#windy files | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cvrnelians · 1 year

Text

smile like you mean it - chapter four

You knew filing for divorce would be no easy feat. But filing for divorce from Roman Roy?

"No easy feat” might as well have been synonymous with “impossible."

warnings: drug use, alcoholism, miscarriage, Roman and the rest of the Roy family being awful.

chapters 1-3 // chapter five

music

☽ Chapter Four ☽

“Are you mad at me?”

It was a genuine inquiry. You could tell by his tone of voice—whiny, timid, uncertain. He sounded like a kid that just smacked his friend on the playground, not a grown man that just accosted you on a private jet. Karma pays everyone a visit eventually, even the rich and powerful. Today, Roman’s karma came in the form of:

complete and utter terror over the plane landing, and

complete and utter terror over you being done with his shit.

The image of Roman’s barely restrained panic as the jet plummeted downwards flashed through your mind as you broke into a sprint across the tarmac. That image was the one and only thing keeping you sane at the moment. He looked the most rigid you had ever seen him as you came to an aptly rough landing, back pressed straight up against his seat as he clutched onto the armrests with shaky hands. Although you would never admit it, seeing him like that—after all he had said to you that afternoon—was the first time you smiled the entire flight.

Your throat was dry, your eyes were red and swollen from crying, and your ears were plugged. Needless to say, you were more than enthused to finally breathe in some fresh air. You lugged your suitcase behind you, its wheels squeaking loudly against the concrete. You were pretty sure you had pulled a muscle in your shoulder after yanking it down from the overhead compartment, but you didn’t really care. Your main priority was getting off that godforsaken plane and away from Roman as quickly as possible.

It wasn’t difficult to decide that you would be sitting next to the driver on this beautiful, windy evening in Herefordshire. There was no way in hell you were trapping yourself with your soon-to-be-former boss in a confined space again. You were already in the process of opening the front passenger’s side door when the driver stepped out; a thin, tall man somewhere in his sixties.

“Hi!” you practically yelled at him, receiving a bemused look in return.

“Good evening, ma’am. You in a rush?”

“Something like that. Just glad to have my feet back on the ground again.”

When you looked behind you, you were surprised to see Roman also barrelling full speed ahead towards the car. You found it laughable, considering how much he despised running. He would find any and every excuse to take a break whenever you went on your morning jogs together. “Morning jogs.” Yeah…

They were typically more of a walk/run hybrid, with breaks lasting longer than the time spent exercising. During these breaks, there was almost always food involved. This was one aspect of your job you didn’t hate. Roman really liked breakfast, so you often got free donuts and coffee out of the deal. A meager perk of working for the spawn of Satan, but a perk all the same.

You had managed to pull the car door open less than halfway when it was abruptly slammed shut. Roman pressed his hand flat up against the window as he leaned over you. Even while breathing heavily, he still managed to bestow you with you that smug little smirk of his.

You kept it simple.

“Romulus, I've had enough. Move.”

Roman raised his eyebrows. “Romulus, huh? Wow. That really gets me going.”

You glared at him, pulling the door ajar only for him to slam it shut once again. You hated him. You hated him with every fiber of your being.

“Roman, I’m serious. Move.”

“Awwwww, no more Romulus? Why not?”

“Get out of my way and let me open the door.”

”Whaaat?” he asked, his voice rising an octave as he held his arms up defensively. “I’m not sure what you mean.” He had to scramble to close the door when you tried opening it again, bumping into you in the process. You jolted at the sudden movement, stumbling into him. You could hear a loud thud and an even louder “OW!” as he hit the pavement. On any other day, you would immediately check to see that he was okay. Today wasn’t any other day, though.

Today, you felt like you were going to pop a vein in your forehead if you didn’t immediately remove yourself from his presence.

“Oh, come on!” he lamented, getting up just as quickly as he went down. He wrapped his arms around your midriff and pulled you backwards in an effort to move towards the backseat. He was so close to you that you were tripping over one other, collapsing onto the concrete. Once. Twice. Three times. At a certain point, you were both thrashing around so much that you weren’t even trying to meet your objectives—yours to go towards the front seat, and his to move you towards the back seat. At this juncture, you were simply trying (and failing) to protect the other from hitting the ground.

“Stop falling!” he yelled. “STOP FALLING!”

“STOP MAKING ME FALL!”

“JUST GET IN THE CAR!”

“I’M TRYING!”

The driver was making a valiant attempt to physically separate you. It was like trying to get in between two very irate koalas. “Sir…ma’am…you need t—” You could feel the driver’s hand gingerly touch your shoulder when you accidentally slammed into him, sending this poor, innocent bystander plummeting to the ground. Roman’s eyes widened as he finally let you go.

You managed to find your footing again, standing directly across from him as he stared at you. He reminded you of a housecat that managed to find its way outside and completely froze, not knowing what to do—even after putting himself in this position. You scoffed in disgust. Even if he was caught off guard, he didn’t even lean down to make sure the man was okay. You turned towards the driver, lying on his side with a stunned look on his face. “Are you alright?” you asked, reaching over to try and help him up. “Sir, I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry.”

The man simply sighed as he stood up, Roman jumping in at the last second.

“Yeah, sorry Gramps,” he said flippantly, his voice shaky. “Looks like you got caught in the crossfire.”

“Fucking unbelievable,” you snapped, rushing to wrench open the trunk and throw your suitcase inside.

Roman’s karma also came in the form of you sitting as far away from him as humanly possible on the car ride to Siobahn’s wedding venue—a castle “belonging to a family friend” where you would all be staying for the next week. No big deal or anything.

Or rather, would’ve been staying for the next week.

It was no longer so difficult to imagine yourself quitting this job. It simply wasn’t worth it anymore. You would figure something out. Even if he ruined your reputation, he had made a lot of enemies during his short time as COO. Surely someone in the industry would hire you, and even if they didn’t, you could get a job in another field entirely. You hadn’t been planning on being an assistant for the rest of your life anyway. Sure, you had wanted to move up in the corporate world. Sure, it was a shame that some entitled manchild was driving you away from what you wanted, but again.

Was it all really worth it?

There was a divider in the car, a tinted window that separated Roman from you and the driver, who you now knew as Doug. Ah, Doug. Although you had only known him for a few minutes, you definitively concluded that he was one of the most understanding human beings on the planet. You supposed you couldn’t be too surprised that he was so forgiving of the situation, granted that he had been working for Caroline for several years. Sadly, he must’ve been used to that level of…whatever the hell that was.

Little did you know, that tinted window worked just like any other window in the vehicle: it could be opened and closed. And open it did, with just the push of a button from the backseat. You let out a groan as the window slowly rolled down, Roman’s anxious face appearing in the rearview mirror. He seemed uncomfortable, like he was sick to his stomach. And then came the winning question.

“Are you mad at me?”

You were quiet for such a long time that he started to ask again.

“Are y—”

“I quit.”

You said the words before they were even fully formed in your brain. You pressed the button to roll the window back up, but he quickly rolled it back down.

“You…um. You quit what, exactly?”

“I quit,” you repeated. “I’m done. It’s over.”

“What are you quitting? Quitting smoking? Quitting your gym membership? Quitting life? Do I need to get you 5150’d, or…?” He was being sarcastic as usual but the discomfort in his voice betrayed him.

He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this one bit.

“This job, Roman!” you snapped. “I quit. I don’t want to work for you anymore. I never did.”

He was the quiet one this time. You tried clicking the button only for him to roll the window back down again. You wanted to scream. Yet another example of Roman taking advantage of something useful for his own purposes: annoying you.

“You don’t mean that.”

You chuckled bitterly. “You sound so sure of yourself.”

“You’re staying with us for the next week. So what, are you just gonna hang around until it’s time to go? You really think I’m gonna let you do that?”

“Of course not. I’m not putting myself through that misery,” you said flatly, scrolling through your phone. “I’m looking up flights home now. The reception here sucks, so I’ll have to figure it out when we get there.”

“Um, yeah. No.”

You stopped scrolling, your posture stiff. “I’m sorry, what?” you asked, your eyes shifting back to the rearview mirror. He was looking out the window, shaking his head as he scrunched up his face. “Did you just say no?”

He turned back to meet your eyes in the mirror. There was an air of false calmness to him. He could usually talk himself out of anything, but this clearly caught him off guard. Did he seriously think you would never get tired of putting up with him? On second thought, you supposed he would be surprised by someone asserting themselves, and ultimately withdrawing from him. He was constantly doing terrible things, and his family and everyone around him just boiled it down to “well, that’s just the way he is.” Professional enablers, all of them. Even Kendall at times. “No” wasn’t something he got told a whole lot, unless it was coming from Logan. And given his position of power, you leaving must’ve seemed out of the question to him.

“We need to…I don’t know! Don’t we need to have a meeting about this first? Like an exit interview, or whatever the fuck? We have to sit down and schedule a little get-together before you do anything drastic. You have to submit a formal resignation.”

“Okay, I’ll just email you one.”

“No, a hard copy.”

“It’s not 1996.”

“Nope, I want a hard copy. It’s the least you can do, you overpaid little brat. And wouldn’t you know? Uh oh, you forgot to bring your printer in your carry-on. Silly you. Looks like you’re gonna have to put your plans on hold.”

“Roman,” you turned to look at him, the anger evident on your face. “I mean it. I’ll say it as many times as I need to. I quit.”

“Look, I get it. Okay? You’re tired, I’m tired and what I said earlier wasn’t exactly…fair. And stop looking at me like that. I don’t like it.”

You just stared at him. “Roman, you called me an H&M wearing plebeian.”

“No, that’s slander, okay? What you’re doing is illegal. Slander is illegal. I didn’t call you an H&M wearing plebeian. I called you a run of the mill, ladder climbing H&M wearing plebeian. And a coffee gopher.”

“Oh my god. I can’t.”

You turned away, rolling the back window up. Instead of pressing the button again, Roman stretched his neck so his face rose above it as it closed. “Okay, yeah. I said it, but I didn’t mean the run of the mill part! Seriously, I—”

A few minutes of silence passed before you spoke again, this time to the only other tolerable person in the vehicle.

“Is his mother like this, too?” you asked.

Doug smirked and laughed to himself. “Caroline? Well, she can also be very…persistent.”

For the final time, the window rolled down.

“Hey. You two aren’t talking shit about me up there, are you?”

☽

You couldn't catch a flight until tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

And so, you were stuck in what had once been your designated room. A nice room, a room bigger than your apartment, but you would be lying if you said this wasn't the last place you wanted to be. When you got out of the car, Roman waved you off dismissively before practically running away from you.

"Just sleep on it, 'kay?"

You would not be "sleeping on it." You were leaving tomorrow afternoon, come hell or high water.

In addition to this, all things considered, you weren’t exactly jazzed about Kendall strolling in there at 11:00pm. He walked in casually (after knocking, of course. He may have been a Roy, but he wasn’t a Roman) just as he would when you used to work for him. It had been a while since you had really spoken to Kendall. He would email and text you pretty regularly, however. He liked to “check in.” It was clear that he missed you, and even clearer that he pitied you.

“Hey you!” he called out. “Catch!” He tossed something at you, small and light. To your surprise, you actually managed to catch it.

A sober chip.

“Ninety days,” he said fondly. “I’ve been keeping up with my meetings. I know it’s not a huge deal, but I figured you would be proud.”

He was correct. You were proud. You used to really push him to go to his meetings. Frankly, you were a little afraid he wouldn’t keep up with them after you stopped working for him. He seemed to prefer AA over NA. He never mentioned why. Although alcohol was certainly an issue for him, his main drug of choice was cocaine. You had never thought to ask about it. It seemed too personal.

“That’s great, Ken!”

Your anxiety about what had been said about you and your former boss seemed to dissipate slightly when he told you the good news. It appeared that a hug was in order, at least from Kendall’s point of view. You stood there awkwardly as he wrapped his arms around you and squeezed.

“Wow, you’re a shitty hugger.”

You laughed nervously, tapping him on the back a few times in what was supposed to be some…platonic form of affection. You peered over his shoulder. The door was wide open. Although you didn’t see anyone—and likely wouldn’t, considering how late at night it was—you didn’t want to risk people seeing this.

Especially not you know who.

“So,” he said, pulling away and smoothing out his sweater. You felt the urge to roll your eyes. Black cashmere, not one wrinkle in sight. So very Kendall.

“How have you been?”

☽

Thank you all so much for reading/liking/reblogging/replying 🩵 It means a lot. Short chapter this time (since I uploaded three in one shot last time lol), longer chapter next time. Reader is in a tough spot here 🙃

@pearlstiare

#roman roy x reader #roman roy #succession

632 notes · View notes

buckychristwrites · 1 year

Text

About You | Day 8 | j.t.

Summary: Your job? Pop culture journalist for The Independent. Your assignment? To write a profile on the cocky footballer that you're publicly feuding with.

