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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 2 months

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You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 3: The Summer Has to End Someday

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter three of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 2.9K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (once or twice), Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is occasionally described as "curvy." If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

*********************

Philadelphia 1935

"Sit still." You say, dipping your brush gently in the small pot of water at your knee, before stroking it through your paints and placing it against the pad of watercolor paper in your lap.

It was a beautiful day at Fairmount Park. Children ran across the grassy fields flying kites and avoiding the outstretched hands of their mothers, while couples lounged on blankets with picnic baskets overflowing with sandwiches and champagne. The sun was sending gilded light across the pond that gently rippled with the breeze that brushed through your hair, pulling it across your rosy cheeks that blushed under Ben's gaze.

It was your 16th birthday and despite your mother's insistence to take you shopping in the busy stores that lined the streets downtown, you had refused, choosing rather to come to the park and prepare your mind for the party that would follow this evening. You had already glimpsed the abomination of purple tulle that your mother expected you to wear and you hoped that a quiet afternoon in the park would wipe the monstrosity from your memory.

At least before you were squeezed into said dress later that evening.

"I’m bored." Ben stated, leaning back on his elbows where he was sprawled next to you in the lush grass that was no doubt staining the light blue dress that clung to your body. One you had chosen for yourself that accentuated the way you looked, rather than hid it as the other dresses your mother bought for you. However, when Ben came to pick you up this morning your mother had insisted you bring a coat, despite it being the middle of summer. You hadn't missed the flash of anger in Ben's eyes when she wrapped the coat around your shoulders to hide your curves. The same coat that Ben immediately removed when you walked out the door and threw over the wrought iron fence that surrounded the front of your home, before looping his arm in his to direct you toward the park.

"It was you who said you wanted me to paint you." You sigh, looking up at your friend.

Ben's navy suit jacket was open, the buttons of his matching vest and white shirt underneath strained as his muscular shoulders pulled against them and made your breath catch as your eyes traced them. There was a pale pink phlox flower in his front jacket pocket, one you stuffed there earlier despite the roll of his eyes. You had wanted some contrast between his suit and the color of the flower, and despite Ben's annoyance, he obliged you as he always did.

"I was hoping there would be less clothing involved." Ben grins at you.

"You know, no other gentleman speaks to me the way you do."

"I didn't know you considered me a gentleman y/n. I thought that you knew me better than that." His grin quickly shifts into a mischievous smirk that makes you bite the inside of your cheek and turn back to the page.

A year had passed since Ben got you watercolor paints and ignited a unquenchable passion for painting. Something about the way the colors ran together soothed you, the gentle stroke of the brush against the page calming the usual frustrations of your life.

One of which was sitting beside you, looking entirely too attractive for someone who'd just rolled out of bed and was wearing the exact outfit he had been wearing when he snuck through your window last night. This morning he had crawled out the window and rang the doorbell at the front of your home, acting as if he'd been up for hours.

You pause at the thought of last night. Ben was leaving for boarding school number seven at the end of the week, but the way he looked when he showed up the night before, rumpled and smelling of cheap whiskey, meant that he and his father had another disagreement. Despite his inability to talk about what happened, if it was your burden to bear, to always be there for him, you welcomed it.

"Hey." Ben's hand comes down on your arm to draw your attention back to him.

You look back up at him. "Hmm?"

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" He turns his head to the side to examine you.

"Thinking about the party."

"Oh right. Should be fun. Can't believe I received an invitation. I thought your mother would have burned it-"

"She tried." You smirk. "I snatched it from the fireplace just for you."

"How thoughtful."

“Selfish really. There’s no way I’m going through one of those parties without you again.” You snort, catching his emerald gaze.

“The Christmas party was not that bad-“

“Says the guy who got drunk on eggnog and then preceded to flirt with a potted plant!”

“That potted plant was more interesting than that idiot How-“ Ben’s next words are cut off.

"Y/n!" You hear someone shout from behind you.

Howard Stine struts towards the two of you across the sidewalk, where a few other boys stand in a tight group. He’s wearing a sand colored suit and vest, with the chain of his golden pocket watch catching in the warm sunlight with each stride forward. At Howard’s appearance, Ben sits up from his relaxed position, leaning towards you.

“Speak of the devil.” You hear him mutter.

Ben nods his head towards the group of boys, who nod back in greeting. Ben was more popular than you. Your own circle of friends was reduced to Ben, your housekeeper, the gardener, and a handful of girls your own age that only wished to talk about how close you and Ben were and once they realized you were just friends, they then proceeded to ask you if you could set them up.

As if you would ever set them up with him, you were still trying to set yourself up with him.

A few of the group of boys you recognize as the sons of your father's friends and others boys you'd seen Ben stumble around with on the streets after a night at the bar around the corner. You watch Ben's left hand go to the flower in his front jacket pocket and crunch it in his fist before the others can see it.

The action made you smile to yourself, because despite Ben not wanting them to see him with the flower, he had still allowed you to place it there.

Howard blocks the rays of sun above you so that you don't have to squint up at him. He wasn't terrible looking. Howard was your height, with reddish brown hair that was slicked back over his head and he had a dusting of cinnamon colored freckles on his cheeks, but he was nowhere near as tall or broad as Ben. Where Ben was muscular, Howard was lanky, his hands small and sweaty. Ben moved with a grace and elegance that you couldn't comprehend, while Howard plodded along, stumbling on solid ground. Howard's pointed chin was nothing like the strong jaw of Ben's rugged face. Something that you studied whenever Ben was with you and you spent several nights devoted to capturing in your sketchbook.

