#first time i got to see him puzzle like this luve

[ufuckingpastry]

I missed a lot of the stuff from yesterday due to watching Cellbit try to figure out the feathers puzzle. That son of a bitch, I can't believe he actually pulled it off.

[deadlyaffairs]

After You Left [7]

previous //

Dad!Tom AU

Summary: y/n finds out she’s pregnant, but she and Tom get into an argument about moving to America. 3 years pass and Tom finally comes home where he finds out his parents and ex-girlfriend have been keeping a secret from him.

Word Count: 1.6k

y/n couldn’t read Tom, he was smiling and responding to Ben in a way that just seemed right. She figured it had to do with the fact that Ben was his son and Tom did have some preparation with Paddy when he was younger.

Ben’s coughing brought y/n out of her daze.

“Ben, you have to cover your mouth please.” y/n sat beside him in the back. They opted to take her car since it would’ve taken time to remove his car seat and install it in Tom’s, then remove it once more and reinstall it.

“Where we going?” Ben asked, his eyes irritated and puffy from constant rubbing.

“The doctor baby, you’re sick.”

“I already go.”

“I know, but we have to go again.“

The car was silent as y/n never finished. She couldn’t seem to figure out a way to explain that sometimes you don’t get better to her three-year-old. Tom pretended he wasn’t stealing glances of y/n but his eyes kept finding her, taking in her maternal instincts freeze.

“Your mom just wants to be sure you’re ok. It’s okay to go more than once.” Tom said trying to fill in the blank. Tom glanced back between two sets of eyes staring at him. He couldn’t really read y/n’s expression but saw that her face held a hint of surprise, however, he also saw that Ben looked intrigued.

“What you?”

Tom glanced at y/n, who was staring at the roof of the car as he tried to make out what the toddler could possibly mean by that “What I?”

“What do you mean. He’s asking.” y/n said softly as if she could hear the gears turning in Tom’s head, she tried to ignore the fluttering of her stomach and the racing of her heart, convinced it was her who needed to see a doctor as well.

‘Well, for example when Tess was sick I took her to the doctor...” Tom was trying to say

“Poor Tessa.” Ben interrupted, which lifted the corner of Tom’s mouth.

“Yes, poor Tess. But they said she ate something bad and when we were home she was still sick.”

“Doctor lied?”

“No... the doctor didn’t lie. Tessa was just sick longer than they thought so they had to check to see if something else was making her sick.”

y/n listened as Tom explained, she couldn’t stop her stomach from fluttering it feeling like a swarm of butterflies. Ben looked pleased with the answer or maybe it was that he puzzling it over. Tom stared straight towards the road and she hoped she’d catch his eye again, yet she noticed his jaw was clenching. She thought back to when they were together, how he’d do that if he was overthinking.

Suddenly she began to overthink. Was it about Ben? Was it about what he said? Or was it about him being in this situation? Did he feel like she was forcing this onto him? Her mind fuzzed over the possibilities.

The rest of the drive was quiet, Ben’s sniffling had progressed throughout the ride seeing as the three-year-old wouldn’t let y/n lift the tissue up close enough to wipe his nose. Once Tom pulled into the hospital driveway he glanced back after putting the car into park.

“I can find a parking spot while you check-in or something...”

y/n nodded, or something was Tom’s way of deflecting. She recalled. Maybe he hadn’t really changed, maybe it only seemed that way.

“Tom, thank you for driving but if you need to call someone to pick you up I won't stop you. I just need the keys.”

Tom again felt the urge to listen to her, to do what she said. To call up Harrison or whoever to pick him up and leave, yet he kept thinking about Ben and if he was ready to be a father. He kept coming to the conclusion that he wasn’t ready. He still had his whole career and life ahead of him. Yet he that didn’t stop him from saying “I— 'm staying. I want to stay.”

y/n felt as if her heart had burst. As if the rest of the invisible weight pushing down against her chest had finally released.

“Please don’t do that.” y/n felt her eyes watering, Ben began to fidget, he was confused and didn’t understand the tension. Which made him uncomfortable. “I don’t need false hope. I can’t do that to him.” she finished saying.

Tom stayed put, y/n took that as a cue to continue and balled her hands into fists. She wasn’t angry, just confused because everything was screaming at her to make this right but at the same time, she still loved Tom and wished he would fight for her and for Ben. “I’m not saying you have to leave. I just don’t want you to feel like I’m forcing this onto you. You did say you weren’t ready.”