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Discussing tits?? Cussing. Enemies to lovers

A/N: Let me know what you think! :)

Masterlist | About You Masterlist | Main Blog

“Holy shit!”

Keeley’s face was horrified by the picture on your screen. It was your face the morning after the match. The bruising had spread from the bridge of your nose to your forehead and your cheeks. The swelling had been minimal, and you were lucky that you hadn’t gotten a black eye. You had still taken the day after the match off, however, for that reason, and because you desperately needed to get started on the article.

Though, it had been weird being away. That had been the first day in a week where you didn’t see or hear from Jamie. There were too many instances where you thought about texting or phoning him. But ultimately, you didn’t speak to him at all. Maybe that was why you were able to be so productive. You had gotten a decent chunk written, and had transferred the audio, video and picture files all onto your laptop and organised them.

But now you were back in action, face caked in makeup to hide the extensive bruises and anti-inflammatories taken to bring the swelling down. When you ran into Keeley in the car park, she had asked if you knew why Jamie had been pulled from the match. Roy, she had said, was so angry about it, despite the win they still claimed, that he just couldn’t tell her. So of course, you had to tell her what had happened.

“He really pummelled him though?” She asked. You nodded. She looked pleased. “Good for him. That prick sounds like he deserved it.” Retelling the story had brought back the feelings from the day prior, making you shake your head.

“I’ve never been defended like that before.”

You weren’t looking at her as you stared at the picture of yourself, but you could feel her studying your expression.

“Jamie’s amazing to have on your side once you have him,” She said in a quiet voice. When you looked at her again, you could see what she was thinking just by the look on her face. It felt like she was seeing right through you, reading your mind. Maybe she was.

“He is,” You finally said with a nod. She nodded back in understanding, biting back a smile.

You tried to distract yourself from the butterflies in your stomach. The breeze felt nice, blowing just enough to cool you down from the sunny warmth without being considered too windy. It felt a little too bright outside, but maybe that was from the injury you were sporting. Your head had been incredibly sensitive, easily developing a headache at the drop of a hat.

“Quite a relationship the two of you have developed over the last week,” She remarked innocently before taking a sip of her coffee. You broke eye contact as you began to look around.

“It’s crazy what can be accomplished after yelling at each other in the car about our feelings,” You told her.

Keeley was never a stupid woman, and you never took her for one. You could dance around the topic as much as you wanted, but you could tell by the way she looked at you in this moment, that she knew everything about the conundrum going on in your head. For a brief second, you considered the idea of talking to her about it. Maybe she’d have some insight for you. She was, after all, the most qualified person you knew to give you advice when it came to player number 9 of AFC Richmond. You took a deep breath.

“Can I tell-”

“Are we workin’ out here today?”

The both of you jumped a kilometre in the air before whirling around. Jamie approached with a look of amusement on his face.

“Fuckin’ Christ, Jamie,” Keeley scolded with a hand dramatically over her heart. “You nearly gave me a fuckin’ heart attack.” He couldn’t help but grin mischievously while she continued to shake her head. Your heart was racing, and you knew it wasn’t just due to the fear you had felt moments before.

“Sorry,” He said, without an ounce of apology in his tone. When he glanced at you, he immediately looked away, the smile on his face seeming to fade away. “Erm, would I be able to talk to ya?” He asked, his eyes finding you again. You looked over at Keeley with a look that begged her to stay.

“Well, see you guys later!” She said. If you hadn’t been paying attention, you would’ve missed the wink she gave you before scurrying off and disappearing through the door.

“Right, erm.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking around as if something in the car park would help him. You watched him carefully. He looked so guilty, and sad.

“I just, erm…” He tried again, but trailed off. Finally, he inhaled, clapping his hands together. “We missed ya at practice yesterday.” You bit the inside of your cheek.

“I missed it too,” You said. Though you knew that’s not what you missed. “I just… I just needed a day for proper work and rest, I think.” He nodded in understanding.

“Your face looks much better than I thought it would,” He said, lifting a hand to point to where you got hit. You stared at his fingertips and remembered how they felt when cradling your head in that little room during the match. It was like your cheeks had the feeling burned into them, for they suddenly grew very warm. You felt embarrassed by how much you wish he would do it again.

“I’m wearing makeup,” You admitted before showing him the picture on your phone. His hand instantly went to face, running downward from his eyes to his chin before dropping back down to his side. His knuckles on that side were covered in bruises, and you had to actively tell yourself to look away.

“I should’ve been more worried about keepin’ you safe than lettin’ me anger get the best of me,” He said. “I know you said it wasn’t me who hit ya, but it still wouldn’t’ve happened if I hadn’t acted like a loon. I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I’m just so sorry.”

You wracked your brain in a desperate attempt to say something, anything, that would make him feel better. But you knew it was all in vain. You knew, in that moment, he was hearing his dad in his head, calling him a fuck up and a monster, or whatever it was he was thinking. But it was all in his expression, as he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the pavement.

“You stood up for me,” You reminded him. “You were trying to protect me and keep me safe.” He nodded.

“I was worried ‘bout you bein’ upset by the way you rushed off after the match.”

It was true. When you had woken up back at Richmond that night, with Jamie’s arm around you and head using yours as a pillow, you were filled with a lovely feeling. The team were piling out at the time, clearly having seen the two of you already and no longer paying it any mind. You had woken him gently, allowing him to pull away from you on his own before you rose from your seat. A quick goodbye was exchanged before you left, trying and apparently failing, to appear nonchalant as you stepped off the coach and headed to your car.

“Then you didn’t come in the next day,” Jamie continued, shrugging his shoulders. “I just… I just wanted to make sure you and I are alright.”

You wanted to comfort him with more than just words. With a hug, or the squeeze of a hand. It didn’t feel like the right moment, and you weren’t sure how he would handle the gesture, so you decided against it. You were suddenly hyper aware of your hands at your sides, so you shoved them in your pocket.

“Of course we’re alright,” You said. “No other mate of mine would ever do what you did for me. You may have just gotten promoted to my best friend.” This seemed to placate him, for his face relaxed, now smiling slightly.

“You don’t have any friends who’d break a person’s teeth for ya?” He asked, astonished when you shook your head. “Sounds like ya need to get new mates, yeah?” You turned and started to walk towards the door, him following close behind.

“What makes a person a good friend to you?” You asked him as the fresh air turned into air conditioning. The hallway seemed more sparse than usual, but you wondered if that was because the two of you were now considered tardy.

“They just give a fuck about ya,” He explained, waving to the always excited security guard. “I used to think a good mate was just someone who I knew for a long time and could go to the club with.” He took a long moment to think. “But… now I know that the length of time doesn’t matter, it’s the quality of the person.”

As much as you felt bad about it, you were shocked by his answer.

“That was really thoughtful, Jamie,” You said, staring at him in awe. He straightened his posture.

“I can be thoughtful, sometimes.”

Upon entering the changing room, you were surrounded instantly by players, who all began talking at once and looking over you. You looked around between all of them, overwhelmed as you tried to pick out some of what they were saying.

“Is your nose okay?”

“We were worried when you didn’t come in yesterday!”

“Is it broken? It looks the same…”

“Gentlemen!” You announced, raising your hands up. They all stopped, the silence a huge contrast from a moment before. “My nose is fine, and not broken. It’s just very bruised and painful. I just needed to get some work done and rest my head yesterday, but I missed you all too.”

They all calmed, even looking happy at your words.

“Where’s the bruising?” Van Damme asked, looking closely at your face. “I don’t see any.” You pulled your face away.

“I’m wearing makeup, goofy.” He straightened, making an O shape with his mouth.

“Women are so magical with their makeup abilities,” Dani said in a dreamy tone. “Shapeshifters, they are.” Rolling your eyes with the biggest smile on your face, you turned around and returned to Jamie, who had been watching the whole exchange with an amused grin.

“They really like ya,” He informed you. In the middle of pulling your notepad from your pocket, you froze and looked at him.

“They were more than worried when you didn’t come yesterday, they were havin’ a strop about it.” He pulled his shirt off. You tried not to stare. “Kept askin’ me if you were in hospital or somethin’.” You looked around at the team, who were now getting changed and not paying you any mind. It hadn’t occurred to you that you hadn’t just turned things around with Jamie, you had also changed things with them, as well. When you had started coming around, just over a week ago, they were all standoffish towards you, sending glares at every chance and keeping their distance. Now, they seemed to care about you just as much as you cared about them.

The coaches entered, looking around at the team. Their eyes all fell on you at once, and you thought they would be indifferent. But they all seemed to look almost relieved at the sight of you. The moment was gone as quick as it started, as they began to address the team while you took your notes.

Back to business as usual.

It was an average day on the pitch. For the first hour, you watched as normal. But you began to feel yourself getting antsy, as it seemed to be something you had been watching the same thing over and over again. You thought about the things you’d need from the article. Plenty of pictures filled your phone of him playing, but maybe taking pictures of the stadium itself would be nice. There were lots of pictures and posters of him hanging out that had been proudly displayed by ownership. Maybe you could get a comment from someone who wasn’t a player.

Taking one last look at the pitch, you snuck off to the tunnel. You made an effort to not look back once more to see if your leaving was noticed. The prickle you felt on the back of your neck let you know that at least one person was watching you.

There was something so serene about the club when the hallways weren’t swimming with people. The history on the walls were so fascinating, and being able to have the chance to walk around and actually soak it in made you giddy. Meeting people and interviews were all well and good, but this was your favourite part of your job. The research, the learning, the things you got to see that the layperson did not. You looked at every picture of previous teams, looking for familiar faces and feeling excited when you actually found them.

When you got to the current team’s picture, you felt a surge of pride as you took a photo of it. This team had become so important to you in the last week, and you found yourself wondering if you would feel the same in a week, a month, even a year. Would they say hello if they saw you at an event? Would they reply to your comment amongst a sea of fan replies on Instagram? Would they even care to remember you once you're gone?

As per usual these days, your thoughts floated back to Jamie, the same questions still standing. You knew these feelings went far beyond friendship at this point. Would it even matter, in the end, after you went back to your normal job? You’re just you, and he is Jamie Tartt, footballer legend extraordinaire, the best of his generation. He had pieces done about him all the time by interviewers from around the world. Fans adored him, and would cry, yell and faint on the street over him. He met women and men who were, let’s face it, richer, more beautiful and more interesting than you ever could’ve dreamed of.

You were just a silly little journalist who caught a silly little crush on the mad famous footballer. The one who, incidentally, you had hated just a few months prior. What a world.

“Are you alright?”

You shrieked, whirling around to find Rebecca Welton standing there looking like an absolute bombshell while also looking positively fearful.

“I’m so sorry,” She said as you slapped a hand over your chest. “I just saw you standing there-”

“No no, it’s alright,” You said, finally catching your breath. The skin on your cheeks felt like it was melting off from how hot they were. “I just got lost in thought, is all. I’m okay. How are you, Rebecca?” She looked surprised, even hesitant, by your question.

“I’m well, thank you.”

The two of you just stood there for a long moment, looking around awkwardly. You put your phone in your pocket before folding your hands together in front of you. This was the first time you had seen or spoken to her since the first day. While you weren’t going out of your way to avoid her, it did make you feel better to not see her. The first impression you had gotten was that she didn’t really want you around, so you felt you were helping her out by keeping yourself scarce.

“The team seems to have warmed up to you,” She said, a little quickly. “Keeley says that Jamie and you have become… quite close?” You nodded.

“Shocking, I know,” You said with a laugh. “It was a surprise to everyone.” You wished deeply in that moment that she was easier to read. She was smiling, but she was the type of person where she could smile at you while also planning your murder and allocating the resources and money for it at the same time.

“I do hope that means that the negative articles about my players stop,” She said, still smiling. In this moment, you wished desperately that you were back on the pitch. Or maybe dead in an alley. Anywhere, really, would be better than this.

“Yes, I’ll find someone else to slander,” You said. Your heart dropped, stunned, when she actually laughed at this. The sound of it sucked the air from your lungs.

She began to walk away, but stopped, raising a finger before turning back to face you.

“Are you still going to the Gala?”

You looked back at her again.

“I am,” You told her. “Wouldn’t miss it!” She nodded, looking around the hallway before back at you.

“Have you decided on an outfit yet?” She asked. “It’s black tie.” You shook your head.

“I have some dresses in my closet. I’ll probably go with one of those.” This time, it was her turn to shake her head.

“Oh. No, no,” She said, waving you off. She looked you up and down, seeming to assess you. You could practically see the wheels turning in her mind. “I’ll send you some ideas. You let me know which one you want, and I’ll have it sent to your apartment by morning.”

Your eyebrows knitted together, your mouth now agape.

“Rebecca, I can’t let you do that,” You said, the shock filling your voice. “I appre-” She waved you off again, which made you shut your mouth.

“I won’t hear a word otherwise,” She said before giving you a lovely smile. “Just let me know which one you think suits you best. Preferably by the end of the day.” She turned around and began to make her way down the hall, leaving you dumbfounded.

