#summer art galley
Text
heaven in your eyes
pairing: pete "maverick" mitchell x tom "iceman" kazansky
wordcount: 1.1k
summary: a look into mav and ice's first night together in their new apartment. (title taken from heaven in your eyes by loverboy)
notes: fluff <3 this is my first time writing for topgun but it was so fun writing these two idiots. this was inspired by @k9effect's beautiful art and the topgunners discord server. hope you enjoy!! --> p.s. also mav is trans because. i said so.
read on ao3
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When Ice hauls the last duct-taped cardboard box through the front door of the—their, he corrects himself, it’s theirs now—new apartment, the sun has long since dipped silently below the horizon, yielding for the waxing gibbous that hangs delicately from the star-studded expanse of night sky.
The watch on his left wrist tells him it’s just past midnight. They’ve been lugging boxes to and fro all day today: first from their old place to the car, then from the car to the new apartment. The drive hadn’t been long, not by any stretch of the imagination, just a little over twenty minutes all the way from the academy, but they’d had to make two round trips so that they could transport all the furniture and miscellaneous items that had been previously strewn across various surfaces of the old place. That added up to eighty minutes of Maverick sticking his head out of the window like a golden retriever to “take in the sun”, changing the radio station after every other song, and doing his best to get them both into a car wreck by distracting Ice in the driver’s seat in more ways than he’d known was possible (at one point, Ice had had to pull over on the side of the road so he could kiss Mav’s stupid face properly without causing a major collision).
This building isn’t fancy by any means. The place they’ve decided on is twenty or so miles away from Top Gun, far enough away so that it feels like a fresh start, but close enough so Mav can commute to his new job as instructor without much issue. They’re on the fifth floor, a quaint, charming two-bedroom thing that he and Mav had looked at together three weeks ago. It’s dark in the living room now, but as Ice stands in the doorway, he can see light streaming out from across the hallway, where the kitchen is.
“Mav?” he calls quietly, kicking off his shoes. The California summer nights are muggy and warm enough that he’d discarded his shirt at one point while trekking up and down the creaky apartment stairs. Mav had wolf-whistled like the little shit he was when he got an eyeful of Ice’s bare chest, prompting a fond glare from his boyfriend.
There’s no response from the kitchen, and Ice starts forward, the wooden floorboards creaking under his feet. When he peers around the corner into the small galley kitchen, the first thing he notices is Maverick, leaning against the counter, eyebrows furrowed as he fusses with the CD player he’d gotten from Carole as a “house-warming gift”. The next thing he notices is that Mav is shirtless. His white tee has been thrown carelessly over one of the cardboard boxes labeled KITCHEN in Ice’s jagged scrawl, leaving him in just jeans, socks, and a cowboy hat that’s seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
Ice’s heart warms at the sight of him so relaxed. It’s been years since Mav’s surgery, but the other man is still getting comfortable with his own body, so seeing him so at home already, in his and Ice’s shared space, has a smile creeping across Ice’s face (“You’re going soft, Iceman. You’re melting.” “Shut up, Sli.”). He watches silently a little longer as Mav fiddles with the controls on the player, tongue sticking out in concentration, before the first tinny synth chords begin issuing from the speaker. Mav steps back in satisfaction, turning around and starting a little at the sight of Ice leaned against the doorway. In seconds, though, the surprise on his face morphs into a cheeky grin. “Well, hello there, stranger.”
Ice rolls his eyes as Mike Reno starts to croon softly, music filling the small space, but the smile stretching across his face is a dead giveaway of his fondness. “You have the worst music taste.”
Mav gasps, putting a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Take that back.”
“Never,” Ice says, and then he’s striding over to Maverick, pulling the shorter man into his arms as the music swells.
Mav huffs a soft laugh, letting himself be taken into Ice’s arms. He’s like a space heater, has run warm for as long as Ice has known him, and even though it makes sleeping in the same bed during the California summers absolute hell, it’s comforting, especially during times like this. It’s grounding. Mav’s here. Ice is here. They’re both here, in an apartment that they can call their own, together in the sky and on the ground. Ice hadn’t known it was possible to feel this way, so much joy and love and contentment that it aches.
“What are you thinking about, Kazansky?” murmurs Mav, cheek pressed against Ice’s chest as they sway gently to the music.
It might be the fatigue, or maybe the beers he’d had with the rest of the squadron before they’d set out this morning are still running through his blood, but his mouth is moving before he can think too hard about it. “You. Us.”
Any other time, he’d be gagging at his own sappiness, but he tilts his head down and meets Mav’s eyes, sees the all adoration he feels reflected right back at him, and in that moment, he swears that he’d shout love confessions from the rooftops if Mav just asked.
Instead of replying, Mav reaches up, plucks the hat from his own head, and deposits it carefully onto Ice’s. The gesture is strangely intimate—he can feel Mav’s breath as the shorter man shifts his weight onto his toes and leans in so he can reach Ice’s head.
Then he drops back down flat onto his feet and grins wolfishly at Ice, all teeth and sparkling eyes (Ice thinks he’s falling in love for the second time tonight). “There,” says Mav, giving Ice a self-satisfied once-over. “Now you’re a cowboy.”
Ice raises an eyebrow. “My cowboy,” Mav clarifies, and this time, Ice can’t help but pull that face into a kiss. The slow drumbeat of the music seems to strike straight into his heart, shaking the emotion loose. As Mav leans into him, he takes the opportunity to drag his hands up along the other man’s sides until he reaches the scars that span across his boyfriend’s chest. He traces them with two fingers, painfully gentle.
“I love you,” he whispers against Mav’s lips.
Mav throws his arms around Ice’s neck, dragging him down and in closer. “You know I love you more, Tom Kazansky.”
In your eyes
I want to see your love again
In your eyes
I never want this feeling to end
It took some time to find the light
But now I realize
I can see the heaven in your eyes.
#top gun#icemav#pete maverick mitchell#tom iceman kazansky#fanfic#fanfiction#iceman x maverick#i love them#<3#top gun 1986
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Paper Planes
Paper Planes by Jennie Wood and Dozerdraws, lettering by Micah Myers
there are so many things to like about this graphic novel! the art is very charming and clear--i especially love the way flashbacks have a slightly muted color palette--and the story really embraces complications of modern queer adolescence that i feel like i wasn't seeing in comics for kids back when i was bookselling 10-ish years ago. (the publisher rates this one as for "all audiences," and it definitely has enough substance for grownup readers, but personally i would shelve it with middle grade.) i love the way we get so much story through interspersed flashbacks, doling out information and building up to how these two characters ended up in the present being awkward around each other at camp they don't seem to have chosen. there's a little bit of mystery, interpersonal drama, and the really lovely throughline of the paper planes connecting Dylan and Leighton and then further connecting them to the people around them.
also it's great to see so much ordinary diversity! queer diversity for sure, but also diversity of bodies, of class, and of race, all in that perfect space between "looking diverse without addressing any issue directly" and "addressing every possible issue with the most fraught language and anxiety possible." the characters and their lives and identities feel real and specific, and it pleases me to no end that though Dylan and Leighton each struggle with how their queer identities (nonbinary and asexual, respectively) are received or suppressed by others, they have very few qualms about these identities within themselves--they're both frank and sure about who they are and what they feel.
and that's something else i loved about this book: nobody is only one thing. nobody makes only bad choices or good choices, is only accepting or only biased, and in the end every relationship is in a place of tenuous connection that feels very true to how people grow, and how relationships shift and change. all in all, this was a great read!
the deets
how i read it: an e-galley from NetGalley! i think this is the first time i've read a graphic novel galley, and though digital is not my preferred mode for art-heavy things, it worked well enough. i will likely pick up a physical copy when it comes out!
try this if you: like a good queer bildungsroman, appreciate non-chronological storytelling, dig a nuanced look at that weird summer between middle school and high school, or ever got in big trouble with your best friend.
a panel i really liked: this first one has real Somewhere Out There energy to me
bonus: i love this background kid at camp who looks like me and also hates math, i see you honey
pub date: July 18, 2023!
#books and reading#graphic novels#book recs#book reviews#bookblr#paper planes#jennie wood#dozerdraws#queer graphic novels#middle grade
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From the desk of Scholar Adeel Dayne
The castle is located in the western Red Mountains on an island in the Torentine where it pours into the Summer Sea. Starfall, which includes a tower called the Palestone Sword, guards the western arm of Dorne.Northeast of Starfall is High Hermitage, the seat of a Dayne cadet branch.
According to legend, Starfall was built where the first Dayne found a magic stone after he followed the path of a shooting star. The Daynes grew in power to become the Kings of the Torrentine and one of the strongest houses of Dorne.
The Daynes submitted to House Nymeros Martell during Nymeria's War.
The People; The People of Starfall, often called Stars, are well known for their pride, calming presence, and honor. Rarely does one hear of lands renowned for their collective honor. The first settlers of Starfall arrived on pilgrimage following the path of the fallen star where were met by the Daynes building up Palestone. The more who arrived, the more they began building on the surrounding lands.
Known for being resourceful, the Stars made the best of the location when reenforcing they began building up walls, planting more of the native fruit trees, and working on the many greening secrets they learned from the Greenblood close to their lands.
The Lands and homes; The first village “سٹارز ایج” or Star’s Edge in the Common tongue is a display of Dayne architecture. White stone and marble with cobbled streets and burning oil lamps. Many consider Star’s Edge to be romantic from its position on the water, the stars, and the shimmering light.
Winding streets and wise building has allowed for Star’s Edge to be more of a city than a town with its many structures from apartments to stores to shops, open markets, and temples. One can find anything their heart’s desire on the winding streets of Star’s Edge.
Other villages spring up across their lands, though many people prefer to be close to Star’s Edge one can find farmers, hunters, and nomadic peoples living across Dayne lands.
The Ruling Lord and his people; The Dayne’s are revered by their people, respected and loved. Much of this comes from the Dayne’s sense of justice for all regardless of status. Other say its because they know there is safety that comes with being smallfolk of the Daynes.
Economy; Handicrafts such as paintings, marble articles, silver arts and terracotta. There are craft bazaars across Star's Edge.
Metals and Minerals; namely marble and soapstone. These mines are closer to High Hermitage.
Fishing; Tuna, Sharks, Sea Snakes, and other sea creatures not only help the economy but are also a staple in the diet of Starfall.
Travel; There is a land bridge that connects Starfall to their lands. People travel across the bridge by horse and carriage. Because of the many canals, it’s not uncommon to see people on barges, rowboats, and or rafts. Starfall has several pleasure galleys often used for visitors and tourists, merchant galleys, and 2 warships with plans to build two more in the future.
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youtube
On 12th August 1990 Roy Williamson, the Scottish folk musician and songwriter, died, he was 54.
It was in 1955 that Williamson met Ronnie Browne at Edinburgh College of Art, with whom he would team up in The Corries. This meeting started a 35 year long partnership.
The "Corrie Folk Trio" began in 1962 and consisted of Roy Williamson, Bill Smith and Ron Cockburn. After a few weeks Cockburn left. As they had already accepted an engagement at the Edinburgh Festival, Williamson suggested that Ronnie Browne should be brought in to make up numbers. They also added female Irish singer Paddie Bell to become the Corrie Folk Trio and Paddie Bell.
By 1965, Paddie Bell and Bill Smith left. Under the new name, The Corries, Williamson, a talented multi-instrumentalist, and Browne, the singer, performed at the Jubilee Arms Hotel in Cortachy, Angus.
Williamson was a skilled woodworker. In the summer of 1969 he invented the 'combolins', two complementary instruments which combined several into a single instrument. One combined a mandolin and a guitar (along with four bass strings operated with slides) , the other combined guitar and the 12-string Spanish bandurria, the latter being an instrument Williamson had played since the early days of the Corrie Folk Trio.
Originally conceived as a way to combine several of the many instruments they carried around on tour - the Corries' long row of chairs behind them on stage bearing instruments is legendary - the combolins in fact became an additional two instruments for the tour van. Most often, Ronnie Browne played the guitar/mandolin instrument with bass strings, and Williamson the other, which also had 13 sympathetic strings designed to resonate like the Indian sitar.
The wood for the instruments was obtained from antique hardwood furniture as well as premium grade Tyrolean spruce, and featured Williamson's artistic embellishments in silver and mother of pearl.
Williamson wrote Flower of Scotland, one of the two unofficial Scottish national anthems. He was possibly the first Scottish folk performer to use the bouzouki, in the song's first live performance at Ruthven Barracks for a BBC television programme in 1968.
From 1987, Williamson's health went into decline and he spent his last years living in Forres, close to where he spent his school years. He died of a brain tumour in 1990.
I chose Kishmul's Galley because it shows Roy doing what he was renowned for, telling a wee bit of the story behind the song, and playing one of the instruments he invented, the tribute also has Roy singing the song Sic a Parcel of Rogues, believe me it brought tears to my eyes..............RIP Roy Murdoch Buchanan Williamson (25th June 1936, Edinburgh - 12th August 1990, Forres)
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Refuse
A sonnet sequence
1
Mourner, blessed bankrupt, austere—why, Bracy then men you need not,
that called for stedfastness at my trust the same men of all
Olympus’ faded violet? Scanty but droop, and me: for there, with
green like the woods! The figure in further fire with the sonne and
since we can’t appointed types of open-mouth’d prophesy your
to thy native fire, my Katie? Made thee; sounds of life pleasure;
men love and no child of Sighs sought to ask his favour’d, found the
use of rock, how dying how a bird. Rife we saw engulph for
all things had a maidens, empty skies there: big and thee my life,
the manor full-veined ears, your Prince. Treated sober seemlihed
gave thee as an unlament: but not mine we follow that
o’er her eyes the State I’me in: since I hard-favour, savoury
end; his eyes and full the only now stands of days! The heart beats
in russet jacket for thee. His skin’s deep groan advertent breath.
2
Tonight, which may say love, an electroencephalographic
kiss from the world forest tinters, am I not dead; the Lady
of Shalott. Who without audience, as steel are beyond
his was he a brake shaft struck him should Fate sic pleasured more
to be as thou canst not spin. Now doth yield us fare on flowers;
my kingdoms wide eyes shall dwell on the scenes must before she
said? How though the wet feathers more strong them to the hears the shedding
breedeth one things work, and wicked and strange and found groans, but
short ears, you needs nothing else were dancing that I felt and fashion
deck’d steel’d, short absence to unsettled both Worlds behind. There
nought to precontracts, we move unloved.—Whit! Life and yet rest. Over
the foundation; and, with disturb the broad breath, and the sense,
I thoughtlessly, by sweet name the hues of chang’d! To overwrought
her lips; a thousand thinner, clean out all we saw of champagne?
3
Buildings to take theme; then where was vacant,
and his steeds jet-black, stray lower as
reflected from cliffs, the glory from fear, back’d
by me; uncoupled in her moan’d, and more
shadowy in their verdure still their garland:-
yet dissembling itself. Their light leaps
in one arms gainst thou ask proofe of my door
of individual; and those eyes a
bright the low wind, nor drown’d, bright come, with buds,
and Florian, cursing I dote on, which
love, I will ever woman country he
is gone, like men! I tell her sure! Than you
become show eye and forbidden, fainted
with whom France. And yet, I had vowed with thee!
4
Moral inebriety. Or song out a
smooth this throne, when loud Hosannas rise! The
Virgin all respecting thick and repent;
thou, compos’d, and not to cull of death was
he, not, there! He torch of shame and to moan!
With my tears, that deaf and she was praying,
that form the breaks throne as well and when he
lies at his places, in old talent—so
is her to plain with no stair—clasp yours, and
his through a thumbnail—brined against thou!
And sock or buskin skelp alang to death,
he reachery. Such Consummation, nodding
prayer here, sad Hour, some other. That
we missed in sight to rob him on my face.
5
’Tis not eased us noteth, or as thou
art a bay; who blushing heartily beset,
will linger her they spear? Forms of hope
hope, our heat, nor cause: as before doves
overhead came back-yett be a-jee; syne up
the magnanimity of air they to
illuminings Or go to Rome—at once
more them extreme hope she stood along than
your knight; all new sorrow was slowly rolled
his branded she was the bank where the Island!
And there: big and silly posies, thou
Englishment! Guess to snowdrifts white with grin
before: on the blood; he went been delight
and galley-rowers’ toil: with changed aloud.
6
There was delight be summer of the horses are in thy repose:
here other’s conquers where I but a mere love in flowers
felt. Her steeds, yet has a sound, She might heart. So witless ploughboy’s
team, and held up yours, not the blackbirds all into him wasn’t
Sanforized behold that sweet even Sappho’s flames refin’d of
rye, that over that dove, and yet are ye have fled: what dull the
views wi’ disdain, fatigued with snorts and how all effect: wonder
soever, t is his angry stir, his landlord hath let the sea!
Deep sighs behind I heard it—once pealing immortal kind; ’twas
Bacchus and breast doth grace she fairest morning eyes, and the palfrey’s
back with him to her beauty breeze care of those huge, broad as
shed on speed hinder leaves beyond more I close thyself the wreath
they doe as the fairy, so leave me thus, for a world at my
verse my inner sight beseech that gives false! All the month of thine!
7
Listening expectators? The Lady of
air to move like an angry and because
to be barr’d of his Cave of two. Light is
some heart; come, with that burns dead. Comforts fail.
She foresee, so he did not so these moment
when he grouse till things, and leaf, or fearing
the fox which she stay her blue-bell strike
him fret, which thou should fly, but I have worn
down a tired in the law of passing
sire, and the lov’d a more free; they once
more that fisher but to see hope doth make
her maternal. Division deep dell below
they shoulder hung in its stubborn puls’d
its wrecked devotion found me Death, and hills?
8
Within their mother, risen on barren,
and the crag, full many mortality,
and all the shepherds and the two strength breed
of health by force him from above that th’eyes
o’erflow the wretched her solstice down though
the dead husband gave sunk, and will bid us
lives away.—From Abelard has paid
price, although I have ye left your precious
as resembling planets on her lynx eye
the one that the past by Memorie; and winds
of Petrarch with me as one alive moment.
It is no less and this is what is
the life of short tunes into thin, the bed
fallen divine desperanza’s Gavel.
9
He sullen, still forgiv’n, and ne’er they were. Said Christabel. Friends
will weep that the sigh no more than a man mann’d, my merry worm
would I blind in hand—Did one by toil, that can see the travelers
can’t seen, be’st loth, by sun of a bakery inch a fool to
sport: thou love of Quietude. Are vision, and not proud of the high
or low; their departed mankind as you. Their lot Wake, my freshet
yielding two should be away; a mischief returned with steps,
with her breast, and the lady, with charms he musks, thy good ship much
a pun or fly the world of hot desirest they crafty soldier,
his churlish grow: now off with such for ever could at they
were valves you turned her pupil’s lot! Thy sight cloth’d must harbor lie.
That overrul’d I overshoot his limit is bent, anxious
and Adoration? There was fleet as thy voice rang from mighty
Mother, in the Irthing art thy face thou hast they say the crown!
10
She stood beside everything I was born.
And many wear; and sparkless a cry to
deceiv’d with woe! Lend her the same void
circumference before happy day, stella: now
I see such I bear with grief, and dies out
of fate shalt, below thine. To hearken whence
choked my steps, with some her death for thought I
here is not hears the Sun, if but fell, and
the bath, each rose a Carlo Dolce or
the maiden-cheek’d Adonais died? Tis the
owlets building plague, are not love shall have
them, Peace to chased choice is youth; and with this
lour; and yet music in a lying from
his bent his guerdon: t is it is still!
11
Here are would remembrance stumbling over
to the thorny road, which learn to her face
with Truman’s fashions, fragrant me other
long have all thou dost thou content: she should
laughs to subdue, renounced ambitious
Jealousy doth we suffers not their fee; she
answer was the light, overnight she know
causes mature weare his very much? His
little low, but had I cease to Loue, which
you stood upright, jewels to sleep; Melissa
shook,—she put her the ceremony kneeling
is. Better how fiercely move that
conversazione; there is the soft and graceful:
men for soar’d, and were, with him is broken?
12
’Ring look’d down call men love her I sit a-billing, my thought her;
there, to decorate then join this Tell me, my love as they hearts
you might blush from whence decay perchange—I saw it and lie, still
the liar—rough all his blood; it grieve, we now a streets shouting’s
making in the grant exhalation fixt on mine eyes to stone
on highest but truly write it near. And seal shafts, thy prey: the
Princes in cluster’d mournful tricky, so diuine ravisht, still dictates,
and lo! To his flank; whose brim there a pause, noticed one, smiling
their jewel on her the monk. I wish beset, with blame; all my
minutes fled! Which he to all untir’d. Stately treads apace so
let it from become shower, not mad with the very splendid
house. Our sex but venerable, would speak of that I hoped to
a woeful words—she sank to the light be: when I heard not, happie
Thames? While by forceless sphere he sees through when folly is he?
13
Then farewell. Felt and friend: you strive again.
Some lived upon it all it not quicker
than a part flutters, household upon his
bride, and like corpse. In weaken’d way did thee:
who failed, you sung; and on the equinoctial
line my heart, when in stays, as I sat
a week, and most unlike men are! Which pain
and gems and the heavens silver lyre unstrung.
Let us ay love, sustaining so
highest can see the many idle them
see, I know our visions, signs. My lord of
Tryermaine? My mother!—Woe!—For Juan stood like
a pretty dead weight or days had man of
Habeas Corpus. He chance, Christabel!
14
Of leaves, the death she broad-leaved platans
of the very little star, began, hast
these precious surges sink and grievous feud
hath set, a star, beacon-tower, glistering
circled mazes, winded&alone,—so
am I us’d by the wild minstrel, abbot,
squire Pope, to shooting save grown from the
little onward glory die. Her places,
I told I love is weak. And while my Julia
did unlace her side, I smote him your
hair unbound the shepherd lad, thou mayest heart
of stars grow brought wings, and this sad proscenium
of heroes gone unto thee of market,
when lo! Grand imaginary swoon.
15
And air of mistrustful land lie, even
Nimrod’s self-approve him our earlier
the talk’d throughout everything at sixty
for there must bid a lovely lady
Christabel took me from Camelot. The jealous
for playmate, and joyance and true, in fatal
shape, and sainted idol, image street
and body but a kind there: big and lang;
she’s brow, when first thee, through and hot his
appetite beyond mortals he is she knew:
hereat spies an altar be ’fore whirled hardly
difference call alone, far from the hard.
Behind her passions, level feet, by my
own daughter hour of nature’s holiday!
16
Neighborhood, having plume, unlike hath its
light of hope, but with his she just it from
they glides he now with his was slowly, and
sin, I keep coach, charitable Outside
their panting heard the next year of sleep may
moves the bed; puts on the youth; but when love
you. Her kennel beneath the monks preferr’d
a hill be the raisèd up he rode downs, that
are seen told a long retinue so? And
the hungry Israelites; but I am
over unaware the heat nor walk through
whom thou wilt, on mossy hillocks, and sweet
a fresh beauty liv’d, sun and molten thither,
can see but of heav’n seize it, and bare!
17
He, expectator, and to content. By
slow stood alone—then with sick heart shall at
once studied hare, mark thy heauy grace man, that
form the used to Lady of Shalott. And
make let Life with lightly pass is but thou
make, into a wife is never than you
stoops not, happy doves willing out of thee,
and rolled crest, shall my life and the tumult
and told her own babe for throng, as much, nor
caught by child;—long didst thou hit. Her glad hush
the tide there or are to be a hymning
up her them, wishing-time, there round thy tears,
or some wanderings given; Defenceless
averted; its delicious might win.
18
In nor canst they lands on his latest
tyranny of an over met, and I’ll be
its walk by moon, and then join the sin, yet
thee on me of Love music so sweetest
lyrist of vision blest my aching fire
burning parasites; to the dead? Since I’m
sitting tune is blown out so last, then press’d
with purple noon’s naked love you, we shall
air is Music slumbers kept walking. The
dire imagination flies; the tomb
of his churlish doubt if this headlong to
my misery is gone foundation mask’d—
a Powers desolation. But grief in
her brow and then imagined you have gone.
19
While he vomits (he called taut that are not, there are in my arm.
Will love destroy, that closing the offers not expression, manlike,
sparkled in a glow-worker be, whereon with its lonely
maid. Courageously declared descend—oh, dreamer, awake unto
the started mankind at the cunning her tears, tempest, whatsoe’er
is safety in anger reddens overbear in my eyes:
but if thou, sweetness can I think that needs a good queers? With nature
to sink, but to leaue me in sight of sadden’d her, tell a
very lists were a pale corpse. The dwarf replies as thou wert her
came the woods. Wee have comment. Elsewhere is scarce uplifts a young
loseth his aim; but the warps and truly written—wash itself
too much passion sweet envelope; and Passionless steel it? The
Sphinx. When Love’s own his wine we left him king melodious briar’d
path, and tide. Thou heare with hasten on the rhyme, where most goddess!
20
Caught a lowly, that castle gate, and a
shame, my lad. That like a bliss or bale—her
far—O gaze o’ercast, chillingly proceed
from an urn, still it into death-like in
Ohio called Hope, a poising Muse. Upon
thee, I will not Maud, so the earth with
more I trust not whether foot on the crown
out of common-place! My business of your
dwell into thy grief into purgatory
to lie on sweet blue, since that brain! The
sun, as a music: for thou leave tumult
and in its soft illustrious laws, in
fold, his Death with venturing to leave me
to be so: for Stella O dear sister.
21
My life that poetic voices sweetest
lyrist of the blame; and thou should love and
fell were bonie Mary, the roughest hearts are
not. Are loving noises to rally they
blaspheme the sex the pertinacity
pride has, nor an autumn, thou will now she
agrees. Turns out one poor belly falleth
down, and will say so, you beckon from herb
and far. In such love made it off, some bears—
o would loved where she in the river, whence
cannot die till the happy Autumn-field!
Come, Abelard for thing for our grew awhile
they should be so! You had but wi’ miscall
delight of thine on the sacred for.
22
For one hour, with all the air in that an
unthrift in the morning them reveal’d, no
craving, nor pause: these blue, according to
adorn thine ears,. It does penance not for
more can be wellfed with all this through whom
the enemy to be felt. Like a raccoon.
It may; thou, who, as thought. In these flash’d
himself in flowers of his face resigned
to following roar, and thy innocent
and little goes, bearing appears, strain did
guides, meantime be thy light tame one engendering,
too, our barometer: let tears,
tears, for passion love and die? And chest buildings
to Love? Thaw not with she, this is past.
23
Did get mars and peeled bits of counsels, when
request, if men esteem’d with the dove’s
tenderneath these her arms do lends wilt swim in
that screaming faithful time; down the deer. Like
your ungracious Hail on the heard in the
heart; who, sleeps, while yet it blushing enduring
there the hare I languish’d the woman.
Large dark, and govern’d earls, glance at sile
doth tramping Centaur! Is a run. A
traceless was wedding o’er there stood elate
and not Cervants for they quiver in seas
of father’s vow, despite of wrinkles this
delight idea of his coupled in
the bird, she new-sprung; and in the woman.
24
The silent Night, and long have birth—Despair.
Were grief I lie between syllables! I
trust while now of all my song might shall help
a wreath our her and as he so fair
Corinna can, sharp fangs o’er aft thy charm could
feign, do in constance, strike at its fretwork,
and fashion calls in the added gracious
notes appeares; O see where; a witch! He
rous’d Death, who first, whereat son that in their
cups they at the Spring, find slaking, fire-
side that skirt the pale corpse. The damp air. Within
a year her finger’d steel it? Hung in
their should to God that we’ll try tipsily
quaff a brook which neuer take in Egypt.
25
What she weathers, weep is all the reason once I knew no rock
the distinguish doctrine of your with stroke restless mistake
the same, else laws of this for wine we learnd euen so as these dread,
to shepherds is this priesthood morrow, month and hand not signs. By
law of pleasants. Strangely dumb in an even to my corse be
of Phoebus, for fight the London’s nakedness of Britain mourns
not to bonie Mary, the rest foreigner, and a lover delight.
Of his seven ghost abandoning past beguiling red she
was on the wolf would to God that some sage, graveyard. Until its
stead of a sometimes on Earth, and on earth we suffix was o’er
the earth; the best, their fee; she flies his contract your first doth little
or two betters, his blest, had lov’d, his tail, that month of English
root, longbow was he slumbers that take ourself forsook the
darts, O beloved whereat eyes, would pay and with impure dare!
26
Not a thousand time, and I may stream that
comer, he interchanced, and blouse—nay,
a bitter but the stars them dry again
she wrote the day with shine aid? At last, and
repair in love waste; no other clipp’d light
dazzling moon, and threatness. And apt to speak
to men into him; Sidney, as he rode
downwards heaven. New singing That ole
Ace down to a lake where no more. Virtue
lost thou shall feel I shall the bedded fists.
Who tempting tunes and when is no pipe, therefore,
thou leave my grief worse that which seen, and
Lord Henry rid well, an erring soul was
she was wont to give you. For needy fate.
27
But I think that I doubtful curls as one,
has perish’d, that sees she, sitting to themselves
in old jockstrap. They heart’s citadel
to a suddenly truth,—the sand, seek’st thou
clear, our was Leave me a children cry, flint-
hearted—ah, you no song, some brake of thrall
and with housetop lonely ride—dear lady’s
gentle more rage: so that moment Death.
Of living waves off his mother blunderstand?
Where this, and heard it—once pealing. Cupid,
as a paint em, where now and fades, unless
I knew the tender’d well nigh past are
you swim before white through me there has powers,
and here are few! Lift the night: his breath!
28
However and yet he knew the Demigods
of air three day he ploughboy’s team won
on homecoming as skies in a Catalina
stands and silver lyre unstead that
track’d breadth of day: her come back-ground. Let wealth
to whom we have fill’d with which she there is
banks compared by voice, o’erworn, and marching
divinations, fears no tread, said, imprinted,
steal a though Amaryllis danger,
or lion’s sent forgot, and known the
perilous grain: but whose rest though spring convey;
if I, indeed the ark: so we falling
down and sat so waiting the wild echoes,
and hath the issueless vestal’s veins?
29
And fish without completely spikes glow to part—but neither blowing
to adore the fair not that shall come to be, die: yet lives
in envy them not; till the baiting for curious reason—
a topic scale the placement of the same column. Yet looks, the
Brahmins of Elfland faded eyes? Life’s star with folded her doth
of more the midnight—which is London winged birds: pleasure. In eyes
divine, to us noteth, over this foible, nor muffling
her twinkle—they aren’t afraid of clichés and blow a
saints will never would I do to cancelled my sick that vernal
beauty in a net, so witless may admirari’ was reckon’d,
and at last breath—one gently as an old, his tail the poor
Wat, far around, a sleep on which doth come and mild, each their
enemy: far fair, and, and fight. As might abode. Song, your flower,
sweet’ I said, on than the waves of open-hearted, we watch. Woe!
30
That her voice, which in the whetteth steps to
a quicker profuse locks kept the object,
he s author of God! And takes the point;
whose chiefest weak, stray away. There she cried;
ah, cursing how her four; would forget all
pardon me. You must not uttering locks
hanging thorough the fair not a kindred
kisses such as he roll, and temples? Aye
vow and will I sobbed in that waft a sings
human love’s decay perch dovelike his
heart with treble wrong must it feel what look,
or are the famous many an aisle.
And as a low mist hand’s beames, and a
tone and hanging in masquerade, whose rest.
31
’ Why, what can be well and the passions through the babes? Set the dust
of the sight, desire my salt estarnging closely the sound
in love all are grew, and clasping doth he, nor wine, and yet comes
at my hand she faded faces the speak forced a way! Not oft
the warm Love taught but love and cheek was howling, thine, hath treble,
gave like a red balloon bursting down well night, and from infants
at cloud which conscious jewel set in tranquil muse upon thy steep
by steep; and let thy steeds jet-black hair begot: longbow was done;
and tell you with the arts, might sun glory: with window and knew
theirs, led by But never weaving that may be done his own like
Caractacus in the clareted; and sweet; the green face
serenest becomes break my heart, while you have not spent, her come! Listened
to save again. Death, he had our Sophias are mad, unto
the circumstance made, the promise to forced to her hand in her.
32
Then thy vttermost I stabbed antennae trawling feather; even
bigger room of their of his long, and being prisoners had his
love as fondly in crowds, in all thought, or foul face remain’d in
your dream methough all that smiled, you wear, a thousand spied the stern
sky. To thin this is spotted by, as when it nursed that worse that
are all is called discovering Incarnation? No, it work
of wit, thy might signal-tree crop a weed, the swelling drums, and
guard, the Indians both and in painted maiden light the hallow’d
our device; wrought; and kept the deadly part Doppelganger
trying rose and she sees there danced from Oxford hunter wound and still
silence dreadful wood; even in his bosom never let it
knell to hearer’s guise, saw two fairily well; nae snap conceded
as if in a higher niche, alone, that spangled bonnet
on, under tower’d Camelot. It shall stay, left human kiss!
33
Wide pinions, and party we have in his
coming night, scarless name; and stoic
anchorite: but, you webs your addresses were
was to smile, an’ I’ll bend, being, burns not!
The hert doth griefes the postboys have love-
sick assay’d. Ply vizard mask, a pinions;
make this, there, Stella hand serene about,
then thy share, they sights, for spouse this said,
imprison twine. Aye vow and pride lies an angels
used to piece of our tree lives, and just
as much; for both your love, and his ill pry
into thou speak griefes store, nor thy
piteously, when love, the depth. Lady Adeline
Amundeville; the next to me.
34
Speeding away, to enjoy a sudden
walks on heaven horrors rise, such nectar;
but the curiously, carved so clear senses,
and never brother tranced like a
kindness mastering, thine uttering weeks’
star. Exhalation from slimy nest, the
base of Eternal beau. Who every fear;
thing the lovers tarry and all cloud of
my breakfast and drink delicious Honours
Funeral. To have me, you might he shore.
No, no, that shall they do wear it couch wise,
in that she love given out. And as lovely
to-night, nightly on, in a charnel;
fear lurk in which, I weep for Adonais!
35
To that swell the tender soever, tis
tenderneath the cold niche in the rough the sky
and as trace love’s fight your new friends. To teach
that cannot tell, bright goes. Consonant chords
thee for pity hath she die: yet this petty
boss, there’s no shooteth from the every
good, in shades of the gold canopy
of English autumn were the empyrean
I have seen to the earth; the same fluttering
appear’d through the met first of passional;
and, on while I said, not suck’d is soft
hand.—The sun that vain your I did lend her
side of thee: the hotel that come, come with
his judgments of the death roses; my love.
36
But never lamp the white or keys of sorrow
is but love for the C he gave him,
he taught a king hare, or as the halls, and
fondly in the bright and a tongue: when the
brain, and ever-musing the lady sank,
believe me, me, O loue right of the only
we whom those down tongue, o noble rosy
is this pow’r away! Overnight clips,
and dazzled Faith the instead of pain. To
see; it is my mother’s name; wishing-rods
of good and gaze again; our friend, with with
awe; the very stretches his piping to
your labor and asketh where them tis give:
to meet in the litter. Then safely tree.
37
—Still is not a soft flanks but ears, white and
so innocent and silver bugle, blow,
or butcher-sire the view, the harp—because
I know and silver said, not suck’d. Robe
arrayed, into her side, high in the cried.
I thank the day smith many deaths, and mould’ring
streets shouting up to Cynthia for
mouth and fickle she lay kill’d, the City’s
voice: and hang nodding been a virtue thus,
my heart shall cool the purpled chasm and
being judge at first his vengeance of course
to elope like the races; anon he
stalk, and look she felt the meadow-sweet myrtle
letters—the child, a Spirit broiler.
#poetry#automatically generated text#Patrick Mooney#Markov chains#Markov chain length: 6#161 texts#sonnet sequence
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A Different Kind of Hug.
Featured in 'Summer of Love', an exhibition that took place last summer in the Courthouse Galley and Studios in Ennistymon.
And it was also featured in volume one, 'Lovesick Summer' of Lemon Piglet.
#art #drawing #illustration #ink #sketch #promarkers #creature #entity #animal #marineanimal #jellyfish #tentacles #beach #summer #love #hug #weird #strange #irishartist #irishart #dublinartist #dublinart #lorcancassidy
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Underrated bits in OFMD that have me HOWLING:
• Stede calling it a “state of the art en-suite” while Roach is sat soaping himself and it looks like Wee John is just taking a shit??
• Nigel Badminton’s ghost stood on rocks in the background violently flipping Stede the bird while Stede’s trying to give a pep-talk to the crew.
• (Honestly just Rory Kinnear doing whatever the fuck. He was so ✨deranged✨ as the Badminton twins god bless.)
• “He’s got crazy eyes! I’m sorry but you do.” *cue shot of Stede looking vaguely constipated*
• “These are me Summer teeth. Some are teeth. Some ain’t.” A+ pun Buttons thank you 👏👌🏻
• Jim’s flailing about after Spanish Jackie hears the ruckus and leaves. Them trying to hold their beard on just kills me
• Lucius’ “FUCK THE BEACH” followed by the stroppiest gay flounce I’ve ever seen.
• Izzy’s ‘jealous ex’ ranting to Spanish Jackie. Look at her face you KNOW she was fucking sick of hearing it at that point
• “LUCIUS! WE HAVE A ✨FUCKERY✨ ON OUR HAAAAAANDS!”
• The whole “distraction” sequence between Stede and Blackbeard’s crew, especially Izzy just being unimpressed™️
• Ed’s teary “fuckin’ hell Jack!” after Jack whipped him in the balls.
• “What does a Viceroy do?” “Whatever the fuck he wants, babe.”
• Frenchie somehow able to embroider a cat licking it’s paw onto a flag but also managing to nail his own sleeve to the deck
• Ivan being offended that Roach threw a perfectly good sandwich at Izzy’s head
• Izzy being left holding the model ship after Ed makes his unsettling “I haven’t died yet” speech like “yeah because that makes sense.”
• Gabriel asking Stede to palpitate his wife and Ed’s bewildered “well that was fast!”
• Stede sounding so ~betrayed~ when Ed admits he fucked up his cutlery usage. Years of academy training! Wasted!
• “Izzy’s Revenge sounds like an intestinal problem.”
• Buttons’ trying to whittle a harpsichord
• Buttons in general
• “That’s it Livy, give him the ol’ FUCK-EYE!”
• Ed’s little dramatic spin and James Bond style “Jeff. From Accounting.”
• Wee John’s annoyed “yeah we all heard you” in regards to Lucius and Black Pete fucking in the galley. My brother in Christ you could have left the room-
• Ed calling Izzy “dickfuck” when he points out the date is wrong
• Listen it’s a sweet scene: but the fact Ed’s “NEXT ONE GOES THROUGH YOUR FUCKING EYEBALL!” was a part of Stede’s Big Romantic Memory Montage ~sends~ me
• Frenchie calling Izzy a “cheeky bitch” after he punches Stede in the duel
• Every fucking thing that comes out of the Swede’s mouth.
#there’s so many more but I can’t think of them all in one go#honestly ‘dickfuck’ caught me so off guard I dunno why 💀#omfd#our flag means death#ofmd spoilers
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when all I want is you | c.b
paring: Colin Bridgerton x f!reader
summary: Both you and Colin go on a travel year at the same time and by chance you met
warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, some questionable art knowledge and old timely rules
word count: 2.4k
a/n: im slowly getting back to writing, thankful his was over half done anyway. edited but some mistakes were probably missed
request: Could you write an imagine where she meets Collin on his travels
(im sorry this took me so long)
MAIN MASTERLIST | REQUEST OPEN
Colin first chose to have a travel year after his heart was broken. He thought Marian loved him. yes, he was young but he really through he had found real love.
Now sitting in a train carriage on the way to Paris, he knew it wasn’t real love. Maybe he would take a page from his brother’s book and charm as many women as he could. Maybe he would break someone else heart.
You on the other hand had been dragged onto your aunt Cordelia’s travel year, with no children of her own you had be plucked from your siblings as her heir. It wasn’t so bad you just wanted to spend your summer studying but a free trip around Europe wasn’t a bad second.
Your aunt Cordelia was asleep lent against the window, you were bored looking around at the fellow passages. Your eyes fell on a young man sat alone. He looked about your ages maybe a year older. What hit you most of all was how sad he looked.
The train whistle blowing took your attention away from the sad gentle man. Your Aunt Cordelia woke with a start looking out the window. “Come y/n we have half an hour to change before we met your cousin Philip for tea” she said nudging you along the aisle. You were so flustered you didn’t have a chance to look at the sad gentle man again.
-x-
Over the first three days you had stuck to a tight schedule which you hated. Original aunt Cordelia had agreed to let you have at least three hours a day where you could go and do whatever you liked but that didn’t work out.
Until the fourth day when Aunt Cordelia woke up with one of her head aches and said that she wouldn’t be leaving her room and you were free to do as you liked. You knew it was wrong to be happy she had taken ill but if it meant you had some freedom you hoped it lasted more than one day.
You skipped down the streets for Paris grinning to yourself. Your first stop the louvre, you had been dying to go for years you knew this trip would be your only chance, when you express this to Aunt Cordelia, she went pale and commented how the art was too modern and reliving despite everything being painted before she was even born.
Walking along the halls you lost yourself in the art, so many famous works you had only seen in books. Towards the middle of the galley you paused when you saw a familiar face, the sad gentle man from the train. You heart jumped in your chest, you had wanted to say something to him then but now you had the chance you couldn’t form a sentence.
“So this was painted by Jane Fragonard” he grinned stand beside the painting ‘the lock’. A young woman beside him looked at him wide eyed nodding along, blushing.
You laughed. Gaining the pairs attention. “I’m sorry but it’s actually Jean-Honore Fragonard and this piece is called the lock” you pointed to the painting behind them.
The girl scoffed walking away.
The sad gentle man stated open mouthed after her, then looked at you, still shocked.
You opened you mouth and shook your head, “I didn’t mean to-“ you wonder off pointing in the direction the girl walked off in.
He broke eye contract with you and pulled a bit of paper from his pocket, “damn you Benedict” he muttered.
“I’m hoping this Benedict is real and not some drawing on that bit of paper” you said concerned.
“Benedict is my brother and his handwriting is terrible” you sighed. He thrusted the piece of paper into your face, “look he put Jane not Jean and he didn’t even include the middle name”.
You took a step back and laughed nervously, “maybe he got it wrong”.
“well then he better changed his interest quick” he murmured sitting down on one of the nearby sits.
You followed him sitting by him. “if you like I can tell you some facts to charm girls” you laughed lightly.
The turn to look at you and smiled. “maybe I could charm you” he winked.
You snorted batting his arm.
“what?” he asked hurt looking at himself up and down, “you don’t think I’m charming at all?”.
You smiled at him sadly, “I think your hurt and you’re trying to fill the gap”.
He straighten himself and looked at you fascinated, “and what makes you think that?”.
“I saw you on the train when I first got here and you looked like Orpheus after he saw Eurydice fall back to the underworld. In that moment I wanted to talk to you” you confessed feeling your cheeks heat up.
“why didn’t you?” he asked eyebrows folded.
You exhaled a laughed. “because my Aunt woke up before I could and started giving me orders”.
He laughed too. “you could make it up to me by joining me?”.
“joining you?”.
“just today then we both will have a fun story to take home” you smiled, unlike his other smiles this one looked real. And that small thing along made you say yes.
-x-
The sun had begun to set when you got back to the home your aunt had rented. You had lost track of time, spending the day with the sad gentle man was different from anything you had done before. He spoke different, acted different and treated you different than anyone had in your whole life.
Though he had told you about his life he didn’t tell you his name, neither did you tell him yours. another part of the story.
You hadn’t even done anything exciting, you had just walked around Paris telling the other about their life, their family.
You had manged to get a little extra out of him. you knew he was engaged but it ended badly but no details. But from what you knew he loved her or he thought he did.
You yourself had never experienced love, so you couldn’t imagine what it felt like to love someone then lose them.
“is that you y/n” Aunt Cordelia’s voice called from the top of the stairs. You cringed with your back against the door.
“yes Aunty” you smiled looking up the stairs so she could see you. “I lost track of time”.
“you had me worried silly girl” she shook her head walking down the stair towards you, “I assume you already ate?” she lifted an eyebrow.
You nodded hanging your coat up. “I went to a little café, I’m sorry for worrying you”.
She shook her head, “no matter tomorrow you’ll make it up to me”.
“so you’re better?”. You felt the hope inside your chest die, you had thought you had another day to yourself.
“much. Now get to bed, we have a long day tomorrow” she tilted her head in the direction of your room.
You wanted to argue that it wasn’t late enough to sleep yet but knew better than to argue with her, never mind argue with her when she was in this mood. “okay Aunty” you smiled, walking up the stairs behind her.
-x-
The day in question was spent getting the house ready for Aunt Cordelia’s yearly party you had forgotten about. It would be filled with men and their wives and the distant family members you never saw before.
You thought back to the sad gentle man and how you felt while you were with him. He made you laugh, really laugh, the way your mother hated you laughing.
The party moved past you, you stayed watching from the side with a glass of wine in your hand. you wanted to melt into the background, go unnoticed.
“what are you doing standing there silly girl?” and your Aunty stopped another wish again. she took the glass from your hands leaving it on a table as she guided you into the main room. She looked disappointed at your mustard-coloured dress.
Your shoulders tensed. “So who will I be meeting?” you asked quietly chewing your lower lip.
“well Cousin Philip is here with his wife and three boys who you haven’t met yet and some gentlemen I know from London and their guest”.
You nodded along dreading what was to come.
“which reminds me we should try and find you a match this year, you have been out for two years and haven’t found anyone” she muttered shaking her head.
“mama and papa said I was fine to wait” you argued brows folded.
She stopped you from walking and stood in front of you. “my dear take it from me, if you wait too long then you’ll never find anyone, like me and I want more for you. if you are going to be my heir, I want you to have the perfect match”.
You didn’t speak only nodded and let her lead you the rest of the way.
You had never thought of it that way. You had always thought that she had chosen not to marry not that she never got the chance.
A blur for people passed by you.
“and this is my nephew Colin” an older gentleman gestured over to the younger man stood next to him. Mindlessly you smiled to him not really looking his way.
“I believe we’ve met actually” he smiled.
You blinked facing him again, “you never mention you knew my Aunty” you grinned.
He smirked, “well we never got that personal”.
You exhaled laughing. You felt eyes on you and turned to your aunt. “I met Colin yesterday at the louvre” you left out how you spent the whole day together and shared almost everything but not your name.
you were both lost looking at each other smiling unaware of the two people still stood with you. “my niece y/n had negated to mention” you heard the ice in her voice, talking a step away from Colin. “If you’d excuse us gentlemen” she nodded to them both.
As you were being drag away you looked over your shoulder to Colin mouthing a goodbye.
You didn’t get a chance to talk with Colin again. by the time you had gotten away from your aunt the party was over and he had already left. You stood out on the top floor balcony looking out to the street of Paris. Seeing Colin again had awoken something in you, you didn’t know why, this time yesterday you believed you’d never see him again and was fine with the outcome but now it felt like you wouldn’t be able to live another day if he wasn’t in it.
“What was that early?” you froze hearing your aunt stood behind you, for someone her age she sure was quiet.
You skipped playing dumb shrinking in on yourself. “I-“ you open your mouth then closed it again. “it must have been shock of some kind, I didn’t think I’d see him standing in the middle of the room that’s all”.
She stayed where she was looking you up and down, trying to stop the lie, when she had realised it wasn’t one, she sighed. “no matter now” she waved her hand dismissingly. “we leave for Rome first thing tomorrow morning”.
You heart broke hearing the news.
You were planning on locating Colin in the morning by any means. Go knocking on the doors of all the people at the party, his family member he came with until you found him.
“I thought we had a few more days here” you said chewing your lower lip.
“something has come in the Rome that needs my attention” she never gave you any details for her business. It was odd considering you were to inherit everything one day, but like everything with your Aunt she would tell you in the own time.
You nodded as she told you the travel plans and how you weren’t allowed out alone this time. I doubt I’ll meet anyone worthwhile now. you wanted to say but kept it to yourself.
She left you alone again, alone with you thoughts and the unsaid words between you and Colin.
-x-
In the morning you felt a small ball of shame in the corner of your heart, admitting you cried yourself to sleep the night before. Looking into the mirror you looked tried and defeated. Heartbreak was something you had never felt before but you suspected it felt something like this.
By evening you’d be in Rome and you would never see Colin again, that thought felt like open wound, a wound at wouldn’t close again unless you saw Colin again. All you wanted was him, it was a simple desperate need.
A tapping from somewhere stole your attention, turning in every direction you searched for the source of the noise. After a few more taps you got up to look out the window. Your jaw dropped seeing Colin stood below you.
“Oh my god” you gasped pulling the window open.
“No, not god” he laughed.
You laughed too, “What are you doing?”.
He grinned, “I’ve come to steal you away”, he reached upholding out his hand.
“I-“ you started.
“Yes?” he asked sounding so hopeful.
“I need to get dressed”.
After dressing as fast as you could and running down the stairs as quiet as you could you found Colin waiting for you, wearing the same clothes he was wearing the night before.
He took your hand, “I’m going to say something very honest”, he was looking right at you. “I thought I knew what love was but the truth is what I felt for Marian is nothing for compared to what I feel for you and I know its barely been two days but I can’t just let you go”.
“Colin-“ you sighed smiling.
“No. I can’t bare to hear you say no, I’ll just leave” his grip on your hand loosen as he turned away.
“NO!” you cried pulling him back. “I do care about you. So much it scares and confuses me but I do and I do not want to let you go either”.
A smile as bright as the sun broke across his face in a breath, he pulled you close and kissed you. You gasped against his lips, he broke away blushing, “I shouldn’t have done that”.
“Yes, you should have and I hope you will again” you said pulling him back to you. He kissed back straight away. Only when you needed to breath did you pull away, leaning your forehead against his you sighed.
“Go back in and pack a bag and we’ll be gone before anyone wakes” he said.
“Where will we go?” you asked.
“Anywhere and wherever you like” he brought your hand to his lips and kissed it.
#colin bridgerton#colin bridgerton fanfic#colin bridgerton fanfiction#colin bridgerton imagine#colin bridgerton x reader#colin bridgerton x y/n#colin bridgerton x you#colin x y/n#colin x reader#bridgerton fanfiction#colin fanfiction#bridgerton imagine#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton
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Fic: Lord Gordon’s Reel
Summary: Summer, 1768. Virgil finds his best inspiration at sea. A Thunderteers Story
Characters: Gordon (10), Virgil (13), Scott (16)
Genre: Fluff (with an angsty end)
Tags: Wee!Tracys, Privateers!AU
Words: 2,800
Warnings: Alcohol, Drinking
A/N: There is, in fact, a Lord Gordon’s Reel that prompted this story, though it is a traditional tune, popularized in the 20th century with a five part version recorded by fiddler, Michael Coleman. I’ve been listening to this version by Ciaran Tourish. YT | Spotify . Enjoy!
The story in full is below, but if you enjoy, please consider checking out also at Ao3 | FF
More of the Privateers!AU is available here
-----
Lord Gordon’s Reel
Atlantic Ocean, Summer 1768
Virgil finds his best inspiration at sea. Although he is still supposed to be shadowing the ship’s physician and writing an essay at the end of the summer about his practical learnings aboard his father’s ship, the time away from his rigorous tutoring gives him the space to think. Quite literally, as there’s nothing but sea swells in every direction.
To some that might be terrifying. But Virgil, like his brothers, and his father, and his father before him, has the sea running in his blood. Time at sea is strenuous in ways he would never have experienced as a doctor locked in by land, but it’s invigorating, and relaxing, and rewarding.
He loves it.
The ship means family. One of the deckhands, Elias, plays fife in the evenings when he’s not working on someone’s ink, or his own. The open wound concerns Virgil, but the art fascinates him, and he might include his observations in his essay. Scott, when he’s not in lessons with his tutor or their father, spends his evening playing dice with Benji, their helmsman, down in the galley. Gordon, the little spitfire of a toddler he remembers pulling at the material of their mother’s dress to let her know he wanted to be held closer to the sunshine, has grown into boyhood and follows Scott around like he’s his hero. When he’s not spending time with Scott in lessons, Gordon spends every other waking moment with the deckhands among the ship.
The memory of their mother gives Virgil pause, taken too soon from this life with the birth of little Alan. The boys all went to live with their grandmother then, and he loved her dearly, though perhaps not her hardtack. But their grandmother couldn’t pick up her grandsons after a few years, and so Gordon found a new way to chase the sun, following after his father and oldest brother to reach towards the light with sails instead.
Maybe in another life, Virgil would’ve joined their father on the ship when he reached the right age too. Maybe John would have. But John always had his head even further beyond the clouds towards the stars, and Virgil, instead of playing with dice or cards as a youth, brought the apocalypse of destruction to their household – until his family realized he was able to put whatever he destroyed back together again, better than before. Both of them had shown an early aptitude for maths and sciences, and so tutors were brought in, they started their education, and the rest, as they say, is history.
So, the sea gives him breath, moments to feel, to listen. Slowly, after a few days away from the hustle and bustle of the city, the immense pressure of his schooling, finding the right descriptive words for his letters, he finds himself able to create again.
Little doodles that lay dormant as he resisted the urge and focused his quill on writing words came bursting to life in his journals under graphite pencils and in the margins of his reports on the fauna of the places they traveled.
Music started with their structured morning chants lead by the deckhands and Virgil would follow along, until notes filled in around the chanties and the tune in his mind was something different altogether.
Classically trained, the first time he pulled a downward stroke on his violin with the bite of a fiddle it had been while at sea. Fiddling was a technique, not an instrument, so his lines of rigidity fell away the more he found the appropriate bite to enhance his sound. He lost none of his posture but learned to sway, to dance with the motion of the bow.
Like the stars flickering in to welcome the moon, grace notes started twinkling in his mind, filling the page of notes that only existed in his muscle memory. Dolphins arched through the water, chasing them as they sailed, and he heard double stops, two notes at once working in tandem. His sea songs had movement, like the roll of the waves and with an underlying pulse, beating to connect everyone to the rhythm.
And then he learned to move his fingers at a speed beyond beat.
While the melody was there, the layers changed, the swing evolved, and the song in the end was never the same song twice. And sometimes the sea gave him fresh inspiration, which the others called improvisation, but what he called magic.
That was her gift to him.
~*~
Gordon lives for summer.
It wasn’t just because the days were longer, the sway of the wind warmer and softer against his cheeks, but because his brothers joined the crew. The closer they approached the port in New York - home his father called it, but it hadn’t felt like Gordon’s home in a long time – the more Scott started to join him with the crew, would play games, and sing, and he smiled, like he hadn’t in ages.
Gordon hated when Scott stopped smiling, so Gordon lives for summer because it’s when his brother is at his happiest. All of them were happier really.
Most days, the stories he made up of the shells in his collection would cheer his oldest brother up. Other times, he’d climb into the bunk beside him and pretend he was the one that needed comfort. The worst days, Scott being Scott tried not to let Gordon see, smiling despite himself with Gordon’s attempts to cheer him up, but the light would never reach his eyes.
Gordon was quite young when their mother passed away, but not too young to forget the tragedy. He remembers that his father and oldest brother were at sea, and that Scott was only a bit above Gordon’s age, when Alan came into the world.
Gordon was smart enough to know that his brother carried their family back home on his shoulders, a never-ending worry that when they reached New York, their life would shatter again, that they would only just start to feel the ripple of anguish again over something awful, terrible, that happened while they were away and unable to be there. They’d found out via a letter.
Gordon will never tell him that at age five, he remembers most clearly his older brother, Virgil, crying out first for Momma, and then Scotty.
The loss scarred Scott, and approaching port, having his brothers near him –
It filled Scott with light again.
Gordon wished Scott could be that relaxed all the time, but what does he know? He’s still just a young midshipman, and his father tells him frequently just to “focus on your studies, little fish.” And he’s the Captain so he has to listen, but he thinks maybe if Scott hadn’t been told to focus on his studies all the time, it would bring that smile out more often.
He tells Virgil none of this. They’re “resting” in the officer’s quarters, just them two. At twilight, its John’s hour, and their brother has long left the cabin and begun pouring his head over star maps with their Dad’s hired navigator. A shrill melody drifts their way from the fo’c’sle as the day crew settles in for the evening. With this many aboard, they’ve started utilizing the bunks in the officers’ quarters, and Gordon’s moved his stuff to the top bunk, more accustomed to compensating if the ship lurches. Virgil, who sleeps like a rock, will have less distance to fall in the lower bunk below him.
He’s leaning over the bottom of his bed, so that his hands dangle over the side above Virgil’s face. The blood rushes to his head as he thinks about Scott, but instead rambles about everything else.
He hasn’t seen Virgil in months. So instead, he tells him that he lives for summer and he’s excited to have him and John aboard again, and that he thinks honorifics are stupid, because he wants to be able to just call Scotty, “Scott” and not “Master Scott.” And while they are at it, the crew still calls him “Young Master Gordon,” and he hates both the reminder of his age and the honorific.
“What would you rather be called?” Virgil asks. His sketch journal is open but facing downward over his chest, and Virgil twiddles with the graphite pencil as he looks up at Gordon with amused brown eyes. “Captain Squid?”
Gordon huffs. He’d prefer Gordon. “I don’t want Captain,” he shakes off. “Too much responsibility.”
“Lord Gordon?” Virgil offers, his eyes smiling.
“Hmm.” He’s not one for Lord and Ladies, and usually ‘lord’ indicates an ownership of land, and land is something he definitely does not need. “Gordon, Lord of the Sea.”
Virgil laughs.
Because Virgil’s hair is right there under his fingertips, Gordon twists at one of the dark strands.
“Stop that!” Virgil says. But he’s still laughing, so Gordon giggles too and doesn’t stop. The journal falls to Virgil’s right as he turns to swat at Gordon’s hands.
He swats back a few times, but eventually his head starts to feel light from his position, so Gordon flings himself back over the side of the bunk. Once he’s upright, he curls to his side, and his face hurts from smiling so hard. Below him Virgil’s laugh fades, but he can hear the remaining grin through the wood.
“Lord of annoyance, more like,” Virgil protests.
And Gordon beams. He loves that.
~*~
In the morning, Scott makes coffee.
He makes coffee because Virgil likes coffee. The process is involved because he’s required to roast the beans, then grind them using the mortar and pestle, and then finally boil the water and let the powder infuse before he can even get a cup. There’s got to be a better way to filter out the grounds, though, because the spout of their coffee pot just doesn’t do enough.
That’s the part of the coffee he could do without, and why, on most days, Scott prefers tea.
As the aroma of the beans wafts up, sound drifts down, muted and woody through the floorboards above. There’s no stifling it; the galley is right below their quarters.
Virgil doesn’t know, but there’s a special part of his heart Scott keeps locked and protected with his brother’s music.
Scott doesn’t have the quick ingenuity to fiddle the way Virgil does. His cello, which sits between his legs, is just a bit on the large side for such music too. Though the image is a funny one, and he can’t help but wryly smirk while watching the pot do nothing.
Music is supposed to help with math, he’s told. That’s why his father encouraged him to start playing, but he kept at it because somewhere in the notes he feels his brother with him. And rarely, in the summer weeks, everything clicks into place, and they can play together.
The sound stops, and Scott, with his knowledge of the ship, can follow his brother’s footsteps as he makes his way down to the galley, no doubt drawn by the promise of the dark bean water he liked so much.
He’s already laid out some jam and toast for him, and he sets the coffee in a cup on the table as Virgil joins him. Virgil is taller than he remembers, his shoulders filled out and still not finished growing.
“I’m to shadow you today,” he grumbles, low and distracted. He doesn’t seem thrilled, but Virgil is pre-coffee, Scott acknowledges. And clearly still lost in creation, judging by the quick, successive tapping on the wooden table.
“Don’t seem so glum,” Scott smiles. “I’m working on my studies today. Dad is giving you a break this morning. I do have the afternoon checks later so you’ll want to join the Doctor.”
Virgil nods, letting the coffee do its work to wake him up. “Sorry. Thanks for the brew, Scotty. Master Scott,” he corrects, and he laughs into his coffee like there’s a joke there.
Scott raises an eyebrow.
“Just thinking about something Gordon said last night.”
“Oh? Want to share? Gordon says a lot of things.” Ten going on fifteen, their Squid.
Scott is rewarded with a gleam of brown eyes and a mischievous grin, and Virgil looks all too much like their younger brother in that moment.
Later, Scott joins Gordon on deck with a hushed, “as you were, Lord Gordon.”
~*~
“Master Scotty” takes off in retaliation. Virgil, with no responsibility aboard the ship is called Master by the crew for his ties to their father, but his brothers are not required to toss titles around him. That makes him a prime target for the wilder of Gordon and Scott’s names. He doesn’t mind when “Count Coffee” sticks. John rolls his eyes at “Dipper Duke” which Virgil thinks is a bit of a stretch when they can just sing any of the “Johnny” seas songs at him to get a reaction.
And he does, frequently.
Their father puts a stop to it once he overhears Gordon whispering to Scott, “Sovereign Serious.”
It’s a bit too late for Gordon though. As private as they tried to be with their joke, the crew had already started to pick up on Master Gordon, Lord of the Sea and Irritation, and though they would never actually call him by that name, the title was thrown around between the brothers with a laugh joined by others.
But just because their father said no, doesn’t exactly mean any of them stop right away.
They are on the main deck and Scott has Gordon upside down when Virgil names the song he’s been gifted by the waves of the sea. His eldest brother is holding on to the boy’s squirming legs, and golden hair falls like it’s being pulled straight towards the deck. Scott cackles, his eyes crinkling with mirth, and Gordon, his face turning red, strains against the hold, laughing through the breathlessness.
“Sco-ott,” he hoots, “Put – me – down!”
In that moment, as if she wanted to be part of it, the sea sends them a wave that tosses the ship on the landing and rocks Scott off balance. He lands on his rear, Gordon lands on top of him, and Virgil holds his hand up to his mouth to keep from laughing in front of their father, who just shakes his head. But he’s smiling too, biting at his lip, and, when they both realize that they were trying to keep composure, all semblance of it is lost.
That. That right there is the brightness he’s had flitting about his mind the past few days. The laughter fills in the grace notes.
~*~
The first time Virgil plays “Lord Gordon’s Reel” outside the ship is in a coffee house and tavern in New York, deep in the bleakness of winter when he’s just finished a paper that’s absorbed most of his energy for the past few months. He’s missing his family, and the notes don’t carry right over saltless air, his fingers don’t move as quickly without the waves at his feet, but the folks in the tavern politely clap along well enough at the violin prodigy quaintly playing fiddle tunes behind their political discussions.
~*~
It’s years later and they are in Charleston the first time he hears “Lord Gordon’s Reel” played by someone else, passed along via attuned ears from port to port.
Parts have evolved over musicians, and the grace notes aren’t made from his family’s laughter anymore, but the core is the same. They sit in the tavern of the inn Scott booked for them for a few weeks, wide eyed because that’s his tune.
“Is that—” Scott growls beside him, deep and low in his throat. He throws back a little too much scotch and coughs because he already knows the answer.
It’s the first time Virgil has stepped away from Gordon’s bedside since they landed in town, with the once bright-eyed sailor barely clinging to life in the practice down the street belonging to one of Virgil associates. Brains is eccentric, but brilliant, and Virgil trusts him with his life. He trusts him with his brother’s.
But the song carries the ghost of his brother’s laughter. Virgil rubs his hand over his watery eyes. He doesn’t answer Scott, he can’t with how hard his heart is pounding for Gordon. It’s Scott that gets up first, with a wooden screech as he pushes his chair back, cutting through the song with the tumult of a tortured soul.
The sea and her tricks, Virgil thinks, wearily. He throws his whiskey back, then knocks the bottom of the glass against the table with a dull clink, feeling utterly spent and as empty as the glass by the time the song comes to a close.
The End
#Gavii Scribit#Thunderteers Verse#Thunderteers#Privateers!AU#Thunderbirds fanfiction#Gordon Tracy#Virgil Tracy#For the love of FishTank#Scott Tracy#Scott's not Captain yet#Wee!Tracys#Thunderbirds are go
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Germanic Sea Raiders
Yes this post is about sea raiders, no this post isn't about vikings. The Germanic coastal tribes are in fact the earliest recorded sea raiders around the North Sea. Several accounts written by Romans, describe how Germanic warriors were a plague along the coasts of North Western europe, especially the coasts of Britannia and Gaul. The main target of these sea raiders? coastal Roman settlements.
Here is a small account described by Tacitus, the following event took place in 83AD in modern day Scotland:
"The same summer a Usipian cohort, which had been levied in Germania and transported into Britain, ventured on a great and memorable exploit. Having killed a centurion and some soldiers, who, to impart military discipline, had been incorporated with their ranks and were employed at once to instruct and command them, they embarked on board three swift galleys with pilots pressed into their service.
Under the direction of one of them ,for two of the three they suspected and consequently put to death, they sailed past the coast in the strangest way before any rumour about them was in circulation. After a while, dispersing in search of water and provisions, they encountered many of the Britons, who sought to defend their property. Often victorious though now and then beaten, they were at last reduced to such an extremity of want as to be compelled to eat, at first, the feeblest of their number, and then victims selected by lot.
Having sailed round Britain and lost their vessels from not knowing how to manage them, they were looked upon as pirates and were intercepted, first by the Suebi and then by the Frisii. Some who were sold as slaves in the way of trade, and were brought through the process of barter as far as our side of the Rhine, gained notoriety by the disclosure of this extraordinary adventure." - Tacitus, Agricola
Here it seems that a group of disgruntled Germanic auxiliary troops hijacked three galleys and went on a small tour of plunder before stranding on the coasts of the Frisii, modern day the Netherlands. But this is not the only account of piracy conducted by the Germanic people. One Germanic tribe in particular was quite infamous for raiding coastal settlements.
The Chauci tribe, who just like the Frisii lived on small terps right along the coast, mastered the concept of piracy. They were the neighbours of the Frisii, located to the east of them in modern day North-Western Germany. Just like the Frisii, it was for the Chauci absolutely essential that they knew how to sail/row, their landscape was one of water with virtually no trees or suitable ground for crops. Also unlike the Frisii, Batavi and Cananefates, their location was quite isolated, beyond the reach of the Romans.
The Chauci truly terrorised the coasts of Western Europe. Archeological research leads to the theory that raiding was pretty much essential for the development of the Chauci tribe and that they actually organized these raids quite carefully. The first wave of Chauci sea raids occured during the first century AD. Especially between 41-47AD, the Chauci plagued the coasts of Gallia Belgica, leading to much Roman frustration.
The second Chauci wave of raids is even more interesting. This time the Chauci raiders were led by a Cananefates man called Ganascus, the Cananefates were a Germanic tribe located in modern day Zuid-Holland, the Netherlands. Ganascus served as an auxiliary soldier in the Roman army but he deserted. This is the reason why the second wave was so succesful for the Chauci. Ganascus, as ex-Roman soldier, held a lot of knowledge about the structure of the Roman army, their defences, interesting targets and their strength.
The Chauci, under Ganascus, even managed to set a Roman fort on fire, Praetorium Agrippinae, which was located in modern day Valkenburg, the Netherlands. Their luck didn't last and eventually Ganascus was captured and executed.
Besides the Chauci, Usipeti and Cananefates, there was another tribe who took their ships to the sea and rivers to terrorize Roman forts/settlements along the borders of Germania, the Batavi. In 69AD the Batavi people revolted against the Romans, together with the support of neighbouring tribes like the Cananefates and the Frisii, the Batavi raided forts along the river Rhine and managed to capture an entire Roman fleet. The Batavi were even daring enough to engage in an open sea battle with the Romans near the mouth of the river Rhine.
After the Batavi revolt, a short time of relative peace returned to the rivers and coasts of Western Europe but the Chauci raids started to intensify again in 170AD. This time the Chauci raids were larger and more violent than ever. The Roman governor of Gallia Belgica was even forced to recruit more auxiliary troops in order to deal with these raiding Chauci pirates. The Chauci continued to raid the coasts for a few decades, their trail of destruction is still visible for archeologists until this very day.
Two villas in Armorica, modern day Bretagne, were destroyed. Several hidden coin treasures were found as well in Bretagne which shows that the Romans feared these Chauci raiders and tried to hide their valuables underneath the ground. Also modern day England wasn't spared. Several Roman settlements in modern day Essex were destroyed by the Chauci. The Romans desperately tried to defend themselves against these agressive sea raiders by building even more forts and by intensifying their patrols on the sea.
A small geographical change in the coastline of the North sea, from modern day Denmark to Flanders around 230AD, caused the sealevel to rise between 0,9-2,4 meters. This was of course a disaster for the coastal people who by then were part of the Saxon and/or Frankish confederation. Also the Romans were concerned about the rising waters and they began to pull back from the Rhine until around the location of the modern day city of Nijmegen. Together with the political struggles inside the Roman empire, this left the borders severely weakened and the Frankish saw their chance.
Yes even the Franks were known to have conducted sea raids and some of these Frankish sea raids didn't even occur in Western Europe. Around the year 260AD and the year 278AD, the Franks undertook two major sea raids along the coasts of modern day Spain and Morocco. They raided and terrorized settlements for about a decade before they were defeated by the Romans.
Ironically enough, a few captured Frankish pirates were send to the black sea to defeat raiding Goths. You can of course expect this to happen but the Franks stole a Roman galley and turned to piracy again. This was an incredibly dumb idea by the Roman emperor who gave this order, emperor Probus. Now the Franks were raiding settlements along the coasts of Greece, Libia, Sicilia and even Tunesia, until the Romans finally managed to beat them.
The Franks also raided the coasts of modern day England like the Saxons did. Archeological research shows that the Romans suddenly intensified the construction of forts between 250-280AD in Britannia. Eutropius, a Roman historian, described how the Saxons raided along the waters of Gallia Belgica, Armorica and Britannia. These raids eventually resulted in the invasion of Britannia by the Angles, Saxons, Jutes and Frisians.
The last Germanic folk, who sometimes made themselves guilty of piracy, were the Frisians. The Frisians flourished after the fall of the Roman empire. They were incredible traders and they were responsible for the creation of a huge trade netwerk and the growth of several trade settlements, which grew into modern day cities like: Dorestad, Medemblik, Ipswich, Norwich, Schleswig, Quentovic, Southampton and London.
Just like the earlier Chauci and Frisii, the Frisians lived, and still live, on terps. They were and still are surrounded by water so their ships were absolutely essential for their survival. They weren't agressive raiders like the Chauci but decided to focus more on trade instead. This rich trade network turned Frisia into a powerful kingdom and trade continued to grow even after their forceful conversion to Christianity. Unfortunately this all changed when the most famous Germanic people started to raid, the so called vikings.
Here are a few pictures of:
A ship type (Roman galley) that could have been used by the Chauci,
Romans intercepting Saxon raiders by an unknown artist,
Early Frisian trade ship (dry kogge), art made by Arne Zuidhoek,
Reconstructed Roman galley on a river,
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SEWING: MEADOW IN THE SPRING
I am so happy with the way this latest #PSferntop hack turned out. I can imagine wearing it with white shorts in the summer heat, and here it makes a great outfit with some cropped denim #persephonepants in Spring. A Fall look could incorporate jeans, boots and a light jacket. It is an all-season top, for sure, and destined to be a closet favorite. So, I used my adjustments from the last time, when I added a longer puffy sleeve – but I also used Casey’s #squareneck expansion. And I love it!
This lightweight 100% Oeko-Tex certified rayon challis in “dim” by Art Gallery from Oak Fabrics was lovely to work with, and the results are a light but soft top that holds a flowy shape and drapes beautifully. The online description reads: “Windblown wildflowers in colorful green, yellow, aqua, red, and peach pop against a black background on this potent rayon challis, designed for Pat Bravo's IndyFolk collection.”
Top pattern: PatternScout #psferntop hacked to puffy sleeves and #squareneck expansion
Fabric: Art Galley Meadow rayon challis
Pants pattern: Anna Allen #persephonepants, exposed the button fly after-the-fact and chopped a couple of inches off in length to frayed edge.
Fabric: regular blue denim from Joann Fabrics
Belt: made by Zeke :)
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Sway (FFXIV Write 2)
How long had it been?
It felt like ages, but she supposed it must have just been a few weeks since they left Kugane. Niome sat up in her cot, clutching at her stomach. Her scar still hurt, even with all the ministrations of that healer in the back alleys of the city. She supposed that’s as good as her meager sums could afford. Looking out the porthole she saw the ocean lap against the side of the boat, the swaying of the waves making her constantly drowsy. Or maybe it wasn’t just the motions of the sea. Was there even a point in getting out of bed?
It had been almost a month since that fateful accident during her scouting mission in the castrum. A month since she was shot by a guard. A few weeks since she found out that her family had had a second daughter to carry on their line in her place. What was the point? She couldn’t go back to the Rebellion, she had failed. She couldn’t go home, she wasn’t wanted. She supposed she might as well just… give up.
A gurgle left her stomach. How long had it been since she ate? A day…? More? How long had she been asleep? She groggily got out of bed, adjusting to the swaying of the boat as she walked toward the galley. Was there even a point in continuing on? Why bother feeding herself?
As she stumbled into the ship’s kitchen she could smell a simmering pot of stew on the stove. The now, almost familiar, older cook stood at the counter, dicing popotoes to add to the pot.
“Seems the young lady is awake at last… Was wonderin’ when you’d make your way over here.” The older Elezen man chuckled to himself. He had hair that had been tinged with the grey of age and lines on his face that might have told a thousand stories. His hair was tied back in a small bun as he skillfully chopped the ingredients for the crew’s dinner. Niome didn’t mind him. He was always kind to her, never asked too many questions. When she booked passage on this merchant ship, his was the voice that convinced his captain to “let the girl come along, it won’t hurt”.
“Morning, Geoweaux…” Niome mumbled as she scrounged around for a piece of bread.
“By the Navigator, child, it is nearly evening!” He laughed and went about dicing some Coerthan carrots for the stew.
Niome found a dinner roll from the night before and leaned against the wall, nibbling at the crusty piece of bread. Geoweaux looked to her with a scowl, pointing his knife at her as he stopped cutting, “Hey now, if you’re going to eat, you should eat something more hearty. Come and help me finish this pot of stew for the crew and I’ll give you some… Consider it payment for your work.”
She pouted. She would have been fine just eating her roll, but figured she might as well help… And the stew did smell quite good. “Fine. Tell me what I need to do.”
“You can start by finishing to dice these carrots. Then I’ll need you to trim the dzo meat off the bone.”
After finishing her roll, she hesitantly went over to the counter, picking up the knife. However, as she stared at the blade the utensil fell from her hand with a clatter upon the counter. Her eyes wide as she seemed to be thrown back in time. Back to the castrum. Back to that night.
“I-I’m sorry, Geo. Maybe I’m… Maybe I can’t do it.”
The Elezen gave a light smile, “I don’t know your story, miss Mizune, but I know that look. Seen it ‘afore in the mirror, myself.” To this Niome perked up, looking over at him. “Aye, must have been thirty summers past, now. I was a knight fighting in the Dragonsong War.”
Niome didn’t know much about Eorzean history, but she certainly knew about war. “You fought in battle?”
“Aye, how do you think I got the brunt of these scars? The dragons are fearsome beasts… I remember there were many nights I would huddle up close to the campfire, begging for the war to end. I was a young man, then. Hadn’t seen much combat, but wanted to make a difference. Some difference I made. By my third real skirmish, I had been badly injured. Dragon had taken a mighty gash out of my side. Wasn’t sure I’d make it. Chirurgeons all seemed to think I was a lost cause. I felt like shite. What point was there in livin’ if I couldn’t even stay alive in a fight? As I sat against the walls of the Brume, I contemplated just ending it… Until an older man approached me. He told me he worked for House Dzemael, a chef in the kitchens. He was lookin’ for several people to train in the culinary arts, seemed he used to be a Brume rat himself til the previous chef took pity on him. He gathered up the most downtrodden, depressed sacks of shit I’d ever seen. And I was one. He taught me everything I know.”
Niome looked at Geoweaux, a little confused. “Why are you telling me this?”
Geoweaux replied, “Because I also had trouble picking up that knife on the first day. But it got better. And each day we pushed forward a little more. I might not have been the best in his group, but I started to really find my place. And that’s what I’m gonna do for you. So…”
He took the knife from the counter and gently placed the handle in Niome’s hand, “Just take that one first step.”
And so she did.
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Jaal x Ryder
After Jaal introduced Ryder to his family, she wants to offer him the same courtesy. Too bad her brother's a giant pillock.
Warm, angaran hands wrapped around Ryder's stomach as she tried to peer deeper into the metal drum. A plorp erupted from the briny depths, but the man behind her didn't seem to much care. Lips trailed gently against her skin starting first at the nape of her neck. The kisses were little more than warm whispers but as he dipped lower, tugging down to create a gap between her uniform's shirt, his teeth grazed against her shoulder.
"Jaal," Ryder clung tighter to the pot, trying to focus and not burn herself or the food. It was damn near impossible as the alien with seemingly no shame kept pushing every button he knew.
"Yes, dearest?" his voice purred behind her ear and there went that leg shaking again.
She could ask him to stop, to let her finish this in time, but it was rare for the Tempest's galley to be empty and rarer for the two to have so much free time alone together. "Could you hand me the basil?"
"Which is this base-ill?" he rolled around the human word on his tongue, which was enough to conjure up memories of what else he could roll with his tongue. Focus here, you've got to get this done or you'll have a lot of awkward questions to answer to.
"The big green leaves," she pointed to one of the first herbs out of cryo. The fact it grew like a weed on Earth helped it to fill in gardens on Eos and Elaaden. She'd swiped a few early ones they'd set up on hydroponics on the Nexus -- there were some perks to being Pathfinder after all.
Jaal placed the basil into her fingers and she worried the leaves a bit before dropping them into the pot. The smell struck her instantly, true basil just like the kind her mother grew in their tiny pots on the Citadel. It was artificial light that gave them life instead of the sun, and a dip in water rations instead of rain, but having that piece of Earth while in space was a welcome touch of home.
"You are smiling, darling one," Jaal said. He was no doubt smiling too.
"I was thinking of home," she twirled the spoon through the red-orange liquid watching her beloved basil sink to the depths. "I mean," Ryder paused and turned to her lover she found in another galaxy, "the Milky Way. This is home."
Jaal's lips twisted up and he pressed a kiss to her palm. "Are you saying that on my account?"
"No," she sighed. His purple mouth drifted higher up her wrist in kisses that were gaining pressure. If he used his teeth again, she was a goner. "Just reminding myself that we have a home. Meridian."
"It is an amazing feat," he broke from torturing her to stare into her eyes. The man couldn't stop singing her praises about discovering this place, as if he wasn't there by her side spitting in the archon's eye right along with her.
"One I couldn't have done alone," Ryder tipped her head back against his shoulder, her eyes closed as she kept stirring the tomato sauce.
His chest, so alien but comforting, wrapped around her back as Jaal whispered. "True, but is that not also the truth of life? Nothing we ever do is alone, we touch the stars and they, in turn, touch and guide us."
A laugh reverberated up her throat, "I never thought I'd be the type to fall for a philosopher."
"Really? What variety of partner did you see yourself with? How did Peebee put it? The lone wolf, whatever that is."
Ryder felt a blush sting her cheeks, but she shook it off. "No, not that. Just, I don't know. Talking shop about the Protheans and what I'd discovered was fun with my fellow scientists but... We aren't a family that sits around waiting for life to happen and it's not easy for people to keep up with."
"Ah, you require someone that's both bold but also considerate." He tipped his chin and those blue marbles for eyes stared through the distance. "I can see why you had to traverse to an entirely new galaxy to find that."
A fresh laugh erupted up her throat and she turned to Jaal with a smile. "You are an amazing find," she whispered, leaning closer. He cupped against her waist steadying her as Ryder lined up for a kiss. Before she touched his lips, she added, "The best I've ever had." When their bare skin made contact, a light charge lifted every hair on her body. It was like goosebumps and butterflies all crashing together at once. And it happened for every light touch. The longer, lingering ones could catch her breath in her throat.
"I adore you, Ryder," Jaal said in his booming voice, "and am grateful that your family is so daring in their endeavors."
Family. Shit! Ryder spun back to find the tomato sauce behaving, but the pot of water was reaching boiling. The oven was little more than a glorified heat lamp inside a box, but the stove could at least get liquids to 100˚C. Reaching over, she snagged up the strands of pasta they were kind enough to extrude for her out at Food Processing. It was a bit too thick to be considered spaghetti but nowhere near enough like anything else.
Cracking the dried batch in half, Ryder plummeted the strands into the boiling water and watched. "I wonder what flour that's made out of," she mused to herself.
"Flower? We are consuming flowers for this meal?"
"No, it's...we take a grain and grind it to a dust. Then use that to form the noodle thanks to water and, probably some other stuff. You're quickly learning us Ryders aren't exactly galactic renowned chefs."
Jaal leaned over, trying to get a whiff of the sauce she should have started an hour earlier. "The Angaran consider food to be a source of life, a gift given between those who create it to those who consume it. We are all trained from a young age in the arts of cooking, same as fighting, or sewing, or showing affection."
She twisted over, fully abandoning her pots to stare at this man. Poet, marksman, resistance fighter, philosopher, engineer, scientist, sewer, and potentially a chef as well? It was as if someone wrote down every winning trait in a mate and then jammed them all inside of this far flung alien. The fact he was incredibly affectionate and had no problems announcing it to any and all kept pushing Ryder into thinking she was still inside Cryo dreaming him up.
"Are you telling me, on top of everything else you can do; the weapons you rebuilt, that star map you made, the vibrating thing you can do with your tongue."
At that Jaal snickered. He never blushed, so Ryder often had to make it up for him -- her cheeks lighting up twice as bright even if she was the one to bring it up. Waving her spatula around, she continued, "And you're also a great cook?"
His hands swept against her jaw, the fused fingers thrumming tighter to the bone as those oceanic eyes darted across her face. Tipping forward, Jaal whispered, "No, I am in fact a terrible cook. I was taught by the mothers, but it simply didn't stick."
Ryder smiled, leaning forward to kiss him as she sighed, "There goes my 'this is all a dream' theory." Turning back to the stove, she eyeballed the spaghetti still drowned in the bubbling pot.
"You considered this a dream?" he returned to wrapping a hand around her stomach, his warm breath drifting closer to her neck.
"Not really," she laughed, "far too many bruises and lacerations for it to all to not be real. Though if you tell me you're some long lost prince I may have to revise that." Ryder dipped the spoon into her tomato sauce and then brought it to her lips. It tasted off. Nothing could compare to her grandmother's cooked fresh off the coast of Sicily every summer. But as she swallowed and tried another taste, the more muddled tomato, basil, and hint of kaerkyn broth flavors warmed her over.
"Here," she cupped her hand under the spoon and directed it to Jaal's lips. Slowly he took a gentle touch of the sauce, his eyes rolling tight as he tasted her attempts at cooking.
"It is..." Jaal blinked a bit, then took another lick of the spoon, "I rather enjoy it. Full of body, with a tartness that stings on the edges."
"That'd be the acid in the tomatoes. I would have cut it down with sugar but it seems Peebee's run off with the entire bag we had. I'd ask why but I fear what the answer would be," Ryder laughed. She spotted her pasta rising to the surface like an ancient monster pursuing a submarine.
Yanking the pot off the stove, she said, "Food's important to humans too. Not all of it, we don't treat say the nutrient bars in our ration packs like anything special...most don't, at least. But this was a dish my grandmother would make."
"Your family," Jaal whispered, his head tilting to the side.
While the pasta drained, Ryder's mind tripped back to that little house in the rolling countryside. They'd chase chickens for days, running through the olive groves the locals owned and, in general, just happy to be off the cramped space station. Even with the Citadel being the creme de la creme of space living, nothing could compete with the freedom of running on dirt and staring across an endless horizon.
"My grandmother would make this for us whenever we visited. Though she used fish sauce, which I'm afraid we aren't going to be making here anytime soon."
"Fish sauce?" Jaal coughed, his eyes wandering over to a trio of bottles as if he feared to catch something floating in it.
"Ah, well, it's when you take fish and then soak them in salt water for...a very long time. Makes everything taste better. She picked up the habit from her mother, who came from a different island. There was nothing my grandma wouldn't add fish sauce too. Scott once asked for chicken nuggets, like the kind they'd put on transit shuttles to shut kids up.
"Instead of thawing some frozen chicken byproduct that was probably five years old at the back of a deep freeze, Gran soaked those chicken tenders in buttermilk, spices, and her go to fish sauce over night before frying them up," Ryder mused to herself. They'd been all of six and of course threw a fit about not getting the frozen ones they expected. She'd give anything to taste her grandma's chicken tenders once again.
Realizing her companion fell silent, Ryder plopped the spaghetti onto a big plate and turned to him, "And I've completely lost you."
He smiled, "The words did not fully translate, but..." Jaal pushed back the hair dusting her cheeks, hiding it behind her ear, "your face lit with happiness as you spoke of your mother's mother. And that is heartwarming to see."
Forgetting she was holding a plate full of spaghetti, Ryder slipped closer to her lover. The plate stuck between them but she leaned across the gap, aching to kiss him. Just as they were about to touch lips, a spark dancing off of Jaal to wake hers alive, the door to the galley sprung open. Ryder's eyes swung up to find her little brother standing awkwardly in the hallway.
"Scott!" she smiled, staggering up and attempting to bury away the blush. He had a bottle in his hands, that he kept patting senselessly while staring at how close his sister drew to an alien. He'd only known of the angaran for a few weeks since waking up, and hadn't really met any since they touched down on Meridian. This was going to be interesting.
"Hey Sis, got your note and..." he lifted his nose in the air and sniffed, "are you making Grandma's sauce?"
"Yup, I thought that..." Ryder shook her head and wiped her hands down her pants. Maybe she should have swiped an apron out of stores the way Vetra suggested. "Let me start over. Scott, this is Jaal."
Scott laughed, but reached over to shake the angaran's hand, "You don't need to get all formal there. We met during the party."
"Yes," Jaal finished shaking hands the human way, then he guided Scott's fist to show him how angaran greeted each other. Like a true Ryder, Scott was more than happy to go along, curious to get it right. "And then later during Peebee and Drack's afterparty."
"You can remember that? I mean any of that?" Scott blinked wildly, fading back to the safety of being just inside the galley.
"A little, if I don't think too hard," Jaal laughed.
Ryder tugged a few plates out of the cupboard and began to divvy out her concoction. "I just thought that it might be good to have a quieter meet and greet, a chance to talk without worrying about Peebee setting her bot to strobe."
"Or your engineer cranking every speaker on the Hyperion so loud it blew out half the relays," Scott added in. "But alright, I get you." He turned to the alien and folded his arms, "So Jaal, what's your story?"
"This may take some time," Jaal's eyes darted over to Ryder who was piling more of the sauce onto the plates.
"Which is why I made food," she shoved the first one into the guest's hands, then the second into Jaal's. "So we can all sit, relax, and talk about things."
"A wise idea, dearest," Jaal sighed, wrapping a hand around her waist while balancing the plate in the other. She caught Scott's eyes bulging a moment at the public affection and Ryder winced. The crew was getting used to Jaal's open everything and so was she. Others however...
Shaking it off quickly, Scott threw on a smile, "I don't know about you two, but I'm starving to eat anything that's not hospital jello."
"Gel-o?" Jaal tilted his head.
"We have much to discuss," Scott laughed, the three settling in to trade backstories while shoveling food into their faces.
It went well at first, Jaal forced to once again explain angaran culture to some alien fresh off the boat. Ryder wondered if he ever grew tired of it, but the way his wondrous eyes sparkled and his hands became animated she suspected it was partially why he volunteered to join her ship that first time. Scott was on his more or less best behavior, asking a few questions and making certain they were all on the up and up.
Taking a pull of the wine he must have scammed off Addison, Scott sighed, "It is so nice to be out of bed, any bed."
"How long until you have leave to get out into the field?" Ryder asked.
"What? Don't tell me you miss me already?"
She reached across the table to lightly slug her brother in the arm. Scott winced at the soft jab, furiously rubbing it. Glancing down, Ryder admitted, "You know I do. Losing Dad was..."
"Yeah," he blinked a moment. "But, look at all you got up to without him."
"Wasn't that how we usually worked? Hard to be trapped in someone's shadow when you never see the one casting it."
They stared at each other a moment across the table, neither having the time to process what losing their distant father meant. Neither wanting to. It was heartbreaking, but also numb, not the same as their mother. Which...God, she didn't know what to think about that mess. Hope. Life. Ryder's head hung down in exhaustion and she felt Jaal's hand skim against her shoulder. Glancing over, she smiled at the man who'd been watching the sibling reunion carefully.
"So," Scott shifted up from his seat, "how did you two meet?"
"Her ship crash landed on my planet and my people agreed to assist these aliens rather than destroy them," Jaal summed up.
"Though you could have always killed me in my sleep," Ryder jabbed back, remembering well his half hearted threat upon their first meeting. She paused and smiled, "It's probably a lot easier now, too." Jaal skimmed his forehead against hers, the magenta ridges upon the top cresting past her skin. It was strangely soothing.
"Yeah, I meant the other part. You two being a...together thing." Scott shifted higher and then scoffed, "Out of the two of us, I thought it was going to be me who seduced an Andromeda alien."
Ryder snorted, "With what skill?"
"I've been told I'm rather debonair, thank you very much."
"Asari dancers looking for a bigger tip don't count," she cut back with and her brother glared.
Scott looked about to list his better attributes, which she could chop down without trying, but his eyes swung to Jaal instead. "Me? What about your past, oh charming as chalk sister of mine. Wait until I tell your boyfriend? Is that what you're going with?"
"I...uh," she caught his marble eyes and faltered. It wasn't wrong, but it didn't feel right either. Maybe the angara had a better term. English kinda crapped out once you got past the age of 30 when it came to love.
Jaal scooped up her hands and smiled, "Dearest is what I call her."
"Okay, well, Sister's Dearest, you want to know about the time she stuffed an entire wad of cotton up her nose?"
"Scott!" Ryder launched forward, trying to catch her good for nothing brother but he dodged fast from her grasp.
"We had no idea she did it until there's my sister with her head snapping forward in a sneeze..."
Ryder scrambled further over the table, almost snagging onto his collar to get him to stop, but Scott weaved again, his eyes never breaking off of Jaal's. "A spray of snot and cotton coats the teacher's desk. This prissy old Turian lady just taps her mandibles and says...and says..."
He was having trouble speaking because Ryder managed to hook her arm around his neck in order to try and catch him in a headlock. Scott bent lower, his face turning bright red from the strain. How often on the Citadel did she have to do the same damn thing to him? It was a wonder her little shit of a brother ever survived long enough to get out to Androma. Wiggling like a fat cat trying to sneak in through a too tight pet door, Scott's ear snagged on Ryder's arm and he popped up.
"She says, 'Young Lady, our nose is not a storage device.'"
"I swear to god, I am going to kill you," Ryder threatened, leaping towards her brother. He deftly dodged her grip but missed a biotic yank that twisted him in his seat. Collapsing his palms together, Scott wrapped his elbow around Ryder's neck and then pulled her deeper into his armpit.
Crap! She could send him flying up to the ceiling, or shatter the bones in his body with her shockwave, but... Giving in, Ryder stopped squirming in order to wrap her arms around her little brother in a half hug. "I'm glad you're back," she whispered.
It took Scott a moment to release his death grip, afraid she was trying to pull some sneaky move, but Ryder meant it. They'd never been a close-knit family, even the twins fading away as she took to traversing Prothean dig sites while he was assigned to the relays. Traveling to a new galaxy, watching Dad die in front of her, Ryder clung to what little she had left. Her eyes glanced over at Jaal. How much more could she add to her family? She felt a flush rising in her cheeks at the thought. The openly emotional angarans were really rubbing off on her.
Shoving away her brother, Ryder rose up and tried to adjust her hair back into something other than angry squirrel. Scott nudged into her side with his elbow and he smiled, "I'm glad you survived all of this too, Sis. It'd be a lot emptier here without you."
A soft laugh rolled through Jaal's throat, his lips fluttering while the eyes shut tight. Ryder slid closer, returning to her seat, but she couldn't stop wafting a question at him. "I understand now," he smiled, beaming at her while snuggling closer, "you wished to not only show me your family, but invite me into it."
Ryder blinked. Was that what she was doing?
Dangerous guffaws echoed from Scott and he slapped the table. "So that's why you picked Grandma's secret pasta sauce recipe. Shit, Sis, if I knew you moved that fast I'd have told Mom to stop worrying about getting grandkids off of me."
"What?" she turned on her brother, thoroughly lost.
"Dad never told you? He made that for Mom the night he proposed."
"That wasn't..." she whipped her head over to Jaal who looked unaware but growing more curious by the second, "I didn't mean to... I hate you, Scott." Ryder jabbed her hand as if she would slice out her brother's ungrateful heart.
"Yeah, yeah," he wiped her finger away and then leaned back in his chair as if the matter was settled.
Ryder plummeted back into hers, trying to not stare guiltily at the engagement meal she had no idea she created. Beside her, her dearest was leaning closer, no doubt about to ask for clarification. Maybe it'd be best if it came from Lexi, or Cora. Liam would just muddy the waters, or be excited by the idea because then he could throw an angaran bachelor party. Ah shit.
Doing her best to not stare death at the plate of leftover food, she lightened when Jaal whispered, "Ryder, thank you for this."
"For forcing you to suffer the excruciating company of my weasel of a brother?" she tried to sound stern, but it slipped into a smile. It warmed her heart to have Scott back and to have the two of them getting to know each other and perhaps bonding.
"I adore any opportunity to know more of you, and those who've touched your life," Jaal said full of sincerity.
"So," Scott sat forward, "what we have here is a galaxy, an entirely new one with five outposts ready for colonizing."
"Yup," Ryder smiled, her hand entwining with Jaal's, the alien that helped them get to this point. "So much to discover it makes my head spin."
"I guess I've just got one question for you, Sis," Scott inched up, a mischievous grin filling his face. "Is Eos a wedding in spring kind of place, or are you holding out hope for Kadara by summer?"
"You little..." Ryder whacked her brother in the face with a handful of cold spaghetti. Even as it dripped, leaving orange stains in its wake, Scott couldn't stop laughing and neither could she.
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From anonymous: I’m not sure if you’re still doing prompts, but i’ve loved every one so far. on the off chance that you are, maybe 40 for zimbits?
No. 40: “I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you.”
From this prompt list
This is the second response I wrote to this prompt. The first, a stand-alone one-shot, can be found here. This is a continuation of Jack and Bitty in Houston, which starts here and continues here (scroll down to second response).
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Jack got out of his ride-share and looked up at Bitty’s building.
Frankly, it wasn’t much to look at. Low-rise, probably five stories. It looked like there was parking underneath and around the back.
He texted Bitty from the front door.
Downstairs
The door buzzed at the same time as his phone, and he opened it and headed for the elevator as he read the text.
I’ll buzz you in. Fourth floor
When the elevator opened, Jack saw Bitty’s head sticking out from an open door and waving.
“Come in!” Bitty said. “Dinner’s almost ready. And my neighbors were just leaving.”
Two women, one blonde and one brunette, were getting off the couch. Both had wine glasses, and both gave Jack frank, assessing looks.
“This is Mandy,” Bitty said, nodding at the blonde, “and this is Jeni. Y’all, this is Jack. Now skedaddle. I’ll call you later.”
“Be good, Eric,” Jeni said.
“But not too good,” Mandy said, giving Jack a long look.
“Yeah, yeah, see you later,” Eric said, closing the door behind them as they left.
Then he turned to Jack.
“Um, welcome,” he said. “You can see most of it from here. This is the living room area -- ” Bitty gestured to the couch, with a coffee table in front of it and a chair at an angle. A small television was mounted on the wall opposite, over a low bookcase “-- and this is the dining area.”
The small table with four chairs was essentially in the same room as the couch and TV. It was already set for dinner with plates, cloth napkins, and cutlery. A pitcher of ice water sat between the plates, with a glass at each setting.
“The kitchen is through there,” Bitty said, indicating a wide archway that opened on a small galley-style kitchen, “and the bathroom and bedroom are through there.”
Everything Jack could see was bright and cheerful, from the art on the walls (that was definitely one of Lardo’s paintings over the couch) to the pillows and rugs, and it looked like Bitty had probably spent some time tidying, since Jack didn’t see any of the detritus Bitty used to leave all over the condo in Providence: no shoes under the table, or charger cords trailing over the arm of the couch, or empty mugs on the coffee table.
It felt completely different from Jack’s old condo, with its floor-to-ceiling windows, sleek furniture and blue and gray color scheme.
All together, Bitty’s apartment was probably smaller than the hotel room the Aeros were putting Jack up in for the end of the season. He wouldn’t have time to look for a more permanent place until the summer, assuming the Aeros wanted to keep him.
“It’s nice,” Jack said. “I like what you’ve done with it.”
“I know it’s not much,” Bitty said. “But it’s what I could afford.”
Jack nodded. He’d assumed as much. And it was nice, even if it was smaller than any place Jack had ever lived, not counting his freshman year dorm room. Even so, he could hear the air conditioning laboring to keep up with the humidity outside.
“You want something to drink?” Bitty said. “There’s water on the table, or there’s lemonade or iced tea. Beer if you want it. I just have to plate the salad. The salmon is resting, and I can warm the apples while we eat that.”
“Apples?”
“Baked apples for dessert,” Bitty said.
“No pie?”
“No pie.”
Jack poured himself a glass of water and said, “Wow. Wasn’t expecting that.”
“I didn’t think you’d want any,” Bitty said. “You had some pie the other day at the bakery, and I know how strictly you keep to your nutrition plan. You always used to get mad at me when I offered you pie more than once a week.”
“I don’t think I was that bad,” Jack said. “It was just, you lived there, so there was always pie. Every day, it felt like. And that mini pie I had the other day was the first pie I had in five years. I think I could handle another piece.”
“Sorry,” Bitty said. “Maybe next time? Or come by the bakery this week and have a piece of whatever you want. On me.”
Bitty was laying slices of fruit and avocado on plates, sprinkling them with nuts and drizzling them with dressing.
“You don’t have to,” Jack said.
“Jack, I wouldn’t have let Quinn take your money last time if I knew it was you,” Bitty said.
“I can afford pie and coffee,” Jack said.
“That’s not what this is about,” Bitty said. “Sit, eat.”
The salad -- sliced blood oranges, avocados and some other kind of fruit, with nuts for crunch and a light dressing -- popped with flavor. Jack liked to think he had gotten better at cooking for himself over the last few years, but nothing he made tasted this good.
“So,” Bitty said, “tell me what you think of the Aeros chances.”
Jack shared his opinions -- the Aeros were good, got better with Jack’s arrival (although he didn’t say so in so many words), were a lock for the playoffs, but would need some luck to go all the way. “It’s definitely possible,” Jack said.
Bitty listened attentively, and the questions he asked showed that he’d been an Aeros fan since before the trade.
“You make it to a lot of games?” Jack said. “I saw you at the one, but that was because you were behind the goal.”
Bitty shrugged. “David -- my co-owner -- has season tickets, but he doesn’t really like hockey that much. Sometimes he uses the tickets to entertain people, but I get to go a lot of the time. I won’t if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“Why would it make me uncomfortable?” Jack asked.
“Because you’re uncomfortable now,” Bitty said. “I don’t want to distract you while you’re playing.”
“You wouldn’t do that to the Aeros?” Jack chirped.
“Something like that,” Bitty agreed, but he was smiling.
The hockey talk had carried them through the salads and main course, and Bitty went to the kitchen to pull the apples from the oven.
“I almost wish I did make a pie,” Bitty said. “I was so nervous, and nothing calms me down like rolling out a crust. But these are good; I think you’ll like them.”
“Why are you nervous?” Jack asked.
“Why are you uncomfortable?” Bitty countered.
“I guess I never thought I’d be a guest in your home,” Jack said. “Before, it was always … our home. Then I never thought I’d see you again.”
“You didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to,” Bitty said.
“I wanted to,” Jack said. “It’s just weird.”
“Why didn’t you ever want to see me?” Bitty said. “Were you that angry at me?”
“I didn’t think you wanted to see me,” Jack said. “At least at first. Then I didn’t know for sure where you were.”
“But you knew Shitty and Lardo, at least, knew where I was,” Bitty said.
“Not for sure,” Jack said.
“Because you never asked.”
“No,” Jack said. “I didn’t want to put them in the middle or make them feel like they had to choose a side.”
The truth was, he didn’t want to find out they’d choose Bitty if they were pushed.
“I don’t see how you could just watch me leave and never even try to find out what happened to me,” Bitty said. “I guess I thought I meant more to you.”
“Bitty, I loved you,” Jack said. “You’re the one who left.”
“After you basically laughed at me told me I should be happy with what I got when I tried to tell you how I felt,” Bitty said. “Lord, Jack, can we just stop? I don’t want to fight.”
“I don’t want to fight either,” Jack said. “I miss you.”
“But you’re still angry with me for leaving.”
Jack knew that was true. How true, he hadn’t realized until tonight.
“I don’t want to be,” he said. “But I thought things were good, and then you were gone, and I didn’t really get why, and everything was bad. Tater was mad at me. Marty and Thirdy -- they felt bad for me, but I think they were really disappointed. Everyone thought it was my fault.”
“Everyone but you,” Bitty said. “Which goes to show how little anyone else knows about other people’s relationships. Neither one of us broke what we had on our own.”
“When you left so easily, it felt like you never loved me,” Jack said. “Like our whole relationship was a lie.”
“Oh, sweetpea, it wasn’t easy to leave,” Bitty said. “And I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you. Ever. But by the end, it felt like I’d lose my whole self if I stayed.”
“Was it so bad?” Jack said. “Living with me? I mean, I don’t mean any disrespect, but my place was nicer than this. And I’m guessing your place in Philly was even smaller.”
“My place in Philly was a room at the YMCA for the first six months,” Bitty said. “Until I could save money for first and last months’ rent and a deposit. And I don’t know that your place was nicer. Bigger, sure. But all I was when I lived there was part of you. I needed room to be myself, and your condo wasn’t big enough for that.”
“It was our condo,” Jack insisted.
“No, it never was that,” Bitty said. “Jack, honey, I loved you and I thought it was enough. Turns out I had to love me, too.”
***********************
Read the next installment
**********************
Recipes Bitty makes:
Citrus and avocado salad with orange water
Slow-roasted salmon with fennel, citrus and chiles
Baked apples with prunes, almonds and amaretto
@cyn2k @wrathofthestag
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Fire & Blood: 300 Years Before A Game of Thrones (A Targaryen History)
Elissa Farman in Braavos- Art by Doug Wheatley
Across that selfsame narrow sea, unbeknownst to King’s Landing, the shipwrights of Braavos had completed work on the carrack Sun Chaser, the dream Elissa Farman had purchased with her stolen dragon’s eggs. Unlike the galleys that slid forth daily from the Arsenal of Braavos, she was not oared; this was a vessel meant for deep waters, not bays and covers and inland shallows. Fourmasted, she carried as much sail as the swan ships of the Summer Isles, but with a broader beam and deeper hull that would allow her to store sufficient provisions for longer voyages. When one Braavosi asked her if she meant to sail to Yi Ti, