing it between his stocky fingers, allowing to stain his skin red.

"Such a pure red."

Touching the droplets of blood once more, he tapped his stained fingers to his tongue. The taste was metallic from the iron.

"You know this shit is lethal? Yeah, that vampire shit is bullshit. It looks fun until you end up in the hospital." A lightbulb went off in his head.

-----

"Hey Ivy," his head tilted watching her with the sickly ghost of a smirk. Ivy could hear his breathing pick up. It was a bad sign. Tired of his games and exhausted from the knife torture, she refused to respond. Not even a look in his direction. She continued to purposely ignore him until she saw him lift the knife in his hand. She watched from the corner of her eye.

"I see you looking at me. Watch this."

Blood began to drip down his forearm from his hand. It seemed he'd stuck himself in the hand with his knife on purpose. Ivy frowned, her lip twisting like her brows.

"Now you just sat up here and said that shit would send somebody to the hospital. You ain't got nobody else to fuck with as it is. One half dead, already in the hospital, one hate your fuckin guts by now, and here you go again... on that bullshit."

"You calling me out, Ms. Stevens? You think I'm reckless?"

"Why the fuck you gotta bleed cuz I'm bleeding? We both injured in this bitch because you wanna be a serial sadist. For no reason you on that bullshit!"

Turning his arm, he held his hand to her lips. "Drink," he commanded, smearing it on her lips when she refused.

-----

Ms. Stevens was a firecracker. Even under her current circumstances, she was on his ass and Erik couldn't help but to smile. It was refreshing to deal with a woman who was not so easily tamed. It meant she could take more of his art.. more play.. and he could push the envelope even further. , his attention returned her thigh. It looked even better with his changes.

"If this shit wasn't toxic, I'd lick it off your thigh," he sighed rubbing the skin he hadn't cut. He couldn't drink it because of the amount of iron that's in blood. A slight muscle movement drew his eye to the junction of her thighs.

"Wait, did that turn you on?"

Ivy's face screwed tightly into a tiny expression that read 'how the fuck?'

"Are you on crack cocaine?!" She was so fiery.

He hoped that part of her was actually turned on. Not that he'd fuck her, but he'd have a lot of fun exploring why exactly she was turned on.. making her explain it to him in detail. Maybe he'd cut her a slight break and leave her tied up for the night, check on her mom, carry on the next morning. It sounded like a plan.

"Whose this," he mumbled pulling his phone from his pocket. It'd vibrated and looking at the screen, he could see his security cameras had picked up a police car outside. He had company. If it was that dick-hungry officer, then maybe he could really have some fun.

"You stay put," he pointed to Ivy leaving her on her own still tied as he closed the soundproof door. He'd had installed and tested with the twins. Standing on one side, he'd had them yell as loudly as they could muster the other side. No sound had come through. This meant Ivy had no chance of ruining his fun.

He had to rinse his hand and arm of blood, bandaging it quickly and he had to check his clothing for blood. Finding a spot on his shirt, he scooted quickly to his bedroom hamper to toss it in. The doorbell alerted him that he had no time to waste. Chest bare, he walked coolly through his corridor to the front door, cracking it to where only a sliver of himself was seen

"Officer Howard," he greeted brows high. Perfect.

"You have a good memory," her head tilted looking him in the eye.

"I don't forget beautiful women easily, especially the ones who bring their own handcuffs," he smirked.

She shook her head. He could see in her humored expression she was into him, but why had she come?

"What brings you over here Officer?" He blatantly looked her up and down hoping that she noticed. His eyes roamed details of her uniformed curves before moving back up to focus in on her flattered freckled face. She was alone, no backup.

"I'm actually here to ask you a few questions.... What else can you tell me about Ivy Stevens?"

This late? Damn.

"You mean the young lady who tried to ruin my career and try my character," Erik sighed resting a hand high on the door frame so that his body was even more on display. What was she asking him for? Did it look like had anything to do with that girl?

The way Officer Howard ogled his chest and arm muscles, looking over his pattern of scars, he wondered if she'd actually drop her guard. Then he could have the upper hand. She gave a tight smile, nodding empathetically.

"Sorry to bother you at home, but as I said.. protocol. You mind letting me in?"

"You gonna arrest me if I don't?"

Her eyes narrowed but there was a hint of a smile on her.

"Cuz I might like that," he teased holding out his wrists. When Officer Howard smirked, he chuckled and opened the door wide for her. He had the perfect spot to lead her to.

In the parlor, he went straight to the bar which was covered with various liquor bottles. The custom wine rack was of reclaimed wood and held 40 bottles of wine. He held his hand out over the bottles on the bar.

"Pick your poison."

-----

"Rum and coke."

Settling on the white plush velvet couch, Trinity looked around the room noting the paintings. This was a man who loved art.

"..Since you're offering," she added.

The art seemed purposely rough, textured. Wild horses mid-run and green forestry. It all seemed average enough.. masculine and active. Seemed to fit Dr. Stevens well.

"What's that," Trinity nodded toward the glass Dr. Stevens hovered above. He'd just drizzled an off white semi translucent glaze into it.

"Coconut syrup..," he paused. "You ain't never mix it in your rum & coke," his brow raised. Trinity rolled her eyes as he tsked. "What type of wackass liquor you been drinking Ms. Howard?"

She bristled at the unexpected profanity. She knew she had a potty mouth, but his caught her by surprise. She was really in his house. He was definitely more comfortable and free compared to when she'd first met him. He'd seemed a bit more uptight in his office. Blinking, she watched as he rubbed his hands together as if getting serious. This relaxed side of the good dentist really turned her on.

"I drink STRAIGHT rum mixed with coke," Trinity stressed slowly.

"Watch this." He ducked low and when he came up, he produced silver tongs holding a large clear and perfectly square ice crystal cube and a small white sack which he removed a brown mallet from before dropping in the cube.

Trinity was impressed. In level of class, he'd already surpassed every excuse for a grown man she'd been with. He knew how to cater to a woman like a real man ought to. If she could end this Ivy Ivy Stevens situation and confirm her location off in the islands or, hell, Mexico.. wherever. As long as she was breathing.. she could make a move on this man and claim a husband.

Wham! Wham! Wham!

Trinity watched his thick forearm as he slammed the mallet against the sack holding the crystal ice block. He had aggression, but it didn't touch his baby-like face.

"You caught me just in time. I was just about to shower," he smiled up, dumping the crushed ice into the glass filling it passed the rim.

"Mhm. Your markings," she gestured to her own chest, "Those are unique. What's uh.. what are those about?"

Someone had scarred him all up. That was worth remembering and recording. He didn't seem shy or ashamed, in fact he appeared to be parading his markings. Maybe he liked them. Maybe he'd had them done for whatever reason, which was odd. She hadn't figured him for a guy into those bizarre modifications. But then he surprised her with his profanity as well. He seemed more extreme or mischievous than what she'd originally thought. The thought came to her that maybe she should question him a bit more just to be thorough.

"My family is officially from Africa and in our tribe, it's not abnormal. It's simply cultural."

Trinity nodded as he juiced a fresh lime into the glass chasing it with half a can of coke, and topping it off with rum. After stirring, he handed her the rum and coke in the pint glass and returned to the bar pouring shot of vodka for himself.

"Cheers," he said raising his glass.

Trinity watched him as they drank in silence.

"You said you're from Africa. What country?"

"Wakanda."

"Isn't that near Kenya?"

"It is, you been to Kenya?"

"I haven't been past Mexico," Trinity scoffed. She'd gotten piss drunk there with friends after calling off work with a fake death in the family. It was a trip she couldn't miss. "I went by your office earlier to speak with you but it seemed that you were closed."

"No appointments. I went ahead and let my staff go home."

"Speaking of staff, how's Draya," Trinity stared, sipping her drink. She watched his eyes narrow briefly before lowering to his empty glass.

"She's in the hospital.. I'm sure you've heard about the attack."

"An ex attacked her," Trinity nodded. "There is something that's been bothering me." It was a thought that had only recently come. She decided to go ahead and get his reaction. "Reports say that Draya was covered in scars. Is she from Wakanda too?"

He met her eyes then, quiet. She'd touched a nerve.

"No, Ms. Howard. She is not."

"Had you ever seen her scars?" Trinity took another sip, watching the irritation build in his eyes.

"I have not. In what instance would I have possibly seen them?"

"You tell me," Trinity squinted. "And what happened to your hand?" This was actually going somewhere and she hadn't expected it to. He was defensive

"I have a suspicion," Trinity stood looking around. She walked around the room touching random items that stuck out to her.

"And what is your suspicion?"

She turned at the edge in his voice. She was really hitting on something now. His brow was raised, arms crossed.

"I'll ask you once more time about Ivy Stevens. I'm beginning to think you did something to the girl. Unless you can change my mind, I might have to make you my suspect number one."

-----

Erik watched as Officer Howard moved around. She was getting nosier and thinking entirely too much. It was irritating and the more it went on, the more he couldn't hide it.

However.. He'd anticipated this when he'd seen her face. It was a good thing he'd invested in soundproof walls, she'd have probably called the department and had Ivy escorted out by now.

He poured himself another shot as she watched his movements.

"I told you what I knew," he said simply, a countdown starting in his head as he took a sip of his drink. He watched as she paced and moved his items around.

30 seconds.

Her feet crossed. She'd almost lost her balance.

"I somehow doubt that and I'm going to find out your level of involvement because something ain't adding up."

"Mhm," he sighed with another sip. As she rambled, he counted. 15, 14, 13..

"You're awfully silent now," she frowned. She looked physically uncomfortable, overheated. Her freckled skin developing a sweat sheen.

"Am I?" He chuckled.

"That's funny to you?"

"You're a joke," he laughed. "Don't hit your head on the way down."

She lowered her chin, a threat in her eyes. "Excuse you?"

"You feeling dizzy yet?" He could tell she was. She reached for her pocket and he ducked behind the bar, popping with a gun before she could touch anything in her pocket. He didn't even get to threaten her, she passed out, her body thudding to the floor, her head hitting the corner of the couch. He checked to see if there was blood, but there wasn't. She would probably wake with a heavy headache.

#original #dentist

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niqhtlord01 · 5 years

Text

Humans are Weird: Humans choose who leads them, whoever they may be.

The shuttle slowly descended from the clouds and settled on the landing pad, steam and exhaust coming off it in thick clouds. Representative Klic of the Kodani Federation, Sansavah of the Mortachi Empire, and Yvondri of the Union of Planets all waited to the side of the platform as the clouds blew away. “What do you know of this new human ambassador?” Sansavah asked out loud while staring at the shuttle crews no rushing over. “Not much if anything.” Klic remarked. Sansavah looked at Yvondri who shrugged. “Aside from his name not much. This one was chosen so swiftly that my people did not have enough time to dig up any vital information on them.” Klic’s mandibles twitched as he let out a chuckle. “You mean anything worth blackmailing them over don’t you?” It was Yvondri’s turn to shrug. “I have no idea what you are implying but I would suggest you terminate that line of inquiry before you take this conversation somewhere less cordial.” “Enough you two.” Sansavah said, “They’re opening the shuttle doors now. Let us greet this new ambassador.” The three of them along with their hangers-on stepped out on to the shuttle pad. As they drew closer to the shuttle the hatch finally reached the ground revealing a staircase on the inside of the hatch. Two humans dressed in all black were the first to step out from the shuttle. They gazed around the surrounding area before descending the staircase and took up positions, ready to intercept any threat to their ambassador. Sansavah never understood why human’s needed such security even in the most secure places such as the capital city, but given what he had read about their history their leaders had a dreadful tendency to be murdered. After the guards had taken their positions another human stepped into view. His hair was slicked back and he was wearing what human’s would consider to be the finest garments available to them. He gazed down at the assembled group and smiled before stepping down the steps, his black bag stretched across his shoulder. Sansavah assumed that this was the new human ambassador they had been told of and outstretched his hand. “On behalf of the galactic congress of planets we welcome you, Ms. Hannah Isaac.” The human appeared suddenly uncomfortable and did not return the gesture. The other dignitaries began feeling uncomfortable as well thinking they had somehow offended the human. Human customs were so odd that there were several dozen ways of greeting a human ranging from a physical embrace to punching them in the jaw. The delegates had decided that the widely accepted shaking of appendages would work best. Now they were thinking they should have gone with the punch to the face. “I am honored by your introduction and friendliness but I feel there has been some mistake.” the human said while smiling. He pulled out a strange device from his bag and began taking several steps away from the staircase. “My name is Morgan Murphy, I’m a reporter for the International Herald. I’ve been assigned to this to cover the arrival of ambassador Issac.” Sansavah was about to ask additional questions when the reporter Murphy trained his strange device back up to the plane. He turned and saw a new figure emerging from the plane. The figure resembled a humanoid shape, one even would say that it would be considered desirable to many of the opposite gender. One might even find themselves mistaking the figure entirely for being human were it not for the additional limbs sprouting from their back. Aside from the normal arms and legs of a human, this new person had four segmented quill like limbs extending from her back trailing along the ground as if they were some sort of exotic cape. But what really gave it away was the spider like face they wore. A dozen eyes glittering in the light and several mandibles protruding outward from where a human mouth would be. The new figure slowly stepped down the staircase while Sansavah could hear the reporters strange device making clicking sounds as they moved around into different positions. Upon reaching the bottom of the steps the new figure extended a slender hand with three talon fingers causing some of the other delegates to take a step back. “It is a pleasure,” the figure announced, “to be greeted with such hospitality.” Sansavah grasped the extended hand and shook it as he had watched other humans do in videos. He couldn’t help but notice the fingers were slightly slimy and cooler making him wipe his hands on his clothes. “May I inquire as to who you might be?” Sansavah asked. “Are you another delegate that joined ambassador Issac on her travels here? The insect figures mandibles twitched in a similar way as Klics had as if to chuckle. “I AM ambassador Issac.” Hannah Issac said to the surrounding party. For what felt like an eternity no one said a word. Hannah cocked her head to the side and just continued to stare at the delegates while the reporter continued taking pictures. “But you are not...” Yvondri started but couldn’t finish. The delegates shuffled from side to side in unease until Klic pressed to the front of the group. “This is a human joke yes? Human humor is still so unknown to us.” Klic stepped passed Hannah and gazed upward at the shuttle door. “Is the real ambassador going to come out soon or are they unwell?” As Klic stepped passed Hannah his foot stepped on several of the segmented spines behind her causing her to jolt suddenly. Without a word the security stepped forwards and grabbed Klic. “What!?!??” Klick stammered as they picked him off Hannah’s quills and pulled him away. “What is the meaning of this?!??” Yvondri stepped forward from the group. “This is not how you treat a galactic ambassador! Or do humans do things differently on your world?!!” The guards pulled back Klic and pushed him back towards the delegates. “If you hurt our ambassador again, “ one of the guards spoke looking directly at Klic “ then we will consider it aggression, which we are authorized to use lethal force to prevent further danger to our ambassador.” As the guard finished his sentence Sansavah noticed one of their hands brushing aside their black coats to reveal a holstered weapon. Klic and Yvondri were about to continue with their argument when Sansavah stepped in front of them. “My apologies, we meant no disrespect.” “Hmph!” Hannah said as the quills suddenly became alive and coiled in front of her as she massaged them. “So is it part of your culture that when an ambassador arrives your first act is to insult them and then step on their limbs? I see I was too early when I said I was pleased by your hospitality.” As Sansavah continued talking trying to iron things out Klic and Yvondri pulled the journalist aside. “Is that truly your ambassador?” They asked him. He seemed confused at the notion. “Yes, that is humanities ambassador.” “And you realize that they are not human?” Murphy snorted. “Well that’s pretty obvious isn’t it? Or did you think all humans have four quills that can rip flesh apart like paper?” Klic realized in horror that had the guards not stepped in he may have been killed there and then. He also realized that he had seriously damaged relations right off the bat. Klic and Yvondri withdrew and talked quietly. Could it be the humans are under this species control? Are they her slaves? Was it some sort of species invasion plan? They needed more information and quietly motioned to their nearby staff to begin gathering it as quickly as possible. “That does not excuse his actions!” Klic and Yvondri were drawn back to the conversation between Hannah and Sansavah just as Hannah let go of her quills and they slammed into the ground. “Your fellow ambassador stepped on me right after refusing to recognize me nor my position right after I told him who I was to his face. You can not imagine how insulted I am at this treatment!” Sansavah was desperate now to try and rebuild any form of positive relationship. Klic’s ignorance and disrespect was now looking like it had cost them a potential ally and would spread even further and damage their reputations as a whole. “Again ambassador Issac you have my humblest apo-” Hannah raised her hand to silence him. “Your apologies mean nothing to me since it was not you who wronged me and the guilty party has yet to give apologies of their own.” Hannah turned and began walking back towards the shuttle. “Ambassador where are you going?” Sansavah asked. “This meeting is over as of now and I am going back to my ship. I gave you my time because of the high regards the former ambassador gave you but I see that things have changed since then. Other ambassadors and representatives have asked for my time and I am sure they cannot disappoint me as much as you lot have.” Sansavah turned sharply to Klic and glared at him with such intensity Klic felt like he was about to be murdered. “WAIT!” Klic flung himself on to his hands and knees just as security stepped in between him and Hannah. “I begged your forgiveness over my insulting and rude actions.I know it is no excuse but we had been led to believe that the new ambassador would be a human and I misunderstood the situation entirely. I humbly once again beg your forgiveness!” Hannahs eyes stared at Klic for several seconds in silence before she waved aside her guards. “ I do not forgive your rudeness,” she began causing Sansavah to begin panicking all over again, “but I can understand your reasoning.” She stepped forward and motioned for Klic to rise. “To ensure there are no further misunderstandings between us allow me to lay things out as clear and simple so any further insults will not be misunderstandings but intentional. Which will give me plenty of reasons to cancel all further talks between our peoples.” She was throwing them a lifeline that they’d only get once and they all knew it. “As you say, I am not human.” Hannah began. “My species is known are the Aracnomolis, or Aracno for short. A space fairing people that sailed the stars for countless years after escaping our dying world on hive ships. Our fleet went system to system in a seemingly endless quest to find a new world to live on.” “Eventually we entered a system known as “Sol” which was the home system for humanity. Initially they thought us hostile, and aggressive species come to invade their worlds. It took many days of trial and error before we could properly communicate with them and tell them we were what they called “refugees”. Upon learning that they invited us to their homeworld to land.” Hannah snapped her fingers. “Just like that. There were some concerns about diseases we had or if there was enough room but after another few weeks we had settled in a barren area on the continent of “Australia”. The warm air and constant sunlight did wonders for us after being contained on our ships for so long.” “This was all several generations ago but to fast forward to the interesting bit I was eventually born while my parents were on the planet. Thanks to a rule the humans enforced on their planet for some reason, if you were born on their planet you became a citizen with full rights and protections that were offered to other humans. I spent my youth studying alongside humans, learning both their culture and mine over the years until I was fluent with both.” “But how does that explain how you now hold your current position as ambassador?” Klic asked. Hannah glared at him for interrupting her story but let out several breaths to calm down. “The laws state that only a citizen of earth can obtain hold this position. I am a citizen so I can hold the position, why is that so hard to understand?” “I think my colleagues have been dancing around the main question,” Yvondri cut in, “but I think their main confusion stems from the fact that you represent humanity on the galactic scale, but are not yourself human.” The questioned seemed to upset the human security as Sansavah noticed them frowning. “There was a long time when many humans did not accept us because of that very reason.” Hannah admitted. “We were different, unknown, foreign to their norm and that upset them. Some openly spoke out against us saying we were inferior, while others attacked us and killed our people.” “But,” Hannah fully turned to face the delegates, “there were also those that listened to us and knew that while we appeared different we shared many of the same goals. A better tomorrow, success for our offspring, stability and security for our lives. Just as there were those that spoke out against us there were those that spoke in our defense.” She spread her arms before her, her quills softly twitching side to side. “You find it odd that I am not human and yet speak on humanities behalf, but humans elect ideals to represent them, not just people. I stand for freedom and understanding, reason and acceptance, loyalty and steadfastness.These traits are so ingrained into what represents humanity they see me as someone worthy to speak for them.” Hannah began walking and the group of delegates parted before her. “You may see me as something different, but to humanity I am just another human in different skin.” Hannah continued walking away as her security followed her and the journalist followed soon after continuing to take pictures. Klic stepped close to Sansavah and spoke softly. “Humans are even stranger than I had ever imagined, and that concerns me.” Sansavah chuckled. “That they are, but I would say you have bigger concerns right now.” Klic looked at him as he pointed to the journalist. “That human has a photo of you stepping on the human ambassadors quills after you insulted her.” The color drained from Klic’s face. “Do you think your federation will be pleased with such a deplorable show of disrespect?” “If I were you,” Yvondri spoke,” I would offer him a small moon as payment for them, and I would offer it soon before ambassador decides to use them herself.” Klic began looking back and forth between his fellow ambassadors before quickly running off after the journalist.