“Thank you!” You called after her. She didn’t speak, but instead she waved behind her. You continued to watch her.

“Do you already know where I live or something?”

When the team returned to the changing room, you were already on the bench in front of Jamie’s locker with your legs crossed atop the wood. You had returned to take pictures of the locker room, having gotten what you wanted from the rest of the stadium. Now, you sat on your phone, scrolling through the dresses that Rebecca had sent you.

“Where’d you disappear off to?” Jamie asked, leaning over your shoulder to see what you were looking at. He let out a low whistle. “What are those for?”

“The Gala,” You said, trying and failing to hold back your excitement. “Rebecca said she’d get me whatever dress I want. For free!” You huffed. “I can’t decide which one though.” Snatching your phone from your hands, he began to scroll through them himself.

“These are for you?” He asked quietly, looking at you before looking at the dresses. You eyed him nervously, about to ask him to give you his honest opinion when-

“What’s for you?” Sam asked, taking the phone from Jamie, who gave him an angry look. Sam studied the phone, about to open his mouth before Isaac took the phone from him, who then had it immediately stolen by Van Damme.

“This one is lovely,” Van Damme said as he started to show you which one he was referring to, but then Richard snatched it from him. When he looked through the options, he snorted.

“You are crazy!” He said to Van Damme. “The best one is this one!” Colin yanked the phone, although it was quite a fight this time as Richard had quite the grip on it.

“This one would really bring out her eyes though,” Colin retorted, showing Richard another one. Dani grabbed the phone and looked, giving you a precious smile.

“You would look lovely in all of these,” He said kindly. You blushed while Bumbercatch looked over Dani’s shoulder.

“You have to pick the best one, bruv,” Isaac grunted. “We already know she’d look lovely in all of them!” You peaked over at Jamie, who was a mix of annoyed and amused. Everyone began debating, voices louder and louder as time went on. You watched the entire thing without the smiling on your face faltering at any point.

The door to the coaches’ office burst open, and Roy and Coach Beard made their way out. Their presence did not calm a soul in the room.

“OI!” Roy shouted. Everyone froze to look at him. He looked around at everyone, being sure that every single person in the room got an individual glare before saying, “What the hell is going on here?”

Within ten minutes, the dresses had been printed out and taped to the whiteboard, your phone having thankfully been returned. Coach Beard was at the board with a pointer in his hand. Everyone was talking over each other.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, let’s talk this out like adults,” Beard exclaimed as the voices slowly came to a stop. “Now through door number one is this lovely ankle length dress with a straight cut neckline and spaghetti straps.” He paused for a second, presumably for the drama. “Elegant. One might even say… chic. A beautiful red for a black tie evening. Will definitely stand out.”

“What if she doesn’t want to stand out?” Jamie called out.

“It’s a Charity Gala, Tartt. Every woman wants to stand out!” Isaac shouted.

Jamie rolled his eyes, mumbling under his breath about how none of these blokes know you at all. You ignored the flutter in your tummy as you continued to watch the mayhem.

“Door numero dos!” Beard exclaimed, a little louder this time. “A pink mini dress with a frilly skirt, heart neckline and no straps.” You shrugged.

“I don’t know if I have the tits for that one?” You admitted. The room erupted, everyone yelling at you. You shrugged defensively, throwing your hands up. “I’m just saying!” They continued to pop off.

“You have beautiful tits!”

“It’s not the tits, it’s the heart of the girl who wears them!”

“Who made you feel so self conscious about your tits? I’ll fucking end them with my bare hands.”

“Oi!” Jamie stood up, raising his hands and looking at the team. “Stop fuckin’ talkin’ about her tits, yeah?” Everyone mumbled in agreement as Jamie slowly sank back into the seat. “Fuckin’ innappropriate that is. Borderline sexual harassment, in my opinion.”

“And last, but certainly not least,” Coach Beard continued. “We have a long, floor length black dress, slit down the skirt, with a straight neckline and no straps.”

“It’s too similar to the first one!” Sam pointed out, which the rest of them roared in disagreement.

“You just don’t understand fashion, Sam,” Colin said, ignoring Sam’s look of absolute disgust and shock towards the back of his head.

“But it’s better than the first one,” Richard pointed out. “The skirt slit makes it just-” He lifted his fingers to his mouth, kissing them before opening them again. “Chef’s kiss.”

“It has the elegance of the first one without being… aggressive with the redness,” Isaac remarked.

They continued to debate passionately. You looked at Jamie, who, for the first time since you had ever known him, remained perfectly silent, just listening.

“What do you think?” You asked him, in a quiet voice so only he could hear you. He looked over in surprise, eyebrows to his hairline.

“Me? You want my opinion?” He asked. You shrugged.

“I’m getting everyone else's, may as well chime in,” You said. You decided not to tell him that as much as you loved the chorus of loud opinions coming from the rest of the room, the one you wanted most was his. He stared at you, searching your eyes, before turning and looking at the dresses. A few moments passed before inhaled deeply and spoke again.

“The black one.” It was so confident of an answer. “Number three.”

“Why that one?” You asked, turning to look at it again.

“The first one makes you look like you’re going to your ex husband’s weddin’ and you’re tryin’ to make a point. The second one looks like somethin’ you’d wear to the premiere of a children’s movie.” He looked at you again, his eyes going up and down your body, before turning back to the board. “The black one just feels like you. It’s simple, but still se- still nice.” He nodded in confirmation. The two of you met eyes again and he swallowed. “The black one is perfect.”

Not waiting another second, you stood up.

“I’ve made my decision.”

They all looked at you expectantly. You paused for dramatic affect, and the longer you waited, the more impatient they all got. It was a little exhilarating.

“Number 3,” You declared. “I’m picking the black one.”

The room erupted once more, a mix of enthusiasm and disappointment. Before it could get too chaotic, Jamie stood.

“It’s her fuckin’ choice, yeah?” He yelled. “Either be happy for her or keep your mouth fuckin’ shut.” Despite the aggression in his words, you could see the twinkle in his eye, and when he met your eye, he winked before smiling at you.

It wasn’t until you went to sleep that night that the smile on your face faltered, but even in your sleep, there was still a slight whisper of one on your lips.

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction

425 notes · View notes

eretzyisrael · 2 months

Text

by Richard Goldberg

Anti-Semitism is spreading in K–12 school districts. Even in primary and secondary education, Jews are often viewed as privileged whites and oppressors, with Israel branded as an egregious example of “settler colonialism” and oppression of “indigenous people.” “Liberated ethnic studies” curricula, like the one mandated by California, have created a distinct variant of critical theory aimed at Jews for being Zionist colonial oppressors.

Teachers’ unions are the leading purveyors of this approach. Two years ago, the United Educators of San Francisco adopted a resolution calling for a boycott of Israel. The Chicago Teachers Union instigated pro-Hamas demonstrations in the Windy City after October 7. The union persuaded Chicago mayor Brandon Johnson (a former CTU lobbyist) to condemn Israel in the city council, and it organized a student and faculty “walkout” to show solidarity with Hamas—a city-authorized event that left Jewish students and teachers feeling intimidated. In suburban Seattle, kids as young as seven were recently encouraged to condemn Israel and join in anti-Semitic chants. Oakland Unified School District faces a federal investigation after 30 Jewish families removed their kids from school due to rampant anti-Semitism. And at a high school in New York City, hundreds of students hunted down a female teacher they saw on social media holding a sign supporting Israel.

Marxist ideology is the primary culprit influencing this mind-set, but not the only one. Qatar, a tiny Persian Gulf country that supports Hamas, is funding anti-Semitic “scholarship” not only in American universities but also in K–12 schools. Qatar Foundation International gave $1 million to the New York City Department of Education between 2019 and 2022 for a program featuring a map of the Middle East that erases the Jewish state. The same story played out at a public charter school in Irving, Texas. What other districts in the country might be taking money directly or indirectly from a chief Hamas sponsor? Brown University’s Choices Program, used by more than 1 million high school students nationwide, exhibits a clear anti-Israel bias. According to Brown, the Qataris “purchased and distributed a selection of existing Choices curriculum units to 75 teachers whose districts didn’t have funding to buy them.”

Tools to fight back, however, are available. Governors and state legislatures can begin by blocking “ethnic studies” from the K–12 curriculum and by imposing new teacher-certification requirements. To curb foreign meddling, states should ban school funding or in-kind donations from entities connected with countries that harbor U.S.-designated terrorist organizations. School districts and state boards of education should use the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s working definition of anti-Semitism to root out conduct meeting its standard. Several groups sued the Santa Ana, California, school district in state court for failing to notify parents before approving ethnic studies courses that contain anti-Jewish bias and for harassing Jewish parents at school board meetings.

At the federal level, parents could file formal complaints with the Department of Education for discrimination under Title VI of the Civil Rights Act. Such complaints are increasingly common against colleges and universities, but any school that receives federal funding must comply with Title VI. The House Committee on Education and the Workforce should consider holding a hearing on anti-Semitism in K–12 schools, putting the national spotlight on anti-Jewish administrators and school board leaders.

Local, state, and federal officials have played meaningful roles in fighting back against critical race theory in the classroom. They need to fight equally hard to stop anti-Semitism masquerading as Middle East or ethnic studies.

#antisemitism #k-12 #school districts

65 notes · View notes

wanderingcas · 1 year

Text

since ao3 is down and we're all suffering here's chapter 1 of my destiel lighthouse keepers fic (not the prologue. that's a secret)

title: where there is darkness pairing: dean/cas summary, written badly, because i did this in 2 minutes: Cas is trying to escape his past by taking a job as a lighthouse keeper. Little does he know the love of his life is waiting for him there. Historical au. Gay sex later. Just read it.

Chapter 1

1949. Autumn.

The bus drops Castiel off on the outskirts of Kittery, just over the bridge connecting Maine and New Hampshire’s borders over the water. He watches the bus as it hisses, lifting its aching joints and meandering down the windy highway 101.

Castiel decides to stand for a long moment, staring out into the empty field.

Behind him is Kittery Foreside, the center of town: beyond it, the harbor, with the lighthouse just a speck in the distance. It’s a clear afternoon, not quite twilight, so he was able to track the dot through the window as they crossed the bridge.

But now, he’d rather stare at the field and the deep blue of the sky as the sun sets.

In his left hand is the official letter detailing his new job. In his right, a leather suitcase containing everything he now owns (three outfits, one wool sweater, a toothbrush—and a stack of letters, stained in the left corners where he dropped them accidentally into a puddle).

He watches a seagull’s trajectory as it lands on the fence post, scratching at a wing with its beak.

A lighthouse keeper—arguably an insane job to take, considering he has no experience. But the sailing portion on his resume (from a handful of times he sailed at his family’s lake house as a boy) seemed to set him apart from the rest of the applicants. And the job was going to put him exactly where he wanted to be: away from society. Away from people.

Taking a sharp breath, he turns on his heel, and follows the road to the town center, street lights illuminating the pavement in the twilight.

There’s only one hotel that took his reservation at such short notice; as he fills out the registration form, the bellhop eyes his lack of luggage suspiciously.

Swallowing a nervous lump in his throat, Castiel takes the key from the woman at the front desk. “Do you have any recommendations for somewhere to eat this time of night?”

“Only thing open on a Wednesday night is the Roadhouse, sir,” the woman says as she files his paperwork behind the desk. She shoots him a smile. “It’s good food, though. Place is almost as old as the town itself. I recommend the lobster rolls, personally.”

“Thank you, uh…”

“Bela,” she replies.

“Bela,” Castiel repeats. “Can you tell me which direction to go?”

Pulling out a map, Bela splays it on the counter, uncapping a pen.

The Roadhouse is clear on the other side of town, across yet another bridge. The amount of islands that the area is divided into baffles Castiel. It’s well past dark when he arrives, pushing the door into the warm embrace of the diner.

A rush of nostalgia hits him as he realizes it’s similar to the one in Boston that he frequented, just a couple of blocks from the parish—their similarities extend even to the paraphernalia on the wall. Whoever owns this diner seems to have an obsession with John Wayne, just like the ones in Boston.

“Be one sec!” a waitress calls as she flies past him, a tray of drinks balanced on her shoulder. “Just pick an empty one!”

Dutifully, Castiel slides into a chair by the window, setting his cold hands on the table. He glances around at the buzzing diner; there are more people than he expected, considering that the town seemed to already close its eyelids as the sun went down. A family with two whining toddlers are crammed into a booth in the corner, another taking up multiple tables shoved together, kids running around and chasing each other as their parents snap at them to sit down and eat. Other tables are filled with men in fishermen’s overalls and boots, a group of women poking at their plates of food, babies in their arms.

One baby, held by a woman in a plaid dress, coos and holds out his hands towards the plate. The woman smiles down at the baby, kissing the top of his blonde head.

Castiel’s heart constricts and he looks away before the familiar tears can prick at his eyes.

“Whaddaya havin’?”

Castiel whips up his head at the same waitress from before, blinking. “Oh. I don’t have—”

“Ah, damn it, I didn’t give you a menu did I?” she says with a roll of her eyes, pulling out a plastic one from underneath her arm and setting it on the table. “Sorry, the dinner rush is crazy on Wednesdays. You wouldn’t think it, my brother had the big idea to make Wednesday the day we offer crab at market price, so everyone’s goin’ nuts.”

Castiel stares down at the menu, feeling a little shell-shocked, and realizing he hasn’t had a proper conversation with someone for weeks—especially not someone so energetic. “Should I not order the crab, then?” he asks, solemnly.

“Not order the—?” She lets out something closer to a snort than a laugh, smacking his arm. “Oh, you’re yanking my chain, huh? No, order the crab if you want, damage is already done. I’ll just give you a minute, okay? Oh, and name’s Jo, if you need to yell at me across the room.”

Before Castiel can reply, she’s already walking away at a quick pace, ponytail swinging.

He orders the lobster roll when she finally comes back around to his table twenty minutes later; when he explains it was on Bela’s recommendation, Jo scoffs, “And you trust her?” She waves a hand at his raised eyebrows. “Whatever, she’s right, actually. Lobster was fresh caught this morning, too. Any fries with that roll to keep it company?”

Castiel nods, handing the menu back to her. “And an iced tea.”

She takes the menu, narrowing her eyes. “Say… if Bela gave you the recommendation, does that mean you’re staying at the inn?”

Castiel sucks in a breath. The lines he rehearsed are already slamming into his head like a film playing too quickly. “Yes. I just got into town.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, welcome! What brings you to Kittery?”

“A job.”

When Castiel doesn’t elaborate, Jo leans in, smile conspiratorial. “And what job would that be?”

Castiel considers lying. But he already has enough lies to keep track of. “Second assistant keeper at Whaleback Lighthouse.”

Jo’s eyebrows shoot up her brow, and she says, emphatically, “Oh. The stag light, out on the harbor? Really?”

“I don’t seem the type?” Castiel jokes weakly.

Jo doesn’t even try to hide the way her eyes scrape up and down his suit and trench coat, more tax accountant than sailor. “No, actually. Not at all.”

“I’m trying a career change.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I have sailing experience.”

Jo purses her lips. “Oh. Yeah. Sure.”

It was beginning to feel like he was interviewing for the job all over again. Castiel crosses his arms on the table and stares her down as intimidatingly as he can: the same stare he gave the children when they forgot lines of their catechisms. “Is that all?”

“Hey,” Jo says, hands raised, “just making conversation. I’ll go put in your order.”

Castiel watches as she makes her way to the kitchen, glancing over her shoulder at him as she goes. There’s a small window where the orders are passed between the kitchen and whoever is at the counter: Castiel can see Jo talking to another man through it as they glance intermittently at Castiel.

He scrubs a hand over his face and curses under his breath. Lying would have been the better option.

The news spreads like wildfire: from Jo to the cook to other patrons in the diner to an older woman at the till. They all stare at him with curious glances, sizing him up. When Jo delivers his lobster roll, Castiel can barely eat it, his stomach is so twisted up in knots.

Someone is going to ask questions; investigate. Or, worse, someone is going to recognize him from the papers. His suitcase is still at the hotel; he could run back to his room, grab it, get out of town. He could just ditch the suitcase altogether if it weren’t for the damn letters. He curses himself again for not putting them in his pocket. He begins to fish out his wallet, fingers shaking as he pulls out a few bills because he can’t just add dine and dash to his list of offenses, but the walls are also closing in and everyone’s looking at him and—

A man appears beside the table. Castiel stares up at him, eyes wide, hands hidden under the table.

He’s wearing waterproof overalls and gumboots, like the rest of the fishermen types at the adjacent table. He scratches his beard and narrows his eyes as he sizes up Castiel.

Castiel wonders if he could take him in a fight. Based on Castiel’s lack of fitness and the size of this man’s arm, his guess is a resounding no.

“You the new keeper at Whaleback, huh?” he asks.

Castiel wills his voice not to shake. “Yes.”

The man stares at him for another long moment, frowning, scratching at the dark beard peppering his jawline. Finally, he sits down at the chair across from Castiel, leaning toward him. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Castiel asks, frowning.

The man shakes his head. “Just… watch yourself out there. Okay? Place isn’t exactly… normal.”

Something akin to cold water rushes down Castiel’s spine, extinguishing the fire of anxiety freezing his limbs—people aren’t wary of him. They’re wary of his new place of occupation. He almost laughs with relief.

“I can manage,” he says, placing the bills back into his wallet. “Thank you.”

“No, see, there’s—” The man blows out a gust of air. “The Principal Keeper, you see. He ain’t right in the head.”

“I’m sorry, who even are you?” Castiel snaps.

“Cole!”

Both Castiel and the man turn their heads in time to see the older woman from the register approach and cuff Cole over the back of the head. “Spreading rumors again, huh? Got nothin’ better to do?”

Cole crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back in the chair with a scowl. “Not rumors if they’re true, Ellen,” he mumbles.

“Then the next thing you can gab about is how I kicked your ass across this diner and out onto the street,” Ellen snaps, smacking at his shoulder. “Go on, get up and join your buddies, you good-for-nothin’.”

With a roll of his eyes, Cole rises, then points his finger at Castiel. “I mean it, okay, guy? Just watch yourself around that psycho.”

“That’s enough out of you,” Ellen growls, shoving his back as he goes. She hooks a thumb over to the table of fishermen. “Ignore those superstitious idiots. They latch onto a Jonah in town and don’t stop talking about it.”

“A Jonah?” Castiel asks.

“That’s what they call anyone who’s bad luck enough to stop them from getting a catch.” Ellen shrugs a shoulder. “But they’ve had the best fishing around here in decades since Dean Winchester rolled back into town from the war, so it’s just prejudice.” She nods down at Castiel’s plate. “Lobster roll no good?”

Castiel blinks down at it; he’d forgotten the food in front of him. “Just haven’t had the chance to try it yet.”

Smile sympathetic, Ellen nods over to the counter. “If you want, we can move you over there. Then the eyes of the town will be on your back. Easier to ignore.”

Despite himself, Castiel’s lips quirk up into a grin. “I like that idea.”

With a wink, Ellen scoops up his plate for him, holding it aloft as she weaves through the tables. “Sorry about them,” she says over her shoulder to Castiel as he follows. “You’re not exactly the first keeper this year to come into town for the job, so they’re just a little excitable.”

Castiel slides onto the stool at the counter, frowning. “I thought the job just opened up last month?”

“Oh, it did.” Ellen rounds the corner to the other side of the counter, depositing Castiel’s plate. She quirks her lips, thinking for a moment. “You’re the fourth, I think.”

Castiel gapes. “Fourth?”

“This year, at least.”

“I…” Castiel works his jaw to find the words. “Did they—are they…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, too absorbed in the image of his body splayed out onto the rocks as an ending to this story.

“Oh—no,” Ellen scoffs, waving a hand. “They didn’t die. It’s a dangerous job, but people don’t die… often. No, these men quit after a few months. One didn’t even last a week.”

Because she keeps glancing at his plate, Castiel picks up the lobster roll and takes a bite. Perfectly salted lobster and toasted bun explodes flavor in his mouth. He makes a mental note to thank Bela profusely for the recommendation.

He realizes, two bites into his food, that he forgot to pray.

He frowns, wiping his face with a napkin, inwardly chastising himself. That kind of thing doesn’t matter anymore.

Jo skips up to stand beside Ellen, placing her empty tray down on the counter. “What are we talking about?”

“Don’t listen to her about it, either,” Ellen tells Castiel firmly, taking the tray. “Jo’s got fanciful notions about the sea.”

“Oh, we talking about Whaleback?” Jo’s eyes glint mischievously as she leans forward to say to Castiel in a lowered voice, “It’s haunted, you know. That’s why all those keepers quit. Only the Winchesters stay there ‘cause they got used to the ghosts by now.”

“I see,” Castiel says slowly.

“But, hey, kudos to you for trying it out,” another voice says, patting him on the shoulder. Castiel balks at the man who’s suddenly appeared next to him, a hand offered in greeting. “I’m Ash, Jo’s brother, Ellen’s reluctant son. Nice to meet ya.”

Castiel rubs his temples and sighs. “This is beginning to feel like a circus.”

“Let me give you the skinny,” Ash says, pushing back his hair that’s somehow short in the front and long in the back—something Castiel can barely get his mind around. “Lighthouse used to be totally normal, right? Besides the normal rumors that lighthouses just always have. Daddy John Winchester and little brother Sam Winchester looked after it while older brother Dean Winchester was off fighting the Nazis—he came back and that’s when things started getting weird.”

Weary from traveling and the overall conversation, Castiel decides to tuck into his lobster roll, hoping that if he doesn’t reply, they’ll all go away.

“Tell him what happened with his uh, uh—what do you call it?” Jo asks, snapping her fingers.

“Oh, yeah! Dean’s agoraphobia,” Ash says. “Shifts at the lighthouse are usually 25 days on, 4 days off, right? Well, Dean stopped going to shore more and more, until he just stopped leaving the lighthouse altogether. Don’t think that kid’s been out since—what? ’47?”

“Of course he has,” Jo says with a roll of her eyes. “He stopped coming to the mainland when his dad died last year, remember?”

Castiel lifts his head at that one. “He died?”

“Yeah,” Ash says, shaking his head. “John Winchester—he was the Principal Keeper for, what, twenty years at least. Fell over the railing on a clear day. Since then, people keep sayin’ they see weird things—like a woman in a white dress walking up and down the landing, lights flickering on and off during a power outage… Weird things like that. But people are jumpy after the war, they need something to talk about. Get their minds distracted.”

Castiel sipped at his water, mulling over the information. “Who was on shift with Mr. Winchester when he fell?”

Jo grimaces, exchanging a look with Ash. “Dean was in the kitchen when it happened. Saw his dad falling past the window.”

“He’s Principal Keeper now,” Ash adds. “So you’ll be serving under him. Sam Winchester is the first assistant. And Adam, their half brother, still in high school—he helps out from time to time, picks up shifts if Sam needs it. But now, with you here…” Ash lets out a chuckle. “Well, as long as you last, anyway.”

Castiel takes another long gulp of water, wishing it was beer so he could calm his jangling nerves. “The Coast Guard didn’t tell me I was walking into a situation.”

Ellen, who stayed on the sideline of their conversation, comes back to lean against the counter. “Officially? You’re not.” She points her finger at Castiel. “Loyalty runs deep in this town. No matter how weird Dean gets, he still fought for this country and he’s done a lot of good for the town since. So any sideways look or word against him, and people will sooner run you out of here than take your side. Got it?”

Castiel sets down his iced tea. He nods. “I got it.”

“Good.” Ellen leans back, arms crossed. “That all being said—if you last after a shift, be sure to visit here while you’re on shore, okay?”

“Yeah,” Ash chimes in, “we’re placing bets. So last at least two shifts so I can stay low, okay?”

“Or at least three,” Jo adds. She nudges his elbow on the counter with her own. “Don’t worry, champ, I got faith in ya.”

Incredulous, Castiel scoffs into his water. “Yeah. Right.”

The bell to the diner door rings, heralding a group of sweaty children in baseball uniforms and their parents. The sudden flood of people distracts Ash and Jo long enough for Castiel to finish his lobster roll in peace. When he’s done, he places a ten dollar bill, enough to cover the meal and then some, beside his plate as he shrugs on his coat, winding around the crowd clamoring for a seat to sit.

He hunches his shoulders against the damp shock of cold, blowing warm air into his hands. Living in Boston was cold, but not like this: here, the very air feels hostile, stealing your breath to toss into the harbor’s winds. Castiel paces down the main street, past the dark windows of a flower shop, antique store, and a movie palace. At the end of the road, nudged up a slight hill, is a drug store—and a payphone tucked in beside it.

It’s a bad idea. He knows it’s a bad idea. But then he thinks of the letters in his suitcase, and the answer is made for him.

Picking the phone off its cradle, he dials for the operator and asks to make a collect call to Boston, fighting the tremor in his voice.

The line trills once. Twice. Castiel’s palms spring sweat despite the cold. On the fourth ring, the receiver is picked up.

“Hello?”

Hearing his sister’s voice releases the vise that’s constricting his chest. “Anna,” he chokes out.

There’s a long silence on the other end. Then: “You have to be kidding me.”

“I know I shouldn’t be calling—”

“I told you not to. I’m hanging up.”

“Just—” Castiel clutches the phone tight to his ear, his body a taut string. He can hear forks clinking in the background on Anna’s end. They’re probably having dinner. “How is she?” he asks, unable to hold the words back. “Her and—”

“They’re fine,” Anna says with a sharp sigh. “Listen, someone could be listening in. It was stupid to call. Don’t do it again.” She pauses. “You get in okay?”

