#Oh wow I just recovered from a flu too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

not-me-simping-for-blasty · 4 years ago

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I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts:

Part 6:

Truthfully, it’s been a long day. A really long day.

The weather’s begun to change, and people are coming in left and right riddled with the flu. Your entire day was spent running between rooms, administering medication, taking temperatures and, unfortunately, cleaning up puke. All in all, it was a terrible night, and it was only going to get worse when you still had to go grocery shopping afterwards.

Still, you tried to calm yourself, taking a deep breath as you pushed the door open. Your last patient of the night, was thankfully, not flu-ridden. From your chart she was old, and the only thing you would be doing is taking her vitals before she moves on to radiology.

“Hello!” You greet, trying your best to smile kindly. “I’ll be taking care if you today.”

The old lady greets you, smiling gently as you approach. She’s got one hand wrapped in a bandage, the other cradling it protectively. Her face is a little uneasy, no doubt in obvious pain, but she seems to try and smile through it.

“So, I take it you’re here for your wrist? To get an x-ray?” You say, pulling over the medical cart. She nods and you take the blood pressure cuff, wrapping it gently around her arm. You take her vitals and then step back. “Alright, do you think you could take off the bandages for me? I just need to see.”

“Of course, I understand.” She says, calmly removing the bandages.

When she removes them entirely, her wrist is a sickening shade of blue. It’s swollen and discolored and looks incredibly painful, if the look on her face wasn’t any indication. When you look a little closer there’s strange disfigurement to her palms, like healed over burn scars. You try not to look at them too long, especially when the woman seems to become more uncomfortable the more you study them. You wonder if she’s alright. Your fingers start itching in your gloves.

“Yeah, that does look pretty nasty, I can see why you came in.” You try to smile reassuringly, but something about the woman’s scared demeanor is making you uneasy. “But, that’s pretty much the extent of my duties before I send a radiologist to come get you.”

“Oh. Okay. Thank you.”

You’re about to walk out, about to turn away and finally go home, but then she sucks in a sharp breath. When you look at her, she’s wrapping her wrist up again, and her pain is written clearly across her face. Your fingers itch trails of fire, and you find the decision is made almost immediately. You’re nearing her again, smiling gently, and thanking the hospital for lettings you use your quirk entirely up to your own discretion.

“That must hurt pretty bad, doesn’t it?” You start softly, pulling your gloves off. You move to the sink, washing your hands before you address her again. “I can help- my quirk, it lets me relieve others of their pain. If you would like me to, I would be happy to provide you with at least a little relief.”

“No- I- an old woman like me isn’t worth the fuss. Really! Don’t feel like you have to trouble yourself!”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” You smile back at her, pulling up a stool and sitting on it. “This is my job after all, and I’d be happy to help. If you would like me to, all I have to do is touch your hand. It’ll be instantaneous.”

“You’re sure?” She asks, eyes crinkling a little unsurely. She’s trapping her injured wrist to her chest again, hope coloring her voice. “You really wouldn’t mind?”

“Absolutely not. It’d be my pleasure.”

The woman nods, holding her hand forward. You smile reassuringly again, reaching for her. You stop just a few inches away.

“I just wanted to let you know- a lot of previous patients have said that everything goes green when I help them. I’m not saying this to scare you, as I’ve actually been told it’s quite pleasant, but I just wanted to tell you beforehand.”

She nods, and you take her hand, closing your eyes as you focus.

You feel it immediately. An ache in your wrist that throbs with every beat of your heart. It’s familiar, you’ve felt a break like this before, but the feeling that swallow you up next isn’t. It’s a sickness coiling in your stomach, dripping through your veins and running viscous like a slow poison. It’s like you’re being boiled alive- all of your sinew and muscle falling apart and being sewn back together. All in the span of a second. It leaves you dizzy, reeling, sick and nauseous when you release her hand.

“My- that is some quirk.” The woman marvels, flexing the fingers on her injured wrist. She does so without pain, and looks at you, a wide smile across her face. “That is very impressive. And, you were right. Green. It’s all green.”

“I- Yeah.” You try to recover, hiding your breathlessness behind a hand itching at your chin. “Of course. Your very welcome.”

“You must be able to help so many people. You must be a very good nurse with that quirk.”

“I-I’d like to think so.”

“You know,” She says suddenly, and her tone is nearly devoid of all the meekness she had walked in with. She looks brighter, livelier. “My husband and I run a facility to help grow people like you.”

“People like me?”

“Yes, dear. Those with extrordinary potential who might just need a little push.” She smiles gently, grabbing her bag at her feet. Rifling through it with her good hand, she pulls out an index card. “I’m sure your quirk is plently strong all on it’s own, I’ve certainly seen that, but if you ever wanted a little help- well, we’d be more than happy to have you.”

Then she’s pressing a business card into your hand, turning to face the sound of the door as it opens. The radiologist walks in, gesturing for her and she follows behind him gracefully. The woman leaves behind her a trail of perfume, like lavender and lilies in your nose, and then door is then shut. It seems she is leaving you just as quickly as she’d arrived.

The card in your hand feels heavy, weighty as you flip it between your fingers.

Center for Quirk Advancement

You almost couldn’t believe your luck. You had just been talking about ways to strengthen your quirk, and, as it turns out, life really did decide to let you off the hook for once. You think it’s justly deserved- it did seem pretty intent on saddling you with Bakugou, after all. Maybe it’s a strange sort of cosmic reward?

Either way, you slide the card into your bag, smiling to yourself. A part of you still feels uneasy, still sick after what you’d experienced from her, but she seemed nice enough. It made the poisonous feeling almost a little too easy to brush off.

You pack up your things, and you can feel the exhaustion creeping in. By the time you’ve gone grocery shopping and have finally made it back home, your arms loaded up with bags, you feel dead on your feet. The familiar tiredness seeps into your bones, but you blink yourself awake, determined to put the groceries away before you pass out. You brace your head in your hands. If something didn’t wake you up soon, you really would be asleep in front of your fridge.

“Oi- shitty leech!” You hear screaming, knuckles against glass and an irritatingly familiar rasp. “Let me in! Shitty leech!”

Oh- joy. Seems like something did wake you up. What was that you were saying about a cosmic reward again?

When you turn around, Bakugou is standing on your balcony, shifting impatiently on his feet. His expression is skewed up something nasty as he taps on the glass once more. He’s shouting your name, well, nickname, clad in sweats and stomping dramatically just a few feet away- you think he’s almost better left outside. Then you recognize the goosebumps on his arms and the red of his cheeks. It’s cold outside, you know it, and you curse your own heart once more, trudging dutifully over to the door.

“Wow, only a week since I’ve last seen you. And you look awfully uninjured today, don’t you?” You say, yawning as you pull the door open a fraction. Just enough to peek your head out into the cool night air. “No blood or anything. Good on you, Bakugou.”

“Shut the fuck up, leech. I was bein’ nice for once.”

“Yes- because shouting ‘Oi- shitty leech’ at me from my balcony was nice.” You roll your eyes, pulling the door open enough for him to walk through. “But sure, come in, make yourself right at home.”

“Gladly.”

You just shake your head at his curt tone, turning back to the kitchen to resume putting away your things. You’re just barely organizing vegetables away in the fridge, when you hear him stomp up behind you.

“Fuck are you doing?”

“Groceries?”

“No, idiot, I meant why’re you doing it now?”

“Because this when I have time to do it? And I just went shopping?” You ask him, bewildered, and confused. You’re tired and his mind games really aren’t amusing you right now. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand the question.”

“Are you-“ Bakugou swears under his breath, turning his nose up at you. “Jesus you really are stupid. You’re so fucking stupid. Why the hell would you go grocery shopping at 1 AM?”

“Because that’s when my shift ends, you asshole. Actually, you know what, no- I absolutely do not have to defend myself to you!” You sneer right back, whirling around to face him. Suddenly you find you’re not very tired anymore. “It’s really none of your business why I do anything, let alone when I do it so if you think that maybe you want to open your mouth again to me- don’t. And I-“

“Not like that. God, you’re fuckin’ clueless. I don’t give a shit what you do, but you do realize you can’t outrun somebody with your arms full of groceries right?”

The stunted look on your face must frustrate him, because then he’s huffing, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment before dragging his hand down his face.

“You seriously didn’t think about that? You fuckin’ kidding me? Jesus fuck I should’ve know, you’re so stupid.” He breathes out, rolling his eyes. “If I saw you fumbling around like an idiot, on a dark street, in the middle of the night? When you can’t outrun me because you’ve got all those shitty fuckin’ bags? Please, even I’d be attempted to attack you. You’re making it too fuckin’ easy for those weirdos, you moron.”

Is that- is that concern lacing his features? Bakugou’s brow is creased, and if you didn’t know any better you’d almost say he sounded more exasperated than outright angry with you- but you did know better. Of course you did. Believing that Bakugou regarded you with anything but begrudgingly familiarity would be foolish.

“Okay, well than you can take that argument up with my superiors.” You purse your lips, biting back another yawn. “Until then I guess I’ll just keep going out entirely defenseless and vulnerable. Lord knows that’s apparently how you see me.”

“Please, don’t flatter yourself, leech. I see everyone as defenseless and vulnerable. You’re not special.”

“Mhm, I’m sure I’m not.” You mutter, turning back to your fridge, to put more food away. “But, really, if you have such a problem, then you can figure out how to stop all the ‘weirdos’ before they get me. Isn’t that literally your job?”

Bakugou just sighs at your remark, looking very put-on. Then he clenches his fists up, eyes determined focused on the ground. “Just- fuckin’- just tell me when you’re going next time. Stupid idiot woman.”

Truthfully, you want to give him shit. You do, because there were so many nicer ways he could’ve shown concern-but you don’t. One look at his flushed face and insecure body language has you relenting. And being way nicer than he deserves. You are pretty tried after all.

“Yeah. Okay, but you’re carrying all the bags, Bakugou.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. Or I’ll just go without telling you, and then we can catch up when I’m bleeding out in the street.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Oh, it wasn’t a joke. It was an incentive.” You smile cheekily, then you point to the bags left on the counter. “Now be a dear and unbag those for me, would you?”

“Fuck you.”

Bakugou seethes but he moves anyway, unbagging all your groceries with an absolutely unnecessary amount of force. It’s like he’s picking a fight with each plastic bag, and you try to hide your giggles.

It’s a strange little domesticity, but as weird as it is, it’s nice too. You’re still tired but things are moving much faster now, with him handing you items relatively quietly. All things considered, Bakugou did seem to be in a good mood (well, a good mood for him) and, you supposed it was nice to see him uninjured. And would’ve been totally great, totally perfect- if you didn’t turn around to see him plucking a piece of paper out of your purse.

“Fuck is this shit?”

“Are you- stop. No. Don’t just go digging around in my stuff!” You huff tiredly, grabbing your purse from him with one hand snatching the card out of his grip with the other. “You’re being rude.”

“And you’re being fuckin’ evasive. So spill it, leech, the hell is it?”

“None of your business, that’s what!”

Bakugou just rolls his eyes, plucking the paper from out of your hand with little effort. You’d like to chalk up your loss to being surprised, but no, he really is just that strong.

“Hell is this?” He asks, grumbling as he flips the card over. “Center for Quirk Advancement?”

“Yeah. That’s what it says. Asshole.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why the hell do you have it?” He stares, squinting at you like you’re an idiot. “Looks fake as shit. Get rid of it.”

You can’t believe him. Seriously. You cannot believe him. There has never been one moment, in your entire life, that you would ever feel comfortable enough to dig through someone’s things- let alone ridicule them on the spot about it. It’s pure, unbridled insanity.

“I’m not- Bakugou, I’m not getting rid of something just because you said so!” You exhale, arms crossing around your stomach as you lean back against the counter. “It’s from that woman I saw today, alright? A patient.”

“Doesn’t smell right.”

“Doesn’t- What are you? A dog?”

“No. Fuck no.” He grumbles in defense, while simultaneously scrunching up his nose and barring his sharp canines. “I’m just saying, it doesn’t fuckin’ feel right.”

“Okay, well you weren’t there, so how would you know?”

“Because this company name is bullshit. It’s stupid as fuck and I’ve never heard of it before.”

“Okay? And? There’s a million stupid companies I’ve never head of before, and I don’t immediately think they’re fake!” You stride over to him, snatching the card back from his fingers. “And you know why? Because that’s paranoia. Blatant paranoia! The world doesn’t revolve around you and your knowledge, you know?”

“God, you’re so fucking dumb.” He laughs under his breath. “It’s killing me, leech. Can you really not see how shady that shit is?”

“No? Because it’s just a business card? A business card that was given to me by a kind old lady- and, why are you- no! Stop! Bakugou!”

He just rolls his eyes once more at your yell, tearing the business card in half easily. Apparently, he’s still not satisfied, because then he’s tearing those halves in half and tearing those fourths into eights, and shredding the paper entirely on your counter.

“Can’t call ‘em now, leech.” He says evenly.

You think you could scream, maybe even murder him right where he stands. Not necessarily in that order.

“Okay. No. No.” You reprimand, nearing him with determined steps. “You are not going to just walk in here and tear up things when you feel like it! That’s incredibly rude, for one, and-“

“What, so you were actually gonna call ‘em?”

“No! But that’s not even the point! The point is, you cannot just walk in here and feel free to do whatever you want! I don’t know how it is everywhere, but here, in my house, there are manners! Manners which I expect you to have, and that means you can’t just treat my things like that! It’s disrespectful and I will kick you out if you try it again. Understand? Play nice, Bakugou.”

He pinches his face into a scowl, squinting at you from just a few feet away. It looks like he’s sucked on a lemon. Then Bakugou’s scoffing, gathering the shreds of paper into his palms.

“Here. Take ‘em then, leech.” He growls, pressing them into your outstretched hand. “Since they mean so fuckin’ much to you.”

“It’s- oh my god. Oh my god, you really don’t understand what the problem here is do you?”

“No. It’s a piece of shitty paper. Who the fuck cares?”

“Me!” You nearly shriek, letting the paper fall through your fingers and back onto the countertop. “I care! It’s my house and all the things in here are my things! So, you either apologize, and I can be way more lenient than you deserve and forgive you, or you can walk yourself out.”

Bakugou leans forward, shoulders broad and intimdating as he stares down at you. You glare right back, unwilling to lose. He was in the wrong here- not you. A few seconds pass and then he’s throwing himself back against the, hands braced behind him.

“God, fuckin’ seriously? You want me to say sorry? For that shit?”

“Hmm, for walking into my house, in the middle of the night just to tear up my things?” You nearly screech at him. “Yeah! Yeah. I do.”

“You’re annoying. This is annoying. But fine. Whatever. I’m sorry. You happy now?”

“No, actually, not even a little bit.”

Then your stomping back to the remainder of your groceries, putting them away sloppily and not really caring much to organize them. You were tired before, exhausted from using your quirk, and now? With Bakugou needling you in your own kitchen? You were beat.

“What’s wrong with your face, leech?”

Spinning on your heels, you clenching your jaw tightly. You’re gonna throw him out. He’s just asking for it at this point.

Bakugou seems to pick up on your vexation, and he, to his credit, relents a little. By looking the slightest bit sheepish, for all of one second, before wiping it away into a scowl.

“I meant- why the hell do you look like that?” He grumbles, “All fuckin’ dead inside. You look terrible.”

“I- god, there are so many problems with that statement. So many. That I will not be getting into because it isn’t even worth the effort and I-“ You rant, red in the face before you take a calming breath.

It takes a second to center yourself, but you do- because cleaning up his blood would just further deplete your tank already running on empty.

“Okay- Bakugou, have had a long day, a long one. So if you have any other little mean comments you’d like to spew, don’t, alright? Because I swear to god I will euthanize you right where you stand if you open up your mouth one more time.”

He just blinks, once, twice, tilts his head to the side. Bakugou squints, rolling his shoulders back before a slow smile creeps across his face.

“Oi- you used your quirk, didn’t you? Shitty leech.” His tone is devoid of any real venom, slight amusement coloring his words. “I didn’t know it made you so fuckin’ cranky.”

“Are you making fun of me? Right now? After what I just said to you?”

Bakugou just shrugs, flicking all the lights off in your kitchen. He doesn’t even wait for the room to fall into darkness before he’s leaving, not even looking back to see if you would follow. Of course, you had to, because your bedroom was past the living room, but you almost wanted to stay rooted where you were. Just to see his frustration when you weren’t listening to him.

“You shouldn’t use your quirk just because someone tells you to.” Bakugou says, dropping himself onto your couch. “Shit’s weak. ‘s how you get burnt out.”

“Oh, whatever. And she didn’t tell me to do it.”

“So, what, you’re telling me you chose to do it? Knowing it’d wipe you the fuck out?”

“Yeah. She needed help.” You say softly, dropping down into the opposite side of the couch. You try not to get too comfortable, but you find yourself sinking into the cushions anyway. “I’m not done till I’m on the floor. Or unconscious. Kind of which ever comes first at this point.”

“Jesus. Somebody oughta put you on a fuckin’ leash. That’s stupid as shit.”

“Oh, like you’re one to talk.” You mock, eyes sliding lazily over to his. “Mr. ‘Let me kill myself without sleep for 3 weeks straight and then show up half dead at Y/n’s hou-“

“Y/n.”

“Yeah?”

“Your name is Y/n.”

“Yes? Did we not already know that?”

“No.”

You blink your eyes open entirely, flopping sideways to face him. Bakugou is smirking openingly, lips pulled back into something disarming and shit-eating.

“You fucker.” You seethe, scrunching your eyebrows together. “You’re telling me, this entire fucking whole time, that you didn’t know my name? My name! That’s my goddamn name, you shit! And you didn’t even think to ask? What the fuck?”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Excuse me?”

“Swearin’ a lot. It’s disrespectful as shit.”

“Me? I’m the one swearing? Fuck you! You swear all the time, and it’s really funny to me that you’re even running your mouth right now considering you didn’t know my name until a minute ago! You’ve slept on my couch! Multiple times! And you didn’t think, not even for a measly little second, to ask my name and- are you laughing right now?”

Bakugou is rested against the arm of your couch, one hand across his stomach and the other covering his chin. There’s no sound, he’s trying to keep quiet, but you can see his eyes. They’re crinkled up. Almost entirely closed into little slits. He’s laughing.

“Do you want to be kicked out? Seriously? Do you want to be kicked out on your ass right now? I’ll do it! I’ll fucking do it, I swear- try me again! Stop laughing, you jerk!”

“I’m not.” Bakugou tries, doing a horrible job of covering up that he is, in fact, laughing. “Ya get so fuckin’ mad, leech. Shit’s hilarious.”

“Wow, really, me? Mad? No- see,why would I be mad about you not knowing my name? After knowing each other for months. Why would I be mad about that?”

Bakugou eventually does sober, but you still he still looks a little brighter than you’ve ever seen him. It hits you then that the only color you’d ever seen in his cheeks, at least before then, was dripping blood.

““s fine. Doesn’t matter anyway.” He says, voice deceivingly light. “Your name’s leech. Don’t really give a shit what’s on your birth certificate.”

You just sit up, grabbing the pillow behind you and launching it at him. Bakugou catches it, because of course he does, and throws it right back. When it hits you it feels like you’ve been socked in the face. Because he is an asshole. An asshole who can’t play nice to save his life.

“Fuck you. Fuck you, Bakugou.” You say matter-of-factly, swiping the stray hairs from your face. You stand from the couch, glaring down at him. “I really hope you enjoy tossing and turning all night because I am not helping you.”

“Yes you will.”

“What? Making orders again? It didn’t work the first time and it’s not going to work now.”

“Nah. Don’t need to.” He says confidently, grabbing the blanket off the back of your couch. A smirk lies across his face, one you want to slap off. “You’ll help me. Because you’re too fuckin’ nice right?”

Then he’s flopping back against the pillow, sprawling his legs out and settling the blanket up to his shoulders. Bakugou looks at you expectantly, that same irritating grin still plastered on his mouth, and you want to hit him all over again.

Because he’s right. You are too nice, and you are too forgiving, and unfortunately the everything and everyone you care about includes him. It’ll always include him, even when he insists on being an exasperating child.

“Fine, go to sleep then.” You’re pulling a glove off, nearing the back of the couch with your own devious grin. “Go to sleep.”

You lean over him, bringing your hand down to flick his forehead. He catches you, of course he does, just like that fucking pillow. Bakugou traps your wrist in his grip, his grin only growing wider. You think it softens a little too- just a bit, but then again, the lighting in your living room wasn’t that great.

“Got you. Leech.” He goads lowly, tapping his thumb against the base of your wrist. “Should’ve been faster. Shit was fucking pathetic.”

“No, you’re just a freak, with weird reflexes.” You pull back, but he doesn’t seem to be letting go. Whatever it is he’s basking in, he looks a little too prideful for your liking. “Let me go- or I use my quirk on you.”

Then he’s throwing your wrist back in your face, applying so much force that you almost knock yourself out. You stumble back, grasping on to the back of the couch for stability. When you look down at him again, Bakugou is blushing but you’re not really sure why. You shake it off- it’s his problem not yours.

“Well, there, since you insisted on being a little shit, that’s all the skin-to-skin contact you’re getting from me.” You sniff, flicking off the light behind the couch. “Better pray it’s enough to send your impudent ass to sleep.”

“Stop swearin’.”

“I swear when I’m angry and-”

“I make you angry?”

“Yes!”

Bakugou just seems to almost- smile? It’s a tiny thing, curled up against the edge of his lip for all of a moment before he’s smoothing it out again. You’re about to turn away, to finally go to sleep, when he speaks again.

“Oi- shitty leach. You’re not gonna call ‘em right?” He slurs, voice raspy. “Right?”

“No? I wasn’t? But now I can’t because somebody tore up the paper.”

“Do it again if I fuckin’ have to.”

“Why’re you so concerned about it anyway?”

“None of your fuckin’ business.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. Go to fuck to sleep.”

Then he’s out, giving into sleep and snoring into the cushions. His breathing is deep and even, mellow and relaxed, and you realize that’s all you’re getting from him tonight.

It’s not until you’re settling in bed, just on the verge of drifting, that you realize it. When Bakugou grabbed your wrist- no fire. Warmth and anger on the likes of which you’d never experienced before, sure, but no searing fire.

You wonder if he somehow forgot to put his angry pants on that day.

-/-

pls this is not edited i am so sorry ahahah

taglist: @fluffyviciousbunny @definitelynottrin @imsuperawkward @i-need-air @ahbeautifulexistence @brennabooz @jazzylove @flattykawadoorusmilkbread @katsuki-bakubabe @sorrythatspussynal @bakugouswh0r3 @cloudsgathering @un-limit-edd @thekatsukisimp @pollayra21 @the2ndl @officialtrashbusiness @waffleareniceandfluffy @monempathieetmoi @koiwoshinai @christianagrace9 @the2ndl @the-shota-king-masayuki @shy-panda02

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kaminobiwan · 5 years ago

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in sickness and health

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x jedi!reader

summary: Confined to a day in bed, Obi-Wan is enlisted to keep you company. Featuring mild spoonfeeding I make no apologies

a/n: First off, THANK YOU FOR 300 FOLLOWERS! WOW oh my goodness that happened so fast. I’m still working through the prompts from my 175/200 follower celebration (of which this is a part of), and I can’t wait to figure out a way to celebrate this milestone as well! I’m so grateful to all of the support and love I’ve gotten so far; your kindness and readership means the world to me, and I’m so glad to share my stories with you :-) Without any further ado, here is the return of Padawan!Obi....and if you’d like to join his fanclub, might I direct you to my co-president @highlycommendable lovely dove

Before I forget, taglist masterlist all that shite. Enjoy my bubs

On his way back to the dormitories after an early morning meditation session, Obi-Wan hears arguing.