"Hi Howard. How are you?" You smile at him, brushing back your hair from your face with your free hand.

Howard's eyes move from Ben to you, taking in your close proximity. Ben's hand was still touching your arm, and the tip of your knee an inch away from the outer edge of Ben's thigh. In fact, Ben had leaned towards you so close when Howard came over that his breath rustled through your hair.

"Good. What are you doing?” Howard moves a hand through his hair to tousle the reddish waves.

“Ben is obliging me. It’s a beautiful day and I wished to capture it.” You wave the brush in your right hand for emphasis.

“Ah.” Howard squints at the watercolor paper. “Well it’s certainly interesting. I didn’t know you liked to paint.”

“She likes all kind of things Howie.” Ben responds with a smirk, his voice dripping with suggestion.

Your eyes flash a warning to where Ben sits. He’s withdrawn his hand, but he’s still leaning close enough to you that you can smell the spicy scent of his shampoo and cologne.

It reminds you of this morning when you woke up and realized that Ben had pulled your back into his chest while he was sleeping. When his arm was curled around your waist as he buried his head in your hair and muttered something in his sleep that you couldn’t understand. The thought makes you flush bright red, remembering how wonderful and intimate it felt to be there.

Howard ignores him. “We're all going to go to Wallman's on the corner for shakes, I was wondering if you wanted to come?" He doesn't acknowledge Ben.

“Well-“ You begin to say, taking in the beauty of the pond and your paint stained hands.

The truth was you didn’t want to go, you wanted to sit there in the grass forever with Ben, where you couldn’t tell if you were warm because you were under the golden light of the sun or under Ben's gaze.

“She’s busy.” Ben says before you can finish your sentence.

Howard’s smile becomes tight. “I think I was asking her.”

Ben shrugs. “And I think I just gave you an answer.”

"Why don't you just-" Howard begins, but Ben is already up off the ground, pressing his chest against Howard's, his green eyes blazing in the light of the sun.

"Why don't I just what Howie?" Ben's voice is low, the deep rumble stirring something in the pit of your stomach.

You loved a lot of things about Ben, but his temper was not one of them. Ben rarely lost his temper with you, yes you did annoy him and he would lose his patience, but he often turned that anger into teasing.

"Ben." You stand, leaving your watercolor pad on the ground, so you can place your hand on Ben's shoulder. It was supposed to be a gentle reminder. Ben knew that you were more than capable of making your own decisions, but you couldn't help but wonder why Ben had responded the way he did.

Is he jealous?

Ben looks down at you with a frown, but finally he sighs and takes a step back.

Howard's eyes are narrowed at where Ben now stands to your right, Ben's arms crossed over his muscular chest, but Howard's gaze shifts back to you expectantly.

"Howard that's really sweet, but it's getting late and I have to get ready for the party tonight." You force a giggle to ease the tension in Howard's shoulders. "You are coming right?"

"Of course." He smiles. "I was hoping that you'd save a dance for me."

"She-" Ben begins to say, but you elbow him in the side, hard.

"Of course I will."

“Great. I guess I’ll see you tonight.” He frowns one more time at Ben before turning back to the group of boys on the sidewalk and leaving with them.

Ben stands there for a minute watching him go.

"You should try to be nicer to him." You say, tugging on the sleeve of Ben’s jacket to grab his attention.

"Why?" Ben snorts.

"Because-" You shrug. "He's sweet and he’s interested in me. I’d hope that you two would get along.”

Ben rolls his eyes. "You could do better."

"Last time I checked the suitors aren't exactly lining up. Not to mention you tend to scare them all off." You wave a hand around you for emphasis. "And I'm not getting any younger."

"Neither am I, but you don’t see me settling for Howard Stine.”

"I didn't realize he was your type." You snort rolling your eyes at him as you sit back down in the grass and pick up your painting again. "I haven't seen you courting anyone recently."

You try to keep the happiness from your voice at the thought. Ben hadn't been trying to chase after as many girls in the past few months as he had previously. And you wondered if his father was trying to arrange him with anyone. If Ben’s mother had still been alive you knew that she would have found someone suitable for Ben, but you’d heard your father say something to your mother behind a closed door that Ben’s father had asked about one of the daughters of his work colleagues.

The thought makes something in your chest tighten to the point of snapping. You hated the idea of watching Ben court someone else, watching someone else kiss him, run their fingers through his hair, and hated the thought that Ben would spend the night with someone else other than you.

Of course when he spent the night with you, all you did was talk, but it was possible that Ben might find that sense of companionship with a lover rather than you.

And then where would you be? Alone.

Ben reclines back as he did before, shaking his hair out behind him, and closing his eyes. It's lighter in the sun, more of a honeyed brown than the usual oak. "I leave in a week."

"Hasn't stopped you in the past." You mutter more to yourself than him.

"Maybe nothing has caught my eye." He opens one eye to study you.

"Hmm."

“Or perhaps I’d much rather spend my last days of freedom with you.” He flirts with a wide smile.