#humans are insane #humans are space oddities #humans are weird #scifi #humans are space orcs #space Australia #story

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lithalwrites · 4 years

Text

Sometimes Life is a Romcom

Chapter 10

“Tea shop number ten,” Wei Ying observed as he and Lan Zhan entered the shop. It was a small, cute shop tucked away in a corner in a strip mall. Wei Ying had never heard of it, and if he was reading Lan Zhan’s reactions right, he had never been here before either. Lan Zhan must really have been stumped by Wei Ying’s resistance to becoming cultured, if he had resorted to bringing him to places he hadn’t been to before.

Lan Zhan took care of ordering and paying for the tea, as always, and Wei Ying idly wondered how much Lan Zhan had spent on buying him tea. He should probably get it one of these days, but the guilt hadn’t struck yet, and Lan Zhan was rich, so he was going to enjoy the free tea.

Then he wondered when he had started thinking of tea as enjoyable.

“It’s a wonderful day for tea,” the barista commented with a smile.

“And you made it even more wonderful with your smile,” Wei Ying said, smiling back at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lan Zhan shake his head almost imperceptibly. He disapproved.

“Thank you,” the barista said. “I hope you enjoy your stay.”

They sat at a corner table and waited for the tea. Wei Ying was hoping they would be served by the barista from earlier, but he was still taking orders, so that seemed unlikely. They were served, instead, by a guy whose smile made him look like a villain from a mid-budget soap opera.

He served Lan Zhan first, and then all but slammed down Wei Ying’s tea on the table in front of him. It sloshed dangerously against the edges of the glass but didn’t spill. “Don’t flirt with my boyfriend, you little shit.”

Wei Ying raised his eyebrows. “Your boyfriend can take care of himself, Psycho Smile.”

The guy just smiled at him, silently promising that he could and would poison his drink if he returned to the tea shop. Wei Ying looked at Lan Zhan. “Will you save me from the evil server, Lan Zhan?”

The server’s eyebrows shot up. “I can’t defend my boyfriend, but you want yours to save you from me?” he said.

Wei Ying laughed at how offended Lan Zhan looked at the suggestion, ignoring the little twinge in his chest. “Lan Zhan is not my boyfriend. Do you see the face he’s making right now? That’s his ‘I’d rather die’ face.”

The server looked at Lan Zhan, and then back at Wei Ying. “Sure. Think about what you said a little more,” he said. “And stay away from my boyfriend.”

Wei Ying wanted to ask him what he meant, but the server had evidently lost all interest in continuing the conversation. Wei Ying looked at Lan Zhan, and picked up the tea. He sipped it. This tea was floral, and kind of bitter. “Not bad.”

Lan Zhan sipped his once and then put it down. He ran his finger along the rim of the cup, making no move to pick it up again.

“You don’t like it,” Wei Ying said.

Lan Zhan frowned at him. Wei Ying shrugged. “I’ll drink it if you don’t want to.”

“No need,” Lan Zhan said. And so, he had taken at most two more sips of the tea by the time Wei Ying was done. Wei Ying looked at the tea and then at Lan Zhan.

“You don’t have to drink it, you know,” he said.

Lan Zhan picked up his cup and drained the tea in one go. He couldn’t help making a face as he set the empty cup back down. Wei Ying couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re so stubborn, Lan Zhan. One of your most endearing traits. Now let’s go and record the music. I can’t believe you’ve put it off for so long. The project is almost due.”

“It’s because your performance has been subpar,” Lan Zhan said.

“Ouch,” Wei Ying said. “You wound me. Let’s go. I want to see your brother again.”

Lan Zhan let out a resigned sigh but did not try to dissuade Wei Ying, so they headed out. Wei Ying waved at the nice barista and watched in delight as the server shot daggers at him.

Sadly, Lan Xichen wasn’t at home when they arrived at Lan Zhan’s place, so Wei Ying had to file away his flirtatious remarks for later use. Lan Zhan, ever the polite host, offered him some tea, even though they had just had some. Wei Ying refused, and they headed straight to the music room.

They played once just as a warm-up, and then it was finally time to record the piece. The cameras had already been set up, probably by the meticulous Lan Zhan himself, Wei Ying thought warmly. A good thing, he supposed, since he had no idea about how to set up cameras and recording equipment.

“The cameras are rolling. We will play until we are satisfied,” Lan Zhan said.

Wei Ying nodded, and they began. The first attempt was passable, but Wei Ying messed up a few times, so they had to start over. The second attempt was perfect, or so he thought, but Lan Zhan’s expression told him he was not satisfied.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “It sounded good to me.”

Lan Zhan shook his head. “Again,” he said.

Wei Ying shrugged, and they started from the top again. Every time they finished, Lan Zhan looked unsatisfied and they had to start over. For the life of him, Wei Ying couldn’t tell what the problem was, and Lan Zhan wasn’t inclined to tell him. Getting tired of playing, Wei Ying just sighed and started again whenever Lan Zhan said so. After the seventh attempt, Wei Ying was ready to give up. This attempt had also sounded good to him, like the previous five, but he looked at Lan Zhan for confirmation anyway. Lan Zhan didn’t look like he was constipated, which was a great sign. “Good?” Wei Ying asked.

“Satisfactory,” Lan Zhan said. Wei Ying took that to mean that it had been perfect.

“Great!” Wei Ying said, stretching and unceremoniously lying down on the floor. He closed his eyes, finally able to relax. They were done with the most difficult part of the project. Their report was already done and edited, since Lan Zhan had taken it upon himself to correct it thoroughly, apparently not trusting Wei Ying to have good command over grammar. The video was the last thing they needed before they would be done with the project for good.

“I will do the editing,” Lan Zhan informed him.

“Great,” Wei Ying said. He wasn’t going to offer to take on more work than he had to. Lan Zhan could have fun toiling away at video editing. Wei Ying had no patience for things like that.

“We don’t have to meet outside of class again,” Lan Zhan said.

The words shocked Wei Ying out of his relaxation. He sat up and stared at Lan Zhan in confusion. “What? Why?”

Lan Zhan looked at him like he was stupid. “We’re done the project,” he said slowly.

“Yes,” Wei Ying, dragging out the syllable. “But we can still hang out. You haven’t made me appreciate tea yet. It would be a shame if you gave up after all your hard work now. We’ve been to so many tea shops already. There can’t be many more left. And if you don’t hang out with me, who else will you hang out with? Do you even have any other friends?”

Wei Ying regretted saying the last part as soon as the words left his mouth. Lan Zhan’s eyes had widened a little at the implication, and Wei Ying saw him press his lips, angrier than Wei Ying had ever managed to make him. But this time, it had not been intentional, and so it wasn’t funny.

“I don’t need your pity,” Lan Zhan said quietly. “Please show yourself out.”

It would have been better if Lan Zhan had yelled. Wei Ying watched, speechless for once in his life, as Lan Zhan walked out of the room, leaving him alone. Wei Ying quickly weighted his options in his head. The best course of action looked like one where he took a step back for now and made amends for what he had said later.

On his way out, he ran into Lan Xichen, who smiled at him, making him feel even more guilty. “Headed out?” Lan Xichen asked. “Did Wangji not offer to drive you home?” he added with a concerned frown when Wei Ying nodded.

“Ah,” Wei Ying said. “He has another assignment due, so I said I’d go home myself.”

“I can drive you, if you like,” Lan Xichen said.

“No, it’s fine,” Wei Ying insisted, but Lan Xichen was not to be deterred.

“I insist,” Lan Xichen said, picking up a set of car keys.

“Thank you,” Wei Ying said reluctantly. Damn the Lan hospitality that apparently ran in the family. He followed Lan Xichen to his car and gave him the address. They drove in silence for a few minutes, before Lan Xichen spoke.

“Wangji has always had a hard time making friends. I’m glad that he finally seems to be getting close to people,” he said.

His words could not have come at a worse moment. Wei Ying laughed and said the right things, all the while wondering which one of his actions karma was biting him in the ass for with this.

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#mdzs #wangxian #wwx #lwj #modern au

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onepdumpsterfire · 4 years

Text

Servant

Reader . Dragon!Zoro

I travel around from city to city, searching for tales of creatures that are said to be extinct or mythical, and sometimes I even get to find one of them. It’s my passion to document these creatures lost to time. I want their stories, habits, and personalities to be remembered for the centuries to come. I want people to be able to open a book and be able to find any information they want about any creature. Chasing a new is what brought me to the Amthenia, a continent east of where I was originally from. I heard that there was a mountain spirit who wandered down to guard the city of Medd’wl Én; so I headed south from where I landed towards the Kingdom of E’tüm. A small but beautiful nation surrounded by forestry. In fact, the kingdom is so small that it has two big cities, the rest are just small villages spotting the forest surrounding it.

You may think that because it’s such a small kingdom it would’ve been invaded by an enemy by now, but no. What E’tüm lacks in size it makes up with strength and its research. It is the birthplace of all earth-based magic and weaponry. E’tüm stands its own against all other kingdoms, even rivaling Am’thi (the second biggest kingdom in this continent).

As impressive as their research is, it doesn’t compare to the hospitality the people of E’tüm hold. They’re welcoming to any that manage to go through the dense and vast forest surrounding the kingdom. Truly a feat not many can do. Anyone who decides to go through the forest usually ends up getting lost and die along the way. Though there is a path through the mountains, just a bit past Démal, a village just off of Medd’wl Én. which works out great for me, Medd’wl is exactly where I need to go.

It was long, but not a lonely walk through the mountains. I met a band of gypsies who were looking for a new life in E’tüm. We all told stories, danced, and made merry all through the path. They told me of a griffin they passed by on their journey to E’tüm. It nested west of Am’thi, and it’ll be my next destination after Medd’wl.

Once we reached Démal we had to part ways. They were going west from Démal to Mā. (Another village, known for their strong culture and good music.) Alone, I traveled the short distance between Démal and Medd’wl. About a day’s walk if I won’t take any detours along the way, or at least it should have been. When I reached the outskirts of Medd’wl I saw the oddest thing. A shirtless man, strong build, with a scar running down his left shoulder to his right hip and another blinding his left eye. That wasn’t what was strange about the man; it was the green hair. I couldn’t help but approach the man. He seemed to be observing the city from the safety of the trees. Could he be the Mountain spirit I heard about?

Tentatively, I called out to him, “Hello, I mean no harm. I just want some directions.” The man didn’t seem surprised by my presence, almost like he’d known I was here before I even saw him. “My name is Y/n. Could you help me get a bit more acquainted with the area?” the man stood rigid as he examined me. Was he trying to see if I really meant no harm as I said? “Can’t help you,” he said curtly as he turned to walk away from me. “‘W-wait,” I followed behind him, “you must know about the city. I mean, you do live here, right?” He only grunted in response. Were mountain spirits always this rude?

“Please, I’ll make it worth your while,” I reached into my tote for my bag of coin. “I don’t need your money.” He deadpanned, still refusing to even consider helping me. “There must be something you want.” I didn’t mean to say the words, it was mainly my exasperation to his uncooperativeness mixed in with my tiredness from my journey. I didn’t quite regret phrasing it as I did until much later, but it did get him to turn and listen to me. “You’re quite desperate, to be offering anything like that.”

Blood rushed to my face, “I-i didn’t mean it like that!” The man smirked, continuing to walk the way he was heading. “Okay, I’ll help you. But you’ll have to do one thing for me.” He made it sound so ominous that I wasn’t sure I wanted to take him up on the offer.

I guess help from a mountain spirit doesn’t come free…. I wonder if he charges the city for their protection too. “A-alright, name your price.” He threw a glance over his shoulder before nodding towards the city. “I’ll take you to a pub where you can find any information you may be looking for. Be it a person, a place to stay, or just where to get a bite to eat,” the man stopped in his place, “in return, when you are done with your… errand or settled into a place, you come back out here to the forest.”

“Why?” There had to be a reason why he wanted me to come back. If he was the mountain spirit, he wouldn’t want to do any harm to me; and if he wasn’t I doubt he planned to ambush me. He said he didn’t want money AND even if he wanted to, he could do it right now without much of a struggle from me. He was, obviously, much stronger than me.

“Don’t worry about it. When you get here, I’ll find you. Until then, just wait.” That’s not calming my nerves. On one hand, I could go and find the pub he was talking about on my own. On the other, if he was the mountain spirit, I would have set up a meetup and ask him more about himself in person then document it. It’s a risky dice roll, but hey, times can’t move forward without a little risk. “Deal.”

He wasn’t comfortable drawing attention to himself, I could tell by how he took out a bandana to conceal his unnatural hair before we began our journey to the pub. Him being a man of little words was only helping the image of a recluse. I tried coaxing any words out of him, but all I could drag out was his name. Zoro, not a common name but it is ancient and full of E’tüm history.

“Y/n, do me a favor and shut up.” Zoro was condemning me to silence because he wasn’t social. I pouted at him as he started to speed up his pace. I bet he can’t wait to get rid of me. Zoro practically bounded down the streets, I even almost lost him among the throng of people bustling around. With a bit of shoving and cursing from me or the people I pushed aside, I managed to stay behind him. Though, all of my efforts to keep him in sight were in vain because Immediately after we reached the pub he disappeared. I’d turned away for just a second and he was gone. It almost made me think that maybe I had made all of this up, but it’s not time to dwell on it. I’ll have a chance to find out if Zoro was real or not later. For now, I’ll go into the pub and ask around to see if anyone knows of the mountain spirit.

It was a small joint. A handful of friendly tables scattered around and an impressive bar lined with just about every alcohol you could get in Amthenia. The people heartily talked with each other, clashing their tankards together and spilling the ale onto every surface they were close to.

Just who I was looking for. A barmaid bustled around cleaning tables and serving the unruly customers. I followed her over to where she was busing tables. “Rowdy bunch, aren’t they.” She looked up from the plates she was sticking and gave me a smile. “You get used to it. This is a fast-paced city, everyone is always restless.” She handed me a pile of plates, nudging towards the bar. “Help me take these over there and I’ll help you get settled.” She winked at me, taking up her own pile of plates and walking it over.

She hands it over to a silver-haired man sitting at the bar. “Can you take these to the back, ray?” The man agreed, taking your pile with him as well. “That’s Rayleigh, my husband,” she serves me a tankard of ale, “here, first one’s on the house.”

“Thanks….uh…”

“You can call me Shakky,” she fills in for me. “Right, Shakky. I was wondering if I could get some information on the mountain spirit.” Her eyes widened in surprise, “I guess you could call him that. He’s more of a dragon, though.” A dragon? Like the big lizard that flies? “Hahaha don’t look so shocked,” Shakky fills a glass with rum, handing it to Rayleigh as he comes back. “Thanks, Shakky. You always know what I want.” The man gives me a once over, “you aren’t from around here, are you?” I look down at myself, trying to see what gave it away. “It’s not your clothes,” Ray takes a swig of his rum, “Not many people outside of E’tüm know that the ‘mountain spirit’ is actually a dragon.”

Of course they wouldn’t! Dragons are elusive and…. extinct, have been for six centuries. I am practically jumping off my seat with excitement. “A dragon! How awesome!” Both of them laugh at my enthusiasm, but I can’t help it. I am going to find the dragon and study him.

“Whoa there, before you go off on your own. You should know that the dragon doesn’t like to be bothered,” Ray said, with Shakky adding that not many people have seen it, save from when he comes out to rescue the city from malicious predators. I assure them that nothing will stop me from finding him. I need to document him, no matter the cost.