Though it’s not uncommon to hear discord in the wing of the temple where the Padawans make their residence, it isn’t the usual ruckus of Quin and Kit wrestling, or Shaak Ti demanding to know who had taken her Akul-tooth headdress again.

This time, it’s the voice of a Master filling the halls, berating his student with fond persistence.

“Padawan, my word is final.” Obi-Wan turns the corner as Plo Koon raises a talon at a figure huddled in blankets in the doorway. “You are too ill to travel.”

“But I’m almost better! And Shaak’s told me so much about the Togruta, and I want to see how big of an Akul she’s killed!” He recognizes the protests coming from your distinct yet muddled voice, and his vision confirms his guess as you come into sight, fabric draping across your body like a spirit. “I promise I’m fine, Master, please!”

Despite his mouth being completely covered by his breathing mask, Obi-Wan can almost detect the makings of a smile across the Jedi’s features. “The healers were adamant, my student. You’re to rest one more day. Perhaps, instead of stories of Akul, you can detail our sightings of the neebray mantas to your peers. I assure you, they are much bigger than any Akul you hope to see.” Abruptly, he turns to Obi-Wan in a way that makes him think the Master had sensed his presence long before he’d approached. “Padawan Kenobi, if you’re not terribly occupied, I have a favor to ask of you.”

Obi-Wan comes to a stop in front of the pair of you, your eyes dragging to his frame after shooting a disgruntled glance at your Master. “Master Koon?”

“I’m set to depart for Shili within the hour, and unfortunately, this one,” he gestures a robe-covered hand towards you, “is recovering from a mild case of Balmorra Flu and will be unable to accompany me. I would appreciate it immensely if you’d monitor my student to ensure that she does, in fact, fulfill her last day of bed rest.” Obi-Wan notices as you bristle at the notion of being babysat like a child, but says nothing as Plo continues. “The healers have been kind enough to deliver medicine and food. You’d need only to stay within the room.” Before Obi-Wan can reply that he’d have to seek the approval of his own Master, Koon finishes for him. “I’d be happy to request an excuse from the rest of your duties, but if I’m being quite honest, I’m aware that most of your training for the day has already been completed.”

Obi-Wan schools his own features in haste from revealing how impressed he is. Though, he really shouldn’t be surprised. Plo Koon was legendary amongst the younger generations for both his intuition and skill with a lightsaber. Still, he pauses.

“There’s no cause for worry, young one, she’s not contagious any longer. The sickness is in its last stages.” The Kel Dor assures him, somewhat humorously, but that’s not why Obi-Wan is hesitating.

He’s nervous — he’s never spent much time alone with you. It’s not that you’re unlikable, or intimidating — okay, maybe you are a little — but actually, you’re quite popular with the rest of his crèchemates. He’s only had the opportunity to spend time with you in the midst of his other friends, and the times you have had conversations by yourselves, he gets an uncomfortable twist in his stomach that he’s not sure he likes.

But Obi-Wan is a good Padawan. Trying to be, at least. And Master Koon is close friends with Qui-Gon.

“Certainly, Master.” He gives a slight bow at the middle of his waist. “I would gladly be of service.”

The Jedi nods at him gracefully, and bids a soft farewell to you as he departs the conversation and the dormitory wing. You mutter a goodbye of your own moments after, followed by what Obi-Wan thinks is a variation of be safe. Then, you turn haughtily into your bedroom, retreating with your nose high in the air. He follows with a smirk of amusement.

“Sorry you’ve been sidelined.” He offers, as you face plant dramatically onto the bed. You bounce head-first into the pillows, and he can feel the irritation radiating off of you. “I know it that goes.”

You lift your body enough to place your chin in your hands, and regard him with a softening quirk. “It’s okay. I was just excited to get out on a mission again after my last one got cut short. This wretched flu.”

You flop onto your back, but Obi-Wan can sense your resentment quickly fading as you pull up the sheets to your chest. He notes that you already seem to be complying with your Master’s orders, grateful at the thought of not having to force you into bed. Another thought passes through his head, reminding him of the specific name Plo Koon had mentioned earlier.

“Balmorra flu? Weren’t you on Dantooine?”

“We were. Unfortunately, the illness is not limited to the planet for which it is named. But how it made its way to Dantooine, the middle of nowhere, I’ve no idea.” You sniff harshly. “It’s a shame, too. I wanted to take some time to admire the grasslands, but Master Koon wanted to get us back to the temple before I got worse.” The pout on your face morphs into a far-off look, and while you’re daydreaming, he takes the time to admire you. “It was majestic, Obi-Wan, the rolling plains, the rivers — you’d have loved it, I think.”

To himself, he smiles warmly. Here you are, sinuses stuffed to the brim and wallowing in the discomfort of sickness, yet you still found it within yourself to think of him. He can see why you’d been spoken so highly of by the others before he’d had the courage to befriend you.

You had a good heart.

“I know what you mean.” He presents you with a new tissue as you toss a used one into the wastebasket by your bed, and you watch him speak intently. “Once, on a mission to Alderaan, my Master told me he’d save time to hike one of the mountains if we finished early. A meditation retreat, of sorts. We did, but just as we were prepared to go, I came down with nerf-pox. A youngling sneezed on me in the middle of the assignment.” Disdain paints his appearance, and you cough out a laugh at him behind your fist as you reach for something off your bedside table, where a steaming bowl and cup of water sits.

“To the experiences that disease took from us,” you raise the cup in the air as if you’re making a toast, and although he’s not holding one of his own, he mimes the action with a grin. “Here’s to hoping we’ll get to do them someday.”

As you raise the drink to your mouth, Obi-Wan can’t help but notice the way it trembles in your hand. Eyes narrowing, he takes in the slight shake of your arm. “You’re quite weak,” he moves closer to take the cup from you and set it back on the table. “I think I should feed you.”

Your eyebrows knit in defiance, but he’s already holding the bowl of soup, stirring the spoon in its depths. Immediately, his nose wrinkles in distaste.

“This smells horrible.”

You sigh in agreement, leaning your head back against the pillows. “Rootleaf stew. Master Yoda’s personal recipe.” As he lifts the utensil to your still-moving mouth, you add, “Thankfully, it doesn’t taste as bad as it stinks.”

He snickers quietly as you drink the liquid down with a small noise of disgust. Your face seems to relax after a minute, however, and he hopes the warm broth is soothing your throat. He offers you a bit more, but this time, you stare straight at him as your lips close around the spoon, and his wrist falters when you peer at him from beneath your lashes.

Soup dribbles down your chin and neck as you squeal in surprise, the heat of it making you jerk back. Obi-Wan drops the bowl onto the table as he frantically snatches up tissues to offer you between panicked apologies, not trusting himself to dab the droplets on your skin away himself.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry, I —” he stammers as you clean up what you can, blinking at him in amused surprise. You don’t look angry at him, but stars, does he feel bad. “Ah, I didn’t mean to. So much for helping you.” From the shoulders up, he burns bright with remorse, but you shake your head amusedly with bright eyes.

“It’s okay. I probably would have done the same to myself. You were right, I am too weak to carry anything.”

Sheepishly, Obi-Wan picks up the stew again, but places it in his lap for a moment as he waits for his body to stop freaking out, for lack of a better term. It’s good timing, too, because you promptly break into a hacking fit, coughing violently as he winces in his seat. After you blow your nose loudly, you seem to notice his expression, because you suddenly turn self-consciously away from him.

“I’m sorry, too. I can’t imagine I’m a pretty sight to see as of right now.”

He disagrees. Surprisingly, your physical state hasn’t been too affected. And even in spite of your slightly ruffled exterior, you’re still exuding the same liveliness that he can’t help but find attractive. In his mindlessness, Obi-Wan’s mouth acts before his brain as he responds. “I think you’re always pretty.”

You both freeze, eyes meeting in shocked gazes as he attempts to backtrack. “I — I mean, you’re a pretty sight to see —” Nope, that’s worse, kill me, Maker, kill me now —

“Obi — it’s okay,” you cut him off from embarrassing himself further, though your own voice is shrill. “I appreciate the compliment.”

His face flushes again, this time at the nickname more than his stupidity. He stares resolutely into the swirling broth as he fiddles with the spoon, and deafening silence fills the air between you as you both look anywhere but each other. Soon enough, though, you’re brave enough to break the quiet. With an even braver comment of your own.

“You know, you’re not too bad-looking either,” he peers at you cautiously, and your eyes are kind, offering comfort. He breathes out a long sigh, but manages a weak smile in return.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, and you nod at him easily. He’s jealous of the way you’re expressive, yet so effortlessly at ease in any scenario — someday, he swears, he’ll nail down his composure. He’ll be in complete control of his every emotion and have the coolest demeanor of all the Jedi.

Just, not today.

Obi-Wan forces himself to steel the muscles in his arms as he brings another spoonful of soup to your waiting mouth, and exhales in relief when he successfully avoids causing another mess. Unfortunately, it seems that you’re intent on making one, because as soon as you swallow, you’ve got another remark that you deliver all too casually for Obi-Wan’s liking.

“In fact, I’d say you’re the prettiest Padawan in the Order.”

He spills the entire bowl across your sheets.

#AND HE MAKES HIS RETURN!#rini writes #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan x reader #PADAWAN!OBI NATION RISE UPPP #sweet boy he is so cute #here is fluff for you guys before I release a really sad piece tomorrow #but until then ENJOY #rini reaches 175!#THANKS AGAIN FOR 300 I'LL HAVE A CELEBRATION SOON

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bookandcranny · 4 years ago

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Beatrice - Chapter Three

On a table in what she supposed was the dining room there was a floral centerpiece, dead and rotted. Freesias and baby’s breath were shriveled with blight and yet the dead petals remained frozen in place, refusing to fall. Gianna wondered if they’d somehow been preserved that way intentionally. She couldn’t imagine why, ugly as they were.

Soft footsteps padded across the tile behind her, and for a brief moment the anxiety resurfaced, seizing at her throat.

“Gianna?”

She took in a deep breath, letting floral sweetness flood her senses. “It’s me, Bea.”

Gianna was too stubborn to call out of work in the morning, but stubbornness only got her as far as until the gallery manager saw her flagging at her station and urged her to go home. The fumes from the conservators’ delicate chemistry could be dangerous on a good day if you weren’t careful, she reminded her, nevermind if you were already feeling sick. She wasn’t sick, just tired. At least that’s what she was telling herself. Still, she stopped by the drugstore just in case the faint nausea and light-headedness were indeed early signs of some bug.

On impulse, she also picked up some hair bleach and a box of dye. She hadn’t done anything new with her hair since before moving and her brown roots were starting to look more like branches. Normally this wouldn’t have bothered her except, well, for the first time in a long time there was someone she really wanted to look good for. If she was going to ask Beatrice out, first she needed to be in an attractive state of mind.

All her vanity was in vain however; by the time she’d arrived home whatever sickness had grabbed a hold of her was setting in in earnest, leaving Gianna feeling weak and off-kilter. With the last of her strength she managed to force down a couple painkillers along with a cold glass of water before collapsing into bed.

When she woke up from her addled fever-sleep her skin was clammy and cold. She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and forced herself to sit up, squinting in the dark of her surroundings. Something had woken her. The sound of that finicky overhead light blowing out after she’d passed out with it still on. Somewhere in between the passing out and now, night had swept over the city, but as was its nature, faint fluorescent light still streamed in from the world outside her window. She hobbled over and pried it open.

Though the breeze made her shiver, it also brought with it the sweetness she’d come to recognize as the combined scents of the Rappaccinis’ garden. The familiar smell revitalized her somewhat. Actually, she felt remarkably improved after just a few short minutes of sitting by the window. Maybe all this was just chemical fumes messing with her head. She’d never had a problem with it before, but she’d been working longer hours lately. That combined with the recent stress, of course it would leave her feeling poorly, she thought.

Down in Casa di Rappaccini there were lights coming from every window and shadows moving before them. Gianna had never even entertained the idea of the family having company. Dr Rappaccini really didn’t seem like the kind of man to throw a house party in the middle of the week.

Gianna pushed up the screen and went to climb down to her usual spot. It was only when she was hovering with her hands on the railing and her blanket still slung around her shoulders like a cape that she realized just how bad an idea that was. She was liable to break her neck or worse trying to climb down in the dark with a fever, and Beatrice certainly wouldn’t be gardening at this time of night. She was probably inside, socializing and having fun, impressing their guests with her vast horticultural knowledge and reciting poetry in Latin or something. Though it might get her attention, lurking around outside her party on the fire escape was not the way to get a woman to like you.

She returned to her apartment and to her bed, pulling the pillow over her head as if to guard against any more bizarre dreams. After a time, she managed to drift back into uneasy sleep, while violet eyes kept a watch on her window from below.

In the morning Gianna roused to a concerned call from work, but her groggy reply was more than enough to secure her another sick day. She went back to sleep for another couple hours, woke, forced down some more pills and some leftover stir-fry, slept, and finally woke again feeling not quite recovered, but at least somewhat rested.

She staggered to the bathroom and washed her face. Her skin was oily to the touch and her eyes were bloodshot but otherwise she didn’t look too bad, she thought. Recalling the night before, she went to sit by the window and indeed the fresh air made her feel worlds better. Whatever it was that was slogging through her system, she reasoned, couldn’t be too bad. Probably just some twenty-four hour flu or something.

As she leaned her head out the window she caught sight of Beatrice working in her garden as usual and she was out and shimmying down the ladder before she could remember her decision not to.

“Hey,” she called, her voice still slightly rasped with sleep.

Beatrice looked up and beamed at her, although her smile faltered slightly to see the loose curls plastered to her brow.

“How are you feeling?”

“Oh, is it that obvious?” she huffed, trying to pinch some life back into her cheeks. “I’ll be alright, just a fever or something.”

“That’s why you weren’t here yesterday. I looked for you.”

Something in Gianna’s gut twisted hotly. “You missed me?”

“Of course I did.”

It was a much more frank answer than she’d expected, and Gianna felt herself blush. No need to worry about her color after all.

“I was worried, I guess. You were acting sort of strange the day before. I thought I might’ve done something wrong.”

“No way,” she assured. Wow, I really am that obvious. “I was just sleeping this thing off most of the afternoon. I sorta thought you’d be too busy to notice, with the party you were having.”

Beatrice rolled her eyes. “My father was having one of his dinner socials. I couldn’t have gotten away for long either way but believe me, I would pick you over any one of his colleagues in a heartbeat.”

Gianna raised her eyebrows. “Isn’t that kind of thing hard on him? With his health, I mean.”

“He hires people for all the preparations and cleaning up after. Father can’t get out very much because of his condition, so this is how he… connects, I think. Otherwise he wouldn’t talk to anyone at all.”

“We all need to connect I guess.”

She nodded, looking away again. “He has his colleagues bring people for me too. Sons or nephews, you know. Boys he thinks would make a good match for me.”

“Oh. That’s… oh.”

“It’s sort of old fashioned, I know. I don’t really-- I don’t like any of them that way. You’re right though, we all need to connect. I used to think I didn’t need anyone else, but lately…”

Cautiously she met her gaze. Her brows were knit together like she was trying to piece together some puzzle in her mind. Gianna thought she should say something, offer some reassurance, but the image of Dr Rappaccini and his equally decrepit associates presenting her with an array of their eligible legacy offspring turned her stomach so sourly that she had to bite her tongue to keep from spewing something venomous.

Luckily or not, before either of them could speak there came a call from within the house.

“Beatrice, come here, girl!”

Gianna bristled but the young woman only turned and said sweetly, “Coming, Father!” She gave Gianna an apologetic glance and then added in a low voice, “There’s something important I want to talk to you about, but I don’t think I can do it here. Come over tomorrow?”

“You mean… like, in person?”

“Yes! Tomorrow my father is going to be out of the house from two to four o’clock. That doesn’t give us long but it’s the only time I can do it.”

Do what, she wanted to ask, bewildered and enticed all at once.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just get coffee somewhere?”

“The code for the door is 5214. Meet me here. I promise it’ll be worth your time.” She fidgeted her hands together. Her eyelashes fluttered. “Maybe I can even show you around the garden.”

Something about the way she said that made Gianna suppress a shiver.

“Of course I’ll be there,” she said. She hated to miss more work than she already had, but she doubted they would suspect anything. Even now her fingers trembled and some of that clamminess was returned to her skin, but oddly enough, she was feeling better than she had all week.

-----

The name placard next to the buzzer read G. Rappaccini. It didn’t sit right with Gianna, the conspicuous absence of the apartment’s other occupant.

Even though she knew she was expected, she felt compelled to announce herself. She pressed the buzzer and after a moment a quiet voice came through the intercom.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” she said.

“Oh.”

She frowned. “Is that still okay?”

Beatrice let out a sigh. It sounded thin and tinny through the crackle of the speaker.

“Yeah, of course, come on up. Do you remember the code?”

Gianna punched in the numbers and made her way to the apartment. At least this complex had an elevator, saving her the strain of the climb. She was feeling less shaky but at the expense of her appetite which had vanished and made her wary of taking on too much additional strain. Her heart was pounding as it was, watching the floor numbers slowly tick by and thinking about how soon the two of them would be in the same room for the first time.

Beatrice had never been too eager to meet up with Gianna outside their customary rendezvous, which Gianna had always attributed to her not wanting to leave her father alone for too long. She’d never analyzed her motivations too closely because doing so would mean having to take a serious look at her own.

The truth was, Gianna was scared. This thing she had with Beatrice was different than any relationship she’d had before, for reasons she couldn’t confidently place, and she was afraid that somehow breaking out of the pattern they’d established between them would change things, would tarnish the magic of it somehow.

Too close now to turn back, she stepped into the apartment. Right away the high ceilings and lavish spaciousness inspired a pang of envy. The furniture was antique, yet in pristine condition, everything so clean and crisp that it looked like something out of a catalogue. Not exactly homey. There were several signs of life however: books piled up on an end table in the living room, dishes drying in a rack by the kitchen sink, a stack of empty boxes piled up next to the garbage can.

There was no TV or telephone, though she supposed that wasn’t so uncommon anymore. But paired with the furniture and the sterile environment it gave Gianna the feeling of being cut off from the modern world entirely. The very idea was stifling to her.

Soft footsteps padded across the tile behind her, and for a brief moment the anxiety resurfaced, seizing at her throat.

“Gianna?”

She took in a deep breath, letting floral sweetness flood her senses. “It’s me, Bea.”

Beatrice looked different. Most notably because she was wearing canvas coveralls that seemed to be too big for her, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows to make room for a thick pair of gloves. For all the times she’d watched her working in her garden, Gianna had never seen Beatrice actually dress like a gardener. It made her feel a little silly for dressing up herself. She’d, perhaps optimistically, assumed that the first time they met face to face without the span of the alleyway between them would be a special occasion worth dressing up for. Maybe Beatrice didn’t see it that way.

“Are you still feeling sick?” Beatrice asked. “You don’t look so good.”

Gianna forced a grin. “Don’t worry about that. I’m just happy to be here.”

“Here, sit,” she beckoned. “I wasn’t even thinking. I’ll make you some tea.”

“That’s okay, really. I’m not much of a tea person.”

“You’ll like this tea, trust me.”

Gianna found she didn’t have the energy to protest and soon she was sitting in the kitchen holding a steaming mug. It was far from her drink of choice, especially in the summer months, but she gave in and took a sip for politeness’ sake.

It was good. More than good, it was delicious! As soon as it was cooled enough she drained half the cup in one go. Almost as soon as she had, she found herself feeling better. Her headache was gone and nausea abated. In fact, she was starting to feel hungry.

“Good, right?” Beatrice smirked. As if she had read her mind, she fished out a box of cookies from the cupboard and slid them across the counter to her. “It’s a family recipe, made with herbs from the garden. Everything that grows there is medicinal. You just have to know how to handle them.”

“That’s incredible,” she said between bites. Now that her appetite was finally back it seemed to be making up for lost time.

Beatrice flustered prettily. “It’s not hard when you get to know the plants like I have. The garden was my father’s before it was mine, we grew up together.”

“So the flowers are kind of like your siblings,” Gianna joked.

She beamed. “Exactly like that. Drink your tea. You have to drink all of it for it to really work.”

Gianna did so.

“I know I didn’t say it before,” Beatrice murmured. “But I’m really glad you’re here too. To see you, really really see you, I can’t… there aren’t words, Gianna. It probably sounds crazy but sometimes, when I couldn’t see you, when I couldn’t speak to you, I started to worry you’d disappeared and I would never find you again. Sometimes I even worried you were never real at all. That’s why I… I was afraid to invite you over here. I was afraid to break the illusion, to lose you.”

She stared, speechless, her mouth gone dry.

“I know how that sounds, I just-- for so long my world has revolved around taking care of father. I didn’t think I could have this, didn’t think I’d even want this. Not as much as I do, at least.”

“Beatrice,” she whispered breathlessly. “I know how you feel.” She reached across the countertop to touch her gloved hand. “I know what it’s like to want something and feel like you shouldn’t. I know what it feels like to be stuck in the shadow of parents who don’t understand you. I promise, you’re not crazy, and you’re not alone.”

The girl made a wounded noise, half gasp and half whimper, and clamped a hand over her face. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what--”

“It’s okay.” She threaded their fingers together. “It’s okay.”

Beatrice shook her head. “Gianna, I have to tell you something. Something important. Before we get in too deep or you hear it from someone else, I want you to hear it from me. I’m not normal.”

“I know, you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met.”

“No!” she cried, frustrated. “I’m not--”

The door creaked open and she spun around, pulling her hand away. Standing in the doorway was the hunched form of Dr Giacoma Rappaccini himself.

“Ah, good,” came the rasping voice of the elderly doctor. “You made the tea. I trust you’re feeling better now, Ms Alexander.”

Gianna tensed, unsure of how to respond.

“Father, you’re home early!” Beatrice chirped with false cheer. “I’ll make you a cup too then.”

“No need,” he said with a dismissive wave of his leathered hand. He set down his bag and shut the door behind him. “I had some this morning, remember? Ah, you might’ve been out in the garden then. You have been busy today.”

She shrunk back under the weight of his stare.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, sir,” Gianna said stiffly with a hand outstretched. “I’m--”

“I know who you are.” His laugh was the sound of dry reeds in a breeze. “Gianna Alexander. I’ve been keeping an eye on you ever since you started to show an interest in my daughter. I was curious to see how things might progress between you two, but considering the circumstances I decided it might be time to intervene.”

“Father--”

“Beatrice,” he reproached. “Going behind my back? Making secret meetings? You know better than that. Apologize to our guest.”

After only a moment’s hesitation she turned to Gianna and said, “I’m so sorry, Ms Alexander.”

Gianna balked. “What? You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“I’m afraid that’s where you’re mistaken,” said Dr Rappaccini. “You see, there are proper steps to be taken in situations like this. My daughter should’ve spoken with me so I could arrange a proper interview. We could’ve had dinner. It would’ve been so nice.

“Instead, I had to find out what you were doing and pretend to leave my own home unawares just to get us all in a room together. I’m getting too old to play these games with you, Beatrice. It’s disrespectful to me and it’s disrespectful to our guest.”

“I’m sorry, Father.” Her voice had become empty, almost robotic, and she cast her eyes to the ground. Gianna felt a dawning sense of dread at the sight.

“Now then,” The old man pulled up a chair and sat with his hands folded over his lap. “Shall we get down to business? Beatrice, as you know, is a very special girl. In fact she’s the product of years and millions of dollars of research.

“I’ve dedicated my life to studying the medicinal properties of plants and cross-breeding exotic species to develop into natural pharmaceuticals. Eventually I realized that no amount of remedies I could create in my lifetime would be enough to fix every inherent flaw of humanity, so I shifted my focus. Instead of searching for the perfect cure, I decided to create the perfect human being, one immune to mankind’s deficiencies. From my experience with altering and combining the genetic structures of various plants, I crafted a new, superior breed of human. Beatrice is the product of those tireless efforts.”

Gianna’s head was swimming. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Dr Rappaccini smiled ruefully. “I’ve long accepted that I likely won’t live to see my quest come to fruition. It took trial upon trial just to bring Beatrice into the world, and she’s only the first step. More accurately, the first generation.”

He put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Someday, my Beatrice will be the mother to a brand new species, a new humanity. With their drastically increased lifespans, immunity to disease and disorder of the body and mind, and overall genealogical superiority, my creations will rapidly become the dominant species on earth, replacing the feeble excuse for intelligent life that exists now. And, well, with all that revealed, it’s obvious why I couldn’t let this little game of yours continue, isn’t it?”

He looked at Beatrice with an expression that was as a mockery of compassion.

“Socialization is fine, even healthy. I don’t blame you for that. It’s my own fault really, for not providing you with more enrichment and opportunities for companionship here at home. I’ll be more mindful of that going forward. In fact, if you want to continue these little play-dates I am in full support, as long as they’re supervised from here on out. Not for a while though, of course. That’s just what happens when you break the rules, my girl.”

Gianna stood up, slamming her hands down on the counter. “Are you completely insane? This is a person, your daughter, not a pure-bred show poodle!”

Dr Rappaccini spoke to her calmly, a faint amusement in his wrinkled features. “I don’t blame you for your anger, Ms Alexander, because I know it stems from ignorance. Beatrice is special but she also has a volatile, toxic nature the likes of which you can’t comprehend. She needs a guiding hand to help her control herself and make the right choice. Isn’t that right, Beatrice.”

“Yes, Father.”

Gianna stared at her friend in horrified awe. “Beatrice, you can’t possibly be okay with this.”

She didn’t move, she didn’t speak. She gave no indication she’d even heard her. It was as if she had been hollowed out, only the fragile husk of her remaining.

“You can throw as big a fit as you want,” Dr Rappaccini said snidely. “But as long as you are a guest in my home I have to insist you abide by my rules.”

Gianna glowered. She spared one last furtive glance towards Beatrice. Her chest ached. “Then I guess I’m leaving.”

next chapter

#writeblr #original fiction #horror romance #gothic #lgbt #rappaccini's daughter #my writing

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muse539 · 5 years ago

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We Don’t Know What’s Out There

So my friend M is a bad (fantastic) influence, and when I shared an instagram post that was basically a prompt with them, they encouraged me to write it. So, I did. Read it on Ao3!

Summary: While Mike Newton is waiting for the semester to start at his Sacramento college, he finds himself turning to the TV show "Ghost Adventures" to keep himself entertained. He knows it's all fake, of course. At least, he thought he did, until he finds himself looking at a familiar face.

....

“The ghost we’re hunting tonight is Edward Anthony Masen Jr. He was a patient at this Chicago hospital during the Spanish Influenza in 1918, until he vanished without a trace.”

"Is that... Cullen?"

After finally, mercifully, at last leaving Forks in early August, Mike Newton found himself without much to do. His parents had insisted that he move down to Sacramento before the semester started.

That would make sense, except that the semester didn’t start for three weeks, and Mike was bored out of his skull.

So, like anyone might in his situation, he turned to the TV to occupy his time. It was a small thing, but it would get the job done.

Huh, wonder what’s this about, Mike thought, pausing his rapid flipping on five guys in a dark hallway, decked out in night vision equipment. The banner in the bottom of the screen said “Ghost Adventures.”

“Elizabeth, speak to us, ” one of them said, holding out a radio.

Huh. Might as well see what this is about.

---

It was a quiet evening in the Cullen house. Renesmee was visiting Jacob on the reservation, much to Edward’s chagrin.

“If you keep frowning like that, your face might get stuck that way.” Bella used her thumb to smooth out the skin between her husband’s eyebrows before cupping his cheek. Bella didn’t like being away from Renesmee any more than Edward did, she was just better at hiding it.

Edward sighed, leaning into Bella’s hand.

Dude, you’re pathetic.

Edward shot a glare in Emmett’s direction before meeting Bella’s eyes. “It’s hard, her being where we cannot.”

“I know.” Bella sighed. “At least we know Jake would protect her, if anything happened.”

“Hmm.”

---

Man! Who knew a communications class would be so hard! Mike turned away from his homework. Spring semester had been kicking his ass for weeks now.

At least he lived on his own. Mike couldn’t imagine what it would be like, having to share a room the size of a shoebox with another person. Especially since they probably wouldn’t let him watch his favorite show!

“Ghost Adventures” had pretty quickly become Mike’s latest fixation. He’s never missed an episode, a fact he is shamelessly proud of.

From the corner of his desk, his phone buzzed. Jessica, of course.

Mike has been trying to shake her off for months, to no avail. He sighed.

That’s it, that’s enough for today. Mike pushed away from his desk and turned on the TV. Ghost Adventures would be on soon.

---

“Don’t ‘hmm’ at me,” Bella smiled, “use your words.”

“Yeah, Edward, use your words .” Emmett guffawed.

“ That’s it.” Edward started to rise out of his seat, and Emmett happily took a defensive stance.

They launched at each other.

From upstairs, Esme’s voice rang out, “You boys better mind my furniture!”

---

A few miles away, in La Push, Jacob and Renesmee had just gotten back to Billy’s house. The Pack had gone cliff diving, and Renesmee insisted on attending, even if it gave Jacob a heart attack.

“I’m just as durable as you are,” she’s said, in that special way of hers.

“I know, I know. But you’re not even one yet, Nessie!” Nevermind that she was already the size of a 10-year-old at just 9, almost 10, as Nessie enjoyed reminding him, months old. “It’s the principle of the thing!”

Renesmee just pressed her desire into his skin harder. Jacob was powerless.

“Okay, okay!”

And so they’d gone. They had a fantastic time, once Jacob “got over himself,” as Seth has put it.

Now, they were nestled on Billy’s couch, flipping through the channels. Renesmee stopped him on one.

“Oh, Ness, you probably won’t want to watch this. It’s scary.”

There were questions in Nessie’s hands.

“It’s about ghost hunting. Or, at least, that’s what they think they’re doing. We both know ghosts don’t exist, but they play a lot of scary music, and they try to freak you out. Frankly, I think it’s kind of funn-”

“The ghost we’re hunting tonight is Edward Anthony Masen Jr. He was a patient at this Chicago hospital during the Spanish Influenza in 1918, until he vanished without a trace.”

Nessie’s hand pressed insistently to his cheek. “Daddy?”

Jake was in shock. “Uh, yeah. That’s your dad. Hold on-” he reached for his phone.

---

Breaking away from Emmett, Edward picked up his phone when it started to ring, heart sinking when he saw Jacob’s name.

“Jacob? Is everything okay?” Every eye in the room turned to Edward, each vampire holding their breath.

“Turn on Ghost Adventures right now! They’re talking about you!”

Bella had the TV on before Jacob finished speaking.

“ Will Edward be among the spirits we talk to here tonight?”

---

“The ghost we’re hunting tonight is Edward Anthony Masen Jr. He was a patient at this Chicago hospital during the Spanish Influenza in 1918, until he vanished without a trace. His parents, Elizabeth and Edward Masen Sr., were also patients, and their bodies were recovered.”

During Zak’s monologue, a blurry photo of the Masen family was shown. Mike dropped his hot pocket.

“Is that Cullen?”

---

Mike Newton watched the rest of the episode, growing increasingly nauseous with each passing minute.

The guy in the photos, Edward Anthony Masen, looks almost exactly like Edward Cullen. But there’s no way, right? Even if that Edward had survived the Spanish Flu, there’s no way he’d still be alive now. And even if he was , he wouldn’t look like Edward Cullen. He’d be a wrinkly old man!

Yeah, yeah, Mike told himself. There’s no way. That’s crazy though, Cullen is a dead ringer for that guy. Wow.

---

After that night, appearing on ghost shows became a bit of a running joke in the Cullen household. They had a white board set up behind the television, keeping tally. Given how often paranormal TV shows enjoy venturing into abandoned hospitals and psychiatric wards, Edward and Alice had the most marks, with Alice in the lead, to her unending delight.

One of Emmett’s favorite pastimes, whenever one of them appeared on an episode, was to sit in front of the TV shouting “they’re right here, you idiots!” and “boo!”

Renesmee erupts into giggles whenever he does it, so no one has asked him to stop.

---

Mike Newton has yet to move home from Sacramento. He’d visit Forks during school breaks, and stay for most of the summer, but he kept his apartment in Sacramento until he graduated.

Once it was time to move out, however, him never moving home for the summer came back to bite him.

“ How have I accumulated so much crap ?” Mike sighed as he looked over the haphazard piles of things he needed to shove into boxes. His parents would be here in a few hours with a trailer.

Resigned, Mike sighed and grabbed the first box.

He got distracted, naturally. He had found a box with old high school memories, and was laughing at a picture of himself and Bella “playing” volleyball in the yearbook.

Beneath the pile of yearbooks, there was a thick, nicely printed envelope addressed to him.

Huh. What’s this? Mike thought, as he pulled it out.

“This” was a wedding invitation. Bella’s, actually. Mike smiled. He wondered how she was doing, and resolved to check in with her when he got home.

Over the next few minutes, Mike found his eyes repeatedly straying back to the wedding invitation. Something about it was nagging at him, but he didn’t know what.

I mean, I’ve always thought it was weird how people put their full names on their invitations. Michael Welch Newton? No thank you. He shuddered, and his eyes strayed to the invitation once again. Isabella Marie Swan. That has a nicer ring to it, I guess. But Edward’s is a mouthful. Edward Anthony Masen Cu-

Mike paused. Why did that name sound so familiar? He pulled out his phone. This is probably a long shot . He typed Edward’s name into the search bar.

No results for ‘Edward Anthony Masen Cullen,’ two million results for ‘Edward Anthony Masen.’

Mike dropped his phone.

---

The banner stretching across the windows in the back of the house read “Happy Fourth Anniversary!”

Bella clasped her hands together, and silently thanked that she couldn’t blush anymore. “Aw! You guys are so sweet, thank you!”

“And of course, we have gifts!” Alice beamed at the couple, only Jasper’s hand in hers stopping her from bounding across the room to pull her siblings into a hug.

That, after all, was Renesmee’s job.

“Happy anniversary, Mom and Dad!” Ness threw herself into her parents arms. Now almost 4-years-old, Renesmee was the size of a 16-year-old, but had a maturity far beyond her years.

Bella and Edward smiled at their daughter, and simultaneously pressed stone kisses to her flaming cheeks.

Soon after, Jacob’s pack arrived. Over the years, Leah had warmed to the Cullens considerably, though she still scrunched her nose for the first few minutes she was inside. She, Jacob, and Seth each greeted Edward and Bella with a scorching hug.

“Happy anniversary, guys!”

“Thanks, Seth.” Edward smiled while Renesmee went and claimed a couch for her and Jacob.

“Okay, gifts!” Alice flitted around the room. Bella sighed.

Jasper raised an eyebrow, smiling. “You should be proud she lasted this long, Bella.”

Bella laughed. “Yes, heaven forbid Alice learn restraint .”

“ Hey! ”

Bella stuck her tongue out at Alice, Emmett guffawed, Renesmee stifled her laugh in Jacob’s shoulder.

Alice bounced back towards and thrust an envelope into Bella’s hands. She opened the envelope and pulled out 4 plane tickets, round trip, to Ireland.

“Wow, Alice. Thank you, this is too much.” Bella stood and pulled her sister into a hug.

“Well, I wanted to make sure that it was a place that was cloudy enough for you all to go outside during the day, and also spoke English. As fantastic as your German is, Bella, I’m not sure how long you could survive.”

Bella playfully snarled at Alice; Alice cheerfully stuck out her tongue in response.

“I’m just glad you’re getting out of the country so we’re no longer in the blast radius of your hot, passionate -”

“Emmett!” Bella shot a glare in his direction before glancing at Renesmee.

Then, there was a knock at the door.

---

Mike Newton was only staying on the Cullen’s front porch out of sheer force of will. Hell, he was only standing out of sheer force of will. He’d barely slept the last few days, hell, months . Mike had become obsessed, reading everything he could about Edward Anthony Masen, which wasn’t much, and then about the Cullen family--which was somehow even fewer. No social media, no public marriage licenses. He’d found just enough to suggest they existed, not much more. He was no private investigator, but it still rubbed Mike the wrong way.

Dr. Cullen opened the door. “Mr. Newton! What brings you here? Are you alright?”

Mike tried not to throw up. “Yeah, uh, hi! Dr. Cullen. I, uh, well, here’s the thing,” he took a deep breath. “This is probably going to sound ridiculous. I think I’ve actually gone insane, lost it, like my gran. Ha ha! Yeah, uh.”

WIth each word, Dr. Cullen looked more and more concerned. Over his shoulder, Mike could see a ‘Happy Anniversary’ sign.

“So, um, if you could just confirm something for me real fast, that would be great. Spectacular really.”

“Of course, what do you need, Mike?”

The words rushed out of him. “If you could just tell me that Edward is not actually a ghost that somehow has a physical body that would be great.”

The man himself walked into Mike’s field of vision. “Ah, you saw the ‘Ghost Adventures’ episode too, did you? It’s amazing, how much we look alike. Edward Anthony Masen is a cousin of mine, on my biological father’s side.”

Mike blinked dumbly. “Oh. Huh. That, uh, makes a lot of sense. Huh. Okay. Um, thanks, I guess.”

“Of course.”

Smiling, Dr. Cullen closed the door.

---

“What the fuck was that ,” Jacob asked.

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose. “It seems, rather annoyingly, that Mike Newton is more clever than I gave him credit for.”

“This is dangerous, Edward,” Carlisle looked nervous. “These shows, and their digging into the past… people that have seen us are starting to recognize us.”

“Surely there is something we can do?” Esme placed a calming hand on Carlisle’s arm.

“You just saw it,” Alice chirped. “Play it off like we’re our own long-lost relatives. We’ve all seen it before; humans want to accept the most reasonable explanation.”

They lapsed into silence, lost in thoughts.

“Edward may want to lose the middle names, though,” Rosalie drolled.

“Yeah,” Leah scoffed. “Probably.” Renesmee laughed.

The tension broke, and their day resumed.

“So,” Jacob swung a fist and bumped Bella’s arm. “When do you want to go to Ireland, bestie?”

Bella groaned.

#twilight #mike newton #bella swan #edward cullen #ghost adventures #jacob black #renesmee cullen #alice cullen #fanfic

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enbyleighlines · 5 years ago

Note

Okay it's not a shippy prompt but I would love some bffs nhs&wwx. Maybe a little good natured teasing from wwx about how nhs could possibly fall for his snappy grumpy baby bro?

Yeeeeee yes I love this idea, thank you! Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang’s friendship is so important to me

Oh, and please be aware that there is some suggestive talk in this one

I hope you enjoy!

—

Wei Wuxian was bound to find out eventually. Still, Nie Huaisang feels like the universe could have given them a little more time to prepare.

The two of them are in the middle of enjoying their weekly “Hump Day Ritual.” It involves some wine, reruns of a show from their childhood playing in the background, and a deck of cards. They use the time to catch up, to swap stories about the grind of daily life, and most importantly, to reminisce about the good old days.

In truth, Nie Huaisang should have had plenty of time to prepare. But Huaisang so enjoys their Wednesday evening get togethers, and in their anticipation they had overlooked the fact that this will be their first time seeing Wei Wuxian since they went on a couple of dates with their Didi, Jiang Cheng. Hence, it will mean telling Wei Wuxian about the dates. And Huaisang doesn’t know how their friend will react.

So when Wei Wuxian asks, “What’s new with you?” Nie Huaisang freezes.

There’s a split second where Nie Huaisang considers lying. They wouldn’t keep this a secret forever, of course, just put it off a little longer. But that would be an insult to their friendship.

So Huaisang answers, “Ah, well... I went on a date.”

Wei Wuxian reacts with exaggerated surprise. “What! You went on a date? And I’m just hearing about it now? Is it someone I know?”

“Yes,” Huaisang admits, “It’s... someone you know very well, in fact. Your, uh, Didi.”

“Huh?” Wei Wuxian blinks, his face blank. “My Didi?” It seemingly takes him a moment to process the meaning of Huaisang’s words. And then his mind finishes buffering, evident by the way his eyes nearly pop out if his skull. “You don’t mean... J-Jiang Cheng?!”

“Do you have another Didi I don’t know about?” Huaisang demands.

“No, but— Jiang Cheng?” Wei Wuxian waves his hands in a complicated manner, like he’s speaking gibberish in sign language. “My straight, thick-headed Didi? That Jiang Cheng?”

Huaisang finds themself smiling despite their annoyance. “Yes, that Jiang Cheng.”

“How did that happen?”

And so Huaisang tells Wei Wuxian the story: “I approached him at Jin Zixuan and your Jiejie’s wedding. I told him I had feelings for him, and a few days later, he texted me and asked me out on a date. Two, in fact. One to the zoo and one to a botanical garden.”

“Wait, wait, hold up.” Wei Wuxian holds his hand up like a stop sign. “Since when do you have feelings for my Didi?”

Huaisang avoids looking at Wei Wuxian’s face as they answer, “A while. I think it started in... sophomore year of high school. You convinced me to come watch your soccer game, and I saw him playing for the first time.”

Wei Wuxian does not immediately reply. When Nie Huaisang glances back, Wuxian is just staring mutely into space.

“That was... six or seven years ago,” Wei Wuxian says at long last.

“Yes,” Huaisang confirms.

“Six or seven years,” Wei Wuxian repeats. He sounds absolutely confounded. “You’ve liked my Didi for that long? And you never told me?”

Huaisang winces. This is the reaction that they were afraid of.

“To be fair,” Huaisang says, “I was afraid you would accidentally mention it in front of him. You’ve always been really bad at keeping secrets. Do you remember when we used to go to Wen Ning’s house sometimes, and you’d do that obnoxious nudge-nudge wink-wink think to Jiang Cheng every time Wen Qing came into the room?”

Wei Wuxian continues to stare for a second. But then he recovers, and starts to laugh. “Did I really do that?”

“Yes, you did.”

Wei Wuxian gives another laugh. He doesn’t seem particularly remorseful. Then he says, “But wait. What about Wen Qing? I thought the two of them were— well, not dating, but...”

“Yeah,” Huaisang hums, “I still don’t know exactly what’s going on between them. I think it’s some sort of friends with benefits situation? In any case, yes, they’re still seeing each other. And yes, before you ask, Wen Qing knows that Jiang Cheng and I have been going out on dates.”

“Oh wow, okay.” Wei Wuxian is frowning. “I didn’t take my Didi for the type of guy to sleep around like that.”

“It’s not like that,” Huaisang scrambles to explain, their face no doubt taking on a bright pink hue, “Jiang Cheng has been a perfect gentleman! It’s not— it’s not about sex.”

“So he’s taking you out on dates and then going home to hook up with Wen Qing?” Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “That... doesn’t sound right. Also, I thought Jiang Cheng was straight. I know that I’m still a baby gay, and I don’t have the best gaydar, but I did not ping him as bisexual.”

At that last part, Huaisang shrugs. “We’re still figuring this whole thing out,” they admit, “Jiang Cheng doesn’t know why he’s attracted to me, or if that makes him bisexual. And honestly, I don’t care if he’s still hooking up with Wen Qing. I’ve never been a conventional person, so I don’t mind having a nonconventional relationship. I mean, it’s 2015. Monogamy isn’t the only option. I’m just glad for the chance to get closer to Jiang Cheng. Maybe it won’t work out, in the end. But I want to give it a try anyway.”

“Oh.” Wei Wuxian takes a moment to digest Huaisang’s words. Slowly, gradually, a smile begins to unfold across his face. “Wow,” he says.

“What?”

Wei Wuxian’s grin takes on a mischievous curl at the side of his mouth. “Huaisang,” he coos, “You really like him, don’t you?”

Huaisang rolls their eyes. “Yes. I already told you that.”

“But you really like him,” Wei Wuxian presses, “Tell me, do you like him in spite of the fact that he’s a grumpy troll, or because he’s a grumpy troll?”

Huaisang’s face warms. “I’m not answering that,” they say.

“You don’t have to,” Wei Wuxian teases, “I can see it on your face. You like that he’s a big grumpy grouch, don’t you? That’s right— you always did like tsundere characters the best. So you’re a sucker for that kind of guy, right?”

Huaisang almost aims a throw pillow at Wei Wuxian’s head, despite the high probability that it’ll just cause him to spill his wine all over the couch. Instead, they shout, “Stop it!”

“No, no, this makes perfect sense to me now!” Wei Wuxian spins the wine around in his glass, all while sporting a deviously triumphant smile. “I don’t know why I didn’t guess it earlier. And now I know why you kept coming to my soccer games, even though you hate sports. It was never about supporting me, was it? You just came to gawk at my tsundere Didi.”

“Don’t forget that I can give you the same treatment,” Huaisang warns their friend, “I know who you have a crush on.”

“Yeah, so?” Wei Wuxian lounges back further, not looking threatened in the least. “I’m not ashamed to say I have a crush on Lan Wangji. He’s a talented man. He’s probably got heaps of admirers. But my Didi— you know, my Da-yima used to call him unmatchable? There was this smart period of time when my Da-yima was obsessed with matchmaking. She set Jiang Cheng up on so many blind dates, and he kept scaring all the girls away.”

“Ah, I remember that!” Huaisang giggles, the memories flooding back into their mind’s eye. “Jiang Cheng complained about it nonstop!”

“I know! None of them were stylish ever enough, according to his impossible standards. He just kept critiquing their clothes and makeup, until they went away. Which, now that I think about it, is weird. Wen Qing’s not a fashionista, but he still loves her.”

Huaisang shrugs, not finding it quite so strange. “I mean, her sense of style is casual, but it’s not bad,” they point out, “She knows what looks good on her. But more importantly, she makes it look effortless. Jiang Cheng appreciates understated beauty. His aesthetic taste is real picky that way. He likes a woman to look beautiful, but he doesn’t want her to look like she spends too much time making herself beautiful. In other words, he wants a natural beauty.”

By the time Huaisang finishes their little spiel, Wei Wuxian is arching an eyebrow at them.

“Unfortunately, I can never be that,” Huaisang adds, with no small touch of sorrow seeping into their voice, “In order to keep up the illusion of androgyny, I need makeup and accessories. There’s no telling if Jiang Cheng will still find me attractive underneath the countour.”

“If he doesn’t, I’ll beat him up.”

Nie Huaisang snorts. “I appreciate the offer, but Jiang Cheng won’t be able to help how he feels. Like I said before, I’m just happy to get this chance in the first place.”