“Last days of freedom?” You laugh, ignoring his tease. “We both know you’ll probably be back within the month.”

Instead of laughing, Ben’s smile fades into a frown and you wonder if he’s thinking of his father.

“Ben I’m sorry I didn’t mean-“

Ben shrugs it off and pulls out a silver flask from his jacket pocket. As soon as he opens it, the sour smell of whiskey floats through the air before he takes a swig. He holds it out to you, but you wave it away, focusing back on your paper.

"So if he's the one, why didn't you go with him to Wallman's? You made up a bullshit excuse that you had to go home." Ben takes another pull from the flask, but you can't shake the shift in his tone.

"I wanted to finish painting." You say to avoid the truth, that you didn’t want to leave him, because you could tell he was still upset over whatever he and his father talked about last night. “But I do need to go home. Mother is no doubt waiting with a horde of maids to make me presentable.”

You frown to yourself imagining next few hours where you would be slathered in creams, your hair tugged and swept up over your head, your body scrubbed almost painfully, and finally the corset that would cut off your circulation and make it impossible to breathe.

You wondered if any other girls your age were subject to such torture.

“Just admit it y/n, you find Howard as boring as a sack of flour.”

“He’s from a good family, he’s a gentleman. My mother would be pleased-“ You start to say, defending Howard even though you didn’t like him as much as you liked Ben.

“Your mother would be pleased with a cactus as long as it meant getting you out of her sight.” Ben snaps back.

His sharp words sting against your skin and you drop your eyes to the paper again, welcoming the silence that follows. Because he was right.

Your mother thought you were a disappointment. She had started comparing you to your sister-in-law who was flawless, effortlessly beautiful and graceful. Your mother voiced her disapproval many ways with disapproving looks, snide comments on what you wore, how you looked... It wasn’t for lack of trying. You did whatever she asked but each time it was never good enough for her. You weren’t enough. And it was something you kept close to your heart. Ben knew that better than anyone.

That’s why his words hurt so much.

“Sweetheart I’m sorry-“

“It’s okay.” The tears that burn in your eyes smear the image of the page in your lap.

“Y/n please look at me.”

You don’t raise your head. “I should go. She’ll be mad if I’m late-“ You begin to put away your things.

Ben’s fingertips come to your chin, tilting it back to look at him once more. He looks sorry. His green eyes are paler now, like clover, wide and open, his mouth pulled down into an apologetic frown.

“Please don’t go. I’m sorry. Just stay a little longer.”

You sit there for a moment, his hand cupping your cheek and as a tear falls Ben brushes it away with his thumb. The gesture is gentle and surprising. Ben tolerated the occasional hug, but this was more intimate. It made your breath catch.

“Okay.” You whisper.

Ben relaxes and drops his hand from your face, but he’s still watching you. You know he’s trying to think of something to say to make you feel better, but when he can’t come up with anything, he reaches over and plucks another flower from the bush on his left, before stuffing it in his front jacket pocket.

It enough to make you smile and this time he returns it, understanding that he's been forgiven. You allow the warmth of his gaze seep into your skin and you bask in the warm glow of his smile.

***********************

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for this series, let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak

#jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #the boys fanfic #the boys #soldier boy #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys amazon #jensen ackles #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy fic #the boys series #the boys season 3

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beesmiley · 15 days

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your tav is so so pretty! and i love the antler headpiece thing! <3

omg thank you so much ;-; let me take a moment to share the lore around Phlox's antlers

Phlox has been confused for a satyr in the past, but nope - her antlers are more like a headpiece that can be removed. Her parents are the leaders of the village of Deergarde. The antlers are to them like a crown is to a king; it's passed down generation to generation and symbolizes their power and nobility. Originally, only the leaders and the heir-to-be are to wear the antlers. However, when her father falls gravely ill and her eldest brother, Sarminar, goes missing when looking for the antidote, Phlox and her twin brother Eliros have to begin their training in case leadership falls on them. Thus, they are both given antlers.

When Phlox returns home after becoming one of the heroes of Baldur's Gate, her family decides that the antlers should remain with her: they have become synonymous with her and her legacy. They end up changing the headpiece itself that will represent their leadership.

She does decorate them with jewelry for galas and parties, and she really appreciates when Gale offers to help her. Since it's decorated a certain way, he'd study her so he could be as helpful as possible while she gets ready. It's one of those little things he does that has Phlox head over heels for him over and over again.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 tav #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale x tav #bg3 oc #phlox nanadi

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vandaliatraveler · 2 years

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Early fall color along Dunkard Creek at the Mason-Dixon Historical Park. Most notably, broadleaved goldenrod (Solidago flexicaulis), also known as zig-zag goldenrod, is now in bloom. This is one of my favorite wildflowers of any season - it grows in gorgeous clumps with brilliant gold flower spikes and broadly-ovate, sharply serrated foliage. It’s better behaved than most goldenrods and is ideal for a bright pop of autumn color in a native wildflower garden.

From top: broadleaved goldenrod, one of two species in this area with flowers growing from the leaf axils; blue wood aster (Symphyotrichum cordifolium), a common woodland aster that blooms right up to the first frost; garden phlox (Phlox paniculata), also known as tall phlox and fall phlox, a tall, wetlands-loving perennial that blooms from July through early October in Central Appalachia; sneezeweed (Helenium autumnale), which loves the marshy edges of ponds, lakes, and streams; short’s aster (Symphyotrichum shortii), a woodland aster with a special fondness for limestone bluffs.