Tom remained silent, he assumed it was because she was right, those were his words. It was also because he could hardly recall a time where his mum and dad fought. There were the occasional disagreements that lead to the silent treatment, but thinking back on it. He couldn’t remember any fights that caused their children anxiety, never arguments that caused tension.

Instead, Tom opted for “I know what I said. I just want to make sure you’re ok. He’s your son.”

y/n knew it shouldn’t have stung the way it did, she hoped that maybe it just came out wrong. Tom on the other hand instantly felt the impact of his words. Your son, your son, your son.

“Alright...”  y/n unclasped Ben from his car seat, She could tell Ben was trying to make sense of their words and the meanings behind them she kissed his forehead and tightened the blanket around him as she pulled him out into the cold London air.

Once they were fully out of the car and had walked through the automatic front doors, Tom sat and stared at them disappear before driving off to find an empty parking space.

After y/n and Ben sat in the waiting room for fifteen minutes while Tom stood outside in front of the doors contemplating going inside and handing over the keys spitting out some lame excuse to ditch, they all sat in the waiting room in silence as Ben laid in his mum’s lap fighting to keep his eyes open.

“Benjamin Holland?” A nurse called out, y/n stood immediately since she was used to hearing his name on a daily basis. This revelation, however, took Tom by complete and utter surprise as he stayed seated, by the time he was done he could see that y/n and the nurse were about to round the corner of the hall to a room.

“So it seems his fever has gotten worse.” a man with sharp rimmed glasses stated.

“Does that mean anything?” y/n asks right after the man finishes his sentence.

“Fret not dear, children are more likely to get sick at such a young age due to their bodies not being completely developed. It’s actually a good thing since they learn how you and others treat them, allowing them to learn empathy.”

“I’m sorry I don’t mean to nag but I’m just frightened because my father died of cancer just recently and it runs in the family.”

“My condolences. However, if it makes you feel better we’ll go right ahead and run some test.”

“I hate to be that woman but I would absolutely appreciate it.”

“Nonsense. You are a mother worried about the health and wellbeing of her child. I’m going to go ahead and get that set up for you, a nurse will be in shortly alright love.”

The doctor smiles, turns and gestures for y/n to lead the way, she lets a deep sigh out before turning to the shut door where through the small window she can see Ben laying on the too big hospital bed. He looks even tinier, his eyes red and nose running with Tom sitting over him with hawk-like concentration.

She enters, the doctor following behind her, “Ello Ben, I’m Dr. Moore how are you feeling mate?”

“Tared... I go home now.”

y/n swore something sank to the pit of her stomach. And though Tom would never admit it his chest felt constricted, it was becoming hard to breathe.

“That’s alright. Mom and Dad are here we’re going to take care of you”

For a second Tom was unphased by the title but it immediately hit him once y/n began to stammer.

“Oh Tom, just Tom...”

She wasn’t saying he was wrong but she was covering up a lie. A lie, he suddenly remembered was what came between his happiness. He looked over at Ben who was looking at the ugly blue comforter and couldn’t possibly have caught what the doctor said or was good at hiding it for being a toddler. 

“Hey...” Tom said trying to get Ben’s attention. Ben lifted his eyes up to Tom and it was an indescribable feeling to see a child your child looking back at you. “ Tessa got better and you will too.” 

“Was Tess tared?” 

Tom tried to think of a time when Tessa was scared, what he did to make her feel better. But his mind went to y/n when her aunt first got sick and how Tom was just there holding her. 

“Yes, but I was right there with her and I held her when she got too scared.” Tom smiled softly at Ben who sat with furrowed brows before he raised them in a manner that only a kid could pull off and look totally like an adult. 

“You hold me?” Ben said poking his own chest to emphasize his question. 

y/n turned away from the doctor. Ben’s question taking her by surprise but her body immediately filled with anxiety as she glanced at Tom waiting with Ben for his answer. 

“...” 

// next

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[ask-de-writer]

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : World of Sea : Part 20

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

copyright 2018

written 2007

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story?  Read from the beginning.  PART 1 is here

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Barad said lightly, “So long as they aren’t chasing us, we’ve little to fear.  Come, My Heart, we have to get your Arrakan certificates recognized.  You have an examination before the Board.”  They left in the direction of the Council Pavilion.