The rest of my stay here they told me about Medd’wl. It’s people, resources, urban legends, even the best spots to visit as a tourist. Rayleigh and Shakky were great hosts to me, but when the night came crawling its way out, I had to bid them well. They told me a nice inn where I could take residence. Giving me directions, we shared a last farewell, then I was off.

The night was cold, a thick fog laid around the buildings of Medd’wl. I could barely see in front of me, it was a miracle I even made it to the inn. A spike of paranoia weaved its tendrils around my gut. I feel like I’m being watched. No, it’s more than that, it feels predatory. I speed up as I try to convince myself it was just my imagination.

The city is safe. The dragon is keeping it safe. Nothing would dare go into its territory… right?

Now, thinking back to it, if a dragon was keeping the city safe then who was I talking to in the forest? More so, what is Zoro? With all my excitement over the dragon, I forgot to ask Shakky and Rayleigh about him. I’m feeling a bit more skittish about my meetup with Zoro tomorrow. Even so, there is something that hasn’t changed. Zoro isn’t human and I will find out what he is.

E’tüm’s hospitality shoved himself once again in the morning. The aroma of breakfast wafted through the lodge, rousing everyone from their sound slumber. I arose to my room to find the other guest flocked over a table full of food. “They serve breakfast here?” My question wasn’t aimed at anyone in particular, but it was answered nonetheless. “Yes, sweetheart. Only breakfast though. You should grab yourself a plate before it’s all gone, there won’t be a second batch.” The owner of the inn informed me. She was a kind and gentle woman who took me in late last night. She didn’t have to let me check-in. I’d found the inn way past closing, but she is a gracious woman. “Thank you, ma’am. I won’t pass up your generosity.” I wandered over to the table that held the food. They ranged from simple bacon and eggs to more ethnic foods like E’tüm’s famous ettercap dishes.

Ettercap is a forest-dwelling monster that is native to this side of the world. They are big lumbering beast who ca grow up to six feet tall and usually weighed 200 pounds. They resemble a hunched, muddy-purple like humanoid with spider-like faces; they also have two sharp claws instead of fingers and toes. They’re very cowardly creatures who much more prefer to set traps than to hunt, but that is as far as their intelligence usually goes. It’s a primal instinct that drives them. Ettercaps do have one attack, though. They can inject paralytic venom with a bit into their prey. Their venom is only strong enough to deter their food long enough for them to use their claws to kill them.

However, the people of E’tüm found a way to remove its weak toxins to be able to safely eat the beast’s meat. (They even found a way to use the ettecap’s feeble venom as a spice!) I’ve been dying to try one of these dishes; especially the spanakopita, it’s a delicacy that isn’t made anywhere else other than E’tüm. Spanakopita is served more as a dessert, but with how fast it seems to be going I should hurry up and grab a piece.

After getting my own slice, I move over to a table far off from the crowd. Everyone here seems to be excited about the madam’s breakfast cooking; no wonder she only makes breakfast. If it was like this every mealtime the place would always be trashed.

Everyone in E’tüm seems to be very lively at all hours of the day. There never seems to be a slow day in this town, and I’ve just arrived! Their fast-paced lifestyle gives me the energy to go out and accomplish everything that I set out to do today. Who knows, maybe I’ll finish my journey faster than I thought and can head out to look for the griffin next!

I take a big bite out of my spanakopita, ready to head out as soon as I finish. Wow! It tastes better than I could have imagined! The saltiness of the aged feta cheese mixed in with the creaminess of the spinach, only adds on and contrasts the sweet honey wheat bread. Oh god, and the tender meat of the ettercap that leaves a small sting of venom on your tongue. If this was the last thing I ate before dying, I’d be okay with that. It didn’t even come as a surprise when there was none left when I went to get seconds. The savory pastry was the most popular food item on the table!

I don’t really want to have anything else this morning, the pastry has ruined me. I huff in satisfied displacement as I made my to my room so I could change. Today seems like it’s gonna be nice out, I note as I look out my window. I kinda wish I’d pack more clothes other than the clothes on my back and some extra pants. I’ll go shopping for shorts some other time, it’s time I keep my end of the deal and go meet Zoro in the forset as we agreed.

I stood on the outskirts of the forest wondering how he’d find me. Zoro said he would, but there was no way he could. I don’t even remember where we came out from when he led me out of the forest yesterday. If I go look for him, I’m sure it’ll be faster than just waiting… right?

I went into the forest, straying from any path that I saw. If I remember correctly, when I first saw him, he wasn’t near any path. Just a bit fairways from the town. I don’t need to go too far. Just a bit……... aaaand I’m lost.

I don’t know in which direction I came from! You got to be kidding me! I didn’t make that many turns! Okay. okay. Calm down. Caaalm down. There’s no reason t- …

Did I just step in…. Crap

. . .

“YOU SONOFABISH!” And here I thought today was gonna be a nice day….

I walked over to a tree to try and rub most of the feces off my shoe when a sudden wind nearly knocked me over, luckily I grabbed onto the tree before I could. “What the fuuu” I trailed off as I looked around to see what could be causing the unrelenting gusts.

I could hear a flapping noise with a sharp scraping of metal coming from all around me. It sounded like a chainmail catching wind over and over- shit. Today really isn’t my day. I look above me to see a giant dragon with scales shifted from dusty emerald green to a reflective silvery grey. The dragon’s chest plate covered it like a shield, long feather-like blades lapped over each other to make its wings. Horns protruded from its head, spiking out to crown his head, in what could have been mistaken for short hair if it wasn’t for the fact that it looked like they could end my life with one headbutt.

As carefully as I could, I backed up, hoping that it wouldn’t notice me. But, as today’s luck would have it, the dragon dropped himself directly in front of me. I hid behind a tree, but it was too late. Its eyes were already trained on me. He reached out with one of its clawed hands and ripped the tree right from the ground.

I am completely exposed to it now. No amount of running or hiding could save me now. I know I said I wanted to find it, but not like this.

I close my eyes as I start making my last testament in my head. No one will hear this, but If I do become a restless spirit and end up haunting this forest, at the very least, I can try and remember what I wanted from life.

A hand pushes at my crouched form. “Get up.”

I look up to find none other than the green-haired man I was looking for. “W-what? The drag-” I looked behind him to find nothing there. “It was there I swear!” I spring up, looking for an answer on the spot where the bast had last stood. It couldn’t have taken off. It made too-

“I don’t have time for this,” Zoro interrupted my thoughts, “you’re coming with me.” I turn to face him, “going whe-” I’m left speechless as he morphed into the beast I cowered from before. W- how?! “Your the- AH!” Zoro swiped me up with his claw.

My body dangled from his lose hold on me. “Put me down! I don’t want to fall!” I yelled at him, but the wind ate up all noise before it could even make it past my lips. The cold air whizzed past me, chilling me to my bones. I’m gonna get frostbite from this if he doesn’t just drop me. My nails try to dig into his scales, but they all are deflected and left bloody. There’s no way I can hold on to him. Oh god. I’m gonna die. I screw my eyes shut as I prepare for the worst possible case scenario.

Eventually, Zoro starts to descend. Tossing me ahead from him onto the porch of a quaint chalet. My hip snaps and my arm breaks as I scrape my way to a full stop. I howl In agonizing pain, intensifying as I notice the white bone poking out from my skin, blood oozing in rivers out of me.

“Don’t worry, I can fix that,” Zoro says, walking over to pick me up.

“You prick,” I push myself away from him, only to have him pull me back and practically crush my already broken hip. “You remember when you said you’d do anything,” He carried me inside. “You’ll be staying with me from now on.”

“I hope you’ve finished your errand.”

#one piece #one piece imagines #one piece zoro #roronoa zoro #pirate hunter zoro

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thedeviltohisangel · 5 years

Text

He’s A God, He’s A Man: 4

She was learning about the new Thomas Shelby.

masterlist is my url/writing

send in your thoughts!

“Is Tommy here?” Lydia was breathless by the time she made it to Watery Lane. She had practically ran. The faster she got away from Campbell then the faster she would be with Tommy. Where she should have been all these years.

“He’s working.” It was Polly who answered the door. The frantic knocks had scared her. Made her think it was a Shelby child who was at the door, injured and in need of help. Instead she had found Lydia. Someone who was once meant to become a Shelby. “Why don’t you come in and have a cup of tea? You seem frazzled.” Polly gave her no choice, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her into the kitchen.

“It’s been quite the culture shock to be here, I suppose” Lydia shrugged off her cut and hung it on a hook by the door. The Shelby matriarach assessed Lydia with the same glances Campbell had just moments before yet there was a different intent behind her eyes. It wasn’t predatory. It was more like cataloging. “Yesterday, you knew who I was.” Polly nodded slowly as she slid a teacup in front of the girl.

“I did.” Lydia had been hoping for slightly more elaboration that it seemed she was going to get. “What’s your business with my nephew?” She made it sound much more clinical that it was. As if there was no emotion involved between Tommy and Lydia anymore. Maybe there wasn’t.

“I don’t know actually. I felt uneasy and my feet lead me here.” She ran her finger around the rim of her cup, lost in thought.

“Tommy isn’t the man you met in France.”

“That much I do know,” Lydia said with a smile, “but having him, any version, seems to be better than not.”

“Even when you’re working with the man trying to ruin him?” Polly was angry at Tommy for getting their family caught up in this nonsense with the guns. Lydia represented one of the biggest threats they had ever faced.

“Polly? Did you hear the news on Monaghan Boy?” Tommy came bursting into the kitchen and recognized the look on his aunt’s face instantly. And when he looked at Lydia, she was refusing to look at him. “What’s happed?”

“Nothing!” Lydia chirped. She plastered a smile on her face and stood, gathering her things. “I was on my way to The Garrison and your aunt saw me and invited me in for some tea. Thank you again, Polly. Congratulations on your horse, Thomas.” He looked to his aunt with a confused expression before he quickly followed after Lydia.

“Lydia! Wait!” The people of Small Heath were startled to see Tommy Shelby out in the streets without his cap or coat and no cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“Tommy, I’m already running late,” she said after he caught up to her.

“Doesn’t matter. Harry’s capable.” He circled around her so she had to stop walking away from him. Now that he was closer he could see the dainty tear rolling down her cheek. “What did Polly say? Did she make you upset?” He’d have words with her. Tell her that Lydia was here to stay. In what capacity, he hadn’t decided yet but no one in his family was allowed to go running her out of town.

“No. I’m making myself upset,” she reasoned. Roughly, she wiped away the tear and tore her gaze from Tommy’s. “I should’ve just let you and your family be. Shouldn’t have let Campbell talk me into coming. My heads cramped enough without adding his voice to it.”

“You know if he does or says anything to you, I’ll-”

“I’ll come to you. I promise.” Tommy was glad she didn’t let him finish. It was best to not expose the dark depths of his character to her quite yet. Lydia didn’t want to let on that she had shown up to his home for that exact reason then been guilted out of it. Polly had reminded her she was an outsider. That she didn’t belong.

Tommy allowed himself a moment of indulgence and brushed his knuckles against her cheek. The way he had been doing to her picture all these years. “Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would get to touch you again.” He figured he already looked like a mad man being all disheveled in the streets. Standing close to a woman that just showed up the other day. That was working with the man who had nearly beat his brother to death. Might as well lean into it.

“I haven’t gotten a chance to enjoy being with you,” she whispered as leaned into his touch.

“Because things can’t just go back to where they were, Lydia. My life is...my life isn’t…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Tommy. We have all the time in the world to figure it out, yeah?” The hidden message was that she didn’t plan on leaving. Ever again. She had experienced life without Tommy Shelby and found it wasn’t quite living. “Have a drink with me before I start my shift?” The tea hadn’t been nearly strong enough for the day she had had.

“Have you gotten any better at holding your whiskey since France?” Tommy asked as he held the door to The Garrison open for her.

“Now that is something you will have to wait and find out on your own.”

----

“Miss Lydia! Miss Lydia!” She had been walking home after a particularly long night at The Garrison, a night empty of any Shelby’s which made it even longer, when she heard the singing voices of some of the local children. Lydia had figured shuffling between The Garrison and her apartment was no way to live and be happy so she had taken up teaching reading and writing at a local orphanage. The purity of the children made her own soul feel at ease on the dark and lonely Birmingham nights.

“What is it, Abby?” Lydia bent at the knee so she could be at the same height as the little girl.

“Mr. Shelby is waiting for you by the fire! Come on!” Abby took her hand and began running off into the night, Lydia doing her best to keep up amongst the crowd that seemed to be heading in the same direction as them. She wanted to ask for an explanation on what exactly they were running towards but the cheers of their destination were making it hard to even think.

At first she thought the orange light of the fire was coming from one of the factories that lined the street. But as they neared closer, she realized it was more of a bonfire. And was entirely man made and fueled by pictures of the King. As an American woman, Lydia didn’t quite understand the reverence to the King but she understood it basically enough to know this was an act of provocation. And she was certain which man would be standing in front of the crowd and which man he was provoking. “Mr. Shelby I’ve found her.”

“Thank you, Abigail.” Tommy pulled two pounds from his pocket and pressed them into the chubby hand of the girl.

“You’re using orphans to run errands now?” It was incredibly warm by the fire and with the crowd of people that had amassed around it but she moved closer to Tommy regardless.

“Only when an errand involves you. I know you ignore every voice that calls to you on the street save for that of a child.” It was true. Lydia had gotten quite good at ignoring anything and everything that she heard and saw on the streets of Birmingham.

“Did you wish for me to be here so I can report back to my minder?”

“No that is what the reporter was here for.” Lydia scoffed.

“I thought you chose to conduct your business in silence?”

“I hide in plain sight.” They had moved ever closer over the course of their banter until their chests were touching and Lydia was practically inhaling the cigarette smoke that fell from his lips. “I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you recently.” Their drink together a The Garrison had felt good. Had been normal. Tommy had made her laugh and she had made him smile. He told Polly when he got home afterwards that she wasn’t to try and scare anything out of Lydia ever again. Tommy would handle any discrepancies relating to her allegiance and he alone. Polly had her doubts he could do that with clear eyes but she let the subject drop.

“It’s alright. Arthur is there enough for the both of you.” There wasn’t a time of day that Lydia hadn’t shared a whiskey with the older Shelby. She found his company quite amusing. And he found her ability to finish a bottle with him and still carry on to be biblical.

“He can’t shut up about you, I think he’s fallen in love.”

“If only he had shown up in the field hospital that day then maybe he would stand a chance.” She looked to Tommy with a smile but saw that he was now looking at his shoes. They hadn’t spoken about France. About what they used to have. About what they used to be. “Sorry.” Lydia was dying to talk to him about it. For so long she had been left to her own thoughts on the subject matter. Had been left to decipher every memory on her own. Now that her partner was back, she wanted his help.

“I’m sorry too.” He was sorry he couldn’t bring himself to open up to her like he once had. Like she deserved. Like he would need to for there to be any future between the two of them.

“I should get going. Thank you for the fire.” She had been around the new Tommy long enough to know when he had shut down. There was no point to her standing around. Once he was in that headspace, it was near impossible he came out of it quickly.

“Would you like to come by for tea in the morning?” Tommy hadn’t been in the practice of courting women since before the war. He wasn’t quite sure how men did it anymore. He was even less sure how American did it or how Lydia expected him to do it. He used to be a traditional man. Knew exactly what to do in the presence of a respectable lady like her. Now he was completely lost. Hopefully, Lydia would be able to meet him in the middle on this journey to figure things out between them.

“I don’t really like tea, Thomas.”

“Then we don’t have to drink tea, we can-”

“Is breakfast too early for a whiskey?” There was an incredibly mischievous glint to her eyes that made Tommy smile.

“Perhaps not,” he replied gently.

“You’ll send a car for me?” She began to walk backwards from the fire but kept her eyes locked onto him. He was quite amused by how at ease she was with him. Refreshing. Normally the seas parted when he walked down the streets but she was content on placing more obstacles in his way. Tommy supposes nothing worth having was easy.

“Anything for you, Miss Wilson.” A princess who might one day be Queen.

----

Lydia was scared to knock on the door to Watery Lane since her last experience ended with her in tears but she was delighted to see Ada open the door as opposed to her Aunt.

“Morning, Ada. I’ve stopped by to see your brother.” Ada smiled devilishly.

“He’s smiling more since you’ve been around. I’d be delighted to have you in this house more often.” She found Tommy to be much more tolerable when he was being overprotective with a smile. At least she felt some sort of love emanating from him. “I was just about to have some toast and jam. Would you like any?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.” Lydia hung her coat by the door before following Ada into the kitchen.

“Tommy went to run an errand this morning but I am sure he’ll be back soon.” She thanked Ada as she placed a plate of toast in front of her, spreading jam on her own slice before handing it to Lydia. “Tell me a bit about you Lydia.” All Ada had ever known about the woman was that Tommy had met her overseas and carried home her picture accompanied with a broken heart.

“I’m from New York. Worked as a nurse during the war, a secretary since then. Now I’m here.” Ada was sure there were plenty of interesting details that were missing from that retelling but kept her assumption to herself.

“And how was it that someone as beautiful as you came to be seduced by my demonic brother?” Lydia chuckled around the piece of toast she was eating.

“Well, Ada, we’d have to go back to the beginning to try and figure that one out.”

@aveiangdon @odetostep

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #cillian murphy #tommy shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction

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detroitswindle-blog · 4 years

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Detroit Swindle: Move Out The Way. I need Coffee In The Morning

Lars Dales and Maarten Smeets are Detroit Swindle and have had quite a run the last decade. From making music for the hell of it, to making tens of thousands of fans all over the world happy with their releases, mixes and performances, they have seen their star rise in a seemingly unstoppable manner. With a string of releases on renowned labels like Dirt Crew, Freerange, Tsuba and their own Heist Recordings, they've cemented their place in the House Music scene by keeping true to their roots and keeping diversity and authenticity at the centre of their story.

Notorious for their energetic DJ sets at clubs like Panorama bar, Fabric or Social Club and praised for their productions with that signature shuffle and those carefully designed drops, they put as much energy into their music as they have always done and they are treasured for it. They have their own label Heist Recordings and one thing is clear, they refuse to be tied to any given genre, celebrating the broad fabric of House Music in all its forms.

Despite being in isolation (this interview took place in the last week of May 2020), the duo is still really busy. They are releasing two tracks on the 5th June; ‘Coffee in The Morning and ‘Move Out The Way’ with vocalist Jitwam which speaks to the soul of their creativity and they should be roundly applauded for releasing material in what are very challenging times.

We are therefore extremely grateful that Maarten Smeets talked to us on the phone for over an hour to tell us the Swindle story.

So Maarten welcome to the Switched On family. How have you been handling the pandemic and has it given you a different perspective on life?

Well, the entertainment industry was the first one to suffer. We saw our events getting cancelled very early on. I think the gig that got cancelled first was actually our tour in the US. We woke up, I think it was like a Friday morning, two weeks before the tour in March, with an email from our agent saying, ‘Hey you guys, Trump has closed down the country. So it’s going to be hard for you guys to tour here if all the borders are closed’. That was the first thing that we noticed and we soon realised it was really happening. I think within a week, we saw that pretty much everything was getting cancelled. All the countries were tightening the rules on social distancing.

That was a bit of a heavy changeover for us because we went from touring full on every week to not touring at all. It's weird because your whole life was touring. It means getting up Friday morning, taking a plane, playing and arriving back home on Sunday night and trying to do as much as you can during the week and spend some time with the family. Now suddenly all that travel was done with, which was a relief, but gigging was gone as well. It’s a shame as we really like DJing. We like playing music and we like visiting different countries; seeing what kind of music works in different cultures. So that was a big change. The upside of not having to travel anymore, because it can be tedious and tiring and heavy on the mind and body, was outweighed by the fact that what we lost three quarters of what we do.

But there is a plus. We work as a duo. We're not actually allowed to be in one room together because we're not family and don’t live in the same household. We therefore decided to split the work up a bit. I get to work in the studio because I have three kids at home.

We've taken on a few more remix projects than we would usually do, which is great because we've managed to secure a couple of really fun projects. So that was actually a great change for us because we both really enjoy the production side of our work.

It hasn't been like that since we started touring in 2012. We have never taken as much time off of touring as we have done now. Even though it's not our choice, it feels really nice and it feels like it gives us room for new creativity and allows us to look at things from a different perspective; like how we run our label and how we've run our business so far.

We've had the opportunity to vary our activities a bit which is also nice. Obviously, we have to deal with less income. So that's always a bit of shame but there's loads of people out there that have it way harder than us. So I'm not gonna cry about it. For me personally, it's been a bit more complex because my wife works in one of the big hospitals in Amsterdam with people that have leukaemia. So the security measures that they have in place are intense. What that meant for us is that we had to be super strict with our lockdown as well. So that was a bit heavy for me and the kids. It's a new world right now.

So I think the next six months will see some incredible music come out?

I'm super interested to see what happens. Obviously, there's a bit of a delay between production and music actually. People are either starting new projects or maybe dusting off old projects that they always wanted to finish. So that's going to be exciting. That's going to be interesting.

I really hope that the market will stay intact. For our label, we still see sales going well and obviously streaming is important. From a creative perspective, I think a lot of nice projects will come out. The challenge of course for everyone, is how to make music together if you're not allowed to be in a room together. For bands doing session recordings, it's going to be a bit more working with Zoom session recordings. Might not be as fun as a personal session but it saves a lot of flying.

So you grew up in Amsterdam?

We both lived in Amsterdam for a long time; Lars is still there. I actually live 20 minutes outside of the city in a lakeside area. Me and my wife both felt it was time to get a little bit more space. Spend time with nature a bit more. Amsterdam is where our studio is and where we meet and where most of our life has taken place.

Born in the early part of the 80s. House Music was an already established genre by then; what appealed to you as you headed into your teenage years about House Music?

Actually, to be honest, House Music was not a thing where I grew up. People were into bands and rock music and I played drums with some high school friends and we did punk. We liked surf punk and that was our big thing. So House Music was, I think, more of a big city thing. It only really reached me when I moved to Amsterdam in the late 90s, early 2000s. I know for Lars on the other hand that he was a club kid and he had a fake ID and went to all the raves.

The feeling I get is that for a lot of DJs there needs to be an accumulation of musical genres to be able to develop a sound as they go into music production.

Yeah, I think I think that you could be very right with that. For me, I'm very easily bored with repetition which is a weird contrast because House Music is all about repetition; I need to find different new genres and different types of music to cater for different types of mixing and applying different types of effects to really get inspired. That can come from anything.

I still like the raw feel of that punk. I really liked that a lot and how they had dub influences as well as being able to deliver a harder sound. I think musical diversity is a blessing and it's something to embrace. Lars loves hip hop as well and is a huge De La Soul fan. We go through everything.

I was just compiling a Spotify all night long playlist to go along with our new release. It was doing my head in over how to approach that because obviously you can't compile a list of 1000 songs. Because I like so many genres, it's hard. Where do you begin? Where do you end? All these different types of inspirations that have shaped my view on music. They have also shaped the sound that we put out with our own productions and our DJ sets. It's super varied.

I've noticed that you've also started getting into that Afro sound lately. What is it about that genre that some appealing to you?

There are so many things. I think as DJs we've been playing Afro related or Afro inspired music for a while now. If you look at our productions, it's been there. I think one of our releases on Freerange, five or six years ago, was an afro house record. And then on our latest album, in 2018, we did an Afro song with a Dutch brass band. So it's been there but the recent remixes we did for Pat Thomas and The Mauskovic Dance Band, they are full-on Afro.

The nice thing about Afro is that everything is lively. There's so much energy in it even with percussion that's over six or seven minutes long and that's just slightly offbeat or changing. It's so vivid and everything is connected. Even sometimes when the drummer is kind of losing the rhythm, when they get back into the groove you have that uplifting energy. Bubblegum music is also inspiring because of the fact that its music made with very limited means. You hear and feel the energy of the singers and the artists playing it. It's a really honest and true genre. That's what I really like about it; the unpolished raw feel gives it so much authenticity.

The fact that we get to work with all these original artists and work on the stems of some great recordings is very rewarding. It's great to put your own personal touch on it. Obviously, we have a more electronic approach so it'll sound different. But for us, the chance to work on these tracks and give it our own perspective, the club perspective, is amazing.

youtube

So Detroit Swindle was really an homage to Detroit and the Motown experience. Motown has those big sweeping arrangements of musicality with your music of being more of that deep house stripping much of that production away. How do you align those different concepts?

The reason we chose the name; it's the common ground we have. We both grew up with Motown and we really like Marvin Gaye and artists like that; acts that we've heard over and over again during our childhood. That’s why the name is really appropriate for us. In terms of musicality; House has a different approach. I already mentioned the fact that it's mostly based on repetition. So the many changeovers that there are in most soul songs are just too much. You need to strip it back to the essentials and find a tight groove that gets people in; like a little bit of a hypnotic seal. We use the catchiest part of a song or the catchiest part of a certain chord progression and we build around that. They all have these thermal changeovers or different chord progressions and we can build so many elements around that little piece of groove we find. That could be a two-bar sample. There are so many things you can build around that.

Simplicity is our main challenge. To go back and take older records to their simplest form and to strip them of all the excess waste and all the stuff that is actually unnecessary to portray the message of the song. It's not about getting 10 or 15 different elements or extra elements in; it's about the opposite.

And is that the driving element behind why you have resisted the temptation to go for commercial?

No, I think the driving element behind that is actually most of what we really like is just not commercial. We've had many opportunities to do really commercial remixes and work with artists that really want to make it in the mainstream area. It's just not what makes us tick. I can listen to some music, pop music or jazz, that's super popular and really appreciate that. But the stuff I like most is very uncommercial. It's very low key. I mentioned Spotify playlists earlier. I was going through my Discogs page of all the records that I've been buying the last few years just to see where to start. Most of the stuff I buy, I can’t even find on streaming sites. So, my take and I think our combined take on it is, that luckily, what we produce is popular enough for us to be popular.

I was gonna say it all stems back to when you originally met where Lars had to sack you for playing too much underground. So you have stayed true to yourself, right?

Well we both were making money with something else. When we started, we said, ‘all right, this just has to be for the love of it’, because of the type of music we really love to play and produce. Our endgame wasn't to make a living out of this. That kind of just happened. So when it did happen, we decided to embrace it and honour it by staying true to what we started. So everything we remix, or every track we make, needs to be something that we make out of love and belief in the music. Being commercially viable is not part of the decision-making process because we feel that when you start to do that, it's a very slippery slope towards making music for money.

When you start making music purely for money it becomes less and less from the heart. Suddenly, you end up not getting booked for the kind of parties where you get to play the music you love. People will only remember you for the commercial stuff you've done and then you've wasted all that energy on building a profile. Suddenly that's lost. So, for us as producers and as DJs, I think there's no other way. I'd rather make less money and have more fun than the other way around.

That brings us to the fun that you have in the live performance space. Because you tend to put on shows with the inclusion of a keyboardist like Lorenz Rhode it becomes an event rather than a DJ experience. How important is that to you?

We both feel that the experience of dancing should build up towards something. When we are in full control of a line-up we can build something exactly the way we want. When you don’t have that control its way harder to connect. With full control, you can take the audience on a path that you've decided on; whether it's three, six or 12 hours. It all adds up to something. The more you're in control, the more you get to introduce people to the music that you that you really want to play. You can kind of ease people into listening to something that they weren't planning on listening to or that they’ve never listened to before.

When you only have an hour to play there's loads of stuff happening around you. There's not much of a story to tell. So, with an added keyboard player at a live show, we get more flexibility and we get more of the live energy that we really like in our music. We also get to take people along with old genres that we like. If we do an all-nighter, we start at 90 BPM with downtempo Disco or hip hop even and slowly move towards some faster tracks. We build up the tempo and we change from genre to genre; like 110 BPM, Bubblegum or South African dubs. Then towards House and then Electro and Techno and up-tempo disco.

The awesome Highlife came out in 2018. Looking back on it now what does that album means you?

Wow. It was a really special process because for the first time we really took time off touring to write music whereas normally we just wrote music in-between gigs. This was recorded in a unique way for us. If I look back at it, I don't think we could write it again. It could have only been written then. Lorenz was a big part helping with it; writing the key parts for pretty much half of the album. We rearranged our whole studio and put some synths in. We also had this chance meeting with Tom Misch who came to Amsterdam afterwards for recording sessions.

The whole album was unplanned, sound wise, and unplanned in terms of what we wanted to achieve. We just wanted to explore our sound. I think when I listen to it now it gives a really good perspective of all of our interests. So yeah, I'm still super happy that we got to write that.

So, we know you started out in a completely digital environment, but you gradually incorporated more analogue processes into your production techniques. Is that because you like to challenge yourself because it's infinitely harder in the analogue space?

Yeah, definitely harder and more time consuming. Machines don't necessarily respond the way they should. Especially old machines which sometimes do completely different things (from what you intended). Then you need to find out if something's broken or shut down. You need to turn them off and on and some synths don’t have midi so there's no sequencing. You have to do everything live and edit it. But it's just the feeling of sitting behind the keyboards or the drum computer, making use of that device rather than using your mouse and clicking on some stuff or automating everything. The likelihood of doing something that you didn't really plan but actually found really interesting is high. Purely because the filter resonance was a bit too high or something or just because the reverb in the patches you've made is different from what you thought it would be. It gives you a few more surprises and it feels more real.

Even though VSTs can sound great, just the feel of playing a synth and touching the knobs with your hands, making your own patches while you're playing, rather than having a sequence running from a MIDI clip; that for me feels infinitely more interesting. That's just personal. I really enjoyed the way we worked before as well. But to be honest, producing with two people behind the one laptop is not that exciting.

I'm gonna ask you a DJ question now because you've been on this journey. What weapons does a good DJ need?

I think the most important weapon is originality and timing. You need to find your own sound. If you don't have your own sound, you can be anyone and anyone could be you. You need to find something that fits with you and that hopefully will connect to a big enough crowd to get enough people moving in the club. But to be a really good DJ, you need to know when to take risks, when to go safe or when to build up a bit longer and then go for your delivery.

If you go to a festival and a DJ just plays hit after hit after hit after hit for an hour and people go there because they just want to be able to say I've seen this DJ at this festival; well yay for them. But for me, that's not that's not the art of DJing... Anyone can plan a show and if you have enough hits behind your name, you can play live off those hits.

But the interesting part for me as a DJ is when you actually get the crowd moving to music that they never expected to hear and never expected to dance to. You unleash all these new emotions. And for me that's also why the combination of Lars and me works so well together because Lars is really good at finding the moment of delivery and when you need to throw in a bomb; I'm really good at extending the track and throwing in the odd-balls.

People know what kind of vibe they'll get when they come to see us play but they never know what they're going to hear. We have a certain energy in our sound and our music but whether we play one Detroit song or zero Detroit songs, our DJ sets are always different and full of surprises. So I think a combination of those factors makes for a good DJ.

Even when you're touring as much as we do, there's nights where you can really feel the connection with the crowd but sometimes it's just not there. But the most memorable nights are the ones where you feel like you're part of the crowd. You're not standing on a stage far away but you're connected and get the opportunity to play anything you like. You just know that whatever you play, people will be into it. And those occasions are amazing. And that's why I love being a DJ.

Let’s talk some Amsterdam industry stuff. The ADE festival used to be a very community-based affair. Now it's grown to this really big occasion. Do you think that's detracting from what it was originally set out to achieve?

That's a hard one because I understand their path. I mean, I've been going for such a long time and I've been organizing events so I know the struggle in general. For ADE, the popularity grew and the organization also needed to find a way to actually make it economically viable. So obviously they connected with bigger artists or bigger labels to get the mainstream people to actually buy tickets. I get that.

What I don't like about ADE is that it's very, very hard to have a normal party. People arrive at your party and they help build your vibe but there is this mentality of party hopping. They visit maybe four or five events on the night so you lose half of your crowd every hour and a half. That's really hard to build a connection with an audience because the story is always changing. The new arrivals don't have a clue about the idea of the night. That's a bit of a shame; they can still have fun and they can still listen to my records, but they won't get the full package.

On the other hand, we've done three or four hostings at the same venue and we've always had a super steady following with our label and for Detroit Swindle. We've always really enjoyed our nights and we don't have that many industry people networking on the nights themselves. We tend to meet everyone during the week, during the day or outside of the clubs and make sure that the events are still about that love of music

I know some people from Amsterdam leave the city because it becomes touristy x 10. Normally Amsterdam is already full of tourists but at ADE time its super hectic. On the other hand, an event like that in our city is an amazing opportunity for us to catch up with people that we haven't seen in a while and who we only get to see when we're in South America or Australia or wherever. Suddenly everyone's in Amsterdam and you can show them your favourite coffee spot and catch up on releases, hand out records rather than posting them. So there's so many advantages.

Okay so that leads me to who's your favourite DJ behind the decks.

I really enjoy guys like Hunee and Antal and a guy from London called John Gomez. He has an amazing taste in music and a large collection of Brazilian and South American music. We play together with him and every time he surprises me with something that I'd never heard before but which feels like I should have it in my collection. So, yeah, I'm a big fan of his music

Who do you need to thank for where you are in your life right now?

I need to thank Lars because without him we wouldn't be where we are and I think he would thank me because it's really obvious.

My wife, for sure. She made so many sacrifices for me to be able to do this. The moment we started touring full time was the moment when our first kid was born (my daughter). She decided to cut back on work for me to be able to do more and then at some point we decided together that she would take time off full time to be able to run the family. Without her this would never have been possible.

Quickfire Round

DAW? Ableton

Favourite keyboard? The Korg Monopoly.

Preferred Decks? SL 1200s

Favourite Mixer? Carmen Rotary. We take it on tour.

Favourite Sound? Waves crashing on the beach.

Love is…? Compassion.

Favourite club? In Australia … Revolvers

So besides playing back to back with Lars, who would be the one person that you'd love to play back to back with? Soundstream

What are you most proud of? I am at this point really proud of how, me and my family are dealing with the challenges in life. We're very open minded and I'm proud of being open minded.

So finally, this is a fun question is not meant to be anything sinister in this. So your family gets a phone call to say you're in a bit of trouble. What friend are you with?

My friend Pete.

He's always up to no good. Whenever we're on a night out you just know it's gonna be trouble lol

Stream Detroit Swindle

https://store.detroitswindle.com/

Jay B is a published author, music journalist and international DJ who has deep roots in the global House Music community having played the music he loves for over 30 years. From London, New York, Paris, Tokyo and Sydney, he has travelled the globe and interviewed some of the biggest names in the business as head honcho of Switched On Music!

#Detroit Swindle #Exclusive Interview #Switched On Music!#DJ #DJ Producer #House Music #Disco House #Afro House #Jackin House

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oh-theres-a-woman · 4 years

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Peaky Blinder OC: Dorothy Helen Townley

Pronunciation:

“Dor-o-thy Hel-en Town-ley”

Nickname(s) or Known As:

Dorothy - Her legal and birth name.

Dot - Affectionate nickname fleshed from Dorothy’s family and friends. Though, the young woman was known to get rather annoyed at strangers addressing her by the nick-name.

Apricot - A pet name for her back in York when she made bombs and explosive devices out of her favourite Apricot jam tins and jars. The local papers always recorded her at the Apricot Bandit in some articles.

Apricot Bandit - See above for such information as to why…

Helen - Want to start problems with Dorothy call her Helen, it was her grandmother’s name and she despised the woman. Her grandmother was a nasty abusive alcoholic that enjoyed to pick on Dorothy in spite of everything right she tried to do. The nick-name originally came about around the time Dot reached the age of puberty and began to resemble her grandmother, it wasn’t meant to be a insult because her grandmother was rather beautiful in her early days. It just hit something raw with Dorothy like rubbing salt into old wounds.

Cut Throat Princess - Being the only female of the York Cut Throats, and the younger sister to the founding brothers. It was originally a nickname that was made to mock Dorothy, though when she rose quickly within the ranks of her brother’s ranks and showed the men was she could do it became something in a form of respect. Very rare for Dorothy to hear about that nickname anymore since that’s a part of her old life.