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faguscarolinensis · 8 months

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Papilio glaucus on Phlox paniculata / Eastern Tiger Swallowtail on Garden Phlox at the Sarah P. Duke Gardens at Duke University in Durham, NC

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mossmosss · 2 years

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#my photography #aes #aesthetic #flowers #fall phlox #pink #flowercore #fairycore #green #foliage #dew #palletes

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libraryofmoths · 1 year

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Moth of the Week

Hummingbird Clearwing Moth

Hemaris thysbe

The hummingbird clearwing moth is a part of the family Sphingidae or the hawkmoth family and was first described by Johan Christian Fabricius in 1775. The name Hemaris Thysbe is thought to be a reference to Thisbe, one of the doomed lovers in Ovid's Metamorphoses, due to the color of Thisbe’s blood-stained scarf and the maroon color of the moth. Additionally, the name hummingbird clearwing is due to the humming noise created by the rapid flapping of the moth’s transparent wings.

Description The hummingbird clearwing moth typically has an olive green and maroon back with a white or yellow and maroon underside. It has pale legs and no stripes, which is how you tell this moth apart from other in its genus, Hemaris. Its wings are transparent with a maroon border. After hatching, the hummingbird clearwing’s wings are a fully opaque dark red to black. Then the wing’s scales fall off when the moth takes flight, resulting in a clear wing with maroon borders and visible veins. However, a moth’s color and wing patterning varies between individual moths. For example, moths born in the south or later in the mating season are darker in color, and different populations have varying wing border shapes.

Average wingspan of 4.75 cm (≈1.9 in)

Up to 70 wingbeats per second

Can fly up to 12 mph (≈19.3 kph)

Diet and Habitat When in their caterpillar stage, these moths eat the leaves of cherry trees, European cranberry bushes, hawthorns, dogbane, honeysuckle, and snowberry bushes. Adult hummingbird moths feed on the nectar from flowers such as the Wild Bergamot and beebalm, red clovers, lilacs, phloxs, snowberry, cranberry, blueberry, vetch and thistle. The hummingbird clearwing prefers purple and pink flowers. They use their long proboscis or feeding tube to collect nectar from the flowers while flying in front of it like a hummingbird.

The average proboscis is 20 mm (≈0.8 in)

These moths are the most common in southern Ontario and the eastern United States. Their habitat ranges from Alaska to Oregon in the west and from Newfoundland to Florida in the east. They migrate northward from April to August and southward in late spring and the fall. They inhabit forests, meadows, and suburban gardens.

Mating The hummingbird clearwing has two broods a year in the south, but only one in the north. Mating takes place in May and June as females attract males with pheromones produce from glands at the tip of the abdomen. Female hummingbird moths will lay 200 eggs that will hatch in only 6 to 8 days.

Predators Hummingbird moths and caterpillars in general are hunted by birds, mantids, spiders, bats. To help protect themselves, these types of moths resemble hummingbirds or bees to fool predators.

Fun Fact Adults hummingbird clearwing moths are most active during the hottest parts of the day and have no hearing abilities due to a lack of “hearing organs.”

(Source: Wikipedia, Life On CSG Pond, United States Department of Agriculture, Georgia Wildlife Federation, Beyond Pest Control)

#animals #bugs #facts #insects #libraryofmoths #moth #mothoftheweek #lepidoptera #Sphingidae #hummingbird clearwing moth #Hemaris thysbe

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talshiargirlfriend · 14 days

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Oops, my hands slipped and I wrote a follow up to this one. (Still falls into missing scene territory is you like.)

Trip grumbled at Phlox on his way out of Sickbay more out of habit than any real reluctance to submit to treatment. He knew it was necessary; he just didn’t have time to think about that right now. At least three people spoke to him in the corridor as he approached his quarters, but he couldn’t have told you who they were or what he said in response.

As soon as he heard the reassuring click of his door closing behind him, Trip stripped off the hateful mining uniform and dropped it on the floor. He’d have preferred to set it on fire. Or cram it down Paxton’s throat. Or better yet, first one and then the other. Shaking those thoughts from his mind he picked up his pace. He had a sick baby to get back to.

He showered quickly. Pain shot through his left arm when he reached up to scrub his hair, so one-handed it was. Just as well he hadn’t tried to pick the baby up earlier. The baby. His baby. He couldn’t quite get his head around that. A whole little person made up of pieces of him and T’Pol. She was adorable, with her pointy little ears and bright blue eyes, and a pretty damn good impression of her mother’s Vulcan glare already. She was perfect. Seriously, what kind of insane maniac would-- he slapped the tiled wall of the shower and breathed in slowly through his nose. Nope, not thinking about that. She was here now, and they were going to take care of her.

Trip knew he wasn’t going back on duty anytime soon, but he dressed in uniform anyway. It was familiar. He had no idea how to be someone’s dad, but he knew how to be Commander Tucker. He was good at it. It sure seemed a whole lot safer to approach this crisis and whatever was coming next as Commanders Tucker and T’Pol, Starfleet’s Finest (and One Hell of a Team™) rather than Trip and T’Pol, Certified Hot Mess of a Couple. He snorted at that thought as he fastened his boots.