Kurin squinted as she looked at the ships and commented, “They are good seamen aren’t they?  It’s hard to stop a ship that big, right at the float.  Now that they’re closer, I can read their names.  The Big one is the Dark Dragon.  There's two lines of some vertical decorations too.  I wonder why they aren’t afraid of bad luck from naming their ship after Dark Iren?  The other is the Soaring Bird. The Soaring Bird’s letters look really strange.  There are other letters above the name that I can’t read at all.”

Master Juris told Kurin, “That’s because they’re in a different language, Kurin.  It’s Barant I think.  I can’t read it either but I’ve seen it before.”

He turned, gesturing broadly about, and asked Kurin, “Is it just me, or is the market bigger than usual this Gathering?”

“It is,” said Kurin with a pinched face.  “The Grandalor and three other ships have opened toy booths in addition to their usual ones now that they see how well I’ve done for the last five Gatherings. The Gula has the colored cloth booth in addition to their usual fabrics booth.  The strangers each got a booth.  We took up three spaces just for cargo and lace, and have a food booth on top of that.”

“True, all true,” said Master Juris, as they strolled back to her booth. “I got around to the other toy booths to take a look.”  He smiled with a trace of a sneer for the competition.  “Your deal with the Masters of the Craft Council is safe.  The Grandalor is your nearest rival and they aren’t close, though they are cheaper.”

“Speaking of the Grandalor,” said Kurin curiously, what’s up with them?  I almost didn’t recognize them.  Their ship is so neat and tidy that it almost looks new.”

“I don’t know, Kurin.  Their booth people are all smiling and friendly, too.”  Master Juris stroked his chin and looked off absently at the newcomers.  “Even their roustabouts have been polite and well dressed.”  He walked off shaking his head at changes that he had never thought to see.

As Kurin was entering her booth she overheard a pair of Grandalor sailors speaking through the orderly chaos of the busy Market.

“Looka’ there!  A nice knife on the deck!  Mine!”

“You know where it fell from, too.  Give it back to him.”

“Sorry, old habit.  You’re right.  The Lady wouldn’t like it iffin I kept it.  She’d be disappointed.  Don’t want that. — — Here, Sir! This fell offa yer table!  Nice scrimshaw on the blade!”

Kurin settled herself on a stool behind her counter, wondering at the bizarre concept of Grandalor sailors being honest.  She picked up an illustrated envelope and removed a batch of pieces.  To draw trade, she began assembling one of her kits.  The day passed into afternoon.

“T’at’s good t’ see.  A young ane, nae afraid t’ be seen wit’ toys.  So often, t’ey’re afraid t’ey’ll be taken for kinder if t’ey’re seen wit’ toys.”

Kurin looked up at the speaker, smiling automatically.  Her smile hardened as she recognized the two sailors flanking the woman.  They were Grandalor deck-hands that she knew from other Gatherings and did not trust now, in spite of their better dress.

The woman who spoke was short, with a cascade of glossy medium brown hair falling from a complex braided knot at the back of her head.  Honest gray eyes stared frankly at her.  Her face was exotically shaped, almost coming to a point at her chin, mouth smiling widely under a nose that was almost dangerously cute.  

What she wore was as exotic as her speech.  Definitely not sailor’s garb.  At first glance, her blouse seemed a simple strip of satin cloth, white with moving amber highlights, thrown about her neck, crossed in front and fastened behind.  A second glance showed that the garment was carefully tailored to an exact fit and that there was nothing casual about it.  There were sleeves of sheer amber gauze tied to it at the shoulders.  Her solidly muscled midriff was bare. The lady wore pants that were long and loose, matching her top in color and gathered at the ankles.  Her shoes were of sparkling fine scaled black Lesser Dragon hide.

A fringed black sash belt held several pouches and a long knife that was either Lesser Dragon or Wing Ray fang.  The edge was chipped slightly from much use but carefully sharpened.

The tool maker in Kurin admired the care with which the sharpening had been done.  Each chip had been rounded out and properly edged to reduce the possibility of a crack starting.  This knife, large as it was, was a carefully maintained tool.

Kurin’s smile became genuine as she thought that she recognized the speaker. “Kurti, is that you?  What are you doing in that get up?  What’s with the accent?”

The woman appeared to curl up into a mental ball, the life flowing out of her.

“Oi wish Oi wa’.  She’s dead.  M’ cousin Oi’m told.  M’ name’s Tanlin.  Tanlin Miken Princamorn.  Oi’m tired, might Oi sit in yer shade?”  Both sailors looked alarmed at this pronouncement and took her arms to support her, clearly not to remove her.  It was obvious who was in charge.