“That’s true, but still.” Wei Wuxian puts his wine glass on the coffee table, and adds, “I wouldn’t worry too much, Huaisang. I mean, I once saw Jiang Cheng kiss Wen Qing when her face was all splotchy and snotty from the flu. And I’ve also seen you without makeup. Trust me when I say that your naked face is far prettier than a feverish Wen Qing.”

The mental image of Jiang Cheng caring for a sick Wen Qing has Nie Huaisang smiling. He would have such a concerned face, which for Jiang Cheng means that he would be scowling like usual, with the addition of pain wrinkling the skin around his eyes.

“Oh man, you really do have it bad,” Wei Wuxian says with a whistle, “Look at you, swooning like a schoolgirl.”

Nie Huaisang lightly slaps Wuxian’s arm. “Yes, yes, I’m a lovesick fool,” they whine, digging into their thespian past to amp up the melodrama, “Haven’t you teased me enough, Xian-xiong?”

“No.” After years of friendship, Wei Wuxian is completely unaffected by Nie Huaisang’s little act. “I think it’s cute. Oh— have you ever tried to make Jiang Cheng angry on purpose? Just to see how he’ll react? Be honest.”

“Ah,” Huaisang says, “Maybe... I don’t remember.”

Wei Wuxian gives them a knowing look. “Uh-huh, sure you don’t,” he replies, tapping his nose, “I won’t blame you, if you did. Jiang Cheng can have some really funny reactions. But, of course, I prefer Lan Wangji’s reactions! It’s so hard to make him lose his temper, but when he does!” Wei Wuxian clasps both hands over his heart. “I honestly don’t know why I love it so much. Maybe I’m a sadist? Is there a word for wanting to see your crush angry all the time?”

Huaisang laughs, and immediately reaches for their phone to look it up. A cursory search doesn’t turn up much, however. “It’s probably some kind of BDSM thing,” they decide.

“Probably,” Wei Wuxian agrees, “I’ll keep that in mind for later.”

“Hmm,” Nie Huaisang says.

“Oh!” Wei Wuxian jolts forward. “Oh no, I just realized something.”

Fearing the worst, Nie Huaisang takes a deep inhale. Then, carefully, they ask, “And what is that?”

And sure enough, Wei Wuxian doesn’t disappoint. “You won’t be able to tell me about all your fun sexcapades,” he blurts out, “I mean, you could, but I don’t want to hear about my Didi’s sex life, so please don’t.”

Huaisang is caught somewhere between amusement and horror. “And why is that a problem?”

“Because I bet you’re a real freak,” Wei Wuxian puts it bluntly, “And don’t try to deny it. I’ve known you for a long time. I know you hide a devious mind underneath that timid exterior. I bet you’re even more of a freak than I am. But since I’m probably not going to get laid anytime within the next decade, I was hoping to live vicariously through you, whenever you finally began dating.”

“At least you’re honest,” Nie Huaisang says with a roll of their eyes. They carefully do not deny Wuxian’s claims.

“I guess we’ll just have to keep all date talk PG for now,” Wei Wuxian decides glumly. But, in the usual Wei Wuxian manner, he doesn’t stay down for long. He perks up and adds, “But I’m still going to tease you about having a crush on a real-life tsundere.”

“I know,” Huaisang sighs, “I know.”

#asks #anon #mo dao zu shi #mdzs modern au #anonymous #drabbles #leigh’s writing #sangcheng #wangxian

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killingmebtob · 6 years ago

Text

The Astronaut // Im Hyunsik

Author: @killingmebtob // Chi

Title: The Astronaut

Characters: Im Hyunsik and Reader

Author’s Note: From the prompt

"I knew everyone here. I’ve been Trick or Treat-ing here for many years and I know the neighborhood by heart, which also means I know exactly which houses give out the King Size chocolate bars."

Summary: You mustered your courage to attend a Halloween Party without any close friends to come to you. Soon you regretted it because of a fruit punch. Luckily, an astronaut came to the rescue.

My legs are like Jell-O. It’s either my legs don’t have bones or the floor is wibbling and wobbling underneath me. My cheeks feel hot and numb simultaneously, and my mouth is dry. A weird taste lingers at the back of my throat.

I keep on walking and the yellow rain coat that I am wearing makes so much noise as I squeeze myself between people dancing and jumping around me in this crowded room.

All of them doesn’t mind my noisy costume thanks to the loud music blasting from every direction.

The air is wafting with cigarette smoke, mixed perfumes, and alcohol smell. I am getting stuffy and the rain coat is making things worse.

I need to get out.

There. There’s the door. Just straight ahead.

Holding my umbrella above me, I squeeze my way out.

I walk and pull myself out of the crowd until I reach the door to open it.

Cold night breeze welcomes me and I feel like I can breathe again. Like I just recovered from a bad case of flu after suffering it for many days.

I remove my rain boots and walked down the porch to the front lawn. As soon as my feet touch the the dewy grass I feel so much better.

Why did I choose this costume? I should’ve anticipated that since this is a Halloween Party, there will be people. Lots of them, actually.

I don’t even remember whose house this belongs to. I was just told at school that there will be a party and so I joined. I thought that maybe it will be an opportunity for me to get to know the people and make new friends. It’s been over a month since I moved in this town with my family and I still eat lunch alone. Most high school students my age would be hanging out with friends during weekends. I just want to be like that too. I wasn’t one back in my old town and so now wanted my life here to be different.

I knew it! There must be something in that fruit punch that they gave me earlier. I can’t remember how many cups of it I’ve gulped down. It tasted like normal fruit punch but much tastier. And before I knew it, I felt light headed but good and I can’t wipe the goofy smile on my face.

I’m so tired. I just want to rest and the lawn looks so inviting.

I lie down and let the moist from the grass dampen the back of my limbs and my hair.

Clutching my umbrella with the chunky stuffed cats and dogs glued to it, I look up to the clear night sky.

The stars are pretty, twinkling like little diamonds.

I snort a laugh as the tune of Twinkle, twinkle little star plays in my head.

The sky starts spinning before my eyes and I feel like throwing up. Maybe I can close my eyes for a bit and hope that the feeling will go away.

As soon as I did, I took steady, calm breaths.

“Please tell me you aren’t dead,” someone says beside me.

I force my eyes open to find a bulky man crouching as he looks down at me.

No, he’s not bulky. His costume is bulky. A silver-ish bulky costume.

I squint my eye to get a closer look at him.

Oh! It’s him. It’s the guy from my Science class. The cute guy who quietly sat at the back of the room.

“You think I’m cute?” he asks.

Oh wow! He could read my mind?

“No. You’re speaking out loud.”

“I am?!” Shoot. Looks like I really am.

“Are you okay? Do you need some kind of help?”

“Yeah, I-I’m okay.” I quickly sit up and instantly regret it because I feel like I am about to puke my guts out.

He chuckles. “Had too much to drink, huh? Here, eat this.” He hands me a ghost shaped peppermint.

As I reluctantly take the candy from him and eat it, I realize what his costume is. He’s an astronaut. His helmet is beside him.

“Thanks,” I say, already feeling less nauseous.

And then, he smiles. The warmest and friendliest smile that I’ve gotten since I moved here. His already small eyes reduced to nothing but two slits the moment he smiled. He reminds me so much of the sun.

“Hyunsik,” he say.

“Huh? What?”

“Hyunsik is the name of the cute guy in Science class.”

I feel my cheeks burn. Damn! Now that the cool mint is spreading inside my mouth I can feel the light-headedness subside and it is dawning on me how humiliating it is that I called him cute. What the hell was I thinking?

“What is your costume supposed to be?” he asks.

I can see his brow furrow in puzzlement as he looks at my rain coat and the umbrella with stuff toys. I know that he is trying to make sense of what it is--- everyone I met tonight had the same expression on their face.

“It’s uhm…” How can I explain this?! “It’s…” I open the umbrella and hold it above my head. “It’s Raining Cats and Dogs,” I say--- a little too enthusiastically, I just realized.

His face is unreadable and I just want to disappear in thin air.

I am about to run away like a mad woman when he suddenly starts laughing.

“That’s cute and witty,” he say.

I feel my heart thumping. He thinks it’s cute!

“You’re new here, right?”

I nod my head. I don’t know what’s happening but the words just left me. I’m distracted by his beautiful face.

“Want to go Trick or Treat-ing?”

“Uhm.. I-I think I’m too old for that.”

“No one’s too old for candies. Come on,” he stands up and offers his hand to me. “Let’s walk around till you sober up and go Trick or Treat-ing as well.

I hesitate. “Wouldn’t they find it funny that we are doing that?”

“Nah. I grew up here. I knew everyone here. I’ve been Trick or Treat-ing here for many years and I know the neighborhood by heart, which also means I know exactly which houses give out the King Size chocolate bars.”

What could go wrong? I would choose this than go back in there with those people.

“Ok.”

I take his hand and let him lead me down the street.

Hyunsik, is the first friend I made in this town.

#btob imagines #hyunsik imagine #btob #im hyunsik #hyunsik #btob scenarios #hyunsik scenarios #btob hyunsik scenarios #btob hyunsik imagines #hyunsik imagines #hyunsik scenario #born to beat

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renee-writer · 5 years ago

Text

A Piece of My Heart Chapter 28 A Year

“Do you know what day it is?”

“Hmm, Wednesday right?” She sits in her kitchen feeding bananas and Cheerios to Reilly. He had turned a year old six weeks before and is a very good eater.

“Yes,” a patient Julian replies,” but besides that?”

“I don't know.” She turns from watching Reilly gobble up his breakfast. “Sorry.”

He is shaking his head. “Ironic as men are supposed to be the ones that forget. A year ago, you moved in and ran into Reilly and I.”

“Oh, the anniversary of our first meeting. I didn’t even.. Wow. I am surprised you recalled.”

“It was a life changing day, how could I do less.”

“It was. I am sorry. Life is just so..” Since recovering from her bout with the flu, she has returned to school full time. She is just months away from getting her degree. Between that and her growing relationship with Julian and being a mommy to Reilly, life was a bit insane.

“I get it. Don't feel guilty. It just seems the perfect time to ask you this,” He drops down on one knee and her hand goes to her mouth, her eyes widen in shock. “I decided the day you came home from the hospital, that I wished to make you my wife. Well, I knew before but that settled it in my mind. You needed more time, I knew that too. A year seemed a good goal. I love you Beth. I never thought I could again. But you are a home for Reilly and I. A place of security and safety. I love you. Reilly loves you. Will you marry me. Be his official mommy and my wife.” He pulls out a gorgeous pink diamond ring.

“Oh, I love you and Reilly. You are my world. But are you sure Julian? You know the risks. We could have only four to nine years together.”

“I know. But Beth, every day with you is a gift. Whether it is one day or fifty years, I can't imagine not having them with you.”

“Oh yes. Yes I will.” He slips the ring on as they both cry. Reilly squeals from his high chair. He is tired of being ignored. They laugh through their tears.

“Reilly, Beth is going to be your mommy.” He replies with a laugh and by throwing the empty bowl on the floor. They all three laugh.

#my writing #my oc's #a piece of my heart #a year

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thedevillord-writes · 6 years ago

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Pandora - Value

"A value is valuable when the value of value is valuable to oneself"

-Dayananda Saraswati

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The vibrating of his phone woke him up. At some point, Eisuke fell asleep waiting for Haruka to wake up while holding her hand. He straightened himself and loosened the hand holding Haruka's to reach into the inner pocket of his suit. By the time he got the phone out, the call ended. As he turned the phone on, the screen lit up to show messages from several people and many missed calls from Yumi. As the phone started buzzing again, Eisuke let out a sigh of frustration. He specifically told her to cancel all his appointments for the rest of the day, what could she be calling about?

He looked to Haruka who was still sleeping, taking the towel off her forehead and pressed the back of his hand against it. Although warm, it was significantly cooler than when he first arrived. He leaned forward and planted a kiss on her forehead before pressing the answer button.

"You better have a good reason for calling. And by good, I mean life or death."

"Why are you speaking so softly?"

Not wanting to disturb Haruka, Eisuke whispered into his phone. As if mocking him, Yumi was whispering into the phone on the other end. There were times when Eisuke questioned Haruka's decision on her replacement. Looking over his shoulder, Eisuke let out a sigh and closed his eyes. If he was patient enough to deal with Yumi for the next six months, he would get Haruka back. It did not seem like a bad deal, six months for Haruka.

"Why are you calling?" Eisuke asked, moving further away from Haruka's bed. He was speaking normally, though his volume was still hushed.

"I know you said to cancel everything, and I did. But there's someone here to see you, a Miss Inoue Junko. She refused to leave, saying that she would wait here until you come back."

"I'll be back in half an hour. Get her a cup of tea, Darjeeling."

Ending the call on Yumi, Eisuke walked over to the bed again. If it were up to him, Eisuke would stay here with Haruka for the rest of the night. If she was awake however, Haruka would be telling him to go. One of the reasons why he kept her around was because she always knew the right decision at the right time. It was one of her superpowers. Many times, she saved him from having to make the decision of which client to give up when there was a clash of time. All those times, her decision managed to keep both clients.

Against every fibre of his body, Eisuke decided to leave.

~.~

By the time she woke again, it was dark outside.

Turning her head sluggishly, Haruka let out a groan as she glanced to the clock on the wall. Despite the shock of knowing she slept most of the day, she had no energy to deal with the shock. She rolled onto her side and the towel on her forehead fell on her pillow. With a frown, she managed to push herself into a sitting position and picked up the towel. While her memory was a little fuzzy, she clearly remembered she used a fever patch instead because it was the last one and she had to go out for more. As she was recalling her day before her blackout, Yosuke's visit came to mind. Was he the one who took care of her?

At the thought of Yosuke nursing her, Haruka could not help the chuckle. The Yosuke she knew was not the type to take care of others. Or at the very least, he was not fit to take care of others. That childish personality of his would only make matters worse for his patient.

Dismissing the idea, Haruka got out of bed and stretched out her limbs and back. After eight healthy years, she had forgotten what it was like to be ill. This feeling of lethargy and disorientation was not something she missed at all. Dragging herself to the kitchen, she was pouring a glass of water when she noticed a thermos with a sticky note on it. She plucked the note from the thermos, tilting her head slightly as she read it. It seemed she was wrong about Yosuke, and the note was proof.

World's Greatest Secretary,

I know you're amazing at taking care of others but sometimes, you just have to take care of yourself.

This is chicken soup. Don't worry, I didn't make it. I just went downstairs to the convenience store and microwaved a can, ha! Anyway, when you wake, eat the soup and take your medicine.

Get well soon! I can't lose my best girl ;)

Your best guy,

Sagara Yosuke

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"Well, well, well. If it isn't the world's busiest secretary."

"It's nice to see you too, Naoko."

"Come here!"

It took her a good week to fully recover from her flu; just in time for her to meet with an old friend. Naoko was a good friend of hers in high school. They were in the same class every year and were sat right next to each other. Naturally, they became close friends. Every lunch time, Naoko would sit at her desk and they would share their bento. After school, Naoko would drag her to the nearby snack shop to buy the newest sweets for her sisters. Naoko was the one who found a job for her when she desperately needed one. They kept in touch after graduation but ever since Haruka started working for Eisuke, she had no time for her friend.

As Naoko pulled her into a hug, Haruka let out a big smile and gladly returned the hug. Seeing her friend was feeling nostalgic yet at the same time, refreshing. Naoko definitely changed a lot since her school days. The cute schoolgirl with a side ponytail was no longer but instead, a woman wearing an off-shoulder blouse and long jeans with long wavy hair dyed golden brown sat opposite her. The bubbly girl was now a charming woman who was already catching the eye of several guys in the café.

"So, how did you manage to convince your boss to let you out?"

"I didn't, because I don't need his permission to be here. I took a leave."

"Just to spend time with me? Oh wow, I am so honoured."

Despite not meeting for years, the two friends hit it off almost immediately. They started by catching up for the past few years then, it was mostly reminiscing their school days together. They were giggling and whispering as if they were two teenage girls once again. This was the type of interaction Haruka missed, where she could just be herself and talk about things that someone else could relate to. Where she did not have to run around, putting out fires (figuratively and literally twice), and dealing with unreasonable individuals.

She missed being able to just sit in a café with a cup of tea and a slice of cake, not with a tablet in her hand while her phone was ringing off the hook because there were more fires for her to put out. She always knew that because of her job, she missed out on a lot in life. She was not there when Haruna's dance club won the championship. She was not there when Haruko was giving her valedictorian speech at her middle school graduation. Listening to Naoko now, she was coming to realise that she missed out on a lot more than she originally thought.

Over the eight years, there had been countless class reunions and school reunions, all of which she never attended. Several of their classmates got married, some to each other. Most of them were parents too. Naoko and Haruka seemed to be one of the few focused on their career instead.

All of a sudden, in the middle of their conversation, Naoko leaned in and grabbed Haruka's hand. The look on her face was the same one back in high school whenever she would get excited, especially when it came to Haruka's love life. Though she only found out after graduation, it seemed like Naoko had a little bet going on with most of their friends to see who Haruka would go out with in the end. She had the exact same look back then as she did now when she found out Haruka went on a date with the basketball captain.

"Don't turn around, but there is a super hot guy staring at you."

"A super hot guy? Really? We're not in high school anymore, Naoko, stop playing around."

"Oh my...! He's coming over! He's coming over!"

In her excitement, Naoko was hitting Haruka's upper arm over and over. Grabbing Naoko's hand to stop her, Haruka looked over her shoulder out of curiosity. The result, however, was more than disappointing. When she felt overworked and needed time to herself, she could take leave from work and be away from Eisuke and the other guys. But when she felt irritated and wanted to get rid of him, he was like a stubborn rash that kept coming back.

Beaming from ear to ear, Yosuke took a seat next to Haruka before looking to Naoko. "Nice to meet you, I'm Sagara Yosuke. You must be Ayasegawa Naoko." Unable to resist his charms, Naoko shook his hand with a smile to match his. "You're as pretty as Haruka said you are," he continued.

"Really? Haruka told you about me?" Naoko asked, turning to her friend. "But you never told me about your super hot boyfriend."

"He is not my boyfriend," Haruka denied. "And he is not super hot. He is a super creepy stalker."

"If I have a stalker as hot as you, I wouldn't mind being stalked."

"And I would love to stalk a woman as pretty as you."

Stuck in between the two, Haruka could not help but feel awkward. Weird was an understatement to describe the exchange between the two. She always knew Naoko was eccentric in her own ways. She would use to come up with dramatic scenarios that were good enough to be written as a romantic drama or a film. She also knew that Yosuke was no simple man. He was complicated in many ways, ridiculous and dramatic in many more. When put together, their eccentricity seemed to have amplified and Haruka just did not have the energy to deal with them.

Rolling her eyes at their conversation, Haruka interrupted by flicking at Yosuke's forehead. While she was used to his random appearances, it did not mean they were any less irritating. He was an omen; nothing good ever came out of his visits.

"First of all, creepy," Haruka said, circling the air between Naoko and Yosuke. "Secondly, I'm trying to spend some time with my friend and you are interrupting. And last but not least, please don't be friends with him. He's really just a creepy guy who has a lot of time on his hands."

"First of all, ouch. Secondly, ouch again," Yosuke grinned. "Last but not least, aren't you supposed to be nice? It's your job, isn't it?"

"I'm on leave, I'm allowed to not be nice."

Now it was Naoko's turn to feel awkward between the two. Since meeting Haruka for the very first time by the gates of their school, she had been known to be a nice person. There was a point where Naoko thought Haruka was simply acting nice for others to like her but she was proven wrong almost immediately. Even in their yearbook, Haruka was voted the kindest. Seeing the way she was acting with Yosuke now, however, she could not help but think there was some kind of connection between them that no one else could understand. Yosuke was bringing out a side of Haruka that even she herself did not know about, most likely.

It was a good thing though. Being her friend for years, Naoko knew Haruka's story. She would never let it show but Naoko knew she always hid her feelings away so others would not worry about. It was a blessing and a curse at the same time. Even after her mother's death, Haruka forced herself to put on a smile every day so everyone at school did not have to worry but Naoko knew she would cry alone in the bathroom stall. Somehow, Yosuke's presence allowed a path for Haruka's feelings to come out without even knowing herself.

"Anyway," Yosuke smiled, turning to face Naoko. The way he looked her in the eye was making her feeling shy. "I'd like to ask to borrow Haruka for the rest of the day, if that's okay. I hate to ruin your plans but there is somewhere important I need to go and Haruka needs to be there."

"You are more than welcomed to take her," Naoko smiled. "Have lots of fun, you two. Haruka needs it."

"Naoko!"

"Bye!"

Begrudgingly, Haruka went with Yosuke. She really did not have a choice because Naoko was adamant about her going with the 'super hottie'. As she got into Yosuke's car, she could not bring herself to be mad at him. She was reminded of when she was ill a week ago and Yosuke was the one who took care of her. Despite every fibre in her body yelling at her to scream at him, she could not bring herself to. She owed him a favour.

They did not speak for the entire car ride; just because she could not be mad at him did not mean that he could not be on the receiving end of a silent treatment. Arriving at a hotel, Yosuke stopped the car just outside the entrance where a valet came running down the steps and greeted Yosuke as he got out of the car. He got something out of the trunk before handing the key over and knocked on the window on her side, beckoning for her to follow. As she got out of the car, she was handed a dress bag and was directed to a bathroom upon entering the hotel.

The scenario was reminding her of Eisuke, how he would used to just bring her a dress without much explanation. And just like Eisuke, it seemed like Yosuke had an eye for dresses for her. She rarely wore purple but the dress Yosuke chose for her was pastel lavender in colour. It hugged her curves perfectly yet did not feel restricting at all. Instead of her cleavage, the dress revealed her back instead. He was considerate enough to have prepared the appropriate bra too.

"You do realise that I took a break from work to get away from all these, don't you?" Haruka asked, her arm hooked onto Yosuke's as they entered the venue together.

"But you are here as my date today," Yosuke corrected. "Just enjoy yourself."

"I highly doubt I would."

~.~

Setting down his wine glass on a random table, Eisuke let out a sigh. Such events were ones that he hated the most. Socialising was a big part of the event but it was the one thing that he despised doing. The handshaking, the smiling, and the joking as if they were old friends. It all felt as if he was kissing up to them, and Ichinomiya Eisuke did not need to kiss up to anyone. Except, he had to. A good handful of the people present were those he dealt business with. Another handful was potential clients that he had his eyes on. He had to butter them up, and be buttered up.

Just as he was about to call for Yumi, a couple entering the venue caught his eyes.

He would recognise her anywhere. That long hair of hers that did not need any professional setting yet still bounced with every step she took. The natural aura she emitted that would turn every head the second she stepped into a room. Without a doubt, it was Haruka. What was she doing here? More importantly, what was she doing here with him?

Subconsciously, his feet moved in their direction but someone caught his elbow before he even took two steps. Irritation settled on his face as he turned to see who it was. Right away, Eisuke swapped the frown for a smile. Standing before him was a tall woman, her hair curled and swept to one side neatly. Her dress was a little too tight but it did the perfect job of showing off her cleavage, which every man in their immediate vicinity was appreciating.

"Isn’t it rude to be abandoning your date, Eisuke?"

"You were in the middle of a conversation, seemed rude to disturb you, Miss Inoue."

"I've told you many times to just call me Junko."

Inoue Junko was a model. She started her career at fifteen, modelling for clothes brand but soon moved on to fashion magazines. Her first fashion show was at seventeen where she was the featured model. She starred in so many advertisements that she was known as the Ad Queen. It was almost impossible for her not be to known by anyone in Japan. Eisuke, on the other hand, knew her father better.

"If you’ll excuse me for a moment, Junko."

"Wait a minute." Grabbing Eisuke by the elbow once more, Junko followed his line of sight before letting out a smirk. "Ah, the legendary secretary. I was starting to wonder where she was. Running off to rescue her from all the creepy men?"

"Something like that."

"Before I let you go, let me ask you one thing Eisuke." Junko let go of his elbow though she stood in front of him, blocking his way. "Every other man seemed to be captivated by her. Now I understand, that as men, they tend to think with only one thing. No doubt that secretary of yours has a pretty face, I was charmed by her once too. But the Ichinomiya Eisuke that I know, is not like other men. He doesn't get captivated by a woman simply because she's beautiful and he didn't use his brain. So tell me, what's her value?"

"Her value?"

"Her value. Everyone has a value. To me, that man over there has no value because he wouldn't bring anything to my career, or my future. That man, however, is a director. Now he's valuable. So what's her value? What can she bring to your life?" Junko asked. "Let me answer that for you: nothing. A commoner like her, the answer is always nothing. She can fool others with the expensive dresses, the shoes. She can fool you with her elegance, and willingness to do anything for you. But let's face it, when it comes down to it, she's nothing."

"And what value do you stand at, Junko?"

He was mad.

He was mad, but he could not let it show. It would do him no good to lose his temper here, especially not with Junko and especially, not because of Haruka. A place as public as this, Eisuke was at a disadvantage and Junko knew it. That was why she chose to agitate him here.

"I can't be certain what value I'm worth to you, but I can tell you for sure that I'm far more valuable than she is. Don't forget how you got that casino hotel of yours. Don't forget who my father is. And I'll let you know, anything that everything that I want, I get."

#pdr ch12 #kissed by the baddest bidder #kbtbb #kings of paradise #kop #eisuke ichinomiya #yosuke sagara #voltage inc #finally it's out

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fortheheavenssake · 6 years ago

Text

PG MM Anon Interpretation Collection - 20

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻PG INTERPRETATION OF MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

129: Nov 30

MM ANON ……… “Darling’ please pass the Wrinkle cream” ………”she’s on this blog I read”💜……… “ we’ve been invited to the Boxing Day shoot” …… WoW ‘ that’s a beautiful photo Kate …… “he’s to young ‘ good grief William!!”…… ‘This cobra has no fangs ……… “The service, maybe bring C&G.” ……… “ The spring diary ma’am’ was thinking they could do The America’s and Canada” ……… “ the Children too”…… “what say you Philip?” …… “indubitable , old thing” …… “ Settled!!”……” Sidney’ more refreshments”

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON, SERIOUSLY THANK YOU😁🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

November 30/2019 Riddle #128

1325 hrs CST

“Darling’ please pass the Wrinkle cream” “she’s on this blog I read”💜

I AM SQUEALING WITH EXCITEMENT OMG!! Catherine is doing her skin care, which every woman of beauty, style and substance MUST DO REPEATEDLY, “” Don’t cha know!” (sorry MM ANON l had to pilfer those last three words from a riddle few days back because they are so unbelievably exciting and significant!). She asks William to hand her the wrinkle cream. William looks dumbfounded because there are about 35 jars on the counter, wondering which one she wants and asks, Catherine why do you have all these? She replies, the woman recommending the creams is on the blog she reads! PURPLE HEART!!💜💜💜💜💜 KIDS I HAVE MADE IT, I AM A CLUE IN AN MM ANON RIDDLE WHICH MEANS CATHERINE AND THE GANG READ THIS BLOG AND READ OUR CONTRIBUTIONS! From the 💜 lady on the blog you read, Catherine, whatever you’re doing, it’s working, but if you ever do want to talk skin wrinkle cream, you know where to find me💜💜💜💜😁😁😁😁

“ we’ve been invited to the Boxing Day shoot”

Lots of us have surmised for quite sometime now that Harry has a lovely partner, and a few of us are dead certain on who it is. He completed his tour of duty at the culmination of the SA trip and RS services. She is now fully out of his life, the public just doesn’t know yet. I am certain an annulment will occur. Anyhow it sounds like they have been invited for Boxing Day. She will be perfect and everyone has always wanted Harry happy, after all he and the family has been through, 2020, at least for him will bring a brand new start!

WoW ‘ that’s a beautiful photo Kate”

I can hardly wait for the Christmas photos, Catherine is such a phenomenal photographer, and as l said the other day, she snaps her children through the loving eyes of a mother. Someone is complementing her one of her photographs. It’s not William because he calls her Catherine. I think those in the field have really taken note of yet another skill she has. Sounding like a public exhibition of her photographic works is in the works!

“he’s to young ‘ good grief William!!”

Back to the shooting day on Boxing Day, Catherine is aghast that William even entertains the idea of him coming along. He’s a big boy, but not that big, yet! The way time flies, time will be here soon enough. Might this be the time for me to once again place ,y request for #4.☺️☺️💜

‘This cobra has no fangs

Madam, wherever on this planet she is, has been defanged. Whatever she held is being held no more. She is in a world/whirled of trouble, just the IRS back taxes alone! Plus any other alleged charges, l won’t go into because we are all singing from the same hymn sheet you know the words!🤣🤣😂😂

“The service, maybe bring C&G.”

YES PLEASE! I would LOVE to see them do the morning walk to and from church with all the other family members! THAT would most certainly be a Christmas gift for me!!!

“ The spring diary ma’am’ was thinking they could do The America’s and Canada” “ the Children too””what say you Philip?” “indubitable , old thing” “ Settled!!””Sidney’ more refreshments”

Saturday afternoon, morning of riding and now just having tea ☕️, refreshments and a good talk. The next few days will bring some major events, The NATO greeting and the banquet on December 3/2019, that has all been fully organized, arranged, menu, seating plan etc etc. LG speaking regarding the official Diary for 2020. Oh MM ANON , this riddle just keeps on giving and giving, it’s like Christmas morning! Sounds like an official Royal tour of America, and Canada with the entire Cambridge family!! If l were a 🐕 dog, my tail would be wagging so fast right now!!! This is very very exciting!!! HMTQ asks PP his opinion, and he very much concurs, then that’s that , it’s settled!! Cord pulled, and as usual he is there almost simultaneously,Sidney, a Boddingtons for himself and a Gin and DuBonnet for HMTQ!! Are you guys getting tired of my scenes of HMTQ, PP, the cord pulling and drinks??Or is it enjoyed? Because l LOVE it, they’re human!!

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦. 1410 hrs CST

After the horror of yesterday, thank you MM ANON for a fun riddle. I enjoy them all, but this might just be my favourite, for OBVIOUS REASONS☺️😁😁

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻PG🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

Thank you dear PG! What a delight….such fun! And look at you! Known for your wrinkle cream! This was great! We love your stories….😊💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Ask Skippy

————////

130: Dec 2

MM ANON ……… the king in waiting ……… “Mmmmm , not many diversions left”……… in need of some TLC. ……… financial scrutiny ……… financial mutiny !!! ………… “ Don’t piss down my back and tell me it’s raining!!!!!!”………… “Catherine ‘ it’s HM” ……… “ Catherine, I want your discretion”………… “ it would be my privilege ma’am”……… “ That’s a tough one, old thing” ……… “she can do it!! “…… “makes you proud old thing, he looks the part” ……… “backseat ,a Philip?” ………… “ dot The Is…………”

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

December 2/2019 0045 hrs CST RIDDLE #128

the king in waiting

This phrase has been used in regards to the Prince of Wales, for decades now. Since PP stepped down from official duties, HMTQ has been steadily handing over various patronages , to PC, The Duchess of Cornwall, William and Catherine, Harry, gosh even madam got the British Theatre patronage! Lots were delighted about that, NOT! Yet that one was part of the prolonged game of charades the Royal family has been forced to play, even though it’s a game they live, certainly not this variation of the game! PC has been successfully voted in as Head of the Commonwealth, that role does not automatically be bestowed on him. PC will continue to take on more and more responsibilities. In that, we shall observe some of that during the NATO visit, as well as decision making regarding several impending crises situations, which in all likelihood are made and done, we just have not been officially informed of as yet!

“Mmmmm , not many diversions left”

Madam has hardly been a peep heard from, her PR used to have 10-15 articles a day in the DM alone, it’s almost like she is contained somewhere? She used the rare old uncle cards a week or so back. She does not have a whole lot more to pull out of that giant rabbits hat/fedora she often wore! The will she won’t she et al about going to America thanksgiving game is over. The IRS is waiting!

in need of some TLC.

TLC, is a tv channel here with oddest shows, pimple popping doctors, married fiancés overseas, guy with five wives etc. We don’t need ,THAT, TLC. TLC is what nurses excel at, good ones anyhow, Tender Loving Care. Whose in need of that? PP is recovering from flu/cold? However he doesn’t strike me as a man that would like to be fussed and clucked around! HMTQ is strong as they come. I wonder if this is our Harry. Adjusting to life without madam, l wonder when and how this will all be made official? I know the surrogate baby is not Harry’s and l have no doubt the child is being lovingly anonymously looked after. Harry, whom,l think l was correct about him being on the bridge the other day, would have had his first active duty incident. He may need not described as TLC but rather debriefing as would the entire team. This is always done after a major incident, first to review protocol, was it carried out, do any changes need done. Then it’s the emotional debriefing, THATS THE ESSENTIAL part of keep a critical response team functional, make sure to debrief the emotions! I imagine , the debriefings, the formal ones are done, 72hours is the golden time window. I have led and been involved with quite a few debriefings, the mental health end of it. Often team members are assigned a mentor especially if they are new to the unit! Great work Harry! I have never ever given up on you, nor will l ever!! Notice they all wore balaclavas, for security! It’s what we wear here in winter to not have our face freeze off, if cross country skiing, snowmobiling etc etc.

financial scrutiny ……… financial mutiny !!!

This is what is keeping madam in the UK! I cannot even fathom how much money she owes her government since she last filed taxes, has she been honest in all her previous tax filings? Seriously? You think she has? The amount of money made in a zillion ways over her lifetime, and what has all transpired since she entered the orbit of the BRF , we are talking millions and millions! I am quite certain, given the fact Americans are still due to pay taxes even if a non resident and given her status and the wealth she married into, l have no doubt the IRS is auditing her, hence the word scrutiny. Mutiny , that a seafarers word for disobeying the captain and the crew takes over, is also a criminal conspiracy among a group of people to openly oppose, change, or overthrow a lawful authority to which they are subject. Now does this sound like a group of individuals we might know? Madam, MA, JM, etc, the families,in America, Mexico, all allegedly working in tandem.

“ Don’t piss down my back and tell me it’s raining!!!!!!”

I love this phrase, my uncle used to say this, the horse rancher, whose son now runs it. In other words, Pissing on, means doing something bad to someone. Don’t piss on my boots and tell me its raining is a response to someone dressing up a bad situation — usually for their own benefit — by telling them to knock it off and stop lying. In other words madam has been doing this her entire life and using the raining excuse to explain her way out of everything! Well LG is having none of that, no more using that as an excuse or exit strategy. The game is over, in fact it never was a game to those she was pi**ing all over!

“Catherine ‘ it’s HM” “ Catherine, I want your discretion”“ it would be my privilege ma’am”

HMTQ rings Catherine, rather than a visit. I would assume, like , in movies, especially High Society with Grace Kelly and Bing Crosby, huge mansions/palaces, their phones have no dials, just labelled whose line it is, how old am I?🤣🤣🤣😂😂. But l am quite certain HMTQ would use a landline phone, because l do😁😁😁. After squidgygate, and other similar ghastly phone calls that were recorded, and then made public, plus intelligence and needs for security in today’s world, l have no doubt that everything is encrypted, and they likely have blocking technology so none of those fancy devices you can, it’s like a clear plastic umbrella, it gathers sound from a distance and you can listen in, you need a jamming device to block the signal, muddying it, if you like. I am sure technology is way way way advanced of that already.

William is away, is she asking her to sit with Harry at the NATO banquet and used discretion when others ask where madam is? I hardly think that would require a big private ask. I wonder if she is needed to witness and sign some legal papers referencing divorce or annulment. Giving her statement or witness to some madam has said or done.

Does this have something to do with the Marchioness of Cholmondeley????????

“ That’s a tough one, old thing” ……… “she can do it!! “…… “makes you proud old thing, he looks the part” ……… “backseat ,a Philip?”

HMTQ and PP, spending time near the great hearth, so warm , cozy, absolutely nothing like the feel of, sight of, smell if and sound of a crackling wood fire. Weather has a definite chill, time for wooden sweaters, and warm family time. Himself , a Boddingtons, 🍺,HMTQ gin and DuBonnet 🍸 . Discussing the next few days and what has happened in the last few. Pondering the decision HMTQ to call Catherine, tough decision, tough thing to ask. PP is reassuring HMTQ that Catherine is very capable, can be trusted and relied upon in any and all circumstances.

More changes in the offing so they can spend more time together. Makes them proud, PC has done, and with increased responsibility he very much looks the part of a King in waiting. If HMTQ does decide to make PC Regent, this conversation would be very much the same, trust and he looks every bit the Regent! Last abbreviated line, HMTQ says is rhetorical, meaning not expecting an answer but rather stating her intent, she is going to be taking a backseat for Charles to be Regent!

“ dot The Is…………”

Is it annulment as l hope? Or divorce? When one says, ESPECIALLY in legal matters, dot the letter i and cross the t, it means make sure everything is done 109% correctly, no way anyone can back out, Sue or twist it. So we shall very soon be hearing a press release of either an annulment or a divorce final between Harry and madam!!

0205 hrs CST. GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦 🥂 🍾

Thank you dear PG! Fascinating read….much seems to be going on…..much appreciated!😊💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Ask Skippy

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131: Dec 2

MM ANON … “when we are born, we cry , that we are come”…… “your RH. that’s why you didn’t go” ……… “Four” ……… ahhhhhrrr , I hate mornings!! ……… “give a dog a bone …” ………… “ yes , we’re all watching it! It’s very addictive “ ……… “ How the f***did they know that!!!”………… “ I told them Philip!!” ……… “bloody snoops” …… At the last count sir , all was Ticketyboo.

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

December 2/2019 Riddle #129

1700 hrs CST

“when we are born, we cry , that we are come”.

“

Dear MM ANON returneth us to the bard, William Shakespeare’s King Lear.

Babies do not automatically cry at birth, some do, but some need a slap on the bum, holding upside down rubbing on chest to loosen any fluids that may have been aspirated(inhaled) during the traumatic birth process. It’s a physical trauma for mum to be sure but also babe. Going from, dark, warm, safe environment of dark, echoey sounds, to bright theatre lights, many staff, beeping of machines, it’s parents noise of joy, and than itself own crying noises.

The entire play, uses one similar stance as (Macbeth, Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage

And then is heard no more: it is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing. )

Lear is full of cons and duplicity.

This whole life and the world madam moved in , nonstop using people to climb up the ladder, obtaining information and using that and on and on. This will be very shortly end and l truly believe Christmas will be enjoyed! BY ALL!!! Those who serve their dark master do not truly celebrate Christmas anyways!

“your RH. that’s why you didn’t go”

I think this is Catherine explaining to someone why she didn’t attend the TUSK Awards, for “childcare reasons “, was what we were told. l think, in light of the above news, it was childcare, just feeling unwell, and taking cate of her baby bump. Now l hope MM ANON you haven’t teased us or l over reading into the clues! If in fact, Catherine is expecting, this , if all her children would be her ‘easiest first trimester’ because previously her hyperemesis gravidarum, has required hospitalization and then that care at home for subsequent pregnancies. This would be marvellous news anytime but ESPECIALLY NOW!!! I can just the smile across the persons she is speaking with face, as they realize oh THATS why you didn’t attend!!

“Four” ahhhhhrrr , I hate mornings!!

William is awoken by a sound, one he knows all too well. He looks at the clock and makes the comments groaning. He gets up to go tend to Catherine in the bathroom. They look at one another, smiling! BABY NUMBER FOUR IS ON HER WAY!! Thank you ever so much for granting my repeated requests and congratulations!💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻PG🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

OR OR OR OR OR OR IR BOTH😁😁😁😁😁

Harry continues his training, and duty, early morning, VERY early mornings are part and parcel of that.

“give a dog a bone …”

When you give a dog a bone, you not only give him a treat but something to tease him with, and dogs love that so much! The media has been giving us bits of flesh but no major bone, YET! It’s coming! I wonder what tomorrow’s headlines will read after the Panorama tonight. I wonder the next day after the NATO reception/dinner. There is so much neat, on the bone that is ‘madam%’, her lost years, her connections, behaviours you could cater 100 Royal receptions and still have plenty!!

“ yes , we’re all watching it! It’s very addictive “ ……… “ How the f***did they know that!!!”………… “ I told them Philip!!” ……… “bloody snoops” Royal family discussion night and blog reading time. They get on the topic of the Netflix show, The Crown. It sounds like they are enjoying it and find it addictive even, that’s high praise, l hope Netflix producers read Skippy blog!! PP is wondering how they knew something and HMTQ states unequivocally that she told them! Is she the unwritten/uncredited official Consultant? PP chimes in again, calling the press and it’s investigators bloody snoops.This is a good fun, conversation, not the invasive, boundaries crossed angry time.

At the last count sir , all was Ticketyboo.

LG receiving reports for tomorrow’s NATO events, dinner/reception. Ticket boo, means everything is perfect, just as it was planned to be, no anticipated issue! The capitalization of Ticketyboo, means Ticket, an actual invitation , likely numb and signed with allow entrance to the event. There will be zero gate crashes, if for some reason madam or anyone might try!

1750 hrs CST GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Thank you dear PG….sounds like so much news coming! Can’t wait….I hardly doubt NetFlix is reading here though….I love your stories! Much appreciated….😊💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Ask Skippy

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132: Dec 3

MM ANON … email shemail ……this hole is getting deeper …… Christmas service treat🦄🦎…… “keep hold!! he’s a runner”…… a welcoming absence …… “ you can leave your scarf at home darling”…… “ Chaz & Don”…… Megan come Beggin…… “hope she stays for New Years”……Emmanuel & Don🎭]……… NATO,HATE-O…… “Philip, You’ll miss the banquet!!” ……… “bloody good!!”………” it’s your night old thing”………” Mmm , Catherine’s Tiara?” ………” Emeralds, would do the trick”……… “Sydney’ strong refreshments!!”…… “the Crown old thing?”

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

December 3/2019 Riddle #130

1110 hrs CST

email shemail

Email has been made public between from PA toGM, with the topic being VRG, asking questions. It kind of confuses him saying he never met her nor knew her, however he may have heard her name. If l am correct the email was sent January 3/2015. 0550 hrs so that’s early, sense of urgency? Or just a disciplined military man who rises early?

this hole is getting deeper

There is a focused multifaceted attack on the BRF! The more information, rather PR/media and interviews come out, instead of letting the legal system address any issues is further poisoning the water! Again, NOT DEFENDING ANYONE, but of all the high placed men WHY IS PA BEING BURNED AT THE STAKE? With high powered wealthy men, why is she so unafraid for her family?? Photos put buying beer and cigs? Who or whom are/is paying from this continued assault on the Monrachy!!??

Christmas service treat🦄🦎”keep hold!! he’s a runner”

Christmas pageant at Battersea, if Nanny Anon, is to be believed it’s tonight, l thought NATO reception was tonight, for weeks l thought it was the 4 th, l honestly cannot keep track. However, they each hVe a role of that l am certain, however Nanny says Charlotte is an angel, with a line to speak and George is rehearsing the role of his future, one of the three kings, NOT of Orient are🤣🤣🤣😂. Louis must a going concern, as we say here, constantly on the move. They best keep him firm in hand or he will do a runner through the audience and steal the show🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. There would be one shriekingly ticked off Princess if that happened!

a welcoming absence “ you can leave your scarf at home darling”

Madam will not join the family at Sandringham, the first Christmas in two years without her. Catherine joking with William he need not bring his scarf🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. His passive aggressive, sorry William but it was 🤣🤣😂😂, fiddling with his scarf whilst leaving the chapel on madams first unmarried Christmas , she was trying to engage him but he fiddled with his scarf . This went nuclear all over the internet and social media! I believe there is an actual official listing of the word scarfing!🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂 Oh man, and l had bought him the loveliest purple scarf, what shall l do with it ?🥺🥺😩😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣

“ Chaz & Don”

PC and DT , abbreviated as Chaz for a Charles and Don for Donald, will spend time together today at this evenings reception. I firmly am thinking l was right all along and the banquet is tomorrow. I am sure PC role is expanding they will have plenty to talk about. PC is the consummate host.

Megan come Beggin

Madam begged pleaded shrieked, until she finally got her wish to not be forced anywhere near the person she hates , the President of HER country. MM ANON , l hate to ask, is this a typo, Megan, not Meghan? If it’s not a typo, who is Megan???

“hope she stays for New Years”

This is the general consensus, that madam can stay wherever she is until AFTER New Years.

However, if this is the special friend, this may be leaning in a

positive vibe of hoping she will STAY until the New Years Eve.

Emmanuel & Don🎭]……… NATO,HATE-O

Presidents Emmanuel Macron and Donald Trump have had an extremely dramatic almost theatrical relationship. When they first met, Macron was so huggy , touchy feely, the word bromance was used. They have had some cracks with the U.S. pulling out of the Paris Climate Accord. President Trump has issues regarding NATO, paying funds etc, there is much changing on the worlds stage politically, the U.S./NATO/BREXIT/EU etc etc etc. Not the least of which has been the double barrel attacking of the British Monarchy!

“Philip, You’ll miss the banquet!!” “bloody good!!”” it’s your night old thing”” Mmm , Catherine’s Tiara?” ” Emeralds, would do the trick”

HMTQ and PP conversing, less pressure on the agenda, with the words done by LG and his team, yet he is not up to attending the banquet, plus he has retired from the world stage. Which sounds TRUT H be told, he has had his fill during the many decades attending them!🤣🤣🤣😂😂. Just reassuring her it’s most important that she, HMTQ, is there, she is so amazing as a hostess, she is involved with every little single detail! Well, well, well madams hair will be on fire!! Catherine will be wear the Vladimir Kokoshnik, l think that’s the one, it’s most certainly the one with huge Emeralds,tiara😁😁😁😁. I can hardly wait to see those photos!

“Sydney’ strong refreshments!!”…… “the Crown old thing?”

To end of conversation, the pulled cord, and again, as always, Sydney arrives, smiling, anticipating their request, Boddingtons for Himself and gin and DuBonnet for HMTQ.CHEERS YOUR MAJESTY, SIR!!

1150 hrs CST

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Thank you PG…interesting stuff today…I can’t wait to see which tiara Kate will wear…could it be that one! Oh my! Much appreciated dear PG!😊💜💜💜💜💜

Ask Skippy submission

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133: DEC 5

MM ANON ……… lovers not-on or emerald??…… Alexander McQueen green machine??……… Clean sweep!!!……………Trump wants his ball back…… Banquetiquette ……… “ One has to watch the hot mike Donald!!”……… Meanwhile’ crying in a corner……” a clash of Wills”……… “come on old thing,tell me all the gossip”………” Sydney ‘ gin and Du……” “ Ones a tad exhausted “…… “ you looked stunning Catherine “……… “yes ‘ I saw your killer 👀side eye “…… 👑👑💕💕And so to bed Zebedee!!……… “ Lottie ‘turn your pad off!!”…George’ sleep!!

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

December. 5/2019 0020 hrs CST

RIDDLE #130

SORRY I AM SO LATE WITH IT, I HAVE NOT FELT WELL SO I WILL GIVE IT A TRY!

lovers not-on or emerald??

I was sooooo certain l had read months ago that December4/2019 there was to be a formal NATO Banquet. Maybe l was wrong , unlikely it was changed. Nonetheless there is a Diplomats Banquet next week, l could be wrong too😏😒😂. Catherine, for a number of such occasions has worn the Lovers Knot Tiara and done so brilliantly, l might add! There has been rampant rumblings of her wearing the Vlad Emerald Tiara!! It’s gorgeous, all those emeralds, imagine with her gorgeous eyes?? 👀 👀 👸🏻 Allegdly(ha ha) a certain someone demanded this for a gathering of very VERY unhappy people! HMTQ ABSOLUTELY PUT HER FOOT DOWN NO!NO! The banshee was heard screaming all the way up in Balmedie!!!🤣🤣🤣😂😂. So l will firmly say, whether it the Diplomats banquet or not, whatever the next black tie/formal event, Catherine will be wearing the Vlad Emerald Tiara!!! No ifs ands or buts!!!

Alexander McQueen green machine??

Did she not look stunning at the reception? Green or any colour she wears so beautifully! Even a red puffer and skinny jeans!! She slays! As the kids say now! The papers should get their designers right, they had it wrong on RS as well, that was a McQueen military inspired gorgeous piece she wore, one paper saint Caroline Walker. No offence but that was not her style. Last night dress was said to be Emilia Wickstead. So is it now McQueen? Either way that was the colour of envy for sure, did she purposely wear it? OF COURSE SHE DID!! I cannot WAIT for the Diplomats banquet or next formal/black tie event. The gown she will wear , and Of COURSE SARAH BURTON, from the House of McQueen, who designed her wedding gown, will have designed it, bespoke to go with the Emerald Tiara! Put your ear plugs in kids, madam will be flying her 🧹 broomstick over London screaming 🙀 at the heavens!!! Jealous much!OH YES JEALOUSY THE GREEN EYED MONSTER HAS BERN OBVIOUS SINCE SHE CAME ONTO THE SCENE!

Clean sweep!!!

This immediately makes thing if curling! Hurry hard! Hurry! Sweep Sweep! If you’re Canadian or Scottish you will be laughing now🤣🤣😂😂. A clean sweep in a game is winning the game with the opposing side having a score of zero, or Ina finals winning the games needed to take the Stanley Cup, example, to win the series. A clean sweep can also, and here l believe is MM ANON meaning, to sweep out the dust, filth, unwanted or unsavoury things when cleaning house. So the cleaning house, clean sweep metaphor may be related to a clash of wills in when to release the hounds on madam and what on earth to do about the VRG issues!!!

Trump wants his ball back. Banquetiquette. “ One has to watch the hot mike Donald!!”

This is a childish reference to PT leaving before the final press conference after our PM, BOJO, Macron and Princess Anne were on ‘ hot mic’ which is the news means you’re microphone isn’t live , that’s how the ABC reporter Amy Robach got caught out saying ABC quashed her interview with VRG years ago. So l guess DT , l have to be very care here to not upset my American friends whilst defending my PM. I will just lay facts no subjective opinion ok? They must be VERY VERY VERY careful what they say, when they say it, because sorry JT but even without the hot mic, with my poor hearing l am used to lip reading and using closed captioning on the tv, l could read your lips! DT was upset, called him two faced. You can all opine about them now.

It was a reception, not a banquet, however etiquette is etiquette and the rules still apply. Good manners, carry oneself well and be above reproach. I am afraid some , have your own opinions ok, but there was some etiquette not taken. See above clue please.

A short time later, DT himself was caught on hot mic, congratulating himself for calling our PM what he called him and for leaving without the last presser, press conferences are called pressers in America. Saying that was funny that he said that name. It happens to everyone, hot mic, in politics or celebrities, they have to be careful unless they just don’t care.

Meanwhile’ crying in a corner

Madam, just go back to your corner, you have misbehaved so much, get used to the corner! Oh she must be spitting bullets of jealousy, if she saw Catherine, just wait till she sees the Christmas photos!😄😄😄😄🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂

“a clash of Wills”

William in back, he has proven himself a force of nature in becoming too. Dealing with family issues, is there disagreement regarding PA. There have been calls for him to lose his HRH status , is that on the docket? And great clashing of that? Wills was Diana’s name for William, wills is also ones determination to do or not do something

“come on old thing,tell me all the gossip”………” Sydney ‘ gin and Du……” “ Ones a tad exhausted “

HMTQ and PP again, indulge me, l know he’s at Wood Farm and she’s in London but indulge me, l love this, so do you, and so do some others. HMTQ finally out of her dress clothes, wearing comfortable nightdress, gorgeous purple velvet slippers and completely bespoke housecoat of the finest PUR velvet with silver seaming and luxurious embroidered collar with ER on the breast plate. PP in his nightclothes, grey slippers and matching bespoke grey robe with dark stitching along the seams barely there but if you look closely the beauty of each stitch is breathtaking. THANK YOU MM ANON FOR ADDING THE DRINKS I HAVE BEEN HAND TYPING FOR QUITE SOME TIME NOW!! PP already has his Boddingtons , cord was pulled just as she sat down, Sidney arrives, and PP orders her favourite cocktail, gin and a DuBonnet. She , you know it’s HMTQ when she speaks in third person, l do that a lot too😄😄😄😄😁😁, says she is a tad bit exhausted which means she is more tired than any of us have ever been! She is a force of nature! Majestic, strong, beautiful and tender when the needs be. They proceed to discuss all the goings on, at the reception and there was plenty!

“ you looked stunning Catherine “……… “yes ‘ I saw your killer 👀side eye “…… 👑👑💕💕And so to bed Zebedee!!……… “ Lottie ‘turn your pad off!!”…George’ sleep!!

William has returned from another successful solo Royal tour to the Middle East. I though the photos of him with the fisherman fixing their nets and then him giving it a go was amazing. He really , like his wife, has come into his own. Telling Catherine how stunning she looked last night and teasing her about her side eye, which she does very well! Remember the stolen pencil incident a few weeks ago? Louis long ago asleep, George and Charlotte keen to see daddy, imagine what did you bring me? A million times over and at a maximum volume!😂😂😂🤣🤣Zebedee, Zebedii, that was often what l heard or said for bedtime. A jovial memory of television and a cute sweet way to colour the word bedtime by making it fun because the word kids HATE is bedtime. Then when you reach adulthood and parenthood one prays for bedtime.🤣🤣🤣😂😂 l have never been a parent but l know many, enough to prove that statement!

Charlotte ever the controller of wifi and devices😂😂😂🤣🤣,we have read this in other riddles! Time for bed a George!!

0125 hrs CST

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Thank you so much, especially doing this when feeling unwell. You are greatly appreciated. The Diplomatic dinner is December 11th. This is sounding good…😊💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Ask Skippy

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134: Dec 5

MM ANON …… “ no, not the service”……… Strip and rip…… IRSt in peace……” I think you’ll find it best ma’am”…… “ exactly ‘ peace and quiet”…… Distant thunder ……… “On Her Majesty’s secret service”…… No!! Not the whole enchilada………… The dossier, almost complete!!…… “Yes!! It certainly is personal”……… “she lived by the sor-did…… “gather thee rosebuds …………”…… “ not a word,old boy”. ……… “ Mmmm, unfortunate name for a club”……… “a sticky wicket,what!

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

December 5/2019 1040 hrs CST

RIDDLE #131

“no, not the service”

Prince Andrew has had virtually everything but his HRH ripped away. Papers saying now this morning that not only Prince Charles dressed him down, but Prince Philip did as well. He may be 98 and retired but a massive alpha male who can throw down with the best of them. Sounding like PA will NOT be permitted to attend church Christmas 🎄 morning as per usual. The Royal family walks and greets the public coming and leaving, HMTQ is driven.

Strip and rip

This sounds like a bikini wax or a back waxing . More like a search for drugs, substances, paraphernalia or weapons at a prison or psychiatric hospital, believe me, l have done many such searches, for those needing hospitalization. This clue could be twofold, firstly, reportedly three blackened windows Discoveries were seen high speed driving near Banbury, a day or so ago, evening l think actually, madam is rumoured to be near at SoHo or perhaps in Banbury, the hometown of a certain sycophantic royal reporter. Me oh my oh!! Has she been taken into custody by the Americans??? Did she fly back with the President?

Secondly this may refer to Prince Andrew, strip and rip him of everything including his HRH. Is that what is being ripped? The public and many are demanding it including his fellow military members! Might l again say, he has NOT BEEN INTERVIEWED NOR CHARGED! Just a fact, l hate sexual abuse and human trafficking it’s loathsome. But there seems to be a direct torpedo, pardon the wordage, directly at him.Why no one else? Whose agenda is this??

IRSt in peace

Madam is in a world/whirled of hurt with the IRS, America’s tax division. I have no idea her last filing, or how accurate she has ever been. Since joining the Royal family, although never really did, she has had a myriad of income sources and likely many we don’t know. Might it be not the literal death of her but in terms of finances, she will be if not already in process,be audited and may be garnisheed for the rest of her life to,pay what is owed?

“I think you’ll find it best ma’am”“ exactly ‘ peace and quiet”

I think LG is suggesting HMTQ head for Sandringham early, to be out of London when the walls come tumbling down so to speak. Peace and quiet, readying for family Christmas, although that too brings its own pains!

Distant thunder

Softly rolling distant, quiet, getting closer, more loud, and BABOOM CRASH!! The storm that has been brewing and slowly simmering in the background is coming, coming closer, when it arrives,it will be ELECTRIC!! The information and scandal will rock the globe. I am not just talking about when all about madam is revealed but her backers and their sordid dealings! BOOM CRASH FLASH! Winds howling! It’s going to be earth shattering.

“On Her Majesty’s secret service”

We have had several Bond references. This was the only Bond film that a George Lazenby ever starred in, did you know that? Connery or Moore?? The other actors don’t count! CONNERY LASS AM I , AYE TIS SO💜💜💜💜. I do believe our William has been on the intelligence gathering and l do wonder about our Harry. You kids remember me repeatedly talking about his wedding ring months and months ago and saying it’s no regular ring?Sure you do, one of you went hunting and posted a picture of a ring with GPS chip! It’s very unusual in the U.K. especially royalty, in my experience , for men to wear wedding bands yet Harry insisted, ask yourself why? Why? Why? By the way, great film, and great documentary l have pvr’ed , The Secrets of Her Majesty’s Secret Service. It was on PBS last week, an anon posted about it, so l pvr’ed it!

No!! Not the whole enchilada

So again, the whole enchilada is a metaphor for the entire sum of something, usually valuable. What and whom is this referencing? Again, is it PA, losing more? I doubt that, the phrase the whole enchilada , that is not a British expression it’s American. This must be regarding madam. Meaning, she has to give up everything, her HRH, every merching etc etc. She’s upset about it. What, to stay out of prison? Testify against someone? Tell the whole truth and nothing but? This woman cannot even spell truth. There are so many lies over so many decades allegedly, there is no way she knows who she was with when doing what.

The dossier, almost complete!!

Information is almost done, evidence, witnesses, intelligence, video, audio, photos, texts, emails, carrier pigeons and any other sort of stealth data to solidify alleged treason charges along with a boatload of other financial and Heaven only knows what from the past has raised its filth from the depth of those lost years! All the i dotted t crossed, airtight.

“Yes!! It certainly is personal”

Very personal, this attack was planned, guided, paid for, well planned, multipronged, family paid off, witnesses paid off or worse etc etc allegedly. So yeah it’s personal to HMTQ,PP, PC and PW.An attack on the thing HMTQ has spent her life serving! The very monarchy! Sordid plot to crumble the Monarchy! So hell yes ITS PERSONAL!!! To our a Royal family and TO ALL OF US!!

“she lived by the sor-did

Old saying live by the sword ⚔️, you die by the sword, you all know that one. Madam has allegedly lived a very sordid, deviant lifestyle for money and luxuries. This will be her downfall, any previous association with JE, l can only imagine what her role was and then became. This whole sick, satanic, house of cards is crumbling, the cockroaches are running for cover. Does she think the backers are going to pay for her attorneys or testify on her behalf? 😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣 She is crazier than l thought! ALLEGEDLY!

“gather thee rosebuds…

While ye may, love this .This beautiful piece of magic written by Robert Herrick hundreds of years ago but relevant now as then. Speaking how quickly time flies, make the most of each second, do not waste time on frivolous things or unsavoury things. Sadly, many lost souls here, and damaged ones, so evil. However we have HMTQ, PC , William and Catherine, the Monarchy, with them at the helm, is resilient, will cut the extras and forge a new Monarchy.

“ not a word,old boy”.

Someone is keeping schtum about something. I imagine there are many, likely most of the details will remain classified. The five eyes met at the NATO conference. I truly do wonder, although l love my little life, what intelligence was shared! PP likely speaking with Netty, and keeping things classified, most probably about when they plan to break and let loose! We all know who Netty is right? I have explained it in a few riddles!

“ Mmmm, unfortunate name for a club”

Tramp nightclub, the source of many stories VRG and PA. PA also was there many times with Fergie and that’s where he met Koo Stark way back when for those of us at a certain age! Horrible just horrible name for a club!

“a sticky wicket,what!

This is a croquet term, hitting the balls through the wickets. It’s also a cricket term! Jiminy 🦗 Crickets, that’s my new favourite saying😁. A sticky wicket in life refers to awkward, difficult, unexpectedly challenging time. Well doesn’t that just describe the last two years!! OR MORE! What detail is sticky still? Something needing sorting. I just cannot fathom what it is! But it’s important because it’s in the riddle!

1155 hrs CST GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Oh my! Not sounding good for MM! We are getting there it seems! Fantastic job dear PG! Thank you so much!🙏🏻💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Ask Skippy

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135: Dec 6

MM ANON …… megbots in crisis …… megs spotted on ISS…… megs searchers internet for archificial upgrade …… megs still breastfeeding …… frogcott staff witness meg and Harry in screaming row 😱……… meg accused of bugging KP……… meg and archbishop in risqué photo shoot …… Archbishop denies clergy gossip …… meg ,VF interview ‘ I hate my chicken legs ‘…… Harry in GQ interview, I want a divorce ‘…… GQ, shock ‘horror, Harry’s OK’…… meg pens, ‘confessions of my yachting years’. … $20 million advance.

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

December 6/2019 1150 hrs CST

Thanks to the wonderful 💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻fortheheavenssake 🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜who is documenting all my riddle interpretations, l apparently have used two numbers twice🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂 so this is RIDDLE #135

💜💜MM ANON LISTEN, AS YOU ONCE SAID, NO APOLOGIES EVER!!!💜💜LEVITY IS NEEDED🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

megbots in crisis

Madam has had zillions of ‘bots’ online to bolster or artificially , not archficially🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂, boost her numbers and popularity on social media and PR. The well is running dry,no new storyline , last uncle pulled out of the woodwork weeks ago, bots, they cost $$$$$#£££££££€€€€€, she is in serious overload and underfunded. The bots are sputtering, spinning, electrical charges sparking, powering down, all the things 🤖 robots do when system failure, permanent fatal error blue screen, does not cooommmmmppppuuuutttteee………….

megs spotted on ISS

Oh now she’s an astronaut??? Really on the International Space Station??🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂. Yes, like l said last week Sasquatch and Elvis hang out in my back yard! Has she gone there to get another moonbump direct from the source??🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂

megs searchers internet for archificial upgrade

Oh my Jiminy Crickets!!🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂, l just typed that! Well not the internet part. Yes at some point she’s going to have to show a child, growing bigger, however Archficial was already a big boy, they used to call them huggy l think. She is madly trying to find the cheapest price for the new model of archficial. Maybe retailmenot or some other sites like Rakuten has coupon codes!!

megs still breastfeeding

Is she now? Is she a card carrying member of the La Leche League? Breastfeeding until the child is 18 or wed! Yes, it’s a great excuse for privacy, because despite what her PR says, she definitely wants privacy, no pictures, no one talking about or to her, yet yammers because no one asks if she is ok! Pathetic instagram post, photoshopped photos, one year anniversary of Hubb kitchen visit. Talk about grasping at straws for attention, and using year old photoshopped photos😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣😩😩

frogcott staff witness meg and Harry in screaming row 😱

I do believe this was/is a story in one of the American gossip rags, could be wrong but everyone reads here so look for that headline next week if you’re into tabloids😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣.Interesting, there are no staff at FC, because NO ONE LIVES THERE! Perhaps an old spirit, but they take care of themselves! They have never lived there, every celebrity or article about who has visited there and held/fed/played with archficial are all liars, allegedly.

meg accused of bugging KP

Not surprised at that, taking a page right out of MA’s playbook at SoHo. Secretly record, gather intel, blackmail=$$$$$$$$€€€€€€€£££££. I wonder what secrets she gathered! Add that to the charges, LG and Netty, Sirs! Please! Allegedly! 🙄🙄

meg and archbishop in risqué photo shoot

There has been something odd about everything madam does/has done. One of the most bizarre is Justin Welby, the A of C, he allegedly privately baptized her. He allegedly christened archficial, with one wee issue, he was hours from London at that time at a Church conference. Now he has come out defending her. So there is no confusion these are his exact words.

💜💜Justin Welby, the Archbishop of Canterbury, defended the Duchess of Sussex against what he called the “totally undeserved” criticism she has received.

“She’s a person of profound humanity and deep concern for people, seeking to carry out her role with every ounce of her being, and I think she’s a remarkable person💜💜.

What’s gone on here? Are you suggesting she has something on him so he has done these things under blackmail allegedly. Not a thing in this mess would surprise me one wit!

Archbishop denies clergy gossip

Parishioners talk, clergy members talk, they’re human, when things don’t add up, it makes for lots of speculation and questioning. Is the A of C denying that other bishops or members of the clergy have been speculating and questioning some of the issue l typed above? This is all too weird. If we had a whole wall with every single odd event, altered facts, stories comments etc etc, it would be like string art we used to do way back when. Better still twist like Christmas lights, and trying to figure out which bulb is causing the whole string to not light up. I know most of you remember that, the good old days before prelit trees in weird colours that make noises and flash so rapidly you get a migraine. Jiminy Crickets, l sound like one of those two grumpy men in the balcony on the Muppets Show😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣.

meg ,VF interview ‘ I hate my chicken legs

Harry in GQ interview, I want a divorce ‘GQ, shock ‘horror, Harry’s OK’

Madam did the VF, wild about Harry, was all PR lies! I think in terms of madams legs millions would agree! Now now, is this how this is going to roll? Tit for tat, pun intended🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂, is Harry doing a GQ cover giving her the same treatment by shockingly wanting a divorce?? Oh please 🙄 JIMINY CRICKETS 🦗 l want ten copies!!!💜💜💜Please sir, l want some more! The first person who comments where that line is from gets a smile from me😁. 💜💜💜Imagine the worlds shock?! Oh MM ANON DON’T TEASE ME!🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂 LG your brilliance is only surpassed by your loyalty and dedication to HMTQ Tip hat 🎩 Sir!

meg pens, ‘confessions of my yachting years $20 million advance.

During the weekend when madam went to help her Bestie SW completely lose the U.S.Open, they didn’t want her there, she went anyhow, didn’t she do a great job? Flirting grossly with SW husband, ignored by SW’s mum and graciously using the ‘Markle effect’ and SW lost soundly! She was summoned there, post haste allegedly to meet with backers and take a meeting with publishers. There have been rumblings and rumours of a book. Good luck fact checking that one, the poor ghost writer and editor🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂. I think she will have to forget a lot because the IRS apparently doesn’t like it if you do not declare income or not be truthful, allegedly. And also, law enforcement may have issues with some behaviours, in relation to those missing years. And a wee tiny issue of archficial fauxmegnancy, not of the body. Trying to pass off a surrogate baby, not Harry’s child, all allegedly of course! As a blood royal baby!! Just a minor treason charge. Then there is the SoHo issue…….bugging, recordings, blackmail, all from the plot of a juicy film! As far as a $20,000,000 advance, if that happens, l will eat my hat! I don’t have one, got toques, might have to eat one then!! Who in their right mind would give her that cash advance? Unless it was not the right but the left, the leftists globalists backers….yep that l can see!!! Help us oh Lord🙏🏻🙏🏻 please, the light needs to be shone on the horrors that have been happening. Our beloved HMTQ, it just is breaking my heart, she is so beloved.

1250 hrs CST

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON, I HAD A FABULOUS FUN TIME DOING THIS!!🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

What fun! Loved this. Thank you MM Anon for the humorous riddle and PG your great interpretation! 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Ask Skippy submission

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136: Dec 6

MM ANON …… Muffin the mule…… looby loo & Andy pandy …… 95 , time!!…… “no’ not chaz”’……… “ I’m Meghan Markle and I indorse this massage” ……” An American Christmas card”…… betrayal in B&W……… “ it’s HMTQ your talking about!!!”…… “ tell her to PO ‘ it’s the Boxing Day shoot”……… 🎼I’m dreaming of a right Christmas 🎼…… a shortie but goody

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU YET AGAIN MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

December 6/2019 1530 hrs CST RIDDLE #136

Muffin the mule

Muffin has a naughty meaning as well as the breakfast bit. Mule is a very stubborn animals or someone carrying something illegal across borders as in a drug mule. First thing l thought of was a Moscow mule, classic lovely drink. There was an article in the DM about madams Christmas decor ideas and menu, the Moscow mule in copper was her idea!🤣🤣🤣😂 Well, l can’t drink anymore, but to me l would have one anytime but they and the copper was all the rage about five years ago, so she seems to be a wee bit behind the trend! However in fairness, it was taken from the 2015 Tig.

looby loo & Andy pandy

I read in the DM and saw photos years ago, Prince Andrew dancing up a storm, with a Heidi Klum, didn’t look like her but she was in a wig, costume. Also another female. Apparently he liked to be massaged by two women simultaneously, not underage, or rude, fun. The loony loo is known here as the hokey pokey, a hand , leg, body action dance. Is this having a go at PA ‘skills’ on the dance floor?? The hokey pokey also has a naughty meaning too.

95 , time!! “no’ not chaz”

HMTQ will be 95 in 18 months. Double exclamation mark, someone or several are firm in her making PC Regent at that time! It sounds like a firm opinion that PC is not the choice for Regent. Might William be tapped to step up and put a whole new modern face on the Monarchy? My goodness, to quote London Scoop, up is down, down is up, the world is spinning too fast!! The winds of change are gusting stronger and stronger!

“ I’m Meghan Markle and I indorse this massage”

Ha ha. Is she doing adverts now for special yacht massages.🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂 Oh dear imagine the oils and other items she would smear around!!! 😫😫😫😩😩😩🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢Just imagine the worst grossest thing you can muster!! Is she going into politics or has she massaged major politicians???? The end of every tv ad during election, l am so and so and l endorse this message. Yikes, crazy world!

“ An American Christmas card”betrayal in B&W

Of course the Christmas card will be in black and white, what else do we expect from madam? Likely have her back turned as well. Will Archficial be backwards too? Ultimate betrayal of wedding vows, to the public. A child not Harry’s, and not of her body! Will this be released and dealt with before Christmas? I pray so🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

“ it’s HMTQ your talking about!!!”…… “ tell her to PO ‘ it’s the Boxing Day shoot”

PP is angry and someone has been disrespectfully talking about HMTQ, PP is soundly bringing them about. PP is laying it down, madam has no input in the shooting day, she’s to be told to PO! PP talking to Harry, l am confused about why Harry would be still bring requests or demands from madam. I am wondering if it’s LG, because l am pretty certain Harry is far away from her and no interaction. It’s about Christmas, Sandringham and the annual family Boxing Day shooting party. Madam has been aggressively against it, allegedly previous years. So is madam still in a position to make demands? Well it sounds like she will be told what’s what!

🎼I’m dreaming of a right Christmas 🎼

I watched the film White Christmas last night, gorgeous songs by a Irving a Berlin, fabulous, again movies when they were movies! I am thinking the wish is that Jeremy Corbyn loses and BoJo, the conservatives, oft referred to as the right. Corbyn is leaning left strongly and much upset about alleged anti-Semitic beliefs. I think all this crap with madam has to wait till after the election, December 12/2019.

a shortie but goody

Is this little Louis? He is toddling around, l recall the summer videos at the park garden Catherine designed, him running in the bridge arms wide to balance. I can hardly wait for the Christmas photos! I can only imagine running round now, he will be into anything and everything!Bless him🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻 l am exhausted, haven’t slept since Thursday morning. Two riddles, other posts sheesh JIMINY CRICKETS 🦗 I AM DONE💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

1605 hrs CST

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Thank you PG…two in a day! MM Anon must know you love a great challenge….thank you for doing this…😊💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

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emospritelet · 7 years ago

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KOL! Prompt - Gold returns to work but can't get Belle off his mind and is noticeably mentally absent.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12]

AO3 link

Gold still felt a little light-headed and weak during his shift, but two cups of coffee from the canteen helped him get through the morning. He even treated himself to a Danish, enjoying the brief sugar rush it gave him. The energy was short-lived; his body felt as though it had been soundly beaten with iron bars by the time midday came, and a tiny voice whispering in the back of his mind told him he had returned to work too soon. He ignored it, and pushed on, heading to the children’s ward, where seven-year-old Grace Milliner was recovering from her own bout of the flu. Gold sat down on the edge of her bed with a feeling of relief, and Grace blinked at him, strands of light brown hair curling around her face.

“How are you feeling?” he asked kindly.

“Okay,” she said, in a small voice. “I can’t find Mr White, though.”

“Mr White?”

Gold racked his brains to think of who that might be, flicking through his mental filing cabinet of staff and patients and drawing a blank. He reached out to feel Grace’s forehead, nodding approvingly when he detected no fever, and she sighed.

“He’s fluffy and soft and I can’t sleep without him,” she said, looking miserable, and Gold smiled.

“Mr White is your toy rabbit,” he guessed. “Of course. Forgive me, but I don’t believe we were ever formally introduced.”

Grace giggled a little at that.

“When I’m all better you can come to a tea party,” she offered. “Daddy always says you need to get out more.”

“Does he indeed?” remarked Gold. Bloody Jefferson and his interest in my social life! “Well, that’s very kind of you, Grace. I should think you can go home tomorrow, so you can arrange all the parties you want.”

“Mr White always sits at the head of the table,” she added. “But he’d love for you to come! If I ever find him, of course.”

She looked upset again, and Gold smiled.

“I suspect he’s just gotten lost in the ward somewhere,” he said gently. “Why don’t I see if I can find him?”

She beamed at him, and he stood up, swaying a little as he hooked the chart back over the end of her bed. He managed to get his cane underneath himself, steadying his footing, and walked quickly from the ward before he could fall on his face. There was a large laundry hamper on its wheeled frame outside the door, and he frowned to himself before bending over it and pawing through the sheets.

“You lost something?”

Dorothy’s cheerful voice made him jump, and he almost fell into the hamper before it started rolling away under the pressure of his body. She grasped the metal handle, stopping it with a foot behind the wheel so that he could push himself upright. Dorothy raised an eyebrow, looking amused, and his mouth flattened.

“You doing laundry now?” she asked. “You know there are plenty of patients to look at, if you’re short of work.”

“I’m looking for Mr White,” he said vaguely, picking up one of the sheets and shaking it.

“Are patients trying to get smuggled out in the laundry hampers?” she remarked. “Wow. I had no idea you were so terrifying. I know you’re kind of strict on people taking their meds, but that is some classic escape plan right there. Mr White’s my hero.”

“He’s a rabbit,” said Gold impatiently, and balled up the empty sheet, dropping it back in the hamper.

“Mr White is - okay, you lost me.”

Dorothy folded her arms, and Gold sighed, leaning on the hamper again. His body was screaming at him to lie down.

“Grace’s rabbit,” he explained. “She can’t sleep without him. I thought he might have been picked up by accident when the beds were changed.”

“You’re dead on your feet and you’re upside down in a laundry hamper looking for a toy rabbit?” she said flatly. “Go and sit the hell down, would you? Like I don’t have enough to do without hauling your ass out of there.”

“You’re as bossy as Belle,” he grumbled, and she raised an eyebrow, pursing her lips.

“I’ll check in the laundry room for the rabbit,” she said. “Why don’t you finish your rounds and get home. Before you fall over.”

“I’m fine, I can do it!”

He bent over the hamper again, almost falling in while he rooted around, but his fingers grasped something that felt far softer than the sheets. Dorothy’s hand grabbed his collar - along with a good chunk of his hair, which made him growl - but she hauled him upright until he was on his feet, and he turned to face her with a scowl.

“You’re freakishly strong!” he snapped, and she shrugged.

“Never get in a fight with a lesbian,” she said. “Now would you go and get some rest before you kill yourself?”

Gold gave her a smug grin, pulling his arm free from the pile of sheets and brandishing a somewhat bedraggled plush white rabbit.

“Told you I could do it,” he said snidely, well aware he sounded about five years old, and not caring.

He stomped off to the ward again, and Dorothy followed him, which meant that she was there to witness Grace’s face lighting up with excitement as he handed over Mr White. It also meant that she was there to witness him bending to pick up a patient’s chart and almost falling over. He grasped at the end of the bed to steady himself, gritting his teeth as he felt the room spin around him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” said Dorothy, looking concerned. “You don’t seem completely - with it.”

Gold sighed, his knuckles white as they gripped his cane and the bed frame.

“Guess I’m still trying to shift this bloody flu,” he admitted. “Sorry. I’m - I’m probably more hindrance than help today.”

“Hey, we’re still short-handed, I’ll take all the help I can get,” she said. “But you should get home as soon as you’re done with this ward. As long as Whale doesn’t come down with it too I think we’ll be fine. Come back tomorrow if you’re better. But only if you’re better, okay?”

He grunted something that wasn’t quite agreement, picking up the chart he had been reaching for. He dropped it, the clipboard bouncing end over end before clattering to the floor, and he sighed heavily.

“Go home,” said Dorothy firmly, scooping up the fallen chart. “You’re gonna make yourself worse, and then who’s gonna look after Belle, hmm?”

“I’m not sure I’m doing all that much better than she is right now,” he said, plucking the chart from her fingers and earning a frustrated hiss from her. “But you’re right. I should really check on her. She looked after me so well, it’s the least I can do.”

“Yes, I’m sure your gratitude is the only reason,” she said quietly, and he glanced up.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing,” she said, and smiled widely. “How’s Belle doing, anyway?”

“Not great,” he said, running a finger over the figures on the chart. “I left her with iced water, lots of blankets and instructions to stay in bed.”

“She’s - in your bed?” asked Dorothy blandly, and he looked up sharply, to see her grinning at him.

“Of course not!” he snapped. “I do have spare bedrooms, you know.”

“I just thought, given the power outage, there was the perfect opportunity for some impromptu bed-sharing,” she said innocently, and he wanted to grind his teeth.

“Don’t you bloody start!” he said severely. “As if I don’t have enough of that from Miss Mills! I’m sure Miss French wouldn’t appreciate being the subject of gossip anymore than she already has been!”

“Oh, keep your pants on, I’m teasing,” she said, waving a hand. “I know you’re unfailingly polite and wouldn’t lay a hand on her. Much to her disappointment, I’m sure.”

“Don’t you have work to do?” he demanded, setting down the chart.

“Yeah, but this is way more important.” She followed him as he moved to the next bed. “Besides, I need to keep an eye on you. You look like you’re gonna fall on your ass.”

“I told you, I’ll be alright.”

He picked up the next chart, sighing as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“By the way, you don’t happen to know if anyone here has property to rent, do you?” he asked absently, and Dorothy snorted.

“Dude, I just bagged the last house-share going in this town,” she said. “Trying to find apartments to rent in Storybrooke is like searching for unicorns.”

Gold grunted. As he had thought.

“I thought you owned your own place, anyway?” she said.

“Oh, it’s not for me,” he said, checking the patient notes. “Belle’s looking for somewhere to rent. She’s living with her father at the moment, which knowing Moe French’s personal habits, can’t be ideal.”

“Hmm.” Dorothy folded her arms. “Didn’t you say you had spare bedrooms?”

“Several, but I fail to see what that has to do with anything.”

He put down the chart, moving onto the next bed, and she followed him.

“Really?” she said flatly. “So Belle is currently living at your house, is looking for a place to stay, you have tons of room, you like each other, and you can’t think of any connection between that set of facts?”

Gold looked up, blinking at her in surprise.

“I - I live alone,” he said, as though that explained everything.

“Not at the moment you don’t.”

“Yes, but this is a - a special situation,” he said impatiently, turning away. “She’s sick. I could hardly toss her out into the snow.”

“So you agree that offering her a home when she needed it most was a good thing to do?” she pressed, and he sighed.

“This is only for a few days,” he said. “Once she’s well enough to leave, she can go back to her own home.”

“And you can go back to sitting alone in the evenings being miserable as hell.”

“I’m not miserable!” he snapped. “And I don’t see that my private life is any of your business!”

“I’m sharing with Astrid and Leroy,” she said bluntly. “I get more than enough of watching two people dance around one another like they’re not completely in love when I’m at home, thanks.”

“Astrid and - and Leroy?” he said, perplexed. “They’re together?”

“No,” she said patiently. “Not yet, anyway, because they’re almost as blind and stupid as you are. I can see I really have my work cut out as matchmaker in this place.”

“You certainly will,” he remarked. "I think your aim as Cupid is woefully off target. I can’t speak for Astrid and Leroy, but I’m not in love with Miss French, and she’s certainly not in love with me.“

“Wow, you really are blind and stupid.”

“Nurse Gale, so help me—”

“I’m serious!”

“What is it with the staff in this hospital trying to interfere in my lack of a personal life?” he demanded. “If you must know, I’ve been quite happy on my own for decades!”

“And now you could be happy with someone else.”

“Or it could be an unmitigated disaster that doesn’t get beyond the first awkward attempt at a date and she leaves town, never to return.”

“Oh my God!” She threw up her hands in exasperation. “If you won’t ask her out would you at least offer her a place to live?”

Gold opened his mouth for an angry retort, but then snapped it shut, smirking as he recalled noticing something.

“Fine,” he said lightly, and turned away, moving to the next bed.

“Fine?” said Dorothy, suspiciously.

“Yes, fine.” He picked up the chart, grinning to himself, and heard her step closer.

“Fine as in you’ll offer Belle a place to stay?”

“Yes,” he said, glancing around to where she was watching him with narrowed eyes. “Just as soon as you arrange yourself a date with the lovely Miss Lucas.”

Dorothy’s mouth fell open as a blush rose in her cheeks, and his grin widened.

“I expect something suitably romantic, none of this ‘just as friends’ nonsense,” he added. “And you’re to text me an update during the evening to let me know how you’re getting along.”

“You’re a bastard,” she said flatly.

“Well, I’m only thinking of your future happiness.”

“But I don’t even know if she likes me!” she protested, and he grinned at her.

“How unfortunate. I guess you can go back to sitting alone in the evenings being miserable as hell.”

Dorothy glowered at him repeating her own words back to her, but nodded reluctantly.

“Fine,” she grumbled. “I’ll stop bugging you about your non-existent sex life, and you stop bugging me about mine. Deal?”

Gold grinned, showing his teeth.

“The deal is struck.”

He put back the final chart and headed for the door of the ward, hoping that his legs wouldn’t give up and pitch him onto the floor.

“If I ever do manage to get a date with Ruby, you and I are revisiting this conversation!” she called after him.

Gold turned slowly on the balls of his feet, and winked at her

“Well, I won’t hold my breath, then.”

Gold took his time driving home, the roads treacherous with compacted snow and patches of ice. His head was aching, his body exhausted, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and sleep for twelve hours. The house was silent when he entered, and he shrugged out of his coat and made his way up the stairs, knocking quietly on the door of the spare bedroom. A sleepy voice answered, and he opened the door to peer in at Belle. She was curled in the bed, blankets pulled up under her chin, dark curls spread out on the pillows and her cheeks flushed, but she sent him a wan smile. Gold walked in and sat down on the edge of the bed, shaking his head at the temperature of her skin.

“You still have a high fever,” he said. “Have you been drinking plenty of water?”

“I’ve mostly been sleeping,” she said, and he nodded.

“Try to sit up. You should drink something.”

She pushed up obediently, arms shaking a little, and he stood up and poured her some water, sitting down again and putting a hand on the back of her shoulder to support her as she drank it. Belle gulped at the water, then lay back down with a heavy sigh. Her head rolled against the pillows, her eyes flicking up to meet his.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, and he shrugged.

“Better than yesterday,” he said. “But I’m a terrible doctor. I managed nothing more technical than finding a little girl’s toy rabbit.”

Belle giggled.

“Well, I’m sure that was very important to her,” she said, and he smiled briefly.

“Perhaps.”

“All those years of medical training may give you lots of knowledge,” she added. “I’m willing to bet they don’t teach much about how to care for people in the little ways that matter, though.”

“Patient welfare isn’t just about getting the right diagnosis and treatment,” he said, and her smile widened.

“See? That’s my point. You care about your patients.”

“Well, don’t tell anyone, I have a reputation to maintain,” he quipped, and Belle’s eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Would you stay with me awhile?” she asked. “I’ll probably fall asleep again, but it would be nice not to feel alone.”

Gold hesitated, looking down at his suit and tie before glancing to the chair at the dresser. He was desperately tired, but if she wanted company, perhaps he could sit with her for a moment. Belle seemed to sense his uncertainty.

“Oh, I didn’t mean for you to sit around like you’re about to go out for dinner,” she said. “Please, go and change. Put some PJs on. There’s enough room on the bed for both of us.”

She patted the blankets beside her, and Gold swallowed hard. Sleeping beside her had been excruciatingly wonderful, and he had just resigned himself to the fact that it would never happen again. And now she was sitting there, with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, gazing at him imploringly from beneath the sheets of his spare bed.

“Just for a little while,” she pleaded. “It’s depressing being alone when you’re sick.”

He hesitated, Dorothy’s words about him sitting alone and miserable echoing around his brain. Had he really been suffering in his solitude before Belle had turned up on his doorstep? He didn’t think so, but then perhaps he had just gotten used to an empty, silent house. He knew that a part of him had wanted it to be a punishment, to shut himself off from the world and wallow in grief and guilt and self-loathing. When had it become a shield? When had he started to take comfort in loneliness?

“It’s - it’s okay if you want to be alone.”

Belle’s voice made him jump, jerking him out of self-reflection and back to the present. She was watching him worriedly.

“I’m sorry,” she went on. “You’ve been around people all day, you probably need some time to yourself. Forget I said anything.”

“Right,” he said lamely.

She smiled then, tired and beautiful, her eyes lighting up the room.

“I’ll maybe see you later,” she added.

“Right,” he said again, his brain screaming at him to stay with her, to talk to her. “I’ll - I’ll bring you some tea.”

She smiled at him, and he stood up, shifting from foot to foot until he managed to move one of them. He stepped back from the bed, reaching for the door handle, and closed the door behind him as he left the room.

#fic: kiss of life #rumbelle fic #my fic #dr gold x candy striper belle #rumbelle

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sweetiepie08 · 7 years ago

Text

Get Cool (Chap 1)

Based on @sharpace‘s knife shoe au.

Miguel loves to skate and he loves competing at skating, but he wishes he had more chances to skate with the rest of his team. The opportunity arises when his team is invited to perform a group routine at a charity showcase. However, when half his team suddenly falls ill, they are forced to either pull their performance or combine with their rivals, the De la Cruz team.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2.

“Get off our ice!”

“You only want this time because you know it’s our time!”

“I will not stand for such accusations!”

“You’re just trying to keep us from practicing for L.A.!”

“What are you implying?”

“I’m implying nothing! I’m stating it out right, saboteur!”

Miguel sighed and sunk his face further into his hands. Every. Single. Time. He and his team sat on the bleachers while their coaches bickered about rink times. You’d think by now there’d be a time slot sign-up list or something. Why couldn’t they just skate?

He glanced over at Team De la Cruz. They looked just as bored as he did. Though, he noticed a few kids were missing. Sick? Injury? It didn’t matter.

This was going to go the way it always went. They’d argue until the rink manager came out and forced them to compromise. One team would get to practice while the other team waited around for their turn. Their coaches would glare & make snide remarks at each other. He’d ride home with Tío Héctor & Tía Imelda grumbling about “that De la Cruz.” Then they’d get to do it all over again the next day. At least it was Friday. They had a whole two days before they had to sit through this again.

Oh look, here he comes now. A sweaty, balding man walked up to the rink wall. The coaches skated over to him and, after much complaining and arm flailing, Ernesto slinked back to his team, glaring, while the Riveras called their team onto the ice. Miguel predicted this outcome too. De la Cruz had the ice first yesterday, so naturally it was their turn.

“You guys have schoolwork?” Ernesto grumbled to his team. They all nodded in reply. “Well go do it. They’ve got the ice until four.”

Miguel put on his skates and joined his team on the ice. Finally… Just once he’d like to have a practice that didn’t have time dedicated to drama.

[-]

After practice, Miguel waited on a bench while Héctor and Imelda talked to the rink manager about time slots. Yet another thing he wished they didn’t have to waste time on. At least twice a week, the rink manager threated to kick out both teams, but they all knew these threats were empty. It’d be bad publicity for everyone and no one wanted that.

“Well if that’s the way you want it!”

Miguel turned to see Ernesto holding a phone to his ear and his face turning red.

“Just see if you can find a better trainer. Don’t come crawling back to me.” He ended the call, muttered a few curse words, and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

Yeesh, Miguel did not envy the De la Cruz team.

“Did we lose another one?” asked Marco, De la Cuz’s star pupil, who’d been sitting close by.

“Never mind that,” Ernesto growled, running a hand over his face. “Just get on the ice.”

Marco and Ernesto stepped into the rink. Geez, what was that all about? Miguel wondered. He didn’t have time to think on it as his teammates, Juan, Arturo, and David, approached him.

“Oye, Miguel,” called Juan as he got closer. “You sure you can’t come to my sleepover tonight? My mom still says it’s okay.”

“Sorry, it’s my Abuelita’s birthday. My family’s going out to eat to celebrate.”

“Too bad,” added Arturo, “it’s gonna be fun.”

Miguel sighed and glanced over at Héctor & Imelda who were finishing up their conversaTion with the rink manager. “Sorry, guys. Maybe next time.”

“Okay then. See you at practice,” said David. They all said goodbye and the three boys walked away. Miguel watched as the boys jumped into Juan’s mother’s minivan and drove away, wishing he was in that car, too. It wasn’t Abuelita’s birthday that was the problem. He wouldn’t mind missing the sleepover so much if he got to hang out with his friends on a regular basis. But there always seemed to be some excuse about why he couldn’t go. Just once, Miguel wished he could join in on the fun.

“Ready to go Chamaco?” A hand landed on the top of Miguel’s head. He looked up to see his Tío Héctor smiling down at him. “Don’t want to keep your Abuelita waiting, do we?”

You’ve got no problem keeping me waiting. Miguel bit his tongue for even thinking that. His family already made sacrifices so he could compete. It really wasn’t fair to ask any more of them. “Sure,” he said, smiling himself. “Let’s Go.”

[-]

Monday morning rolled around. Miguel sat eating his breakfast while he listened to Tía Imelda field yet another phone call. This one was the third one this morning and they all went about the same.

“Alright, tell David we hope he feels better soon. Okay, bye.” Imelda hung up the phone and sighed.

Héctor frowned. “David, too?”

“What’s going on?” Miguel asked between bites.

Héctor and Imelda gave each other a look. Oh no, not that look. Adults always gave each other that look right before delivering some bad news.

“It seems Arturo and David slept over at Juan’s over the weekend,” Héctor said.

“Yeah, I knew that.”

“Well, apparently Juan’s little sister had the flu, but she wasn’t showing symptoms yet,” Imelda continued. “The boys all caught it too. I told them to sit out for 2 weeks so it doesn’t spread to the rest of the team.”

“Two weeks? But what about the charity showcase?” He’d been looking forward to it. It was being put on by the Make-A-Wish foundation and they invited skaters from all over the world to be a part of it. Normally he skated solos but for the showcase, he’d be part of a group routine. He was supposed to get to spend more time with his teammates. He was supposed to get to skate without worrying about having to outscore the De la Cruz team. He was supposed to have fun. But they needed at least six skaters to participate in the group showcase, and if they were missing three…

“I’m sorry, Chamaco. Juan, Arturo, and David aren’t going to have enough practice time before the showcase. It looks like we have to pull out.”

“No!” Miguel shouted, slamming his hand on the table. “I want to skate! There must be some way we can still go!”

“I’m sorry, Miguel,” Imelda said. “There’ll be other shows.”

“Not like this!” Miguel wished he didn’t sound as whiney as he did, but he couldn’t help it. “I was going to get to skate with my friends for once.”

“Look, nothing’s set in stone yet,” Héctor added. “Let’s just have a good practice today, and we’ll see what happens.”

Miguel crossed his arms and sunk down in his chair. He hated when adults said ‘we’ll see.’ Did they really think he didn’t know what that actually meant?

“Now, finish your breakfast.” Imelda had her coach voice on. She would hear no more complaining. “We need to get to practice.”

[-]

Practice started with the same old shtick: De la Cruz and the Riveras arguing over rink time. Once again, Miguel and his teammates were left waiting in the bleachers.

“So, we’re really pulling out?” Carlos asked.

Miguel nodded bitterly. “He said, ‘We’ll see.’”

The entire team groaned in unison. “We’ll see?” Antonio grumbled. “Do they think we’re stupid? We know what that means.”

Miguel nodded and glanced over at De la Cruz’s team. There were only three of them. The team had six only two weeks ago. Plus, there was that call he overheard on Friday. Were kids leaving De la Cruz’s team? If that was the case, they’d have to pull out too.

A light bulb went off in Miguel’s head. “Hey, guys,” He said, turning back to his teammates. “I think I know how we can stay in the showcase after all.”

“How?”

“The De la Cruz team.”

“What?” Antonio scoffed. “Are you crazy? Why would they help us?”

“Well, I was just thinking, since they have three skaters and we have three skaters…”

“But they might not go for it,” Carlos argued.

“It wouldn’t hurt to ask,” Miguel said, getting up.

“Asking in general, maybe, but asking them?”

Miguel rolled his eyes and started over. What was there to be scared of? Marco was mean sometimes, sure, but he wasn’t a monster. The De la Cruz team were just kids like them; kids who loved to skate. And if they said no, at least they tried, right?