He was halfway to the Mess Hall to grab a drink when he realized that facing the crowd there sounded like a special kind of hell and made a beeline for T’Pol’s quarters instead. Sure, he could ask someone to bring a tray down to Sickbay, but it felt disproportionately important that he handle it himself. He didn’t need Phlox’s five psychology degrees to understand that.

Maybe coffee was a bust, but at least T’Pol had plenty of tea in her stash. The last time he’d woken up with her, Trip had joked that she was going to have to start keeping coffee as well - had that really only been a week ago? It felt much longer. Time flies when a madman creates a baby from your stolen DNA (and that of your off again-on again alien lover), and you have to thwart his evil plans.

Trip took a moment to let the familiar scent of the meditation candles wash over him. He’d promised her a change of clothes… Purple. She looked commanding in purple. Regal. T’Pol would of course use whatever toiletries were available in the decon shower without complaint, as logic demanded, but she hated that stuff. He added her shampoo to the bag.

Right. Tea. He set out a pair of small mugs and looked through the assortment of containers on the shelf.

Chamomile for the lady. And for himself… Mint? No. He stared blankly at the options hoping for inspiration. Maybe she had some of that spiced Andorian blend left. He picked up an unfamiliar jar and lifted the lid.

The heavenly aroma hit him instantly.

Coffee.

The kind with a hint of nutmeg that he really liked. He didn’t even remember telling her that.

Trip felt the sting of tears in his eyes and the back of his throat and swallowed against the sudden swell of emotion. She could be so sweet when she wasn’t driving him crazy. He knew she was just as terrified as he was, but she really was gonna be a great mom.

Had he told her that before he left? Everything was a blur. He pictured T’Pol, with her big worried eyes, holding that chubby baby and rocking her gently, and he felt something squeeze in his chest.

Maybe he’d tell her some other things while he was at it.

And as for the other “her”… Well, what do you even call a half-Vulcan baby anyway? He considered as he slid the bag over his good arm and picked up the two steaming mugs. Other than sweetheart, he supposed. Or darlin’. Or daddy’s little girl. He grinned. Yeah, that’d do for now.

#star trek enterprise #fic #my fic #trip tucker #trip x t'pol #tripol and a baby #that man wants to be a dad so bad

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weerd1 · 1 month

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ENT Rewatch Starlog, 18 March, 2024: Episode 3.16 “Doctor’s Orders”

Phlox and Porthos walk through an apparently empty NX-01, stopping to visit Captain Archer who lies asleep with a device on his forehead.

Flash back to a few days before and there is an area of spatial anomaly brought on by the spheres between them and Azati Prime. It would add a lot of time to go around, and if they go through damage the human minds. Phlox suggests that he would not be affected. He’ll put all the human crew into a mental stasis while Enterprise crosses the area of space.

At first, Phlox is having a fine time, getting caught up on writing to friends, playing with Porthos, occasionally feeding his pets in the nude. But while watching a film, he hears something moving.

Tracking it through the ship he ends up in the shuttlebay, and indeed finds T’Pol—also not sedated—who doesn’t know what he’s hearing. The incidents get worse, and Phlox sees Xindi insectoids on board. T’Pol finds nothing, and suspects Phlox is having some sort of breakdown, possibly based on loneliness considering how social Denobulans are. He insists on checking the ship with a phase pistol, and upon almost blasting Porthos, begins to realize that maybe she is correct. He scans and finds that in fact there is a non-lethal, but potentially hallucinogenic effect in his brain.

He prepares to put himself under and leave T’Pol in charge since they will be through the region of space in six hours, but she begins to panic, also suffering from the anomaly. Worse, the area has expanded faster than anticipated, and though Tucker said they shouldn’t, the ship will have to warp to escape. Phlox and T’Pol bumble through with her seemingly useless.

They do escape however, and once free, Phlox’s mind is restored. He wakes up Archer, and before going on to the crew escorts T’Pol to her quarters. There he finds the Vulcan sedated; the T’Pol he has been talking to has also been a hallucination.

A fun episode that makes you feel like it’s falling into the helpless T’Pol trope, but is saved in the reveal that she couldn’t help because she isn’t real. It does turn out to be a nice exploration of Phlox’s character and a good way to do a bottle show while still getting the overall arc to move along. I do wonder though is Phlox hallucinates almost shooting Porthos; the Beagle forgives him pretty quickly.

Nice callbacks as well to the earlier episode “Dear Doctor” with Phlox’s friend Dr. Lucas getting a letter. We’ll of course get to meet the good doctor in Season 4 during the Augments story arc.

Also a fun line when Phlox suspects he’s hearing things because the week prior, Trip showed him “The Exorcist.”

Next Voyage: Archer has to determine whether all his eggs go in one basket after Enterprise finds a Xindi Insectoid “Hatchery.”

(Images taken from the main website for @trekcore; I am happy to remove the images if asked.)

#star trek #star trek Enterprise #Enterprise #Enterprise rewatch #Doctors orders #phlox #t'pol #xindi saga #Enterprise season 3

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copiousloverofcopia · 20 days

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It's time to celebrate my fellow Peepaw Lovers for a new installment of Potpourri is HERE!

Thank you so much for your patience with me and all your support. I hope you all enjoy!!!!

Special shoutout to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers 💗

**TRIGGER WARNING**

mentions of pregnancy loss, miscarriage

Potpourri

During his retirement, Papa Primo Emeritus falls in love with a new Sister of Sin who has suffered a tragic loss. While the new sister settles into the Abbey, Primo can’t help but grow more infatuated with her. Promising to give her everything she desires, but can he win her affections when she still can’t let go of the past?

Chapter 9: Gardening

Also available HERE on AO3! Haven’t started yet, start from the beginning HERE!

Definitely NSFW below the cut!

The sun was shining brightly on the Abbey, and it was the first time in a long time Gwen felt at peace. Getting her hands dirty as the soil sifted through her fingers. Content to feel the wind through her hair as she sat with Finn in the middle of the garden. The two of them, enjoying the warmth of the day atop their cheeks as they tended to the plants.

In the quiet moments, Gwen’s mind was heavy with thoughts of Primo. Shortly after the Ostara celebrations he was called to leave for a Ministry wide conference in Glasgow. A situation that required at least one Papa to attend and Secondo and Terzo had gone in recent years and Copia had his hands full, they had no choice. He had only been gone for a couple of weeks and in that time, Gwen hardly knew what to do with herself.

His absence made her realize, both unfortunately and unfortunately, how much she needed him. Finding herself looking for him in all his usual spots. Expecting to see him sitting in the confessional or working away in the deep recesses of the garden. Or even finding him when she snuck a glance over at the patch of bittersweet Forget Me Knots, he had planted for her.

What was even more painful was staring at the empty spot in their bed. Struggling all the while to come to an answer for him. To give him resolution to the burning question he’d asked her just before leaving. A question she was still so unsure how to answer.

“Do you think you’ll say yes?” Finn asked her, pulling Gwen out from the quiet reverie. Gwen smiled softly. Of course, Fiona was curious. The whole Abbey was waiting to hear Gwen’s answer. After all, it had been years since a Papa had taken on a Prime Mover. It was one of the most revered and honorable positions within the church. One even the most devout and beautiful of sisters rarely came to hold. Spouse of a Papa and fruit bearer of the Satanic Papacy.

Had it been asked of anyone else; they’d have jumped at the chance. Hopeful that they would be able to carry the next in line for the Miter. The evidence of desire, most noted in those who would vie for Terzo or Secondo’s chamber key. Throwing themselves shamelessly at them during Black Mass. All clambering for the chance to have a permanent spot on one of the Papa’s arms. For Gwen, it wasn’t the same.

Her affection for Primo was true and unlike anything she had ever felt before. He had given up so much for her. Binding the two of them before Satan just to give her a second chance. Each passing moment between them, having her wishing she could bear him a child. Deep down, however, she worried that she never could. A fear that kept her from allowing herself to truly be his.

“I—I don’t know.” Gwen answered, brushing off the dirt from her knees as she rose up and wiped the notes of sweat from her brow. Letting out an exhale, before picking up her things and heading back towards the greenhouse.

“Gwen…please. You can’t be serious.” Finn exclaimed, trailing after her. Careful not to trip over the freshly planted creeping Phlox as she struggled to keep up her pace.

“But I am…I am not sure I am cut out for that sort of thing.”

“You’re not cut out for that sort of thing? Gwen…are you mad?” Finn asked her, managing to finally catch up. Position herself in front of Gwen to stop her just before the greenhouse door.

“I can’t do it again—” Gwen began. Finn’s face turned soft, trying to understand where it was coming from when the two heard a voice coming from behind them.

“Sisters? I hope I am not interrupting anything.” Mr. Saltarian asked, his eyes squinting in the sunlight as he approached.

“Of course not, what can we do for you.” Finn smiled, Gwen turning to do the same.

“Well actually I was hoping to speak with Sister Guinevere alone.”

“Ah, I see.” Finn began realizing what was up, “...of course. Maybe you can talk some sense into her. See you at supper.” she said as she winked at Gwen, taking her leave. As Finn disappeared in the distance, Gwen grew quiet. Deciding to continue on with her business within the greenhouse as Saltarian followed closely behind.

“I take it you still don’t have an answer for him.” he asked, Gwen’s eyes shooting over to him a moment, feeling a bit surprised.

“Sweet Satanas. Does everyone know?” she asked, feeling uneasy, waiting for his answer.

“Naturally. It isn’t every day that this kinda thing happens. No matter what vapid excuse you might give about your relationship with him, everyone knows that you are together.” Saltarian replied, before taking a seat at the rod iron table.

“I know…” she admitted.

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel and be together. It is no secret that you two are in love. It’s as plain as what's left of these gray hairs on my head.” he told her. Both of them, letting out a lighthearted chuckle as Gwen took a seat beside him. Saltarian, reaching across the table to take her hand in his.

“You’re right. I do love him.”

“See…then it's only a matter of time before you have to face that. You don’t want to be alone in the darkness forever Gwen. I know how far you’ve come since being here.”

“I have. I just don’t think I can give him what he wants.” she explained, sniffling back as she tried her best to maintain composure.

“It's what you want too. If anyone can give it to you… it's him. Just think about it. Ok?” Saltarian asked her. His pleading eyes, begging for her to give his friend a real chance. A chance they both deserved at happiness.

“Ok.” she smiled as Saltarian gently squeezed her hands.

“He is coming back tonight. If I were you, I wouldn’t wait much longer to give him an answer.” he suggested, rising up from the table. Gwen nodded as he made his way to the door. Leaving her alone with her thoughts in the greenhouse.

It was amazing to Gwen just how quickly the warm days were turning into cold nights. Sitting patiently in the old armchair just beside the fire. Snuggling up tightly in Primo’s old throw, breathing in the lingering scent of his cologne. Trying her best to wait up for him but finding herself slowly drifting into sleep. Just as she nodded off, the sound of the bedroom door creaking quietly open awakened her.

“Papa?” she asked, easing herself upright in the chair and turning to find him standing in the doorway.

“I am sorry I woke you. I know it is late.” Primo smiled, walking towards her. Her silhouette dancing against the light of the fire. Primo, bending forward to press a soft kiss on her forehead. Taking a spot on the other chair beside her. Gwen, humming in delight, wishing this moment between them could stay just like this. Without the pressure of knowing that he was undoubtedly waiting for her to answer.

“I know that this might not be what you want to talk about right now.” Primo began.

Oh no here it comes, she thought to herself. Swallowing back the knot forming in her throat as he continued on.

“I assume you have been thinking about what I asked before leaving?” Primo, watching as the smile began to fade from her face. The moment she had been dreading, had finally come.

“Papa…” she began, Primo looking at her as if the name was foreign to him. Correcting herself before she continued on, “Primo…I just. I just can’t. I’m sorry.” she told him, her eyes falling to the floor. Primo let out a frustrated sigh. He wasn’t having it any longer. He stood up and came up before her. Taking hold of her face in his hands as he pulled her up to look at him.

“And why not? Tell me. I want to hear you say the reason.” he demanded.

“You know why.” she answered, the tears already welling up in her eyes. Though she knew this moment was inevitable, it didn’t make turning Primo’s proposal down any easier. The pain grew as she saw his face. His heartbreak, and her own, made her want to die.

Primo’s anger and frustration grew. He knew she was trapped in the past still, despite everything they had been through. All he wanted was to make her happy. To help her—to love her. To give her everything she ever wanted, if she’d only let him.

“That's not an answer Guinevere and you know it. You can’t stop living forever!” Primo snapped, dropping his hands from her face and pacing in front of the fireplace. Gwen’s eyes widening at his hostile demeanor. The fury inside him, unlike anything she had seen from him before.

“I am afraid Primo you know this…” she cried, but Primo was done. While every time before he had comforted her—coddled her. Helped her to calm the inner demons that raged inside her at the wounds of her past. Tonight his heart could no longer bear the burden. He had finally had enough.

“Then be afraid Gwen! That is part of life. All life is made of horror and magic and happiness and despair. All of it! Let me show you that I can make it worthwhile. That I can help you—”

“You can’t help me!” Gwen snapped back jumping up from the chair. Ready to storm out of the Papal suite and find refuge in Finn’s room for the night. Her blood boiling, wanting to run from the truth.

“Oh, but I can and I will. Be my Prime Mover Gwen. Let me love you and honor you as the wonderful being that you are. Let me spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you. Let me give you a child.” he begged her, grabbing hold of her wrist and turning her to face him. Laying out the truth for her, bitter and hot.

“What?” Gwen responded, angry at him for forcing her to acknowledge things head on.

“I know I can do this. I can make you happy.”

“Primo how…how can you say such a thing to me?” she asked him, her eyes now red with tears. Her wilted mascara, streaming down her cheeks. Streaks of blackened scars, bearing the pain she felt plainly on her face.

“Because I know it to be true. I can’t replace what you’ve lost, but I can and will make you happy. I can give you a life. A love. A family…”

“Primo I… I am sure you could give that to someone, and they would be so lucky to have it, but that someone is not me.” Gwen told him. Her hands held tight to her shoulders. Almost hugging herself as she tried everything not to fall apart in front of him.

“Why not?” he asked, refusing to take no for an answer.

“Because.”

“Because why dolcezza?!”

“Because I have already lost one and I will NEVER get them back. NEVER.” she sobbed, collapsing to her knees and burying her face in her hands. Primo took a deep breath and settled down beside her. His old aching joints, cursing him for his haste.

“It won’t happen again. Not this time.” he promised. Pulling her close to his chest. Gwen’s tears, staining the fabric of his shirt as she sobbed hard against him.

“How ? How do you know? Some spell? Some ritual? I won't be made some spectacle for the Ministry or for you to help prove something.” she hissed, deflecting the reason. Hoping to convince herself that Primo was only doing this to prove his virility. To be held in high regard for it, like his brothers had been for theirs. Hoping to produce an heir to prove a point to the rest of the Ministry.

Primo refused to allow it. Staring at her, deep into her eyes as he confronted her. Ready to fight for the woman he loved, even if it killed him in the process. She would have to hear him out.

“That's not at all what this is about, and you know it! There will be no ceremonies, no public rituals, no prying eyes—just the two of us. I want us to share everything, share our lives. For you to truly be mine. If we conceive, we conceive the way Lucifer intended.” he explained. Gwen turned her eyes away from him. Ashamed for her accusations, for evening having thought such a thing.

“I don't even know why I'm listening to all this…am I that desperate.”

“No.”

“Then what then?”