One of them said, “Lady Tanlin, When Doctor Corin allowed you to come to Gathering he warned us that you are still on the invalid list. You must not tire yourself.”

“Of course you may sit, Lady Tanlin,” said Kurin, picking up on the title and producing a cushion usually reserved for important customers.  “Tell me how come you look so much like Kurti.  You said she’s dead?  How did it happen?  Where are you from?”

“T’ank ye,” she said to Kurin as the sailors helped her gently to the cushion.  “Oi’m Arrakan.  Late o’ t’e Princamorn.  Kurti an’ Oi were cousins.  Our mot’ers were identical twins, so Oi’m told. ‘Ers married on t’ t’e Grandalor, mine t’ Princamorn as t’ey tell m'.

“Oi heard t’at she got t’e lung parasites from swallowin’ reef woter durin’ t’e rescue o’ our crew.  She wa’ often in t’e sickbay but Oi’m informed t’e treatment dinnae work.

“Over four an’ a ‘alf Wotans Oi wander Iren’s ‘alls.  ‘E let m’ go an’ took ‘er instead.  Oi ‘ad per’aps twa ‘ours t’ see ‘er as she failed.”

“Why do you keep saying, I’m told and such?” asked Kurin rather tactlessly.

Tanlin nearly wailed, “‘Cause Oi cannae remember!  T’ey say Oi wa’ ‘it be a falling yard wen t’e Princamorn went down.  Oi donae remember ‘t!  Oi’ve nae ‘istory t’ go wit’ t’e name an’ it only by repute!”

Kurin was at a loss for what to do.  She had heard of amnesia from head blows, everyone had.  She had never heard of any effective treatment. Still a niggling suspicion ate at the back of her mind.

She held out a tallow-slate and said, “Do you write?”

“O’ course Oi write an’ navigate, too.  Oi wa’ t’e Forst Officer, Second Wotch, an’ Share Holder on t’e Princamorn.  Oi lost m’ memory, nae m’ mind,” Tanlin retorted tartly.

“I meant no insult, Lady Tanlin,” said Kurin mollifyingly.  “I’ve heard that Arrakans write differently than we do in the Naral fleet. Could I see?”

Brightening like sun from behind a cloud, Tanlin said, “Certainly.”   She took the proffered tallow-slate in her right hand and wrote quickly and surely with her left.  From the right edge.  She signed with a flourish.  Thank you, Mother, for making me learn this.  It was to help in the Arrakan trade.  Now it is my shield.

Kurin looked at the neat cursive writing in perplexity.  The characters were like none that she had seen before.  Her confusion showed on her face, for Tanlin laughed gently, chidingly.

“Tis ye t’at write differently.  Arrakans ‘ave been writing such for a t’ousand Gat’erins.  ‘T says:

‘Ush little ane, dinnae ye cry.

Nest in t’e ‘ammock’s web, safe from ‘arm,

‘Ear Iren’s Orcas sing far from ye.

‘Appy dreams air yer good charm.’

“Kurti sung ‘t t’ calm m’ as she lay dyin’.  M’ name is at t’e end.”

Kurin, who knew that Kurti had been right handed, was convinced.  Besides, Tanlin’s knife was placed for a fast left handed draw.

“She was wrong about the Orca though,” said one of the two sailors.  “I was port forward lookout, second night watch.  From seventh drum, an Orca paced the Grandalor, singing.  I stayed past my watch to see and hear as it rolled and leaped, playing.  A few minutes after second drum of third watch, it sounded and was not seen again.  That was from when the Lady,” he pointed to Tanlin, “woke up, until Kurti died.”

“Is that true about the Orca?” Kurin asked, one eyebrow raised skeptically.

“Oi donae know.  W’at’s an Orca sound like?  Oi’ve never heard ane t’at Oi know o’.  T’ere wa’ an uncanny sound t’at stopped wen she died,” said Tanlin looking curiously at Kurin.

Kurin, who was a good mimic, let out a long, plaintive, rippling call, close to a whistle.

“T’at’s t’e very sound!  Oi ‘eard ‘t t’rough t’e ‘ull as Kurti wa’ dying!”

“There you are, Love.  I hope that whale wasn’t singing for you!  What are you doing?” inquired a light baritone voice.  Looking up, Kurin saw Captain Barad standing close.  She had seen him many times before but never like this.  He was calm and well dressed instead of irritable and slovenly.  Even more puzzling, he was smiling fondly at Tanlin.