As Miguel approached the De la Cruz team, Marco peaked over the sunglasses which he, for some reason, insisted on wearing indoors. Miguel heard Marco mutter “This ought to be good,” to his teammates, but pretended he hadn’t heard.

“Hi,” Miguel started off with a friendly smile, “my team and I were just talking and we noticed there’s only three of you.”

“Wow, you counted all the way to three?” Marco sneered. “Someone’s been watching his Plaza Sésamo.”

“Actually, it’s just called Sésamo now.” Miguel realizes his mistake when the De la Cruz team bursts into laughter. “My little cousins watch it. They’re five,” he said, attempting to recover, but he knew he’d already lost. The boys only laugh harder and Miguel felt the heat rising to his cheeks. “Anyway, I was thinking…”

“Oye! What’s Elmo up to these days?” One of the boys threw out.

Just ignore him. “I was thinking since you have three skaters and we have three skaters…”

“Did Conde Contar teach you how to add?” Another boy said.

Miguel gritted his teeth and looked away. Is this really worth it? “You know what, forget it,” he huffed and stormed off.

“Have fun with Abelardo!” one of the boys called after him, sending the rest of the team into hysterics all over again.

“Oye, Rivera!”

Miguel stopped at the sound of Marco’s voice. “What do you want?” he sighed turning around.

“Look, I think I know where you were going with that,” Macro said as he ran up to Miguel. “I noticed there were only three of your team, too.”

“Yeah, three of our teammates got the flu,” Miguel answered.

“And neither of our teams can go to the showcase with only three.”

Was this really happening? Were he and Marco really on the same page? “That’s why I was going to ask to team up.”

“I thought so,” Marco said with a nod. “What makes you think our coaches will go for it?”

They both looked over at their arguing coaches. Imelda and Ernesto were getting in each others’ faces. Héctor had his hand on Imelda’s shoulder, a subtle way to pull her back in case she decided to punch Ernesto in the nose…again.

Miguel put on his best optimistic smile. “Well, I’m sure if we told them we all agreed on the idea and told them we really wanted to perform…”

He was met with a roll of the eyes and a dismissive puff of air from Marco.

“Or, we could just forget the whole idea.” Miguel turned sharply and began walking back to his team. He wasn’t sure this would work, but if Marco chased him down the first time…

“Wait,” Marco called after him.

Miguel stopped and tried to fight down the cocky grin creeping to his lips. “Yes?”

Marco chewed on his bottom lip and glanced back and forth between Miguel and the coaches. Finally, he turned back to his team and demanded, “Justo, get out your phone.”

Justo crinkled his eyebrows and shot a look at the rest of his other teammate. “Why?” he asked, taking his phone out of his skating bag.

Marco marched up to him and the phone. “Because, I’m about to break into Coach’s email and I don’t want him to see it on my phone.”

Miguel looked over Marco’s shoulder as the other boy opened the email app and typed in Ernesto’s username and password. He scrolled past emails from parents, reporters, skating officials, and at least a couple dozen from some lady written in English. Finally, Marco stopped on the showcase invitation. He opened the email and clicked the link. “It doesn’t say anything about not teaming up. We might have to reregister under a new name, but that’s about it.”

“That’s it?

“That’s what I just said.” Marco tossed the phone back to Justo who scrambled to catch it. “We’d better ask, like, now, though. Registration closes today.”

“Wait, what’s going on?” asked Martín, the other De la Cruz team member.

“We’re teaming up with the Rivera team.” Marco’s answer left no room for discussion.

“Wait, we’re really teaming up?”

Miguel turned around to see Carlos and Antonio hovering behind him. “Well, if we want to perform, this might be the only option. If you guys are all down, we can get our coaches on board too.”

Carlos and Antonio deliberated for a second, then responded with a nod. Justo and Martin still looked unsure, but Marco shot them a glare and they agreed.

“Good, then it’s settled,” Marco declared. He dragged Miguel down from the bleachers and over to the rink side where the coaches were still fighting.

“Tío Héctor,” Miguel said, interrupting some insult Ernesto was about to launch.

“One second, Chamaco,” Héctor replied, still glaring at Ernesto. “We’re figuring this out.”

“Actually, while you guys were fighting,” Marco sneered, “we figured something out,”

All three coaches stopped, shot each other confused looks, then turned back to the kids. “What?” Héctor asked.

“What do you mean?” Imelda added.

“Neither of our teams have enough to perform at the showcase,” Marco began.

“Marco,” Ernesto hissed, “what are you doing spreading that around?”

“But, if we combine our teams, we’ll have enough skaters,” Miguel finished.

“We just need you guys to not kill each other for a month,” Marco added.

“We already looked it up. It’s not against any of the rules.”

Héctor and Imelda stared at each other in a way which made Miguel suspect telepathy existed. “It does make sense…” Héctor conceded.

“Did the rest of your teammates agree to this?” Imelda asked.

“We took an informal vote.”

“I’m okay with it if they are,” Héctor said.

Imelda nodded. “It would be good team building.”

“Well, I am not,” Ernesto snapped, folding his arms firmly across his chest. “Marco, you have your reputation to think about. You need to skate with teammates that are up to your caliber.”

“But, we all compete on the same level,” Marco argued. “He’s beaten me plenty of times.”

“Yeah and he’s won over me, too,” Miguel pointed out. This was so stupid. They were comparing ranks now? When there were more important things to worry about?

That’s not the point. You’re too talented, Marco. You don’t want to be held back by…

Ernesto’s phone buzzed in his jacket pocket. He looked at it, cringed, then stuffed it back in his pocket. “You’re sure this isn’t against any rules?” Ernesto asked through gritted teeth.

“Absolutely sure,” Marco confirmed.

“You guys would just have to reregister together,” Miguel added.

Ernesto ground his teeth behind his lips. Smoke would not be out of place coming out of his ears. His head looked like might turn into a cartoon firecracker and explode. He let out a long puff of air through his nose and finally answered, “Fine.”

The answer looked like it pained him, but Miguel paid him no mind. He turned to Marco and offered a celebratory high-five which the other boy, surprisingly obliged.

Miguel could feel his grin stretching across his face as he ran up to bleachers to tell the others. Finally, he was going to get to skate for fun.

#knife shoe au #ice skating au #coco #coco au #coco fanfiction #pixar coco #miguel rivera #marco veracruz #hector rivera #imelda rivera #ernesto de la cruz #coco fandom

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whyinever-blog-blog · 5 years ago

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Monday, WEEK 16, July 13, COVID-19 ramping up in most states, Phase 2 Reopening delayed until July 17, Living in MASK MAYHEM

We have a few orders to ship today. We don’t have to water this morning since we had a big storm overnight. It’d be great if it rained every night honestly!

I have my month later checkup with Orthopedic doc. Things are fine, but particular movements slower to recover. So he recommends I get a contraption that will help hold difficult positions (that frickin hurt) because the “time holding” that position is what makes the wrist loosen up. I also have PT today. She helps me simulate things I would do at work next month and it’s REALLY helpful. Like really helpful. I think I can do my work, with modified use of my wrist. And hoping the wrist improves in the next couple of weeks too.

I ordered a box full of used books from EBay for us to read. A grab bag. 20 books for $20. It was a box of “thriller/mystery” genre books. I will pass them on after we read them!

My friend Carla posted this and I’m sharing. No one knows who wrote it so far but it’s hilarious!

😂 Dear Diary 2020 Edition,

In ❄️ January, 🔥 Australia caught on fire. I don’t even know if that fire was put out, because we straight up almost went to war with Iran 🇮🇷 . We might actually still be almost at war with them 🤔. I don’t know, because 👩 Jen Aniston and 👨🏻 Brad Pitt spoke to one another at an awards 🏆 show and everyone flipped the crap out 😲, but then there was this thing happening in 🦇 🇨🇳 China, then 👑 Prince Harry and Megan ✌🏼 peaced out of the Royal family, and there was the whole impeachment trial 👩‍⚖️ , and then corona virus 🦠 showed up in the US ✔️“officially,” but then 🏀 Kobe died 😭and UK 🇬🇧 peaced out of the European Union.

In February, 🌽 Iowa crapped 💩 itself with the caucus results and the president was acquitted and the 👩🏼‍💼Speaker of the House took ten. Whole. years. to rip up a speech , but then The👨‍🔬 🌎WHO decided to give this virus a name COVID-19, which confused 🤔some really important people 👔 in charge of, like, our lives, into thinking there were 18 other versions before it, but then Harvey Weinstein was found guilty👨🏻‍⚖️, and 🇺🇸 Americans started asking if Corona beer 🍺 was safe to drink🤦🏻‍♀️, and everyone on Facebook became a doctor 👨‍⚕️ who just knew the 🤒flu like killed way more people than COVID 1 through 18.

In March, stuff hit the fan👿. Warren dropped out of the presidential race and Sanders was like Bernie or bust 💥, but then Italy 🇮🇹 shut its whole country down 🚷, and then COVID Not 1 through 18 officially become what everyone already realized, a 😱pandemic and then a nationwide state of emergency 🆘was declared in US 🇺🇸 , but it didn’t really change anything, so everyone was confused or thought it was still just a flu 💁🏻‍♀️, but then COVID Not 18 was like ya’ll not taking me seriously? 💡 I’m gonna infect the one celebrity everyone loves and totally infected Tom Hanks👨🏻, get y’all to close all of the schools so y’all can 🙏🏼 appreciate teachers 👩‍🏫 for once (because you can’t teach them anything other than how to use a touch screen🤦🏻‍♀️ ) close down all of salons so you can’t get your 💇‍♂️ hair or your nails done💅 , everyone had to work from home and attend Zoom meetings in their underwear. The 📉 DOW took a crap 💩 on itself, and most of us still don’t understand why the stock market is so important or even a thing 🤔 (I still don’t), We were then all introduced to 🐅 Tiger King and the ONE thing we can all agree on this year , 👍🏼Carol totally killed her husband⚰️ ..... whacked him! And then Netflix was like you’re welcome, and we all realized there was no way we were washing our hands enough in the first place because all of our hands are now dry and gross and were all searching for lotion now. Oh and during all this there was an earthquake with multiple after shocks.

In 🌧 April, Bernie finally busted✌🏼 himself out of the presidential race 🏃 , but then NYC 🗽became the set of The Walking Dead 💀 and we learned that no one has face masks 😷, ventilators, or toilet paper, or THE FREAKING SWIFFER WET JET LIQUID , and by now our 🦁outgrowth is showing, so there’s a shortage on 📦 box hair dye and all of our hair dressers are like , 😱 NO DONT DO IT!!! But, then Kim Jong-Un died, but then he came back to life … or did he? Who knows, because then the Pentagon released 🎥 videos of UFOs and nobody cared, and we were like man, it’s only April….

In 💐 May, the biblical end times kicked off , historical locust swarms, we learned of murder hornets 🐝 and realized that 2020 was the start of the Hunger Games🙈 however people forgot to let us know. people legit started to protest lockdown measures with 🔫 AR-15s, 🏀⚾️sports events were cancelled everywhere. But then people all over America finally reached a breaking point with race issues and violence. There were 🗣protests in every city🌃 ,which was confusing to some of us because people were definitely gathering in 👫crowds of more than 🖐🏼🤚🏼10 and for sure closer than 6 foot away ⬅️➡️from each other . Those people must have forgotten about the 😖pandemic called COVID Not One Through 18. Media 📺 🗞 struggled with how to 🤬focus on two important things at once, people in general struggle to focus on more than one important thing. A dead whale 🐋 was found in the middle of the Amazon rain forest 🌳 after monkeys 🐒 stole COVID 1 Through 19 from a lab 🔬 and ran off with them, and either in May or April (no one is keeping track of time now) that a giant asteroid ☄️ narrowly missed the Earth🌍.

In ☀️ June, science and common sense just got thrown 🤾🏼 straight out the window and somehow 😷 wearing masks became a 🏛political thing, but then everyone sort of remembered there was a pandemic, but then decided that not wearing a mask was somehow a ✝️God given right (still haven't found that part in the bible or even in the constitution). then 👨‍🔬scientists announced they found a mysterious undiscovered mass at the center of the earth, and everyone was like 🙅🏽‍♂️🙅🏻‍♀️🚧DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH IT, but then everyone took a pause to realize that people actually believed Gone With The Wind 💨 was like non-fiction, but then it was also announced that there is a strange 🛰radio signal coming from somewhere in the universe 🌌 that repeats itself every so many days 🗓 , and everyone was like 👽 DON’T YOU DARE ATTEMPT TO COMMUNICATE WITH IT‼️🚫 but then America reopened 🙌🏼from the shut down that actually wasn’t even a shut down, and so far, things have gone spectacularly .... not that great 👎🏼. All of the Karen’s came out at once, and people started tearing down 🔨 statues. Everyone is on Facebook arguing 🤼‍♀️ that masks kill because no one knows how breathing works 👃🏼, but then Florida 🏖 was like hold my beer 🍺 and let me show you how we’re number one 🥇 in all things, including new Not Corona Beer Coronavirus. Trump 👱🏻‍♂️decides now is a good time to ask the Supreme Court 🏛 to shut down ❌Obama Care because what better time to do so than in the middle of a pandemic 💁🏻‍♀️ , but then we learned there was a massive dust cloud ☁️ coming straight at us 📍from the Sahara Desert 🐫 , which is totally normal, but this is 2020, so the 👻 ghost mummy thing is most likely in that dust cloud. We then 📚 learned of meth-gators 🐊 , and I'm like that is so not on my flipping 2020 Bingo card 😡 can we use it as the free space?? 🤷🏻 Then we learned that the Congo's worst ever Ebola 🚨 outbreak is over 😓, and we were all like, there was an Ebola outbreak that was the worse ever? 👀 ....... and don’t forget we just discovered FLYING SNAKES! 🐍, seriously! FLYING SNAKES!!!

——————————————-

I get home late from PT, so we have happy hour outside. We’ve figured out why we had soooo many mosquitos this past week. When they say go check your yard for water holes, standing water, etc. you have to look further than those regular things you see everyday. We discovered I had a big vase full of water on the front porch with cut shrubbery in it, which we loved and have had there since winter actually. Well guess what...a breeding ground. We dumped it. Then we discovered our driveway, where we keep the extra garden soil was totally saturated and a pool was sitting in the dirt. We dumped it. Wow what a difference. 2 days with no swarms and bites. Whew. We were about to get the sprayers out here thinking...this is the worst. We have to do something. We don’t want to do that because of expense and it kills all the good bugs and bees.

Dinner: leftover pasta casserole

Watch: Yellowstone s3 ep3

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kalosstarters · 8 years ago

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One-shot: In Need of Healing

(The original title was About Healing and Feelings)

I have been wanting to write something new for a while now, but writer’s block (and limited time) are trying to stop me, so @modeststroke suggested I edit this fic so I’d get at least some writing practice. Anyway, I wrote this fic a year ago, and it takes place during Mairin’s Kalos Quest, i.e. when she’s 17 and has returned from her individual journey. I did add something to the dialogue so it does have something new as well.

Also, it’s 0:25 and I have to be up in like 6 hours so excuse me for not spell checking the changes I made. There probably are mistakes in it.

Words: 1809

A few months into their new journey, Alain and Mairin stopped on Route 5 for the night. Alain had slept the previous nights rather badly, so when they settled into their respective tents that night, he passed out quickly. However, only after few hours of sleep, he woke up to a scream coming from the tent next to his. Just pulling his T-shirt on, he got out of his tent to see what was wrong. What if team Flare had attacked, and…? He didn’t dare to finish his thoughts. Even after 6 years, those events were still so fresh in his memory.

Not wanting to break into Mairin’s personal space without her consent, Alain first tried to communicate with her from outside the tent. However, she didn’t answer to his yells, so he eventually opened the zip of Mairin’s tent with shaky fingers. He couldn’t wait any longer if someone indeed was with her...

He sighed of relief when he saw she was alone, only her loyal Chesnaught Chespie next to her. Despite Chespie’s attempts to wake her up, she remained asleep, but she was trashing around restlessly and sweating a lot in her sleeping bag. Alain flinched and closed his eyes for a moment when she screamed in her sleep again and then started helping Chespie, because obviously whatever she was seeing was hurting her (and, his subconscious said, it was hurting him too).

“Mairin, Mairin, wake up!” he said in a weirdly high pitched tone, and shook her arm rather hard. She did eventually open her eyes, but looked pretty confused when she saw Alain’s face so close to hers.

“It’s OK, you were just seeing some nightmares,” he tried to reassure her in a quiet voice.

He wiped her sweaty forehead with his hand to check if she had a fever because her eyes were glossy, cheeks worryingly red, and her breathing ragged. Against his cool hand, her skin felt burning hot.

For a moment, Alain didn’t know what to do or say, but then he decided it would be the best to try to calm the girl down, so he stuttered:

“I-I t-think you have gotten ill.” Gee, Alain, way to be a calm and patient doctor, he scolded himself. He saw Chespie observing him with serious eyes, and that helped him to pull himself together.

“But don’t worry, we’ll get you better soon!” he promised.

What now? he thought in his mind. I’ve taken care of sick Pokemon at Sycamore’s lab, but I don’t know how to take care of a young girl…

He felt helpless. During all those months they had been traveling together she had never been ill, and he had been thankful for that. Taking care of a Pokémon and your friend were two very different things in Alain’s opinion.

He didn’t have any medicine with him (he scolded himself again in his mind, because he knew you should always be prepared for these kinds of things when you’re traveling) so he had to check the location of the closest pharmacy from his DexNav (he had thrown his Holocaster away after the team Flare incident, but thankfully Steven had given away this Hoennese device). He figured it luckily wasn’t too far from their whereabouts, but he didn’t want to leave Mairin alone in that condition, so he left his Fennekin and Weavile along with her Chesnaught to keep her company.

“I’ll go get you some medicine for the fever, but I’ll be right back! Please, remember to rest and drink a lot! Fennie and Weavile will stay here with you,” Alain informed Mairin, and left the camp.

While he was walking fast towards his destination, he was wondering why he was acting so weirdly. It was not like him to get so worried about someone being ill. He had been trained for situations like this. He didn’t even notice that his steps were so loud that he scared a lot of wild Pokemon away when he stomped past them.

The sun had risen when he finally reached the pharmacy, and its doors had luckily just been opened so he was able to get the medicine immediately.

When Alain was back at the camp, he found Mairin asleep again. Fennekin had curled next to her and Alain’s Weavile tried to cool Mairin down by blowing an occasional, light Icy Wind outside the tent. He shook her awake, and felt something nasty go through his spine when she looked at him with tired eyes.

“Hey, I’m here with your medicine. Your fever is still high, I think you should take this right away,” he instructed while putting a wet towel on her forehead with his other hand. She took the medicine, and he left her alone to rest, believing that was the best thing he could do at that moment. He checked the tent every once in a while, and brought her a lot of water and some mashed berries when she showed signs of waking up. She didn’t want to take any of them, but with some determination Alain managed to make her eat them.

A couple of days later Alain was sitting on a huge rock with his Fennekin, watching stars, and perhaps remembering the times when he was traveling with just Charizard, who was training elsewhere at that moment. Mairin, who was feeling much better already and whose fever was down, crawled quietly out of her tent and heard Alain talk to his little Pokemon:

“Am I really ready for this, Fennie? To become a Pokemon doctor? If I got so worried about her even though she had a normal flu, how can I treat something that is far more serious? After almost ruining everything, you know... when you weren’t around... I wanted to start healing instead of destroying, but I’m not sure if I’m good enough.”

“Fenn” the fox Pokemon answered, trying to encourage her trainer, and pushed her head against his sleeve.

“I am so relieved to see she’s getting better already. I don’t ever want to see her as miserable as she was when… well, it was a long time ago.”

Mairin thought she shouldn’t interrupt them when Alain was telling his private thoughts to Fennekin, but to her annoyance her clumsiness (which wasn’t as frequent as it had once been) took over just in that moment. She was about to turn back to her tent when she tripped over a tree branch, and fell loudly on the ground. Alain and Fennie turned to see her.

“Are you all right?” Alain smiled a little bit when he saw his friend cringing at herself. This was just like the old times, he thought happily.

“Uh, sure,” the redhead mumbled, her face red of embarrassment, as she shook the dirt off of her clothes.

“So, I overheard you earlier..” she tried to change the topic, “I think you are going to be a great Pokemon doctor. The way you interact with your Pokemon is something pretty special. I can see from everything that you share a strong bond.”

She had a small pause and joked: “After all, you even eat the same food with them.”

“Thank you?” he said, not sure how to take the last part. It was still good to hear her joking; that meant she truly had recovered.

“No, thank you. You were really sweet taking care of me like that. You wouldn’t have had to.”

“Nah, it was nothing. And of course I had to, you are my friend. I’m glad to see you’re fine now.”

Before he had time to react to it in any way, she had gotten closer to him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Just accept my gratitude, OK?”

“Wait, have you learned new words? ‘Gratitude’?”

“Alain! I’m not 10 anymore.”

“I know, I know. I was just kidding.”

“Wow, Fennie, did you hear that?” the girl addressed the Pokémon. “That’s some character development. Alain, joking.”

She earned an annoyed look from Alain, but he didn’t break the hug yet. There was something calming about it, in both Alain and Mairin’s opinion.

“Remember the last time we did this? I couldn’t even reach your chin!” Mairin broke the silence cheerfully. Suddenly Alain was awfully aware of the lack of space between them, but he also wondered how this felt so natural. When she had been younger, she had (tried to) hug him quite often, but it had felt different back then. She had been like a sister to him... But that had changed after her return.

Hold on a second. I couldn’t possibly be falling…. no. She’s still so young, Alain thought, ignoring the fact that she was already older than he had been when they had first met, almost an adult.

“Yeah. You have grown quite a bit since.” He patted her head and tried to smile, but he was still a bit confused by his feelings. She pulled off and was now leading him back towards the stone where he had been sitting earlier.

“Come sit with me Alain. I heard the other day that tonight you can see a lot of shooting stars on the sky. And if you see one, you can make a wish.”

“Fine.”

“Can I use your legs as a pillow? Looking at the stars is so much easier if I don’t have to bend my neck like this.” Mairin showed her awkward position and he allowed, though after a bit of hesitation.

There was a minute of silence before she exclaimed: “There, I think I saw one! I wish that whatever our future goals are, we will achieve them. Your turn, Alain.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to say our wishes aloud or they won’t come true.”

“Oh, OK. Well, say it quietly in your mind then.”

Alain looked at the girl resting her head on his lap. Her slightly longer red hair was untied and formed a beautiful curtain behind her, and he resisted the urge to comb it with his fingers. Her eyes looked healthy and happy, and she had an almost childish gleam in them. She was wearing just a top and night shorts, but somehow this casual look made her even more attractive in his eyes.

“Even if nothing else ever happens, at least she still wants to be my friend..” he thought, thanking his stars. He had almost messed things up beyond reparation once…

“What are you thinking about, Alain?” she asked suddenly.

He couldn’t tell her his true thoughts, not yet, so he just whispered:

“I’m just glad you’re here.”

But when he glanced down at the girl who looked back at him with her signature smile, which he had once been so determined to see, and her shining hazel eyes, he suddenly knew he was a goner. And there was no turning back now.

#marissonshipping #my fics #mairin #alain #hey i kinda liked this??? even tho i wrote this?? wtf #modest you weren't totally wrong #title credit goes to modeststroke

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