“It's because you love me too cara. You felt it just as I did, the moment we saw each other there was something sparked between us.” Primo proclaimed, smiling at her as she struggled to stop crying.

“Primo, I don't know what to say.”

“Say you will let me. Say you will allow me to give you everything I can. The most intimate parts of myself.”

“Heh…You act as if you haven’t given those to me already… or plenty of other sisters I imagine.” Gwen scoffed as Primo picked her up in his arms. Catching her off guard as he carried her with youthful ease to their shared bed. Looking deep into her eyes once more and laying her down gently.

“No I haven’t. I have taken many lovers, sure…but I have never spilled my seed freely inside them. Never before had I been certain enough to allow it. Certain enough to—”

“To what Papa?” Gwen cried, swallowing back as she watched the look of desire and passion growing steadily in Primo’s eyes.

“To become a father. I hadn't even thought of it before you and now all I can think of is you. You cara. Spending my every breath whispering your praises. Touching you, kissing you, being inside you. Watching and waiting for your belly to grow round with life–a gift I want to give you more than anything. I want you to be my Prime Mover. To be mine always.”

“I won't listen to this.” Gwen said, turning to face away from him as he hovered above her on the bed.

“Have I not already proven I would give my own life for you. Am I not bound to you for Lucifer’s sake?”

“I didn’t ask for that!”

“No…no you didn’t, but I cannot bear to think of a world without you in it. Without that smile that ignites fire within my soul.” Gwen turned back towards him. Knowing that she wanted him, just as much as he wanted her. It was the fear of her past holding her back. The fear that she would relive the worst moments of her life again.

“Primo…I do love you, but I just can’t.”

“You can and you will amore. I promise to make you happy, and I have never broken a promise. I don’t intend on doing it now.” he vowed, bringing his lips to hover above hers.

“Papa.” she said breathily as she stared at him. Her love for him, slowly melting away the fear. Seeing the love in his eyes. Knowing that every word spoken was true. Gwen, beginning to think that as much as it scared her to move on, the thought of being without him might scare her even more.

“Sister.” he uttered just as she rose up to kiss him. Lips locked together. Soft and sweet like the honeysuckle from the garden. The taste of one another, so passionate and whole. Gwen’s legs wrapped around him after Primo’s hands made quick work of unbuttoning his pants. Throwing them to the floor, his body was ready and hard for her.

“I need you.” she moaned, caught off guard by the sound of him tearing off her panties. The cotton, shredding easily in his grasp and his wandering fingers went traveling over the mound of her sex.

“Amore.”

"Ah…ahh..." Gwen moaned into their kiss. The heat between them was growing quickly and before they knew it the rest of their clothing had fallen to the wayside. Primo carefully slid his fingers inside her. Gwen, moaning and writhing as she relaxed her legs open for him. Allowing him more access to her as he used her slick from his fingers to wet himself. Pressing the head of his cock against her entrance. Nudging her open before slowly pushing deep inside.

“Oh Gwen.” he groaned, reaching the back of her insides. Carefully moving in and out as Gwen held tight to his shoulders. Her legs now once again wrapped around his waist as her cunt throbbed intensely inside with every thrust of his hips. The two of them, losing themselves in the moment of passion between them.

It was true they were in love, and nothing was going to change that. Not Gwen’s fear, not Primo’s age, not anything that the world could throw at them. At this moment it was just them. Locked together as one.

Primo was pounding steadily away as she squirmed beneath him. Her toes, curling and nails dug deep into the flesh of Primo’s shoulder as she came over and over again. Overwhelmed with the sensations of lust and love. Primo, too, was engulfed in it. Swimming in ecstasy as he felt her fluttering around him. Trying his best not to cum with each pulsation inside her.

He was giving it his all, waiting for the right moment. Moaning and grunting as he was determined to send Gwen over one last time. He knew it had come as her body once more melted beneath him, giving way to yet another orgasm—exhausted and languid.

“Do you accept me?” He asked, driving himself harder and harder inside her. Determined to get as deep as he could. She was shaking around him, moaning and whimpering as her body locked tightly on to him. Sensations rushing through her, her soul unfolding for him like the petals of a flower. His words barely discernible over the salacious sounds of their sex and her moans.

“What?” She asked, breathy and weak in pleasure.

“Do you accept me? Will you allow me to cum inside you? Give you what we both want?” Primo asked her. His gaze fixed on her as he tried desperately not to cum. Waiting for her to consent. She was overwhelmed, feeling the tears pricking once again at her eyes. Gwen wanted it all—comfort, pleasure, a life where happiness still existed, a baby, and though she had only now fully admitted it, she wanted Primo.

“Yes…ah!” She cried out. Primo, bucking hard inside her, his pace quickened and breathing ragged. Tangled up together in a mix of sweat and desire. Both completely lost in the moment of rapture between them.

“I love you.” Primo said, letting out a guttural moan. His hips, stuttering as he grabbed tightly unto hers. Pushing himself in as far as he could before pouring out everything he had. Filling her deep into her core, and concentrating that it happened exactly as intended.

“I—I love you too.” she cried. The two of them, holding on to one another a moment before Primo finally collapsed beside her. Gwen, falling fast asleep in his arms, leaving Primo awake and alone with his thoughts. Feeling exhausted but filled with joy and excitement with the knowledge of what they had finally done.

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