“Look at t’is, m’ Luve.  T’is young ane is selling toys, too!” Tanlin impulsively held out one of Kurin’s Wing Rays for Barad’s inspection.  Thoughtfully she added, “Oi t’ink t’at ‘ers are better made t’an ours are.”

Barad attentively looked the toy over before carefully replacing it in its proper place on the board.  He smiled tolerantly and gently at Tanlin and said, “You are right Tanlin, my heart.  And well they should be.  The Craft Masters Council just broke for the afternoon.  They have made a decision about you, Kurin.  You should hear it from Master Juris, soon.”

Master Juris came striding eagerly up until he saw Barad.  His approach became wary.  Diverted from his original aim, he addressed Barad truculently, “Captain Barad.  What are you and your bullies doing at a Longin booth?”

Once again Barad smiled as though politely asked a reasonable question, “Three things.  First, I came to see for myself the toys that I have heard so much about for so long.  Second, I wanted to be here to see Kurin when you tell her your news.  Third, I was looking for my wife, who has the escort of two of my deck-hands at doctor's orders. She is not yet fully recovered from serious injuries.”  Seeing the effect of his ‘third’, Barad burst out in genuine laughter.

“To you both, may I present my wife, the Lady Tanlin Miken Princamorn, lately First Officer of the Second Watch on the Arrakan vessel Princamorn?  She holds full Command and  Navigational Certificates from the Arrakan fleet.  Just today they were recognized by examination before the Naral fleet Board.”

Kurin and Master Juris were stunned.  “Your wife!”

Tanlin rose from her cushion and put an arm affectionately about Barad who put one around her.  “Aye, Oi’m ‘is wife an’ ‘appy t’ be!”  

Kurin’s curiosity was aroused by what both the deck-hands and Barad had said so she asked Barad, “Why do you call her Lady?  Is it some Arrakan custom?”

Tolerantly, Barad replied, “Not that I know of.  The crewfolk who were helping Doctor Corin with her recovery started calling her that on their own. The rest of us just followed the fish.  You’ve met her.  It seems to fit.”

Tanlin turned to Master Juris and added, “If Oi ‘ave ‘eard right, ye ‘ave somet’ing for t’is nice young lady ‘oo ‘as shared ‘er shade and m’ maundering.”

Coming back to the reason for his visit, Master Juris said, “True.  Kurin, Captain Mord is bringing the actual item.  I’ll let him do the honors.”

Captain Mord arrived with all the Longin’s officers and many of Kurin’s friends in his wake.  Bringing up the rear but not staying there, was the entire Craft Masters Council.  When all were gathered about, Captain Mord began.

“Kurin Behar Longin, on behalf of the Masters of the Naral fleet, I present to you this Certificate as Journeyman Boat-builder.  The Council debated your age, yet none could deny your skills.  Your abilities won over even the doubters in the end.

“Not only your submission piece but also every piece of your work that could be located was studied.  You are the youngest journeyman in the history of the Naral fleet in any Craft.”  He handed the excited Kurin a scroll that was thicker than the usual certificate.  When Kurin unrolled it she found a standard journeyman’s certificate but pasted to it was a long piece of paperfish parchment bearing the name of every ship in the fleet and under each ship, all of her Craft Masters.

“I — — — I’m at a loss.  I don’t know what to say.  Thank you!” said Kurin, her composure shaken.

“Oi do!” yelled Tanlin, “Congratulations!”  Turning to Barad and pointing, she said, “Luve, Oi’m ‘ungry.  Can we treat t’ese folk from t’at boot’ over t’ere?  T’e breeze from ‘t ‘as been makin’ m’ famished, ‘t smells so good.  ‘T can be our Announcement Feast as well!  T’en all will know Oi’ve t’e finest ‘usband an’ ‘e t’e finest wife!”

“For you, Tanlin, all three moons.”  Turning to Mord, Barad said, “There has been bad blood between us.  You have no reason to trust me, I own that.  I offer you this for a truce between us.  For Kurin’s celebration, let the Grandalor pay for all the food from your booth for the next hour.  We will not quibble the bill.  In return, Tanlin and I spend that hour in your booth with Kurin.  It shall be both her celebration and ours too.  Our marriage will be celebrated by Arrakan custom and law, with an Announcement Feast open to all.”

TO BE CONTINUED

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