Miss Townley - A formal way that people in Birmingham address her. Mainly people that don’t truly know her very well speak to her in this manner, but it doesn’t bother her much. It just has come done to a cultural thing since in York, she learnt that she was only addressed in that manner when in trouble with her parents or police.

Date of Birth:

25th April,1895 (24 years old)

Birthplace: East Fremantle, Western Australia.

Nationality/Ethnicity: Australian, Anglo-Saxon Descent.

Quotes:

“Don’t fucking call me Helen, Gene. Or I’ll give you that dental work you’re in need of. Brush your teeth with a brick, mate.”

“So… You’re stupid enough to make me think I believe you?”

“Freddie and Gene are alive?”

“The war changed something in me, I no longer enjoyed the thought of returning home. Because half of my family were already dead, and the whole town of York wouldn’t have given a shit.”

“It was sad you know, pitiful watching so many men die… Some of the nurses took pity in them and just happened to give them too much morphine.”

“A kiss with a fist is better than none…”

Occupation: Currently - Barmaid at the Garrison, Birmingham. Ex-co-owner of the Garrison, recently transferred the property into the name and ownership of Thomas Shelby.

Formerly - Specialist Nurse dealing with; amputations, shell-shock victims, surgeries and general procedures. Loyal gang member to the Cut Throats of York,ranking was as a gunner after showing effective aiming skills and knowledge of operations of hunting rifles, and pistols. Farm hunter, often going out shooting kangaroos to make sure they don’t destroy the family crops.

Reliable Skills:

High level of education - mastering reading, writing and mathematics.

Capable of making bombs and weapons for junk. Much like different types of bombs from the cheapest and crappiest of materials. Example is her famous apricot jam jar/tin bombs.

Established skills in bookkeeping, and insurance paperwork.

Weapons of Choice:

Luger (Parabellum) - Semi-automatic pistol → Stolen from a German officer that came through one of the field hospitals she was working on in France. Rather easy for her to shoot people at close and medium distance of range, only grows harder with the distance between her and the target.

Lee-Enfield - Bolt-action rifle → Was her go to weapon back in York or hunting kangaroos on the family property. Used one once to shoot and kill an officer that assaulted her, shot was successful.

Piano Wire - Choice instrument to strangle someone by garrote, easy enough for her to conceal. Was a formal way of execution for the Cut Throats.

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Social Status: Wanted felon; by Western Australian Police - Under charges of;

Murder → One police officer and a few others notable members of the community, other victims unknown.

Arson → set fire to the police station, town hall and post office. During conflicts with the town’s council at the time.

Assault → While involved with one of the many gang related riots in York, young Dorothy Townley was charged with assault in two counts against police officers trying to remove her from the scene.

Automobile Theft → In the company of one of her brothers, Miss Townley identified which of her seven brothers the calprate was… At age fourteen, Dot and her brother Frederick hotwired some bigwig’s chair taking it for a joy ride. After all it wasn’t everyday they were able to score such a nice car to drive around in.

Larceny → Stole food as a child because there was never enough to eat in the house growing up.

Receipt of Stolen Goods → During the days of working with the Cut Throats in York, she often took and kept the books on what was stolen and brought to them for transporting. It normally was the normal booze, cigarettes and illegal drugs at the time.

Forgery → Making up fake official documents regretting the private matters of the Cut Throats. Printing money, materializing documents (altering them to her needs), intended to deceive other gangs trying to take over her turf.

Marital Status: Single - Never really had any notable serious relationships other than an engagement to a man named Ralph Edward, whom died during the war.

Issue: Nil. Miscarried; one.

---

Townley Family History: Born on a respectably nice Autumn day in East Fremantle to a rather unknown couple from the rural town of York a couple of hours outside of Perth. Very shortly after the complicated birth of their youngest child, and only daughter whom they named; Dorothy Helen Townley. Raised to be a considerably normal child, between a faithful wife and an alcoholic husband that struggled with his liquor and debts. The family lived in the small shire of York, some hours travel from the city. Youngest of eight children meant Dorothy had a lot of proving of herself for her father that worked hard most days, and drunk heavily at night.

Though Dot’s father loved her, he had a funny way of showing it. Possibly because of his short temper and the rumours floating around that Dorothy was actually the illegitimate daughter of the police sergeant in the area. That had something against Ramsay Townley, and her mother sweet Alexi Townley. A child conceived by the sergeant when Alexi Townley was trying to bail her husband out of jail after a drunken brawl. After all, getting her husband out called for a price.

Alexi has tried to keep Dorothy’s father a secret and was truly lucky that her husband never questioned it. Truthfully, he already knew the pain his wife went to get him released from prison. Yet, he accepted Dot as his little girl and a Townley so she wouldn’t have any connection to the monster that harmed her mother. Though, Ramsay’s mother was another person despised Dorothy’s very existence. Dorothy’s grandmother was rather abusive to the only Townley girl, the bastard of the town’s police sergeant. Lucky the girl survived to see her homeland Australia officially become a country when she was the ripe age of six, as the elderly woman had made many attempts on her granddaughter’s life in the years before.

Spending more time with her brothers and father on the field. Dorothy formed a rather strong bond with Frederick (the eldest) and Eugene (third born) who knew of their half-sister’s parentage. The three eldest brothers knew too well about what had happened to their mother that night and vowed the day their sister was born they’d protect her. That started with bringing her into the loop of their gang at a rather young age, so they could protect her fully, as well as their comrades. Before long she was hunting on her farm, and sitting in on important meetings regarding expansions and riots against the police. Her youngest known age for being arrested was then at eleven years of age after the police busted her brothers at a meeting and noticed her sitting in. Reports on her criminal file first detailed the girl as a shy and timid girl, holding the sleeve of her eldest brother Frederick, refusing to speak on interview. This was the start of more troublesome behaviour with the girl.

Blossoming into a rose protected by harsh thorns (her brothers) Dorothy learnt many of many useful talents she had. Such as creating jam tin/jar bombs for raids, and attacks on places the Cut Throats planned. Servicing as a device to harm and lower numbers of rivals and police who were in the area at the time.

By the time seventeen rolled around Dot was a respected member of the “York Cut Throats”, taking a claim over bookkeeping, as well as, the job of being their sharpshooter. Her skills with a bolt-action rifle from a long distance couldn’t be trumped by anyone else, so she became their primary for assassinations. Her rate of crime had run aground when she had been found for first-degree murder in a serial number of offences, the charging officer that brought her in was her biological father. Said officer of the law proceeded to interview Miss Townley in a fashion till his measures became violent and he attacked the young woman. Reported gunshots were heard from the station, and when other officers investigated they found the man dead. The young woman in a state of distress and worse for wear.

To silence the Townley's’ and remove Dorothy from hanging other officers that felt pity for the young woman enlisted her to stay as a home for troublesome women. Where she was educated and taught the workings of a high profile nurse. Something the young adult woman had no idea would come to use so soon after completion. At the first light of war, Dot was sent off to the Gallipoli on the Ottoman Peninsula. Where she nursed broken men and saw her seventh and sixth brother slaughtered. Once more she went to making bombs out of tins, in hopes that she’d kill the Turk bastard that murdered her brothers.

After the withdrawal of Gallipoli, Miss Townley was moved to the Western Front. Believably broken by what she had seen in the bosom of the Turk’s lands. But then, she meets a kind soul a young soldier that held her heart and taught her to smile even in the shitty situations the war gave. Quick in their engagement, they longed for the war to end so they would be married. Yet, fate didn’t wish for them to be together in such away. Young Ralph Edward was killed in action. By the end of the war Dot’s family connection was broken, and her lover was gone so she decided to move to London in hopes of a new life. IN hopes to learn more about her dearly departed Mr Edward through his family, and the environment he used to live in.

---

Brief Personality Traits:

Australian Mateship - A quality that became well-known by most soldiers that worked alongside Australians in the First World War. Dot holds the cultural idiom rather highly as it holds many values of importance to her, such as; equality, loyalty and friendship. As it's a new era, Dorothy hopes that the world would adopt more of the following values as it will hopefully give most an era of peace with that.

Larrikin - Dorothy Townley is noted to be a rather mischievous young woman. Often considered uncultivated by members of higher society, she’s seemingly rowdy when comfortable around the right people, but always has a good heart. But she is also referred to as the other common meaning, which is a hoodlum or rough gangster, due to her rather decorative history and mysterious current.

Endurance/Courage - The war tested many, and for the case of Dorothy, it tested her level of courage and endurance because in most people’s eyes she was still a child. Though she has a very well build for tolerance when she was forcibly removed from her home in York, and thrown into a house for troubled young women so she could learn some skills that were of better use. During the time she was trained to be a nurse, it was the last thing the young woman wanted to do and she tried to desert her detainment a few times, only to be caught and punished later on down the track.

Her courage has come into play when times have been trying for her safety. This would include the time she was attacked by a drunk police officer in York, and she shot him dead after being dragged to the local hotel. Dorothy faced hanging until the true nature of the police officer was released and she was sent away to a home for troubled young women. Her brothers helped instil courage within her each time they were granted a chance to visit her.

((OOC--Model is Unknown, if anyone has her name please let me know so I can source it))

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders rp #peaky fookin blinders #by order of the peaky blinders #oc #rp oc #rp ocs #fandom rp #peaky blinders roleplay #complex characters #paired with tommy shelby #tommy shelby #john shelby #arthur shelby

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feralhogs · 4 years

Note

Questions 1, 2, skip a few, 99 100! ANSWER THEM ALL!!!!!!

LETS DO THIS

99 gay-ish asks

how tall are you?5 SOMETHING

what is your body type?SLENDERMAN

what is your favorite part about your body?THE T

is your current hair color your natural hair color?YES

are you more outgoing or more shy?SHY

are you more femme or butch?ITS COMPLICATED, BUT, BUTCH

are you tol or smol?APPARENTLY IM TWINK. NOT SURE WHERE THAT IS ON THIS SCALE

wine mom or vodka aunt?NO

weird habit?I EAT BREAKFAST FOOD AT ANY HOUR

favorite meme?VIBE CHECK, IM SMUG ABOUT MY URL

do you sing in the shower?NO BUT I USED TO. JUST SHY ABOUT ROOMMATES. I DO IN MY CAR

ever used a bow and arrow?NO, BUT MY BROTHER DESIGNED AND BUILT ONE, GOT IN TROUBLE FOR MAKING A WEAPON

are/were you a theatre kid?IN AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE WHERE IM ALLOWED TO HAVE AN EGO, YES

have you ever seen a broadway musical?NO

do you think musicals are cheesy?NO I THINK THEYRE JUST A MEDIUM OF ART

have you ever been a part of a protest or a march?NO WEIRDLY

favorite Cards Against Humanity Card?IDK THEM

last movie you watched?PROBABLY MEGEAMIND

behind the camera or in front of it?BEHIND. BUT BOTH IS GOOD

favorite tv show?AVATAR THE LAST AIRBENDER

meaning behind your urlTHE ACTUAL REASON IS IT REMINDS ME I CAN TRUST MY INTUITION

reason you joined tumblrA CRUSH WROTE IN MY YEARBOOK I SHOULD GET IT. DONT WRITE THAT IN PEOPLES YEARBOOKS

who’s your closest tumblr friend?THE PERSON ASKING ME 99 QUESTIONS

what’s something most people love that you hate?TACOS AT WORK. THEYRE POPULAR OF COURSE. I MAY NOT KNOW MY TACOS, BUT PLAIN RAW CABBAGE ON THEM MAKES ME DOUBT

have you ever taken narcotics?NO

have you had sex?NO

have you ever gotten caught sneaking out or doing anything bad?I DONT GET CAUGHT!!!! IM SO SNEAKY… AND TRAUMATIZED. I ONLY GOT CAUGHT WHEN PEOPLE WERE LIKE, HUNTING ME. NOT FAIR. ALSO HOW DO YOU “GET CAUGHT” FOR DOING NORMAL THINGS LIKE READING AND HAVING CLOTHES

worst/funniest lie you’ve ever told?PROBABLY THE REASSURING CHRISTIAN VALUES THINGS I TOLD MY PARENTS TO GET MY BIRTH CERTIFICATE. IT WAS THE FUNNIEST BECAUSE FOR SOMEONE INCONVENIENTLY TRUTHFUL, THAT WAS SOME PRETTY HARDCORE LYING IN A RIDICULOUS SITUATION, AND THE WORST BECAUSE WHAT A HORRIBLE THING TO HAVE TO DO. IT WAS HORRIBLE BECAUSE I WAS SO CONVINCING BECAUSE I MIXED IT WITH THE TRUTH I COULD SINCERELY EXPRESS

describe your passion without mentioning it.HEY GUYS IM WRITING CHAPTER 1 AGAIN I THINK I FIGURED IT OUT THIS TIME

describe your best friend.WARM STRONG RESILIENT UNCONDITIONALLY LOVING KINDLY HONEST CREATIVE TALENTED BRAVE HARDWORKING BEAUTIFUL ORIGINAL NURTURING SELF CONFIDENT

give us one thing about you that no one knows.NO ONE KNOWS THE GRITTY DETAILS OF SOME SAD MOMENTS IN MY PAST. DID YOU KNOW I HATE THE SMELL OF HOSPITAL FOOD FROM WHEN I VISITED A FAMILY MEMBER IN A PSYCH WARD

how do you feel right now?GOOD, I SHOULD PROBABLY GO TO BED THOUGH

what is your biggest fear?BREAKING SELF HARM STREAK

what’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?SING A SONG EARTH WIND AND FIRE

what is the best decision you’ve made in your life so far?LEAVING MY PARENTS. ITS TAKEN ME AGES TO UNLEARN SO MUCH SELF-DEFEATING STUFF

have you ever tried your hardest and then been disappointed in the end?MOSTLY EVERYTHING IN MY LIFE BUT IM CHILL

something you fantasize about.ACTUALLY DANCING TO MUSIC I LIKE. I NEVER LEARNED HOW TO DANCE BUT I WANT TO SFM

last time you cried and whyTHAT PREACHER GUY IN LUCIFER. IT SUCKED BUT IM SO BLOWN AWAY BY LUCIFERS ANGRY YELLING AT THE SKY. WHAT A GIANT MOOD

what was the last thing that made you laugh?MY SISTER ASKING ME WHAT DILF MEANT

do you really, truly miss someone right now?NO. IF I MISS SOMEONE, ITS A SIGN THEY WERE A BAG OF DICKS TO ME AND MESSED UP MY INNER CLARITY

who do you feel most comfortable talking to about anything?YOU

the last time you felt broken?WHEN MY TWO FRIENDS AT THE TIME GANGED UP ON ME AND ABANDONED ME AT A NOT PRETTY TIME IN MY LIFE. I COULDNT EAT WHICH AND I STILL STRUGGLE WITH EATING, I NEVER USED TO

are you starting to realize anything?THAT IF I RELY ON MY LIFE EXPERIENCE, ILL EXPECT TO FAIL AND SABOTAGE MYSELF, AND INSTEAD I NEED TO TAKE RISKS AND PUT FAITH IN MY FUTURE.

are you more dominant or more submissive?THERES EVIDENCE FOR BOTH, BUT I THINK THE LATTER IS JUST FROM ABUSE AND GIRL RULES

i’ll only date you if _____. (fill in the blank)WASH YOUR HANDS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

do you prefer to date people the same age as you, younger, or older?AROUND MY AGE THERE IS SOME UNDERSTANDING

describe the person you’re in love with/have a crush on in great detail.IM NOT IN LOVE I DONT EVEN HAVE A CRUSH. I MAY HAVE A SQUISH

do you have any kinks?MAYBE SO

first thing you notice in a person?HOW THEY HANDLE STRESS AND PROBLEMS, IF THEY BLAME/GET ANGRY, OR IF THEY ARE COMPASSIONATE AND PATIENT. LOOKING FOR RED FLAGS

how can someone win your heart?FOOD. CHEESECAKE WAS A POWER MOVE. BONDING… OVER FOOD. I HAVE HAPPY MEMORIES ATTACHED TO BEVERAGES.

been rejected by a crush?YES

have you ever had feelings for someone who didn’t have them back?YES

would you have sex with the last person you text messaged?NO

is trust a big issue for you?YES

did you hang out with the person you like recently?NO

is confidence cute?YES, SELF LOVE LOOKS GOOD ON PEOPLE

what would you say if the person you love/like kissed another girl/boy?GOOD FOR THEM. I DONT LIKE ANYONE RIGHT NOW

would you be able to date someone who doesn’t make you laugh?NO. GIGGLING LIKE A LUNATIC IS AN IMPORTANT PART OF MY LIFE AND YOU NEED TO KEEP UP

does the person you have feelings for right now know you do?IF THEYRE FEELINGS, PROBABLY, BECAUSE IM TRANSPARENT

ever embarrass yourself in front of a crush?IVE HAD MY EMBARRASSMENT GLANDS REMOVED FOR MY FTM TRANSITION

do you want to get marriedYEAH WHEN IM FIFTY THEN ILL GET A BUNCH OF DOGS AND CATS AND CHICKENS

worst thing you’ve ever done?APPARENTLY IVE BORROWED BOOKS AND NEVER RETURNED THEM

three things that turn you on.IM GOING THRU PUBERTY 2, TEENAGE BOY EDITION, IT DOESNT TAKE MUCH

who do you hate?I DONT LIKE SUCH SIMPLE CATEGORIES, BUT I START TO FEEL HATRED WITH REPEATED CRUELTY/WHEN SOMEONE REFUSES TO HEAR ME

favorite term of endearment?MY FRIEND

who was your celebrity/fictional gay awakening?I DIDNT REALLY HAVE TVS/POP CULTURE GROWING UP LIKE MOST PEOPLE, PROBABLY FOUND IT IN CREATIVE WRITING

intimidating girls or kind girls?KIND

what do you look for in a possible partner?EQUALITY

do you tend to like more masculine, feminine, or androgynous girls?YES

are you good at flirting?PERHAPS. WHEN IM NOT THINKING ABOUT IT

who was the first person you came out to?I DONT ACTUALLY REMEMBER. A HIGH SCHOOL FRIEND. IT WAS A STRESSFUL COMPLICATED TIME, MY WORLD WAS UPSIDE DOWN, IT WAS GRADUAL

do you have any friends who are wlw?PROBABLY

is your crush wlw?IDK

last person to make you reconsider your sexuality?A DOUCHE CANOE UNFORTUNATELY

write a short love poem to your crush/self?DEAR PERSON,THANK YOU FOR THE CHEESECAKEIT WAS SO GOODBUT ONLY BECAUSE IT WAS FROM YOU

do you fall in love easily?NO. I WISH I DID. I COULD USE THE HIGH TO GET STUFF DONE

is there something that happened in your past that you hate talking about?I HATE TALKING ABOUT THINGS THAT MAKE ME FEEL HUMILIATED AND ASHAMED, SO I JUST DONT. I ALSO HATE TALKING ABOUT SELF HARM BECAUSE I NEVER KNOW HOW. AM I GOING TO TRIGGER PEOPLE? AND IT IS SHROUDED IN SHAME AND FEAR.