“Yes.” Castiel closes his eyes against the sudden tears that spring into his eyes. “I start the job tomorrow.”

“Good.” Anna’s voice is gentler as she adds, “They’re fine, little brother. Just—don’t call again. Okay?”

“Okay.” Castiel can hear a familiar laugh over the line. He quickly slams the phone back into the cradle; an instinctual reaction.

Panic, fear, sorrow—it all mounts in his chest as he stumbles away from the payphone, blindly down the road. His feet find their path away from the downtown, toward a cluster of trees and green overlooking the harbor.

The lighthouse is on now, its lens bright and twirling across the water like a ballerina suspended on a string. Castiel follows the movement as he breathes unsteadily, desperate to catch his racing heart.

Eventually, as it always does, his pulse slows. The fear, the panic—it all leaves his body like water trickling off a ledge. Regret and shame remains, pooling sourly in his gut.

The water below is dark, murky. It would be so easy to get lost in, with one step in the wrong direction.

He stares at the lighthouse for a moment longer. Then, with a straight back, he turns away and walks back toward the town.

****

As with most things in his life, Dean has a love-hate (but mostly hate) relationship with this lighthouse.

It’s easy to take care of on sunny days and clear nights, but it’s grueling during a storm or fog. Sun shines through the window in the midday, providing warmth, but it’s ever-loving cold the rest of the time.

It provides him with shelter from the outside world.

But it traps him in, like a caged animal.

Love, hate—day in and day out. And right now, standing against the railing of the balcony with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips and the wind whipping at his back, it’s hate.

The light’s ready for the dusk that’s beginning to settle on the harbor. Dean’s cleaned the lens and brewed the meths. He turned on the tap, set a match to the mantle. The routine is so familiar, he could do it in his sleep. The light rotates behind him, illuminating his back briefly before turning its watchful eye to the rest of the harbor.

Bright, dark. Bright, dark. Around and around like a carousel.

Him and this lighthouse go way back, like a bad relationship that he can’t quit. When John moved him and Sam to Kittery and started work on this light, Bobby would bring Sam and Dean to visit during the fortnightly supply runs. Every visit was like a further punch to the gut to remind him of what he’d lost. It wasn’t like the light they’d all lived at when Dean’s mom was alive, with a cozy house that always smelled like freshly baked bread. This was a cold, sterile environment that smelled like three guys living in close quarters. And John—

He could barely look Dean and Sam in the eye when they visited.

After a few months at Whaleback, John seemed to relax into the work and his smile came more easily, but Dean would smell the whiskey on his breath.

After a while, Bobby stopped taking Sam and Dean at all.

The lighthouse took John and swallowed him whole. During his brief few days of shore leave, he’d just sit with a bottle at the table. Dean came to dread it, since it meant that the money he’d squirreled away in the coffee can on top of the cupboard would inevitably be pilfered for booze money.

Dean doesn’t know why he’s thinking about all of this, or about John. Maybe it’s because of where he’s currently standing.

Muttering a curse, Dean pulls the zippo out of his pocket and lights the cigarette.

“Got you.”

Dean turns as his brother comes onto the walkway, collar popped and hands deep into his coat pockets. His cheeks are already pinched red from the cold.

Dean adopts an easy posture, arms settling on the railing as he leans back with a grin. It hides the bitter taste of nostalgia still on his tongue. “I said I wanted to quit, not that I was going to quit.”

Sam rolls his eyes, then joins Dean at the railing. “Light all set?”

“Yup. Everything’s good. Go get some shut-eye.”

“I thought it was my shift tonight.”

Dean shrugs a shoulder. “Not tired. I can take the whole night.”

“You took the whole shift last night, too,” Sam says with a frown. “What about that chamomile tea Bobby brought last week? Did you try that?”

“Not drinkin’ a flower. I’ll sleep the old-fashioned way.”

“Clearly that’s not working.”

“I’ll take the shift tonight.” Dean levels his brother with a stare. “Okay?”

Lips twisted into a frown, wind sweeping at his hair, Sam suddenly looks like a younger snot-nosed version that had that same miserable look when Dean tried to tell him that Dad volunteered himself for a double shift that month. Before the Coast Guard took over during the war, things were more relaxed—less regulated. John was able to take all the double, triple shifts as he pleased, drinking himself stupid with all the bootlegged liquor in the cellar.

It always upset Sam, when their dad didn’t come home. He was a sensitive kid.

Just like all those years ago, Dean’s heart is punched out with a desire to make that frown leave Sam’s face.

“You wanna sneak back with Bobby tomorrow when he comes for the supply run? Go see Eileen? I can cover things here.”

Sam rolls his eyes with a scoffed laugh. “That’s a pretty terrible first impression to make on the new keeper Bobby’s bringing in.”

Fuck. Dean had forgotten about that. “That’s tomorrow?” he asks with a wince.

“Yes, and we need him to last more than a week, unlike the last guy. Otherwise the Coast Guard is not going to let us have a say in who comes or stays anymore.”

“Last guy was a pansy,” Dean grumbles around his cigarette.

“You punched him in the face, Dean.”

Dean glares out at the thin line of the distant shore and doesn’t reply.

“Since you’re a vet, they’re taking it easy on us,” Sam continues, “but Bobby was talking to someone up in a higher rank the other day and—I think this is our last chance.” He clears his throat. “Your last chance.”

“The hell you mean?” Dean asks, drawing up to a straight back. “They’re gonna sack me?”

“Move you, I think. To a solo light on the shore.”

Dean throws up a hand. “Well, fine. Let them. What’s the problem?”

There’s that miserable look again. Sam won’t raise his head as the unspoken words hang between them. Dean stays silent, challenging Sam to say it.

“You know what the problem is, Dean,” Sam quietly says.

Yeah. Dean knows. He knows that without Sam, Dean at a solo light would probably end with him hanging from the rafters.

Blowing out a drag of smoke into the wind, Dean hunches back over the railing. “I’ll try,” he concedes. “But if he’s a dumbass—”

“Then I’ll train him,” Sam interjects. “You don’t even have to be in the same room as him. We’ll put him on the early morning shifts, make him sleep in the afternoons.”

Dean huffs out a laugh. “Make him stay in the service room listening to the radio.”

A grin forming on Sam’s face, he adds, “Tell him that shore leave is ten days instead of four so he stays off the lighthouse for longer.”

“Yeah, the Coast Guard won’t notice that.”

“Whatever it takes for you to cohabitate with this guy, I say we do it,” Sam says with a shrug. “Get creative.”

Dean makes a move to flick the stub of his cigarette away; Sam grabs his arm to stop him. “I just cleaned the gallery, Dean.” With a scowl, Dean tosses it into the ocean instead.

Sam runs a hand through his messy hair and sighs, the disapproval evident in his frown. “Need anything before I go down to the bunks?”

“Nah. Get some sleep, Sammy.” Dean gives his brother a smack on the chest in dismissal. “I’ll wake you for the morning shift.”

“Okay, but actually wake me this time. Don’t let me sleep in until nine.”

Dean taps out another cigarette from the carton he fishes out of his pocket. “No promises.”

“And let me actually make breakfast tomorrow, too!” Sam calls before he disappears through the door.

“I would if your eggs weren’t shit!” Dean barks back. His words are snatched up by the wind. He turns back toward the ocean, clicking the lighter as he holds it up to the cigarette butt. “Seriously, who raised you?”

Blowing out another puff of smoke, the cigarette still caught between his teeth, Dean eyes the shoreline. Their new keeper is probably staying at Bela’s place, if it’s still even running. The inn nearly went under last year after her parents declared bankruptcy. He ran with her a few times in high school before he cut town—she was sharp around the edges. Misunderstood. Just like him.

He remembers the new guy’s resume. It had stood out to him among the rest, mainly because he seemed the least qualified. Didn’t make sense at all why the Coast Guard chose him as the new rookie, when five men before him—way more experienced, to boot—didn’t last.

No family, no money. Maybe that’s why they took him. That’s better, for these stag lights—bunch of single men with no families means there’s a better chance of them staying. It’s why the Coast Guard is itching to get a new keeper for the light, what with them eyeing recently married Sam, and Eileen, who’s in the family way.

It would make more sense for Sam to leave, get a position at a light with a house. Where he could see his family every night.

What Sam and Dean used to have, before Mary died.

Dean runs a hand down his face, letting out a curse. Whatever the word is for wishing for a time that he can’t get back to, ever—that’s what tonight is. Memories he didn’t ask for turning around and around in his head like a wheel. That’s what the sea does when you look out into it: shimmers back at you, showing you what you want to see. And sometimes what you don’t.

The door behind him creaks open again. With a grumble, Dean lets out a breath of smoke, a reprimand on his tongue for Sam to get the hell to bed.

A bang echoes through the air.

Dean drops his cigarette in surprise, whipping around to face the door. It yawns open, mercilessly blowing in the wind, banging against the side. Dean strides over to it and pulls it firmly closed before it breaks one of the windows.

The lens, green and opaque, flashes across his eyes; he squints as the light rotates away. Turning back to the railing, spots dotting his vision, he sees a shadow.

One taller than him, broader; stumbling toward the railing with a groan.

Dean closes his eyes, briefly; chest constricting. A trick of the light. It happens.

“It’s haunted!” one of the failed keepers had shouted as he stuffed his clothes into a carpetbag, stumbling down the stairs. “This place is fucking haunted!”

But that keeper had got it wrong—it wasn’t the lighthouse doing the haunting.

It was the person inside of it.

#where there is darkness #destiel lighthouse keepers au #destiel #THE HACKERS WILL NOT WIN #HERE'S SOME GAY STUFF

211 notes · View notes

purplealmonds · 3 months

Text

I watched the Mononoke Zashikiwarashi stage play!!

I watched the performances on 03/29 and 03/30, and I have so many Thoughts. But I’m on vacation and haven’t the spoons to draft them up coherently until I return home in a few days.

For now, I'll do a photo/art dump of my experience.

I arrived a few hours early to the theater (I had to take the train from Kyoto to Osaka, and built in time for potential navigational incompetence). While I waited for the theater to open up, cracked open my iPad and started painting in Procreate.

This is the exterior of Cool Japan Park Osaka's WW Hall. Shaking off a lot of rust from painting from observation, but I'm happy with how the colors came out.

Photo for reference, though I painted it live. Shadows moved quite a bit while I worked because I am slow.

This is the interior of the theater. I was forbidden from taking photo and video of this space, so I painted it it, albeit messily because of the short time I had before the performance began.

Winding back time a bit, here's the cardboard cutout stand the theater staff set out right before they started admitting people into the lobby:

It was a bit windy that day, so it actually snapped in half mere minutes after its installation lmao. Not pictured is the flustered staff tying Mr. Medicine Seller to the railing with some twine.

Selfie taken after the disaster:

Keeping an eye on Mr. Medicine Seller to ensure he doesn't misbehave agains, prints in hand to be gifted to unsuspecting theater-goers:

When I was seated, some of the giftees stopped by to gift me with an acrylic standee and a cookie! The standee is given exclusively to audience members who preordered their tickets super early, so it's amazing I got my hands on one! After the performance, someone also posted my art on their instagram story! O:

The performance visual, gift shop, and posters were also deployed around this time.

Also was pleasantly surprised to see a huge Mononoke Karakusa poster displayed. Unlike typical movie posters, this one was printed on a rather thick matte rather than thin translucent gloss paper.

And here's the merch and goodies I acquired at the lobby:

I was originally buying just the pamphlet, but as you can see I did a few more impulse purchases! I ended up getting:

📖 Zashikiwarashi Pamphlet - Hoping if productions of other episodes are a thing this can become a collection. The Bakeneko pamphlet was also sold here. If there's interest I can do a flip-through video of both the Bakeneko and Zashikiwarashi pamphlets!

🎟️Mononoke Karakasa Bonus Gifts: I thought it was just the clear file and a neat lil trading card but it seems like the trading card is actually a movie ticket??? I’m not gonna be in Japan when the movie comes out though but it’s a nice souvenir nonetheless!

🌇 Mononoke Karakasa flyer - The theatre had massive stacks of them to be taken freely. The first one got a bit wrinkled on my ride back to the hotel, so I grabbed 2 more after watching the 2nd performance!

💿Bakeneko Blu-Ray - This was something I thought I’d never get my hands as a US resident so I was pleasantly surprised they were selling this. Definitely a pretty penny but now I get to watch it at my leisure when I get home! May do a write up about it eventually. The Zashikiwarashi Blu-Ray actually went on sale today, but it only delivers in Japan. Sighhh. I guess I have no choice but to fly back when the Umi Bozu stageplay goes live. Or if it pops up on Mercari some time in August the price gouging hopefully won't be too horrific.

#mononoke 2007 #mononoke 2024 #モノノ怪 #mononoke #butai mononoke #mononoke karakasa #purplealmonds #blogging #2024

58 notes · View notes

spooky-pomegranate · 11 months

Text

I'm Not Like You (Captain Price x gn!reader)

Word Count: 1.3k Summary: You lead your first mission. Price is there for you in the aftermath. A/N: SFW, hurt/comfort, drabble

Is it supposed to feel this way?

When you breathe… when you take a deep breath is it supposed to feel this way? Like the weight of a dozen men standing on your chest. Like there’s never enough oxygen in any room you walk into. Like the air just won’t go into your lungs no matter how hard you try.

Because that’s what it has felt like.

And that’s what it still feels like.

You can’t help but wonder if it will feel like this forever.

It’s cold, windy, and barren here in Russia. It’s been that way ever since you landed here two months ago. You miss sunshine. You miss your home. And you miss him.

More accurately you miss his presence. You miss his composure, his assuredness, his calm. Surely, he would have had these boys home weeks ago.

You can’t stop thinking about him. About what he’d do if he was here.

It wasn’t supposed to take this long. You weren’t supposed to be here still.

“Two weeks to secure the intel, then we’ll exfil you back,” he had said.

He had lied.

It’s been two months and you still don’t have your hands on the intel. You’ve come close half a dozen times now, but close isn’t good enough. Close can get good men killed.

So far, you’d been lucky it hadn’t. Each of your boys was still present, still accounted for, and still with you. You wondered how you’d managed that. You wondered how much longer they’d still follow you.

“You can do this. It’s time for you to step up.” He had said back at base, back at your home.

You wondered now if that was a lie too. This was the first time you were in command and you felt like it would probably be your last.

Men like him were born to lead. You wondered if people like you were born to follow.

But then a break happens. An enemy soldier slips. He uses an open radio channel and you figure out where the files are stored. Then you attack. You raid the warehouse and get the information.

It’s over. You’ve finally done it.

You’ve dreamt about the moment you’re in right now more than a dozen times while you were in Russia. You’d imagined all the ways you’d proudly tell your Captain you’d achieved the objective without losing a single soldier. You’d tell him how they’d follow your every order. You’d tell him how good you’d been.

But what you don’t expect is the wave of emotion that hits you when you finally sit across from him in his office. It comes hard and it comes heavy. Like a tidal wave sucking you into a dangerous current. You’re swept away without a word.

You’re crying. Sobbing. Tears streaming down your face and your body is shaking. It’s uncontrollable the way you fall apart. And it hurts. God how everything hurts.

But he’s there and he moves. He kneels before you. He doesn’t touch you but he’s so close. You can smell his cologne. You can taste his whiskey, his tobacco. Your head swirls, but then you hear his voice.

Steady, calm, soft like a whisper.

“Everything’s alright…” He breathes deeply. “You’re alright.” He says.

The pain. It hurts so much. But you push forward. You speak.

“I’m not supposed to be a leader. Captain, I’m not…” The words are harder to say than you thought they would be. It’s like they’re stuck somewhere deep in your throat. It’s like they don’t want to be said aloud. Like they don’t want to be true.

“What? Because it took longer than you thought it would?” His tone is gentle. There’s nothing accusatory about it, but he’s struggling to understand why you think you can’t lead when you can… when you did.

“No. Because it hurt Captain.”

You feel something warm against your knee. Through a hazy fog of tears, you see his hand. He’s touching you. Cautiously. Hesitantly. Reverently.

“What hurts?” He asks.

“Everything.” You say.

The hand on your knee flexes slightly at your words. You hear him exhale. He shifts closer.

But you continue on…

“Every morning when I woke up and I saw my men my heart hurt Captain. Knowing that if I made one wrong call these boys could be dead… it was too much. It kept me up at night. It gave me nightmares. I imagined knocking on their families doors, telling them I killed their sons because I fucked up. And it hurt Price. I can’t handle that. If something had happened I don’t think I…”

The tears are flowing too heavily now. You can’t see. You can’t sit upright anymore. You fall forward and he’s there. He’s always there.

He lets you collapse into him. His arms circle you and you slump to the floor. You bury your face into his chest.

He’s so warm.

“I’m not like you John.” You mumbled into his cotton t-shirt. Your tears stain the green fabric.

But his hand finds your chin and he tilts your face upward. His blue eyes meet yours. Then you see something you never thought you’d ever see. There are tears in John’s eyes. They prick at the corners and threaten to fall.

“We’re more alike than you think.” He says. His voice isn’t steady anymore. It wavers. A tear falls onto his cheek.

Your Captain is falling apart with you.

“I know it’s a heavy weight to carry, the lives of your men, all on your shoulders. And I wish I could tell you that it becomes lighter with time… but it doesn’t. But that’s what makes you a perfect leader. You’re humanity. You’re goodness. You’re kindness. You care about them and they need that in a leader. They need you as you are.”

Your fingers dig a little deeper into Price’s skin. He doesn’t seem to mind.

His voice continues.

“You’re not alone in your nightmares and your pain. I feel it too. I hurt all the time…”

Price buries his head into your neck. His beard brushes against your skin and your heart aches. No. It smashes completely apart.

You never thought you would see your Captain cry. You never thought you'd feel his body shake like this against yours. You wonder how long he’s suffered. You wonder how long he’s been in pain. You wonder how long he’s held this weight alone.

But he carries on as he always does.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so sorry, love.”

The pain stops. Your heart stops. You pull back from Price’s neck and the world stops.

He’s never looked at you like he is now. His raw vulnerability…it’s so much. Before you can think twice you move. You push forward and rest your lips against his. You kiss him.

His lips are soft. He tastes woody and earthy, like a combination of his favorite things, tobacco and whiskey. But then you realize what you're doing and you stop. You pull away from him quickly. You’re embarrassed. No. Beyond embarrassed.

Shit.

You hadn’t meant to do that.

Shit.

You didn’t mean to ruin everything.

But before you can allow pity to take hold of your chest, Price’s hands cup your face and he pulls you back toward him. He kisses you deeply, swallowing your moans and chasing after your tongue. Pity subsides. A hunger grows.

You get lost in one another. Your hands roam each other. Skin against skin. Body heat rising. Time stands still. But eventually, you both need air. Eventually, you rest your forehead against his.

“I don’t know how you’ve done this on your own for so long.” You whisper against his lips.

Price sighs. Then he speaks.

“How about from now on, neither of us shoulder everything on our own. I’ll carry some of your weight and you carry some of mine. I want to know when you feel like you can’t move forward, sweetheart. Just tell me and I’ll remind you how good you are. How perfect you are.”

Price kisses you again. It’s soft. Assured. Hopeful. It gives you strength. It takes away the pain.

“I believe in you.” He says.

And you believe in yourself.

#call of duty #captain price #captain john price #john price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #captain price x reader #cod price #john price x reader #captain price x you #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2

254 notes · View notes

windydrawallday · 28 days

Text

Someone asked for this feathered airhead so, during this week I'll try to work on an infodump for him 🦅

#myart #windydrawallday ocs #windy ocs birdlord #i could reply in a sit but the thing with this OC is that his lore is tied to a +15 yo project #thats like opening a pandora box of lore hahaha #and like i did with Edwin i want to make something pretty for him too!#old doodle im glad i saved between my scanned files #bird anthro #bird furry #avian oc #sort of his species is one of many in Frontera #they look like animals but are not exactly animals #like aesthetic representations of what those animals and their archetypes mean

4 notes · View notes

mel-loly · 24 days

Text

(Grupo MKS, One Shots/MKS Group, One Shots)

↓ To PDF file

Link

Branco/White: Português/Portuguese

Laranja/Orange: Inglês/English

“D” para David (novo personagem), “A” para Axel e “M” pra Mel-Loly. /“D” for David (new character), “A” for Axel and “M” for Mel-Loly.

⚠️Aviso⚠️: É um pouco cringe, e tem melancolía e racismo. Também não recomendo ler se você realmente não gosta de coisas “muito carinhosas/relações melosas”. /⚠️Warning⚠️: It's a bit cringe, and has melancholy and racism. I also don't recommend reading it if you really don't like “very affectionate/mushy relationships” things.

“O Reencontro de Ex-Colegas/The Reunion of Former Colleagues”

Era um dia normal na vida dos MKS.. Todos estavam a fazer suas coisas, ou na verdade, se distraindo já que não tinham nenhuma situação de perigo acontecendo. /It was a normal day in the lives of MKS... Everyone was doing their things, or in fact, distracting themselves since there was no dangerous situation happening.

Basicamente: Charlie com os seus planos e Pinkobot ajudando ele. SproutOliver fazendo almoço enquanto Sharon e seu namorado(Nicolas, personagem de @manpleblog), o ajudava. Zina já planejando suas novas aventuras. Marcos arrumando um pouco o seu quarto e lendo seu livro sobre plantas. Franz costurando algumas roupas rasgadas e antigas suas. Primrose e Madeline(também personagem de @manpleblog) estavam tomando um chá. Sabryna fazendo algumas poções novas junto com sua namorada (Celeste, TAMBÉM personagem de @manpleblog). Calopsita na enfermaria testando as poções de cura da Sabryna. Windy na sua casa da árvore, jogando alguns joguinhos junto com Abibas. Axel testando golpes e novas armas (criadas por Charlie) na sala de treinamento. E finalmente, Mel, saindo de casa para regar o jardim de flores de seu filho, também dando comida para as plantas carnívoras que Marcos cultivava. Pq segundo ele, essas plantas iriam fortalecer seu poder de “natureza”, oq Mel claramente não confiava muito, mas ainda fazia questão de cuidar mesmo assim. /Basically: Charlie with their plans and Pinkobot helping them. SproutOliver making lunch while Sharon and her boyfriend (Nicolas, character from @manpleblog), helped him. Zina is already planning her new adventures. Marcos tidying up his room a little and reading his book about plants. Franz sewing some of her old torn clothes. Primrose and Madeline (also a @manpleblog character) were having tea. Sabryna making some new potions together with her girlfriend (Celeste, ALSO @manpleblog character). Calopsita in the infirmary testing Sabryna's healing potions. Windy in her treehouse, playing some games with Abibas. Axel testing moves and new weapons (created by Charlie) in the training room. And finally, Mel, leaving the house to water their son's flower garden, also giving food to the carnivorous plants that Marcos cultivated. Because according to him, these plants would strengthen his “nature” power, which Mel clearly didn't trust much, but still insisted on taking care of them anyway.

Mel, cuidando ainda do jardim, encontra um amigo que havia conhecido a pouco tempo, mas que já tinha papo e que já tinha criado uma boa afinidade com ele. Ao vê-lo, Mel dá um sorriso e logo acena pra ele. Largando o regador no chão com cuidado e indo em direção ao indivíduo. /Mel, still taking care of the garden, meets a friend he had met recently, but who had already started chatting and had already created a good rapport with him. Upon seeing him, Mel gives a smile and then waves to him. Carefully dropping the watering can on the ground and moving towards the individual.

M: Eai, David! Como cê tá, meu irmão? /Hey, David! How are you, my buddy?

D: Eai, Mel! Como é bom te ver! /Hey, Mel! How good it is to see you!

Os dois dão um comprimento com as mãos e se puxam para um abraço em seguida, dando uns tapinhas nas costas. Logo se soltam e depois começam a bater um papo. /The two shake hands and then pull each other into a hug, patting each other on the back. They soon loosen up and then start chatting.

Axel, dando sua “passeada”.. Encontra Mel conversando com alguém, e logo reconhece a pessoa... Ficando surpreso.. /Axel, taking his “walk”.. He finds Mel talking to someone, and immediately recognizes the person... Being surprised..

A: David..?

David ouve chamar seu nome, ele se vira.. Então reconhece a pessoa, logo abre um sorriso doce e gentil. /David hears his name called, he turns around... Then he recognizes the person, and opens a sweet and gentle smile.

D: Ah, eai Axel! /Oh, hey Axel!

Ele vai em direção a Axel, e logo dá um abraço apertado, mas também com gentileza. Axel, por sua vez, fica ainda em choque com a aparição de seu ex-colega de seu trabalho perto da casa da família, ainda mais conversando com Mel.. Mesmo assim, devolve o abraço e descansa a cabeça no seu ombro. /He goes towards Axel, and then gives him a tight hug, but also with kindness. Axel, in turn, is still shocked by the appearance of his former colleague from his work near the family home, even more so talking to Mel.. Even so, he returns the hug and rests his head on David shoulder.

D: Faz tanto tempo que não nos vemos.. Fico feliz de te encontrar novamente... /It's been so long since we've seen each other.. I'm happy to meet you again...

Ele aperta ainda mais Axel, mas mesmo com o abraço apertado, Axel se sente confortável e esfrega as suas costas, fazendo um carinho. /He tightens his grip on Axel, but even with the tight hug, Axel feels comfortable and rubs his back, caressing him.

A: Eu também fico feliz.. É muito bom te ver... /I'm happy too.. It's great to see you...

Axel dá um pequeno afasto, mas ainda está perto de David. Ele olha para os olhos do outro homem, aqueles olhos cor de laranja.. Ah... Como Axel sentia saudade daqueles olhos.. E todo rosto em si, lhe deixava mais do que só admirado... Mas logo volta ao presente ao ouvir seu amigo falar. /Axel takes a small step away, but is still close to David. He looks at the other man's eyes, those orange eyes.. Oh... How Axel missed those eyes.. And the whole face in itself, left him more than just admired... But soon he returns to the present listen to your friend talk.

D: Vejo que você mudou bastante. /I see that you have changed a lot.

A: Ah.. É... Eu.. Decidi ficar com um estilo meio “rebelde”.... Eu sei, é meio “estranho” comparado ao o que eu usava ultimamente naquele tempo.. /Oh.. Yeah... I.. I decided to go with a somewhat “rebellious” style.... I know, it’s a bit “strange” compared to what I wore lately at that time..

D: Ei, eu não falei nada disso! Você não tá estranho, eu, pelo menos, acho você estiloso. E se você se sente confortável assim, melhor ainda! /Hey, I didn't say anything like that! You don't look strange, I, at least, think you're stylish. And if you feel comfortable like that, even better!

Axel, ao ouvir aquilo, sentiu um rubor transparecer em seu rosto. Logo se afastou e se virou de costas pro outro homem, tentando esconder um pouco o rubor e pensar em algo pra distrair sua mente. Já David em si, ficou confuso com o que acabou de acontecer, logo levou uma de suas mãos pra coçar um pouco a sua cabeça. /Axel, upon hearing that, felt a blush appear on his face. He then walked away and turned his back to the other man, trying to hide his blush a little and think of something to distract his mind. David himself was confused by what had just happened, so he took one of his hands to scratch his head a little.

D: Ei, Axel.. Eu falei alguma coisa errada...? /Hey, Axel.. Did I say something wrong...?

Ele diz com um sorriso meio torto e desajeitado. Axel percebe o que realmente fez e volta a realidade, logo se vira, lançando um sorriso também torto e tímido, mas totalmente genuíno, também com um leve rubor em suas bochechas. /He says with a crooked and awkward smile. Axel realizes what he really did and comes back to reality, then turns around, throwing a smile that is also crooked and shy, but totally genuine, also with a slight blush on his cheeks.

A: Ah! Não não! Eu só- uh... Não esperava um elogio assim, ainda mais alguém da polícia.. Ou mais especificamente, “delegacia”. /Oh! No no! I just- uh... I didn't expect a compliment like that, especially someone from the police.. Or more specifically, “station”.

Axel acaba de tocar em um assunto delicado, que faz David perder totalmente a compostura e se entristecer um pouco. Olhando meio para o lado, tentando não demonstrar muito sua tristeza em seu olhar. Axel percebe o movimento, e conhecendo David, ele sabe exatamente que seu amigo não está bem, e fez questão de perguntar. /Axel has just touched on a delicate subject, which makes David completely lose his composure and feel a little sad. Looking to the side, trying not to show his sadness too much in his eyes. Axel notices the movement, and knowing David, he knows exactly that his friend is not well, and made a point of asking.

A: David..? Está tudo bem...? /David..? Is everything ok...?

David não consegue nem olhar para Axel, ele não faz idéia de como contar a notícia, mas tinha certeza que seria o certo de qualquer maneira dizer a verdade e desabafar sobre.. Ele coça a cabeça, fechando os olhos e dando um suspiro. /David can't even look at Axel, he has no idea how to break the news, but he was sure it would be right anyway to tell the truth and vent about... He scratches his head, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh.

D: Eu parei de ser delegado.. E até policial... /I stopped being a delegate.. And even a police officer...

David diz, sendo totalmente sincero e honesto com o homem a sua frente. Ele agora leva os olhos finalmente aos o de Axel, ele olha para um homem chocado, mas também interessado ao saber o motivo. /David says, being completely sincere and honest with the man in front of him. He now finally brings his eyes to Axel's, he looks at a shocked man, but also interested in knowing the reason.

D: Eu basicamente não tava aguentando mais aquela delegacia.. Me lembro das vezes que eu chegava em casa, totalmente desgastado pelo estresse... /I basically couldn't handle that police station anymore... I remember the times I would come home, completely worn out by the stress...

Pois não tinha um dia que eu me sentisse bem naquele ambiente, não tinha um dia que eu pudesse fazer as minhas coisas com a cabeça limpa. /Because there wasn't a day that I felt good in that environment, there wasn't a day that I could do my things with a clear head.

Ainda mais quando você saiu.. Eu me senti mais vazio e sem força... Tipo- eu sempre quis ser delegado, sempre quis ser o “líder”, mas.. Depois eu vi que não servia nem um pouco pra esse tipo de coisa... Além de não servir, eu vi que não tinha sentido eu estar ali, até porque era você quem me dava uma razão pra continuar, você me fazia cumprir qualquer ordem, me inspirava também a me tornar alguém o suficientemente confiante de que o que eu fazia era bom, era do seu agrado.. /Even more so when you left... I felt more empty and powerless... Like- I always wanted to be a delegate, I always wanted to be the “leader”, but... Then I saw that I wasn't even a bit fit for that kind of thing... Besides not being useful, I saw that there was no point in me being there, because you gave me a reason to continue, you made me carry out any order, you also inspired me to become someone confident enough that what I did it, it was good, it was to your liking..

Quando eu soube que o motivo de você ter saído era por causa da sua homossexualidade e estava sendo julgado tanto pelos nossos colegas como pelos outros por isso, eu fiz questão de não ficar triste e fazer que, pelo menos no ambiente de trabalho, ninguém poderia ousar a julgar os outros por sua sexualidade, gênero ou cor. /When I found out that the reason you left was because of your homosexuality and that you were being judged by both our colleagues and others for that, I made a point of not being sad and making sure that, at least in the work environment, no one could dare to judge others by their sexuality, gender or color.

Axel ao ouvir isso, abriu um leve sorriso, ele estava muito orgulhoso de seu amigo. /Axel, upon hearing this, opened a slight smile, he was very proud of his friend.

D: O engraçado é que.. A última coisa, eles não respeitaram, não cumpriram com a regra... Literalmente me julgando por causa da minha cor. /The “funny” thing is.. The last thing, they didn't respect, they didn't comply with the rule... Literally judging me because of my color.

A: Que..!? Mas-- /What..!? But--

D: É, eu sei, isso nunca tinha acontecido, mas depois que você foi embora e que eu me tornei líder, várias coisas que nunca aconteceram, haviam começado a acontecer... E cada vez piorava. /Yes, I know, that had never happened, but after you left and I became leader, several things that never happened, started to happen... And it got worse and worse.

Primeiro começaram a insinuar-me chamar de macaco mas “discretamente” e a me tratar como um, me presenteando com “bananas podres” todo dia. Depois começaram a me questionar, de que como eu havia dado a regra pra não julgar tais pessoas, se eu era gay ou algo assim, e até me perguntarem se eu era teu namorado e era por isso que você tinha me deixado ficar em seu lugar. E por último, começaram a quase sempre derramar o meu café “sem querer” na minha mesa de trabalho, sujando várias coisas, que eles sabiam que tinham documentos muito importantes e que com certeza iria me desgastar mais ainda tentando procurar provas para achar os culpados dos crimes. /First they began to insinuate themselves into calling me a monkey but “discreetly” and treating me like one, giving me “rotten bananas” every day. Then they started questioning me, like I had given the rule not to judge such people, if I was gay or something like that, and they even asked me if I was your boyfriend and that was why you had let me stay in your place. And finally, they almost always started to “accidentally” spill my coffee on my desk, dirtying several things, which they knew had very important documents and that would certainly wear me out even more trying to look for evidence to find the culprits of crimes.

E bom, com isso tudo acontecendo, mais o meu cansaço de ter que ficar quase o dia inteiro naquela delegacia.. Eu decidi sair... Basicamente decidi deixar de ser policial.. E olha, te conta, eu acho que no final, foi uma das melhores escolhas que já fiz, sabia? /And well, with all this happening, plus my tiredness from having to spend almost the entire day at that police station.. I decided to leave... Basically I decided to stop being a police chief, and even a police officer... And look, I'll tell you, I think in the end, it was one of the best choices I've ever made, you know?

Axel se surpreende com sua última frase, e faz questão de perguntar. /Axel is surprised by your last sentence, and makes a point of asking.

A: E porque você acha isso? /And why do you think that?

David sorri, mas logo em seguida cai uma lágrima de seu olho.. E enquanto escorre, ele apenas responde. /David smiles, but then a tear falls from his eye... And as it falls, he just responds.

D: Porque agora eu me sinto livre da dor de estar rodeado de pessoas que não me fazem bem.. /Because now I feel free from the pain of being surrounded by people who are not good for me...

Ao ouvir aquilo, Axel imediatamente dá um abraço em David.. Um abraço forte, apertado e também muito carinhoso... David por outro lado, retribuí o abraço, ele encosta a cabeça no ombro de seu amigo e começa a chorar aos poucos, dando leves fungadas.. Axel, mesmo não sendo muito de chorar e demonstrar tal sentimentos que ele considera de “fraqueza”, ele deixa escorrer uma lágrima de seu olho, apertando mais ainda David e esfregando suas costas, fazendo aquele mesmo carinho que ele fez no começo. /Upon hearing that, Axel immediately gives David a hug... A strong, tight and also very affectionate hug... David, on the other hand, returned the hug, he puts his head on his friend's shoulder and starts to cry little by little, giving light sniffles.. Axel, even though he isn't much of a cryer and shows feelings that he considers "weakness", he lets a tear fall from his eye, squeezing David even tighter and rubbing his back, doing the same caress he did at the beginning.

D: Eu achei que você não gostasse muito quando demonstrasse os seus reais sentimentos, ou que os outros fizessem isso.. /I thought you didn't like it very much when you showed your real feelings, or when others did that..

David diz entre meio soluços e lágrimas escorrendo em seu rosto. /David says between half sobs and tears streaming down his face.

A: Sinto que com você é diferente.. Eu tenho uma forte confiança em você... Sinto que posso ser sincero.. Ainda mais por tudo que me contaste! Tem como não deixar de ser um idiota e uma mini/pequena lágrima cair do seu olho? David, eu posso não ter estado lá pra te ajudar naquele momento, e que esse abraço não seja o suficiente pra te fazer sentir confortado, mas mesmo assim quero ser sincero contigo... /I feel like it's different with you.. I have a strong trust in you... I feel like I can be sincere.. Even more so because of everything you've told me! How can not stop being an idiot and have a little tear fall from your eye? David, I may not have been there to help you at that moment, and this hug may not be enough to make you feel comforted, but I still want to be honest with you...

Axel aperta um pouquinho mais seu amigo, David não consegue dizer se quer uma palavra, então faz um carinho em seu cabelo em resposta. Axel dá um leve sorriso ao ver o quão emocionado seu amigo está, ele com certeza nunca tinha visto David assim antes, mas sabia que de alguma forma ou outra que ele ficaria assim, tudo que ele contou para Axel, é uma reação já bem esperada de se ter.. /Axel squeezes his friend tighter, David manages to say no words, so he strokes his hair in response. Axel gives a slight smile when he sees how emotional his friend is, he had certainly never seen David like this before, but he knew that one way or another he would be like this, everything he told Axel is a well-expected reaction from to have...

(Um tempinho depois/A while later...)

Axel vê que finalmente David parou de chorar, ele para os movimentos de carinho nas costas. /Axel sees that David has finally stopped crying, he stops stroking his back.

A: Se sente melhor? /Do you feel better?

D: Mhm..

David confirma, ainda com a cabeça encostada em seu ombro. Sentindo-se totalmente confortado pelo carinho e apoio de seu “ex-líder” e amigo. Axel dá um sorriso logo em seguida ao ouvir isso. /David confirms, still with his head resting on Axel's shoulder. Feeling completely comforted by the affection and support of his “former leader” and friend. Axel smiles immediately after hearing this.

A: Fico feliz.. /I am happy..

Axel afasta a cabeça, e os dois se entre olham. Axel vê o quanto David chorou só por causa das olheiras, seus olhos estavam um pouco vermelhos e escorrendo ainda uma lágrima do rosto. Axel limpa a lágrima e logo depois David dá um leve sorriso em resposta. /Axel moves his head away, and the two look at each other. Axel sees how much David cried just because of the dark circles under his eyes, his eyes were a little red and a tear was still running down his face. Axel wipes the tear away and soon after David gives a slight smile in response.