are you good at hiding your feelings?YES, WHEN I CONSCIOUSLY MAKE AN EFFORT TO

are you a forgiving person?NO. I USED TO BE ALL ABOUT FORGIVENESS, AND GREW UP FORGIVING ABUSIVE CYCLES, IT WAS SO UNHEALTHY. NOW I FEEL LIKE A CROW HOLDING GRUDGES FOR CENTURIES, AND I DONT WANT TO BE BITTER EITHER – I OFTEN FEEL BAD FOR NOT FORGIVING, EVEN IF ITS JUST FORGIVENESS FOR MY OWN SAKE. BUT ITS A NEW DEVELOPMENT THAT IM ALLOWING MYSELF TO FEEL ANGRY, BE TRUTHFUL ABOUT BEING WRONGED, WANT JUSTICE FOR MYSELF. AND MAYBE SOME THINGS SHOULDNT BE FORGIVEN.

what is your “type?”I DONT KNOW. I RECENTLY STARTED GROWING SOME SELF WORTH, AND I DONT THINK THE PEOPLE IVE SOUGHT OUT TO RELIVE MY PAIN COUNTS

fall asleep in her arms or rub her back until she falls asleep in yours?LAST ONE

tall girls or short girls?BOTH IS GOOD

hugs or kisses?HUGS

twirl her around or get twirled?I WANNA TWIRL PEOPLE

tummy kisses or thigh kisses?BOTH

hairline kisses or neck kisses?NECK

play with her hair or stroke her tummy?PLAYING WITH HAIR

making out or soft kisses?MAKING OUT

hugs around the neck or hugs around the waist?WAIST

how confident are you in your sexuality?I THINK PEOPLE WOULD ASSUME IM NOT. IM SHY, AND MY NERDY CHRISTIAN VIBE ISNT GOING ANYWHERE. IM ALSO JUST BEGINNING TO LIVE AS MYSELF AND IM RELEARNING EVERYTHING. BUT WHEN IT COMES TO REALLY KNOWING MYSELF IM CONFIDENT

when you like someone do you blush or get butterflies in your stomach?NO. I WILL START CRANKING OUT ART AND FOCUS LESS THAN USUAL

have you ever liked a friend as more than a friend? did you tell them?YES

how old were you when you realized you were into girls?20ISH BUT THE SIGNS WERE THERE LONG BEFORE

most embarrassing thing you’ve done in front of a cute girl?I GOT MY EMBARRASSMENT GLANDS REMOVED REMEMBER

do you have a favorite lesbian ship? is it canon?I DONT KNOW MANY BUT IM HAPPY FOR THE CANON MARCELINE AND BUBBLEGUM

what is the most aggravating thing someone has said to you about your sexuality?MY SISTER PROJECTING ABOUT HER LIFE. WE HAVE CONSERVATIVE MISOGYNIST PARENTS BUT WE ARE VERY DIFFERENT PEOPLE AND IT DID NOT AFFECT US IN THE SAME WAY

when was the last time a girl made your heart flutter?I FEEL LIKE IM FORGETTING SOMETHING NICE A STRANGER SAID ONCE

what is love to you?NOT SOMETHING YOU DISPENSE AT YOUR CONVENIENCE. ITS A WAY OF LIVING – IF YOU LOVE YOURSELF, YOU LOVE OTHER PEOPLE, AND YOU LOVE THE WORLD AROUND YOU AND TAKE CARE OF IT. ITS NEITHER FAWNING NOR CONTROL – ITS ACCEPTANCE

ask me anything.YOU DIDNT ASK ME ANYTHING SO IM JUST GOING TO TELL YOU SOMETHING. IVE BEEN EATING POPCORN CHICKEN WITH HONEY

#zee5tarbug #asks #chatty tag #I DID IT

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lifeinahole27 · 5 years

Text

Fic Bits 2018: Part 3

SO. One happy morning, I went to post this from my drafts and my dumb fat finger hit “delete” instead of “queue” and then I got sucked into work forever and ever and ever and never got around to posting part 3 of these. Incredibly delayed but here are the ones that fit into canon or headcanon or canon-adjacent.

Included in this pack:

“Winter Bliss Firsts” - a little look at how Emma and Killian celebrate their first holiday season after the dust from the Black Fairy all settles. Fluff - G.

“In His Own Eyes” - I got a request for whump, which is not something I write. Ever. So this is a bit of reflection. Killian-centric, slight angst? - PG-13.

“A Definite Improvement” - Some Captain Cobra and the evolution of their relationship after life has settled down. Fluff - PG? Sure.

“Winter Bliss Firsts”

With the Black Fairy vanquished and their lives back on track, Emma and Killian soon find a rhythm as they settle into their new partnerships – both as husband and wife, and sheriff and deputy.

Emma’s favorite is when winter finally hits in full force, the Maine weather forecasts getting bleaker by the day, to most.

To Emma, it means that less people will be out trying to cause trouble in their magical little town, which means they aren’t really needed for patrol a majority of the time.

If the Bug won’t even move from the curb, then who else is going to really try to start something out there in the blizzard?

Day after day, they sink into their little haven; they light the fireplace and curl up on the couch, enjoying the peace and solitude when it’s just them, and welcoming Henry into their space when he’s not spending time with Regina.

The greatest thing about all of this is that they never had to figure out custody or a schedule – Henry just drifts between the households, spending time with his mothers and his step-father as if it was the most natural set-up of all.

They’re never grasping for their alone time, and they’re never feeling neglected at their happy Victorian household.

When it’s Christmas time, Emma makes Killian go out to find a live tree for the first time in his life. He and David end up with the job of cutting down and hauling the trees.

Emma and Snow “help” from the sidelines. Henry documents everything with both camera and pen, adding the tale to their storybooks.

Despite the fact that he knows almost nothing of the holiday, Killian easily goes along with the decorating, the baking, the traditions.

He is especially fond of the small cluster of mistletoe she posts above the door, kissing her every chance they get.

Emma enjoys watching him acclimate even further into modern living, still fascinated by the glimpses of Enchanted Forest and pirate that she sees peek out at random times.

But as the winter goes, so does his confusion to a lot of pop culture references.

The Christmas tunes easily get hummed and sung when she’s least expecting him to join in.

But he still throws down doubloons at Granny’s as a form of payment.

(Actually, she’s pretty sure that’s strictly for the reaction he gets from Granny, but he never says one way or the other.)

What she does know is that no matter how cold it gets outside, she always has Killian by her side to keep her warm.

Every once in a while, Emma thinks of the way he told her there’d be no getting rid of him after their wedding day.

And really? She couldn’t be more thankful that he was telling the truth about that.

“In His Own Eyes”

Despite his nature of being a bit of a scoundrel, Captain Hook is getting tired of all the times he’s been tied or chained to items since meeting Emma Swan.

There’s the knife to his throat, shortly followed by being tied to a tree and offered as food to an ogre. It reminds him of being trapped against the mast of his ship when Rumplestiltskin took his hand and his love, and he doesn’t like it one single bit.

She chains him up at the giant’s lair, refusing to believe he could be helping her – to be fair, he’s been waffling at best on whose side he’s on – but still, the nerve.

Then there’s Cora trapping him against the wall of that cave, his own Hook pulling at the fabric on his chest. His insides heave at the thought of this woman, but if she’s his only way to skin a crocodile, then he has to stay on course.

The darkness of his heart and soul consumes him so often that he genuinely doesn’t care if it’s bodily harm or a verbal lashing from any of these supposed heroes. All he knows is that he will have his revenge, even if he has to get hit by a bloody motor vehicle directly after.

Which is a good thing, since that’s exactly what seems to have happened.

When Killian awakes in the hospital, it’s to a chain around his wrist – again – and Emma Swan telling him that his foe is still alive. With magic. And angry.

“If I were to pick dead guy of the year, I’d pick you.”

He supposes, of course, that it wouldn’t be all that terrible to finally be free of this world and to join up with his Milah in the great beyond.

A trip to New York City to kill the Crocodile, and another journey being tied up, followed by another failure.

Time, and time, and time again, he fails and fails and fails. If he could just get his damn revenge and be on with life, it wouldn’t be so bad.

But somewhere in there he begins to believe in living again.

It might have something to do with the unstoppable force that is Emma Swan and her band of happy heroes.

It could be that kiss in Neverland.

It could be that, for the first time since he was under his brother’s command, he wants to do the good thing – the right thing.

And then it all gets taken away from him again, thanks to Pan’s bloody curse, and he’s never going to see her again.

“There’s not a day that will go by that I won’t think of you,” he tells her, just before they depart.

“Good.”

He thought having Milah die in front of him was bad enough, but having his second chance at love ripped away – to know that he has to live his life without her while she lives her life without him – hurts as much as if he’d watched her die, too.

Regardless of what happened in their missing year, all Killian knows is that he did not expect his reunion with Emma to result in injury to his person.

But he supposes even that hurts less than finding out she’s found someone new.

He seems to be destined for heartache and heartbreak, no matter how he tries.

“A Definite Improvement”

There’s a large pit of disappointment in Killian’s stomach when he walks outside with the video game controller and finds that it was all a ruse.

He’s been struggling lately to connect with Henry, and figured it was about time they started bonding. Of course, it all goes much deeper than that.

It’s not until much later that it all gets a little easier with the lad – after the world has quieted down and they aren’t in constant fear for Emma’s life.

Operation Best Man was a success, and after everything that went awry has settled, the ease with which they find harmony is astonishing.

It’s a rainy day several months after he and Emma have been married that Henry comes into the living room and turns on his video game system, and Killian tilts his head a little.

“I did tell you I’d teach you,” Henry says, handing over one of the controllers.

Killian does his best not to look too excited. Emma is out of the house visiting her parents so this is something purely for the benefit of bonding, no secondary alternatives.

After a few attempts at one of the games, however, it’s obvious it’s not going to work.

Killian was correct all that time ago when he said that the games weren’t meant for people like him. He understands what to do, and the storyline, and how he’s supposed to play, but with one less hand, he just can’t push all the buttons he’s supposed to, even if he braces it on his leg and uses his thumb on one side and the rest of his fingers on the other. It’s just no use.

“Why don’t you keep playing, and I’ll just watch?”

The next day, the system disappears from the living room, and Killian looks at the vacant spot sadly, knowing that while he and Henry have plenty to bond over, this is something that just wasn’t meant to be.

Two weeks later, Henry comes barreling down the stairs, flying out the door and down the walkway to meet one of the delivery people. He has no idea how mail gets transferred into a town that isn’t on the map but he knows better than to question such things at this point.

When Henry comes back in, he immediately goes to the kitchen and to the drawer where they hide all their miscellaneous items. He can hear the box cutter being used, and the shuffling of something being removed from a box, but he focuses on the book he’s reading, thinking that Henry has just ordered an item for himself.

He’s not entirely wrong; Henry has purchased what he calls a Wii.

“I used all my allowance and got mom to advance me some for the next month so I could order this,” he explains as he plugs in various items and finds batteries and puts a strange bar beneath their television.

Killian can feel how hard his eyebrows are drawn down in confusion, but Henry looks so excited.

“I’ll explain as we go,” he says, holding out a strange item for Killian to take hold of. “You slide that loop around your wrist and hold the controller like this.”

Killian follows the instructions, waiting as Henry fiddles with something else.

“Okay, we’re gonna make your Mii.”

“My what now?”

“Just look at the screen and press the buttons I tell you to.”

“Henry, this small thing looks nothing like me.”

“It’s not supposed to be a ringer, Killian.”

“There’s no option for facial hair.”

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to live without the constant three day stubble.”

“Says the young man who has three day stubble at present and it’s just a clean face.”

“I can walk away, you know.”

“Fine, fine. Get on with it… Those aren’t my eyes.”

“No, but those are your eyebrows.”

Killian’s eyebrow jumps up at the comment.

“See! There it is!”

“Why do my eyes look like that now?”

“Those are what your eyes look like when you look at my mom.”

“I would bloody hope so, she’s my wife.”

“You just like saying that.”

“Damn right I do. What do I do with this mini-me?”

“It’s just a Mii. And we’re going to play games with him now.”

“We tried this, lad.”

“We tried old school. Now we’re going with motion technology. There’s another part we could use, but we’ll skip the games that use that so you don’t have to be left out.”

He almost cries.

That’s a lie; he does cry. But he wipes it away quickly as Henry is explaining how they’re going to play something called “tennis” and he is awful at it at first but soon he’s catching on.

“Wait wait, pause the game,” he tells Henry after no more than twenty minutes of game play.

He shuffles the strap off his wrist and sprints upstairs, flinging off vest and button-up shirt as he goes, finding one of the t-shirts he normally reserves for sleeping in during cold nights.

When Emma arrives home from work, he and Henry have both soaked through their shirts and have exhausted their games list.

“Should… should I even ask?”

Both of them shake their heads, too tired to even try speaking as they lie on the pieces of furniture closes to them.

She comes back after she sets down her keys and hangs up her jacket, handing them each a tall glass of water and grabbing one of the remotes off the coffee table.

“I’ll take on whoever recovers first. Loser makes dinner tonight,” she states matter-of-factly. Her shoes are off, she’s back in leggings and a t-shirt, and her hair is tied up. Killian idly wonders when she managed to change when he swears she was only home for seconds before she brought them water.

Then he looks across at Henry, and Henry looks back at him, and they’re both scrambling from their prone positions trying to grab for the remote because that’s a challenge they’re willing to take on.

(They both end up making dinner, because they both lose to Emma despite their very best efforts and hours of practice.)

(“Beginner’s luck,” Emma says, her smile saying otherwise as she sits on the counter and watches them work side-by-side.)

(Killian wouldn’t have it any other way.)

#captain swan ff #cs ff #captain swan #captain cobra #sarah writes ff #killian jones #emma swan #henry mills #fic bits 2018

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trivialqueen · 5 years

Text

Here’s the next section of that original story.

As always, I’m neither a doctor, nor British. I’m just a girl who fancies herself a writer and likes slow burns, smart women, and tall men.

St. Sebastian’s was a world class hospital with some of the worst aesthetics he’d ever seen. The exterior was in an uninspired brutalist style. The interior had been remolded several times since the early 1960s, but only ever with an eye toward function and technology, never design or comfort. The cardiothoracic ward, known as Harvey, was as bland as the rest of the hospital, but with the extra unattractive feature of ghastly aqua accents throughout. As if that was a substitute for style. Felix leaned against the nurses’ station, feigning interest in a chart. It had been over a week since his introduction as Director of Surgery. In the subsequent ten days his true role in the hospital had spread like, well, gossip in a hospital. He’s the Dread Pirate Roberts here for your jjjoooobbb!! The rumors were absolutely true, but he didn’t want to let that on. To make an accurate assessment of viability and redundancies he needed to see the hospital in action, not performance. Changes were only as good as their usefulness and longevity. So whenever possible he preferred to observe as inconspicuously as a man of his height could. This tended to involve a lot of pretending to read and “sneaking”.

Even if he wasn’t half secretly overseeing a major shakeup in the hospital, being the Director of Surgery meant he bounced from ward to ward far more than his colleagues did. Which was how he found himself on Harvey that afternoon. He appreciated the challenges that this brought, it tested and stretched diagnostic muscles he’d not used since deciding a specialty, but it also ate into his time as a surgeon. He’d accepted a more administrative position as it was the next logical career move, but in his heart, he was a doctor first and foremost, a bureaucrat a distant second. His pantomime reading of one of Paul Elliot’s old transplant cases was interrupted by a sandy haired teen with a strong Belfast accent.

“It’s ma Dad, he needs help.” A quick survey of the room told him two things: one, no one was collapsed on the floor, meaning the Dad in question was already a patient in a bed, and two, none of the CT consultants, or even a registrar, were in the immediate vicinity. The boy was talking to him.

“Who’s his consultant?”

“Ms. Hale.” The boy fairly spat.

“Then I suggest you wait for her.” She was likely doing something maverick and self-righteous, but he had no doubts she’d be back.

“She doesn’t know a damn thing what she’s doing! She’s done like fifteen tests on ma Dad and all she says is ‘wait and see’. Now you tell me to wait! I’m sick of waiting. He’s in pain, real pain.”

“Alright.” He could at least do something about the pain, if nothing else.

Sofia Grace Hale had a scrivener’s hand, surprising for a doctor. It was large, round, looping, and very legible, unlike his own tight, scratchy scrawl. ‘Abdominal pain’ jumped out from the meticulous notes. Most of Mr. Patrick Baxter’s ailments were CT related and not necessarily caused by his MS– the dilated aorta first among them. Ms. Hale was undoubtable chasing all of their causes and symptoms, but the abdominal pain… well he could check on that. It would also make the teen happy, hopefully, if he could even answer one question.

“Mr. Baxter, my name is Felix Magnusson, and I’d like to do a few tests regarding your abdominal pain, I’ll be arranging for your transfer to our general surgery ward, St. Irene’s.”

Ms. Hale’s red tassel earrings matched her lipstick and made her double take particularly dramatic as she passed Mr. Baxter, his son Kevin, and the porter taking them to the third floor.

“Where are you taking Mr. Baxter?”

“Down to Irene.” Her coffee colored eyes widened and that fire he’d seen during their first meeting began to smolder. She had eyes that could lead a man to hell. Perhaps one day she might look at him without an indignant flame in her gaze. But until then he would warm himself by the fire in her eyes.

“What?”

“He needs an ultrasound.”

“Why isn’t he having one here?” She crossed her arms under her breast as she glared up at him. Even in her high heels her head only came to about his shoulders. To keep eye contact she was forced to crane her neck slightly. Which she did, pale throat exposed, creating a lovely long line down her neck to her décolletage, where he resolutely refused to look, no matter how tempting.

“There seems little point in taking up a CT bed when his problem is clearly GS related.”

“Clearly GS related? The worst pain is in his chest, and the echo shows a dilated aorta.”

“I’ve read your notes. He also has severe abdominal pain. So, what’s your diagnosis?”

She wanted to scream. That arrogant bastard. That absolute arschloch. ‘What’s your diagnosis?’ like she was a bloody F1. God, his tone. ‘Was ist deine diagnose?’ It was that same clipped, ‘I don’t think you have this in you’ tone her clinical skills lead at Tübingen had taken with her. Except he was speaking English. And she wasn’t a F1 anymore. She was a consultant, goddamnit.

(The worst part was, of course, the fact she didn’t have a diagnosis. Not yet anyway, and that uncertainty made her feel even more like a bloody first year all over again. ‘Was ist deine diagnose?’ ‘Keine Ahnung.’)

“I’ve ruled out ischemic heart disease but I’m still waiting on his blood pressure.”

“That is not a diagnosis.” Her eyes flamed beautifully. Her temper was quick and exquisite.

“I’m well aware! As I said, I’m waiting on his test results.”

“The patient was admitted thirty-six hours ago, and you don’t have a diagnosis yet. Surly a change of tact can only assist in figuring this out.” He cocked a brow, his supreme confidence in his own ability shining in his eyes, the quirk of his lips. He took a step closer to her, forcing her head back further, as if he wanted to force her to look away. She wouldn’t. She’d hold her ground and his gaze, even if meant he put her in Anuvittasana to do it. She could catch a whiff of his aftershave, something with sandalwood in it. He smelled of it, hospital, fresh laundry, and perhaps faintly, of old books.

“Is it common elsewhere to steal other consultants’ patients? Or is this because you think you know everything?” He stared at her a moment, tongue moistening his thin lips before he spoke.

“We are both consultants, are we not?” He could see her hands flexing at her side, as if she was thinking about strangling him, and he could taste her anger, capsaicin hot.

“Yes.” She spat out from between cayenne colored lips.

“then surly Mr. Baxter can be our patient. Now let me see what I can learn about the GS part of our current problem, hm?” And with that patronizing hum in his throat he left. Left her in the hallway struggling to keep from screaming, her breath coming in choppy, short burst.

She really did not like that man.

He heard her before he saw her, the determined click of spike heels on linoleum making the announcement: Gird your loins. The moment Mr. Baxter was back from his ultrasound she was at his bedside, chart in hand.

“Your blood pressure is constantly going from high to normal-”

“Of course, it is Love, you keep bothering me. Now, I don’t wanna be rude…” His tone suggested otherwise as his gaze raked down her body, coming to rest on her legs with appreciation. “I’ve lived with this condition for fifteen years; you’re not going to tell me anything I don’t already know.” She did have stunning legs, but that did not give the man the right to stare like that. Felix could feel his jaw tighten as he watched patient and consultant converse.

“Right, Jeyne, I’d like to do a blood culture and another echo, please.”

“Love, you’re not listening to me. You’re wasting your time running these bloody tests.” Ms. Hale was very clearly listening to the man, her back was visibly tense from across the room, spine straight and hard as steel. She gave him a curt nod and walked away, his eyes following her with a lascivious grin spreading across his face. He caught her eye as she brushed past him down the hall, for once that burning anger wasn’t directed at him. Once the click-click of her heels was out of earshot he released the breath he’d not realized he’d been holding. The glower he knew he wore, however, remained.

The ward was mostly dark as he made his final rounds for the evening. Meetings had taken up most of his afternoon, bowel resection aside, and had pushed any patient follow ups or paperwork into late in the evening. Most of the residents on the ward were asleep, with a few readings or playing on their devices, providing patches of light throughout the otherwise dim floor. Mr. Baxter was asleep, looking almost peaceful. He snagged the man’s file and retreated to the better lighting of the nurses’ station.

“She said I could sit here.” The voice almost startled him, if he was the sort to be startled. Kevin Baxter sat at the nursing station, text book and papers spread about him in messy piles. Felix felt his fingers twitch, itch to straighten them up, keep them from jumbling together or with anything important still on the desk.

“Who did?”

“Sister Jacobs. Gotta do my homework somewhere.” He held up a battered German language primer.

“Ah! Sprichst du Deutsch?”

“Ich verstehe nur Bahnhof.” He could only smile at his response. There was always something deliciously ironic about complaining that one did not speak the language in idioms of the language.

He’d learned Latin at his father’s knee, and learned it perfectly, for his father would not have settled for anything less. It was both his personality and his profession, as a professor of classics and philologist. English had come quickly in school and become his primary language when at ten he’d been sent to boarding school. He’d learned French first, having tested out of the Latin classes, followed shortly by German. At the time French had been the easier language to pick up, but after quickly realizing that speaking it frequently would require interacting with the French, he’d not pursued it beyond conversational. His mastery of German had been improved tremendously the year he spent in Heidelberg but since his return to the UK it had fallen by the wayside, reading skills aside. He still enjoyed keeping up with his former colleagues’ research. He now also had a stack of publications by S.G. Hale sitting on his desk to peruse.

“Deutsche Sprache, Schwere Sprache.”

“Ja, und ich mag es nicht. Es ist eine mean, hateful Sprache.”

“If you need help, Ms. Hale is a fluent German speaker, she went to school there.” The boy pulled a face. “Do you always work at night?” He was not interested in hearing the boy complain about one of the hospital’s more talented surgeons because his father had a particularly difficult case to diagnose; sifting out preexisting MS symptoms from the new ones, causes still unknown.

“It’s the only time we get any peace, when he’s asleep. Then it’s like everything’s… dunno, normal, I guess, whatever that means.” He sounded so old for one so young. Felix followed the boy’s eyes as they rested on his father, who was still resting as peacefully as one could in a hospital bed. I could not be easy for either of them, as far as he could tell there was no one else in the Baxter household at the moment except Patrick and Kevin. Being primary caretaker and a teenager was no easy task. “It’s become secondary progressive, hasn’t it?” His jaw clenched.

“What makes you say that?”

“Cuz it’s obvious,” The boy said in that way that only teenagers could. “The migraines, the flashing before his eyes, the coughing like he’s got consumption, the going crazy mad for no reasons.” Felix felt his body tense. This was new information. Important and new. Given how consistently condescending and rude he’d been to Ms. Hale while simultaneously ogling her admittedly very fine legs and even better backside, he’d assumed the man had always had a bad temper. That it was a personality trait, not a symptom.

“He’s not always had a temper?” His mind buzzed with new connections.

“Just lately. Why?”

“Do your homework.” The Baxters might complain about excessive tests but he was fairly confident the next two would provide all the answers they needed.

She was too old for this shit. Sofia Grace did her best to stifle a yawn before going to speak to Mr. Baxter. She’d been up entirely too late trying to figure out his diagnosis, but she’d finally made one. It was a pity that as her vice of choice, she’d developed a tolerance to caffeine so high that the amount necessary to actually keep her awake would also, quite possibly, kill her. But given how Mr. Baxter rankled her with his distain and condescension she knew that her blood would undoubtedly be pumping in now time. Straightening her blouse, she approached his bed, Kevin had already left for school it seemed.

“Good morning, Mr. Baxter. My sincerest apologies for it taking so long, but I think I’ve come up with an explanation for your symptoms.”

“No need, Love, really.” It was a dismissal but not nearly as rude as his usual attitude.

“Sorry?” In fact, he looked rather resigned.

“Catecholamine.” A baritone voice in her ear supplied. Sofia Grace felt herself jump out of her skin. She wheeled around. There, standing in her personal space was Felix Magnusson. Tall as ever, as immovable as a brick wall, and radiating a warmth from his chest that made the rest of the room feel chilly. She’d had no idea he was on the ward, let alone able to stand directly behind her.

“What?”

“I’ve explained it all to Mr. Baxter already,” He continued on, as efficient as ever, pulling out a CT scan from its large brown envelope with flourish. “It accounts for all the symptoms and really, it’s blindingly obvious when you really think about it. I feel a little ashamed for not realizing sooner.” He held the scan out in front of her, he was so close to her back and his arms were so long that she only needed to lean back slightly into his chest to see what he was looking at. “Textbook Pheochromocytoma.” There was indeed a tumor on the adrenal gland and up into the chest cavity, partially around the diaphragm. The pain, headaches, palpitations, elevated heartrate and blood pressure… all the signs and symptoms. The dilated aorta was a problem, but not related to the other symptoms. It really was a general surgery problem, Hurensohn! He lowered his arm but didn’t step back from her.

“So, what do we do now?” It was the first time the man in the bed had looked up at her with anything other than contempt.

“Well,” his MS did complicate things, he wasn’t wrong when he’d asserted that. They’d have to determine if he was fit for surgery, speak with the neuro and physio specialists, get a theatre slot if he was determined fit or wait longer if he wasn’t.

“There’s a procedure. We have a slot in theatre this morning.” She did step away from him then. They needed to have a discussion, now. And it couldn’t be in front of Patrick Baxter. Her fingers itched to grab him by the tie (burgundy silk against a pale blue shirt and navy suit) and tow him away from the bed.

“Mr. Magnusson, could I have a word?” Keeping her tone light and professional was a challenge. They’d only worked together for two weeks and Sofia Grace wasn’t entirely certain she hadn’t developed a twitch in that time.

“Just a moment, Ms. Hale.” He didn’t quite hand wave her away, but it was close. God grant me the strength to deal with condescending men. “There’s a theatre slot this morning; would you like us to call your son?” Magnusson was hard to read, but this look was particularly inscrutable.

“No, not till after. If that’s possible. He’s got a maths test today and doesn’t need more worry than he’s already got.” Ever so slightly the lines around his eyes and mouth relaxed as he studied the man in the bed.

“Mr. Magnusson, if you don’t mind?” It took some effort to steer him away, mostly with herself to keep from grabbing him by the tie to do it. Instead a firm hand on his elbow did the trick, only making her feel slightly like a tiny tugboat, although instead of bringing a Nordic cruise ship out to sea, she was dragging a Swedish surgeon over to the light box.

“You’re just assuming he’s fit for surgery!” She hissed.

“The Neuro and Physio specialists seem to agree with me.” He hung the scan on the viewer, turned it on, and then reached into his breast pocket for his glasses. Resolutely not looking at her.

“So, let me get this straight,” Sabrina had suggested that he wasn't awful, but she’d just let him get under her skin. And then he did shit like this. “You talked to Stewart and Noah before you talked to me about our patient?” He ignored her. Outright.

“If you’re still concerned, let’s get a second opinion.” He turned and spotted Griffin Richards walking across the ward, cup of coffee in one hand, a stack of files in the other. Sofia liked Griffin; he was an excellent GS surgeon with a flair for the upper GI. He was committed to helping people and passionate about the NHS. Patients came first and she’d only ever seen him play politics to that end. He was a good colleague, even if his personal life was a bit of a shambles. Discreetly she peeked at his hands, no wedding band this morning. So, he was on the outs with his wife this week.

“Ah, Mr. Richards, would you be so kind as to act as arbitrator?” He waved Griffin over politely.

“For what?” He asked, giving Magnusson a wary look but gifting her with a warm smile. He was a handsome and charming man; it was easy to see how he got his wife. It was only a shame that it didn’t seem like he was able to keep her.

“Pheochromocytoma on the adrenal gland that has attached itself to the diaphragm.” Magnusson used the ear piece of his glasses to point to the tumor.

“Mr. Magnusson seems keen to slice and dice, despite the fact the patient has MS.”

“And you would do what exactly, Ms. Hale? Key hole through the chest?” It was a valid option, but he said it as if he might have said, “Try crystal healing?” Griffin put on his own glasses and studied the scan quietly for a moment, sipping his coffee.

“Well if it were my patient, given the position of the tumor, I would suggest you and I operate together.” Another smile, this one less charming as he’d just sold her out. Magnusson was smiling as well, thin lipped and smug as hell.

“And there’s our answer,” he tapped the scan with his glasses, “a CT/GS collaboration, as I was saying. Thank you, Mr. Richards. I’ll see you on the ice, Ms. Hale.” And with that he walked off. Just like that. Sofia knew she was gawping, but she couldn’t help it, the arrogance of the man left her speechless.

Dieser Arschgesicht!

Well, perhaps not entirely…

Ms. Hale was already at the sink when he arrived for surgery. She was in pale blue scrubs today, unlike the wine-colored ones he’d first met her in, her dark curls covered by her floral cap. She didn’t look up at him as she scrubbed her hands but gave him a slight nod as he took the faucet next to her to begin his own cleansing ritual.

“I have reasons for wanting to do a keyhole procedure on Mr. Baxter, it’s not just a ‘CT’ thing or whatever you seem to think. If we do keyhole-”

“We’re doing this open procedure, Ms. Hale.”

“But there’s a risk of-”

“The theatre is set up.” Her cayenne lips pursed into a stubborn line. Her face was already so expressive, but with her mouth painted bright red it was impossible not to look at her lips. They were full, with a cupid’s bow, and clearly holding back several things she’d like to say. Her eyes said them for her, sparking as she gave him a last look before heading off to get her gown and gloves on. If she was half as dynamic of a surgeon as she was as a woman this was going to be quite the operation.

Perhaps it was because she had a scalpel in her hands, but Magnusson was at least inclined to follow her instructions while they were in theatre. He retracted when asked, clamped where she needed him to clamp and generally stayed out of her way as she dealt with Mr. Baxter’s diaphragm. She also didn’t need to look up from her work to know that he was watching her every move with a critical eye.

“Enjoying your foray into Cardiothoracics?” He’d declined the suggestion of background music, leaving nothing to fill the silence except for either one’s thoughts or small talk. And Sofia Grace never much liked being alone with her own thoughts.

“Believe it or not, I was not considering my life lacking in any way for not spending time playing with people’s hearts. What is it about CT surgeons thinking the heart is the only organ in the body?” She’d meant it as small talk, a reference to the fact he was currently assisting her. But nope, he was gunna be an ass about this too. Jesus H. Christ and a windmill full of corpses what is his problem?!

“To be fair, it is kinda important.” He didn’t look up and neither did she as she finished off the last stitch she needed, and they could transition from the more CT oriented to GS oriented surgery.

“It likes to think that, certainly.” He said, picking up a scalpel. “Whereas the kidneys just get on with their job, filtering toxins out and letting the body function. Efficient, beautiful, and secure enough in themselves that they don’t need to shout about it.” Normally she would argue that picking a favorite or most important body part was a stupid endeavor. Most of the organs in the body were necessary and linked together in ways that pulling one out of the system without compensating for it would lead to problems in a variety of other areas. There was no one organ that was better than any other body part, there was only what needed to be dealt with immediately or later to ensure quality of life.

This being said, if he was just going to talk shit because he had some weird hang-up about CT surgeons, she’d double down for the heart. (It was her favorite organ, even if picking favorites was stupid).

“So indispensable you can lose one and still survive.”

“Hack a piece of kidney off and it’ll just grow back,” He picked up a scalpel, “the minute the heart breaks it becomes a useless piece of tissue. And then of course there’s the fact we can now replace a faulty heart with a machine the size of a cigarette packet.” He shot her a look over the top of his glasses before he started cutting, she could almost see the smug smirk behind his surgical mask.

“And in some cases, Mr. Magnusson, it seems as if people can survive without any heart at all.” She met his eye steadily, arching one brow defiantly. He stared at her for a moment. Somewhere behind her, someone sounding a lot like Dan Flannery whispered, “Ooo burn.”

“We need to keep moving.” He muttered awkwardly, getting back to the task at hand.

A hit, a very palpable hit.

They worked in silence after that, only the beeps and pings of the machines and occasional request breaking up the quiet.

“BP is plummeting.” Magnusson reported calmly. This was exactly why she hadn’t wanted to do open surgery in the first place.

“If we had gone with the keyhole procedure-”

Which we did not so I fail to see the usefulness of that comment.” He snapped, voice cold and quick and sharp. Brooking no retort.

“We did not go with the keyhole procedure because you decided that we shouldn’t, not because we mutually agreed this method. You decided what was best for this procedure, without listening to my reasons, I might add.”

“I am trying to concentrate, Ms. Hale, if you don’t mind?” Out of respect for Mr. Baxter she bit back the rest of what she wanted to say. At least for the moment.

“It’s funny that of all the words to get lost in translation, partners, seems to mean nothing to you.” Mr. Baxter was now Pheochromocytoma free and on his way back to bed for his recovery.

“What?” Magnusson looked at her sideways as she began washing her hands beside him at the sink. Thoroughly washing her hands gave her something to focus on while she tried to find the right words. There were so many things she wanted to say. Most of them rude. But as therapeutic she’d find it to smash his face in and curse him out, it wouldn’t change what she needed to have changed. Word on the street was he would be staying at Saint Seb’s for the foreseeable future, she needed to play the long game, not for immediate gratification.

“In addition to unilaterally deciding on the method of today’s surgery without consulting me, your CT specialist for this surgery and Co-consultant. You also figured out some significant information about our shared patient and did not tell me.” He stopped washing his hands to stare at her, hands raised slightly, allowing the soap and water to drip down his long forearms to the floor. “No, instead, you went straight to the patient himself and explained everything, leaving me in the dark, and then looking like a complete ass with my dick in the wind trying to discuss his condition without the full picture. To compound this, you swoop in and make me look even more stupid in front of our patient. A patient who already had limited regard for my expertise and position as a Doctor.” She turned the faucet off with her elbow and flicked the excess water from her hands into the sink with a flourish before turning to face him. He was staring at her intently, square jaw working but his mouth wisely closed.

“You complain that I make arrogant, rash decisions and that surgeons who make decisions for their own ends are a menace. Next time you work with me, you either keep me in the loop and treat me as an equal or find someone else to handle your heart.” She didn’t wait for his response, instead she grabbed a towel from beside him and brushed past, leaving him alone in the scrub room.

#Cait writes #Hospital Romance Drama #original fiction #Sofia Grace is Chaotic Good chaffing under Lawful Good Rules

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ask-ger-pan-ita · 5 years

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It’s the little things

It was always the little things that made Feliciano smile. From the odd compliment to a smile on the street from a stranger, the little things are what mattered most to him. He rarely needed extravagant or expensive gifts. This also meant that it was the little things that hurt him most. When a stranger would glare at him for no apparent reason when he witnessed someone yelling at others. The little things were what both made and broke the Italian.

That's why, when he met his soulmate through a small smile, his heart soared.

Feliciano had been visiting his brother, Romeo, in the hospital. Romeo wasn't his biological brother, unlike Romano. Feliciano had adopted Romeo once he had turned 23. Romeo being 15 at the time, Feliciano felt it would be a bit weird to have him as his child, so he raised him as a younger brother. That's why it broke his heart when he had gotten the call from the hospital, stating that 'We are calling to inform you, as Romeo Vargas' emergency contact, that Mr Vargas has been in a severe car accident, he was transported via air ambulance to Queen Elizabeth's hospital' That was the moment that his heart had stopped for the first time.

Feliciano did anything a good older brother would do and packed a bag of Romeo's belongings, a bag of his own and rushed out of the door, running for the train station. He made it to the hospital 2 hours after receiving the call. He rushed in through the front doors a panicked expression on his face. Feliciano told the person at the desk who he was, who he was there for and his relation to him. The receptionist just nodded her head sadly and told Feliciano 'Romeo Vargas is in room 21, it's up against the stairs to your right and then the fifth door on the left side'. Feliciano ran off up the stairs, barely remembering to yell a thank you over his shoulder.

It was only once he had reached Romeo's room that the reality of what might await him had set in. 'My brother could be in a coma, he could be dying, he might not even remember me.' Feliciano had thought before pushing the door open. What had been waiting for him was both better and worse than he could have hoped for in this situation.

Romeo was laying on the slightly raised bed, attached to a heart monitor that was bleeping evenly. His face had a rather large gauze, which supposedly hid stitches, but other than that he was fine. Until Feliciano got closer. As he got close enough to see the right side of his body, he realised something was missing. His younger brother, whom he had been raising for the past two years, had lost his right, dominant arm. Taking a deep breath, he dumped the bags at the other end of the room and pulled the plastic chair near the white hospital bed, being careful not to disturb any wires. Feliciano sat there staring at the major injury, taking in every detail, while the body was still asleep. The arm had been amputated just under the shoulder, leaving a little stub. The red bandaging had no traces of blood, which led Feliciano to assume he had already been through surgery. Having had enough of staring at his broken brother, the Italian looked down at his hands, seeing the two different red strings that had twisted together five years ago, telling him that his two soulmates had met.

Feliciano loved having two soulmates, though he was constantly shunned for it. It was the reason his parents had given him and his twin up. Not that Romano had two red strings, but Lovino had refused to let Feliciano leave without him. They were given up to the same orphanage that he had adopted Romeo from. That is how Feliciano and Romano had received their names, they had been changed from 'Mark' (in Feliciano's case) and 'Peter'(In Romano's case)to Feliciano and Romano. They had not been born to Italian parents but were both only two when they were adopted by Romulus Vargas, leaving them to pick up both the English and Italian languages and cultures. It also meant that both had an Italian accent. Being Italian was a big part of both of the boys' identities that most day they didn't even recognise that they weren't born in Italy. Romulus was already getting into his late forties and already had two children who had passes away 5 years prior to adopting the twins, so he opted for them to call him Grandpa, he eventually ended up being called grandpa Rome, considering he had come from Rome, and loved the nickname. That's also where Romeo got his name from, Feliciano wanted to honour his saviour, who was sick at the time. so he asked Grandpa Rome his opinion of the name Romeo, a mix between his Grandpa's name and his brothers. Both of the men liked it and when the idea of changing his name was presented to Sammy(Romeo) he loved it, a new name and a new start.

"Sir?" Feliciano was broken from his stroll down memory lane by a quiet voice and a tugging of his string. He snapped his head up and looked at one of the most beautiful people he had ever seen in his life. The man was donned in white animal printed nurse's scrubs, he had deep, seemingly neverending brown eyes, short, choppy black hair. The two men stared at each other, shocked.

"Umm H-hello I'm Umm Feliciano Vargas," The red-haired Italian stated, still shocked from meeting one of his soulmates. The other man smiled sweetly, shifting his smile from the sad, respectful smile that was normally plastered on.

"Hello, I'm Kiku Honda," The nurse stated, almost shy sounding. The two continued to stare at each other for a while, Kiku didn't fail to notice the tear tracks on his soulmates face or the messiness of his hair.

"Well Feliciano, I've been your...son's? nurse for the past few hours of him being here," Feliciano giggled when Kiku said 'son'.

"He's my little brother...Kind of. I guess?" Feliciano giggled when he paused, understanding the Japanese man's confusion."It probably says that I'm his legal guardian or something like that, I get your confusion"The Italian continued.

"Oh. I'm so sorry, but you are correct in your assumption," Kiku said, laughing a bit when he saw Feliciano laugh as well. "I thought that I should inform you of your brother's condition."Kiku looked to the only other person who was awake in the room." as you probably know he was in a severe car crash, his arm was completely crushed, the shattered bone had crushed his nerves beyond repair, the only thing that could be done was to amputate the arm." Kiku looked up from the clipboard he was holding, he saw the tears forming in his newfound soulmate's eyes.

"Feliciano, it's okay, he's going to be fine, you don't need to worry," Kiku said, his voice slightly louder, but more comforting, his more dominant side taking over. This was something that shocked him, in the relationship with his other soulmate he was always the more submissive part of the relationship, so to find himself being dominant if only slightly, was something completely new to him.

Feliciano's head looked back up at him, grateful for the words of comfort. He gave a nod, suggesting to Kiku that he was ready to hear the rest.

"We had a chance to give him a brain scan to check for any damage, to everyone's relief there wasn't any, we are also concerned that he may have lost some of his memory, but he's shown no physical signs associated with amnesia, he obviously has a few cuts which required stitching, but there were no further severe injuries other than the arm," Kiku finished, grateful that there were no further injuries to the 15-year-old, for both the child's sake and his soulmate's.

"Thank you for looking after him, Kiku, I'm glad it was you," Feliciano said, genuinely smiling.

For the first time since meeting Kiku, he thought to look at his strings, only to see that the one attached to Kiku had come loose from its tight twist with the other string, he smiled a bright smile and looked up at Kiku, who had been looking at the Italian and taking in supposedly all the details about him.

"Kiku look, the string's gone!" Feliciano said, excitement filling his voice, his golden-brown eyes.

"hai, it is"Kiku confirmed, smiling.

Both of the men turned when they heard shifting in the bed behind them.

"Fratello?"Romeo asked, his voice scratchy.

"Ciao, Fratello, sono qui*" Feliciano said, automatically switching to Italian, knowing that it comforted Romeo, who had spoken Italian for about 3 years before being adopted by Feliciano. On top of this, they tended to speak more Italian than English at home.

"Cos'è success? Perché mi fa male il braccio?**"The smaller Italian asked, green eyes wide with fear. Feliciano's heart broke at what the younger boy said.

"Umm Kiku, he wants to know why his arm hurts, what do I say?"Feliciano asked his black-haired soulmate, whose heart also shattered at the question that the smaller Italian had posed.

"does he speak English?"Kiku asked, figuring it would be easier if he were to explain what had happened to the smaller boy.

"Yeah, I think he's just speaking Italian out of shock at the moment," The older Italian explained."Pensi di poter parlare inglese in questo momento?***"He continued this time looking at his younger brother.

"Oh, non-parlavo Inglese?****"He asked a small, confused smile on his face. Feliciano laughed.

"No, Fratello, you weren't, "The older boy said.

"Oh, I'm speaking English now, right?"Romeo asked, a small laugh in his voice.

"Si, Fratello, this is Kiku, he's your nurse and he's one of my soulmates," Feliciano said, a large smile on his face as he looked at his younger brother.

"No way, are you being serious?!"Romeo asked, his eyes lighting up.

Kiku smiled at the scene, he loved seeing the way his soulmate was with his younger brother.

Feliciano's face took on a more serious expression, his eyes sadder and darker.

"What's the last thing you remember, before you woke up?"Feliciano asked, his voice serious but sad as he looked at his, broken, younger brother. Romeos face scrunched up, in an attempt to remember what had happened.

"I remember getting into Peter Kirkland's car, he is one of the safest drivers that I know, a car came into my side of the car, I remember the car going into the wall nearest where we were. I remember Peter yelling but after that, I'm not sure," Romeo stated his voice sad.

"Is Peter okay?" he asked concerned for his friend. Kiku smiled.

"Peter is okay, once we've finished speaking you can go and see him if you want?"Kiku stated, his voice calm."I'm going to explain what happened once you arrived at the hospital, if at any point you don't understand what I'm saying, please don't refrain from letting me know," Kiku said his face slightly sadder than it was previously,"We'll start with the easy things to explain, you have a few cuts that needed to be stitched, the worst being in the left of your face, that one at least will leave a scar, you have a concussion, but we are pleased to say there are no signs of brain damage. Now this is probably going to be quite a bit harder for you to hear, when you crashed you didn't go into a wall, the car hit your side of the car, we aren't entirely sure how it happened but the bones in your arm were completely shattered, they then crushed the nerve completely. The only thing that doctors could do was amputate the arm," Kiku finished sadly, feeling the sadness rolling off of his soulmate.

"Hey, Fratello, it's okay, I'm okay, it's kinda cool, when I'm old i can make up some weird story to tell my kids, I can say that a shark bit my arm on the bus or something" Romeo said, tears rolling down his face as he tried to comfort his brother.

"Romeo, the reason your arm was hurting was that of something called phantom pain, it should stop doing that after a few months, it's just a side effect of your body reacting to the loss of the limb, "Kiku said, hoping to comfort the teen at least a little.

"O-oh okay" Romeo replied, his face lighting up only seconds later," Can I go and see Peter now?" he asked.

"Yeah, he should still be awake, he's just next door on the left," Kiku said, knowing how much the boy wanted to see his friend.

"Do you want me to-" Feliciano was cut off by his younger brother.

"No, Fratello, it's fine, stay here and talk to your boyfriend~," Romeo said as he made it through the door, Feliciano blushed tomato red. Kiku laughed at the younger boy's antics and his soulmate's bright red face.

"would you like to meet our other soulmate?"Kiku asked, hoping to cheer the panicked Italian up.

"Mio Dio!Mio Dio! Si!Si!"Feliciano said, his face brightened with a large smile. As he ran up to Kiku and held him into a tight hug. He felt Kiku stiffen under his grasp, thinking it was just shocking from the unexpected hug Feliciano kept a tight grip on his soulmate.

Feeling finished with his hug, he released the Japanese man.

"Lets, go!"Felicano half yelled, excitement taking over.

Kiku smiled a small smile at his patient's older brother.

"Okay then, I believe Ludwig is your brother's friend's nurse, so he should be right next door, "Kiku said explaining to his newfound soulmate where they should be meeting their soulmate.

Feliciano beamed, excitement taking over, he never thought this day would come, it was simultaneously the best and worst day of his life.

"Ahhh. Ve~ I'm so excited!"The red-haired Italian said as he grabbed his dark-haired partner's hand and practically ran to the door next door.

They reached the room after about 10 steps from Romeo's room, Feliciano took an excited, shaky breath as he slowly opened the door.

Kiku walked in front of him and opened the door further.

The room was empty of anyone except for a tall, light-haired, pale man.

"Ludwig, I-"Kiku started, causing the man to turn around. He immediately saw the redhead clutching onto his boyfriend's hand. At first, he was confused, but then it hit him.

"Is that him?"Ludwig asked, making his German accent clear as he looked at the two men in front of him.

"Hai, it is, " Kiku said, a large smile spreading across his face as he saw Ludwig's string tug and disappear.

Feliciano looked down at his hand when he felt the tugging and looked up at Ludwig.

"Ciao I'm Feliciano Vargas, "The Italian said, one of the biggest smiles Ludwig had ever seen stretched across his face.

"Hallo Feliciano, I'm Ludwig beilschmidt, It's a pleasure to meet you, "The German said, taking in his newfound soulmate's appearance. In Ludwig's eyes, the young man was perfect, from his honey-gold-brown eyes to his bouncy red curl, that stuck out from the side of his head.

"Wow, you're beautiful," Ludwig said, seeing his soulmate blush.

"thank you," Feliciano said, "Did the boys go to get something to eat?" He asked when he realised that both of the boys should have been there. Ludwig smiled, making the connection that he was the 'older brother' his young patient seemed concerned about making mad.

"Peter seemed quite scared that you would be mad at him, "Ludwig stated, a smile playing on his lips as he tried and failed to imagine the small Italian angry.

"No," Feliciano laughed, "That was probably my twin, Romano, he's quite hot headed and can be quite scary, "The Italian explained.

"The boys will probably both be brought back up soon, visiting hours are nearly finished and mine and Kiku's shift finishes just after, if you want to come back to ours for a bit, so we can get to know you,"Ludwig said, his cheeks a faint pink as he offered Feliciano nearly the exact same offer he had offered Kiku 5 years prior.

"Si, Si!"The Italian exclaimed, making the German and Japnese man smile.

"We should probably go and get the boys back into bed, they are with...Arthur? I believe, he's Peter's older brother," Ludwig said, stalling when he realised he wasn't sure what the blond boy's brother's name was.

"yes, it is Arthur, "A new voice said, making the Italian jump.

"ve~Hello Arther, are the boys with you?"He asked, a smile on his face.

"Yes they are, I just came to bring them back up, because visiting hours are over soon," Arthur explained, his blond hair uncharacteristically flat. "Alfred's going to pick me up, you don' need a lift do you?"The Englishman asked, smiling when he mentioned his fiance and soulmate Alfred.

"Ve~ Thank you but no, I found my soulmates, I'm spending some time with them today, "The Italian explained, seeing the smile on Arthur's face when he explained that he found his soulmates.

The two had only become friends recently because, Feliciano wanted to help Arthur with his frankly awful cooking skills, the two's friendship had blossomed since.

"Well I'm really happy for you, Alfred should be here in a second, he said he's quickly come and see both of the boys, "Arthur explained as Alfred walked into the room.

Alfred was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a kind, mischievous face and glasses.

"Hey dudes, Hey Feli!How's it going?"The American asked, a small smiling playing on his looks, but the look in his eyes a mix of pity a sympathy as he remembers what had happened to Romeo.

The two teens walked into the room. Peter had a few tear tracks, but other than that both were as they had left the rooms.

"We should be getting you to bed, Romeo, "Kiku said as he saw the teen yawn.

"Okay, goodnight Peter, see you tomorrow, Goodnight Arthur, Alfred, "The small Italian boy said, a polite smile on his face.

"You too, Rom," Peter said

"Yeah, goodnight little dude" Alfred replied, smiling a sad smile.

"Thank you, goodnight to you as well Romeo, sleep well," Arthur said, a sad, pitying smile on his face as he looked between Romeo and his brother. Feliciano gave a weak smile in return as he walked back to the doorway where Kiku and Ludwig were waiting. "Hey, Fratello?"Romeo asked, a shyness in his voice. "Yes, 'Meo?"Feliciano quickly replied, looking over at the younger Italian. "Did you- didyouhaveachancetobringmytigre?" He asked, spitting the last few words out so fast that not even Feliciano could understand him.

"Meo, you need to slow down," he said, even though he had an idea of what his brother asked, he couldn't resist tormenting him slightly. "Ugh, I asked, did you have a chance to bring my tigre ?" A small smile playing on his lips, even though he was embarrassed. "Si, Fratello. Of course, I did, I know you can't sleep without it" Feliciano said as they entered the room. "I brought a bag of all your things, including pyjamas, but I don't know if you'll be allowed to wear them"He trailed off as he looked to Kiku for an answer. "Hai, He should be allowed to wear them, just, if they have long sleeves, make sure that it's tied up in his arm, so he doesn't suffocate, "Kiku explained, allowing a sigh of relief to was over both Feliciano and Romeo. After a few minutes of helping Romeo into the most comfortable pair of pyjamas he owns, the boy was ready for bed. "Okay, I'll be back in the morning, ready for when visiting hours start okay?"Feliciano said, feeling guilty for being excited to leave the hospital. "Okay Fratello, Will Roma be there?" He said, hope lacing the young Italian's voice. "Si, I'm going to tell him tomorrow, he will be here like the mother hen he is."Feliciano lent down to kiss the small boy on his forehead, "Ciao, Fratello," "Ciao Feli," The other boy replied, hugging his stuffed tiger as tight to his chest as possible with one arm. Feliciano looked behind him once and walked back to the doorway where he saw his soulmates looking at him. "Did you finish your shift yet?"The tired Italian asked. "We cleared it with our boss, we're leaving early under special circumstances," Ludwig said, smiling a rare smile. "Aww, Ve~ You didn't have to do this, I could have easily waited for you," Feliciano stated, a cheerful smile spreading across his face. From now on his life was going to be made out of the smallest happy moments, these moments would be what brings tears of joy to him. He was completely happy with life and that's all that he could ever ask for.

Words: 3503

* Hi, Brother, I'm here

** What's happened? Why does my arm hurt?

*** Do you think you can speak english right now?

**** oh, did I not speak English?

A/N Hi guys. I apologise if the Italian is wrong, blame it on google translate. I might do a part 2 to this but, that would be down to if you want it. I am taking requests, I'll do any ship and any topic(maybe even smut, if I feel comfortable with it) I will also do x readers of any kind. So either Message me or comment and ask.

For Tumblr people, you can request through asks, messages or comments.

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