Enquanto isso....... Mel, em seu cantinho escondido, como um bom “fofoqueiro silencioso”, viu e ouviu toda a conversa e interação dos dois..... Descobrindo um pouco mais do passado de Axel e de David, o tal qual Mel tinha conhecido a poucos dias, mas agora já sabia de tudo. E ao presenciar, Mel teve a brilhante idéia de convidar David pra família/grupo MKS... Já que sabia muito bem agora de como ele realmente era e o quão importante foi para Axel.. /Meanwhile....... Mel, in their hidden corner, like a good “silent gossiper”, saw and heard the entire conversation and interaction between the two..... Discovering a little more about Axel and David's past, the one Mel had met a few days ago, but now they knew everything. And upon witnessing it, Mel had the brilliant idea of inviting David to the MKS family/group.

M: *Ahem*.. Estou interrompendo alguma coisa? /*Ahem*.. Am I interrupting something?

Mel pergunta totalmente ciente da resposta e da reação de Axel. Os dois olham para Mel, Axel faz uma carranca, já David dá um sorriso. /Mel asks, fully aware of Axel's answer and reaction. They both look at Mel, Axel frowns, David smiles.

D: Ah, Oi Mel! Bom te ver novamente! /Oh, Hi Mel! Good to see you again!

A: Você ouviu tudo, não foi? /You heard everything, didn't you?

D: Uh?

Axel pergunta ainda com a carranca, fazendo David fica confuso.. Mel dá o seu querido sorriso malicioso em resposta. /Axel asks, still frowning, making David confused.. Mel gives their beloved mischievous smile in response.

M: Talvez..... /Perhaps.....

A: SEU-- /YOU--

M: MAS.... /BUT....

Não conto pra ninguém, ó: /I won't tell anyone, look:

Ele faz os gestos de zíper na boca. /They makes the zipper gestures in their mouth.

M: Boca fechada, tá? /Mouth closed, okay?

SE você deixar o David entrar na família. /IF you let David into the family.

A: Que....? /What....?

D: Família..? Pera... Vocês se conhecem? São irmãos?? /Family..? Wait... Do you know each other? Are they brothers??

A: Não.. Não é bem assim... /No.. Not exactly this...

M: Na verdade é eu quem chamo de família, David. /I'm actually the one I call family, David.

D: Ah.. E vocês se conhecem então? /Oh.. And do you know each other then?

M: Sim, só que esse “coisinha” aí que tá agarrado ni ti, me odeia pra um cacete- ele só quis fazer parte da família por causa da sua irmã, que tem grande papo comigo, tá ligado? /Yes, but this “little thing” that is attached to you, hates me like hell- he only wanted to be part of the family because of his sister, who has a great chat with me, you know?

A: Cala boca.. /Shut your mouth..

M: Óia, respeita os mais véi.. Lembre-se, você tem 23 anos, eu sou 10 anos mais velho que tu. Então baixa a tua bolinha.. /Hey, respect your elders.. Remember, you're 23 years old, I'm 10 years older than you. So calm down...

A: “Baixar a bolinha”, aa para! Teu c# então! /“Calm down”, oh hey, stop! Your ass then!

D: QUE ISSO, AXEL..!? /WHAT'S THAT, AXEL..!?

M: Nem te preocupa, ele é assim. Tem uma rivalidade e implicância comigo que olha.. Dá pra nem descrever. /Don't worry, that's how he is. There's a rivalry and annoyance with me, which, look.. I can't even describe it.

D: Mesmo assim! Que horror, Axel..! Não pode falar coisas assim... /Even so! How horrible, Axel...! You can't say things like that...

A: Desculpa, David, é que eu me acostumei muito em falar palavrão com o tempo.. Me esqueci que você não gosta... /Sorry, David, I've gotten very used to saying such things over time.. I forgot that you don't like it...

D: O problema não é nem eu gostar ou não, o problema é fazer isso com o Mel! /The problem isn't whether I like it or not, the problem is doing it with Mel!

A: Que..? /What..?

D: Pô, ele é mó legal, me tratou com um baita de um carinho.. Tipo- super gente boa... Vai me dizer que ele não te trata assim também? /Like, he's really nice, he treated me with great affection.. And really sweet... Are you going to tell me that he doesn't treat you like that too?

A: Cala boca, David! Deixa de ser fã dele! Ele não é tão bom quanto parece! /Shut up, David! Stop being their fan! They're not as good as they seem!

Axel fala se afastando deles. /Axel says, moving away from them.

D: Ei! Pra onde você tá indo!? /Hey! Where are you going!?

M: O! Cê não respondeu a minha pergunta! /Hey! You didn't answer my question!

A: Faz oq tu quiser! Desde que não faça dele mais um fã teu também! /Do whatever you want! As long as you don't make him another fan of yours too!

Axel fala e sai de vista, logo David olha pra Mel com uma expressão confusa.. /Axel speaks and leaves sight, then David looks at Mel with a confused expression..

D: Pq ele é assim contigo? /Why is he like this with you?

M: Na verdade ele é assim com quase todo mundo, os da família as vezes ele implica um pouco também, isso quando não tão nem provocando.. Que é a pior parte... /In fact, he's like that with almost everyone, those in his family sometimes get a little stressed too, that when they're not even provoking him.. Which is the worst part...

Mel olha nos olhos de David. /Mel looks into David's eyes.

M: Ele parece uma fera.... /He looks like a beast....

David faz um olhar assustado, já lembrando de como ele era no passado com tais pessoas.. Ele se estremece. /David looks scared, already remembering how Axel was in the past with such people.. He shudders.

D: Eu acho que sei de como ele é.. Talvez não tenha mudado nada desde aquela época... /I think I know what he's like.. Maybe nothing has changed since then...

M: No trabalho ele também era assim? /Was he like that at work too?

D: As vezes sim.. E muito furioso, tinha medo até... Mas depois que eu falava um pouco com ele, ele se acalmava rapidinho! /Sometimes yes.. He was very angry, and I was very scared... But after I talked to him a little, he calmed down quickly!

Mel ao ouvir isso ficou ainda mais com vontade de botar David na família, sabendo que teria alguém pra apagar o fogo que tem na cabeça de Axel seria ótimo! /Mel, upon hearing this, made them want to bring David into the family even more, knowing that there would be someone to put out the fire in Axel's head would be great!

M: Aí! Que ótimo!!! Você vai ser perfeito então pra apagar o fogo daquela carranc- quero dizer.. Quer ser da família? /Hey! That's excellent!!! You'll be perfect then to put out the fire in that frown/grumpy- I mean.. Do you want to be family?

David ri do que acabou de ouvir e também fica super feliz com o convite. /David laughs at what he just heard and is also super happy with the invitation.

D: Hehe, seria uma honra tá com você e com o Axel! /Hehe, it would be an honor to be with you and Axel!

M: Ótimo, meu querido! Vou te levar pra conhecer meu filho, minha noiva, toda a galerinha que agora também é sua família e seu grupo! /Great, my dear! I'm going to take you to meet my son, my fiancee, all the people who are now also your family and your group!

Sem nem mesmo ter o consentimento do outro homem, Mel pega e puxa David pelo braço, levando em direção a casa. /Without even having the other man's consent, Mel grabs and pulls David by the arm, leading him towards the house.

David é logo recebido com muito amor e carinho, os de casa e principalmente Marcos ficaram muito feliz com o novo membro do grupo e família. David agora é o ajudante de SproutOliver na cozinha, junto com Sharon. As vezes ele também usa seu antigo porte de armas e ajuda Axel a batalhar com suas habilidades. /David was immediately welcomed with lots of love and affection, those at home and especially Marcos were very happy with the new member of the group and family. David is now SproutOliver's helper in the kitchen, along with Sharon. Sometimes he also uses his “old” gun license and helps Axel fight with his skills.

~Fim/End~

Revisado por minha irmã(@lelaloly). Muito obrigado, Lela!💛 /Reviewed by my sister(@lelaloly). Thank you a lot, Lela!💛

20 notes · View notes

unremarkablehouse · 2 years

Text

Found an old interview Gillian did as the original series ended. Love that her top 6 memories are some of the most iconic romantic MSR moments 💜

—————————————————

March 2002

Question: Now that the X-files are ending, can you tell us what are some of your favorite memories of working on the show?

GA: Some of my favorite memories of working on the show (and not necessarily in order of importance or weight or much of anything but the order in which I remembered them.)

1. Directing "all things."

2. Singing 'Jeremiah Was A Bullfrog' to Mulder in "Detour".

3. Shooting "Triangle."

4. Shooting "Cops."

5. Shooting the kiss/bee scene in the movie.

6. Shooting the scene where Mulder shows Scully how to hit a baseball in "The Unnatural."

7. Shooting "Bad Blood" but especially the autopsy scene.

8. Doing the elephant autopsy in "Fearful Symmetry."

9. In the first season the crew used to crowd around a t.v. screen on Friday nights and watch the show over lunch. That was fun and exciting for us.

10. I remember when the casting director told me I had the job after the final network audition and I had to drive a fellow auditioning actress that I knew back to her hotel knowing that I had the job and not letting on or being able to talk about it.

11. Shooting the graveside scene in the pilot in forced freezing rain at some ungodly hour in the morning and trying to remember my name let alone whole paragraphs of dialogue.

12. Shooting scenes in the snow in Vancouver wearing a skirt and high heals and trying not to slide down hill...or having to use an umbrella so that my hair did not have to be blown out before every take.

13. Telling David in his trailer that I was pregnant and him telling me that he felt his knees buckle. Blue, as a puppy was lying sick on his bed behind him, having just been spayed.

14. Watching Jim Rose do his famous genital tricks in his trailer during the shooting of Humbug.

15. In one of the very first episodes, there's a scene where Mulder and Scully are to look at red lights in the sky that may be UFO's and follow their flying path. David and I were standing on a windy hilltop looking out onto the pitch black heavens with the cameras on our faces and being directed where to look in EXACTLY the same place at the same time (up down left right)...but with NOTHING TO LOOK AT AS A GUIDE! It was absurd.

16. Shooting Scully and Mulder's final kiss scene at the end of "Existence."

17. Shooting the dance sequence at the end of "The Post-Modern Prometheus."

18. I remember sitting at a wooden table with David on the set when Pendrell was shot, and David telling me about this date he had with a woman whose name he would not tell me, but it was kind of like the tea that you drink.

19. Sitting in a luncheon booth on the North Vancouver lot with David Nutter and for the very first time going over a script with a director beat by beat and how exhilarating that was to be creative that way and have someone care what my feedback and impressions and instincts were. The script was "Beyond The Sea."

20. Shooting the scene where Scully's stomach is pumped with air in an abduction sequence and trying not to reveal that it was actually a pregnant belly being shot. I'll have to show that scene to Piper one of these years.

21. Lying in a hospital bed on set ten days after giving birth to Piper. Hooked up to tubes and wires and drifting in and out of sleep while they shot around me and being wheeled to and from the bed in a wheelchair. Surreal. I'd just been there!

22. Shooting a scene in a rowboat in the middle of a lake all by myself for hours and my lactating breasts getting so swollen that I thought I might explode.

23. Shooting a scene in an episode about cats where Scully has to be attacked in the face by a cat but I am allergic so they built a cat on a stick covered in bunny fur whose arms could be operated by some poor special effects guy. So here I am "struggling" with this fake bunny/cat in my face pretending to get scratched and be terrified when the fake fur keeps sticking to my lipstick and going up my nose and Kim Manners and I cannot stop cracking up at the ludicrousness of it all.

24. Lying on the floor eight months pregnant and being pushed by someone across the floor to simulate me "crawling" because I was so big and my belly was in the way and I could not do it myself. I think it was "Duane Barry."

25. Sitting in the back of a jeep on one of the stages pretending to be attacked by imaginary (CGI) green bugs who are going to cocoon us and suck our life out of us...flailing away at them with all my might and then whenever we cut, turning to a big garbage can to my left and throwing up because I had horrible morning sickness.

26. When Chris Carter walked into my hospital room a day or two after Piper was born and was stopped in his tracks by the sight of this living being propped up beside me. We sat in silence for a long time.

27. Talking to Chris on some payphone outside some restaurant a couple nights before I was to go back to Network for the final audition, and him giving me notes on how to dress more 'streamlined' for the Network Execs... I borrowed a suit.

28. Talking to David for the very first time outside the audition as he chatted up the girls, and commenting on the fact that I was from N.Y. and not really meaning FROM FROM, but the disappointment which flashed across his face when I qualified that I had only actually lived there a couple years. He moved on to someone else.

29. Experiencing Rob Bowman directing for the first time, setting up elaborate shots and the crew standing around thinking what is this new guy doing spending all this time with these fancy angles...cut to...the established norm. And thank God.

30. The last day of shooting in Vancouver when the make-up artist had to redo my make-up three and four times before every take cause I was crying so much. I imagine the same will be said in a little over a month. We won't get anything shot.

The End

GA: I know it seems ridiculous that I might only have thirty memories over nine years but I am afraid that is the best I can do and still have you all read it before the end of the month.

#the x files #dana scully #fox mulder #gillian anderson #txf #david duchovny #x files #gillovny #mulder and scully #random x files deep dive

632 notes · View notes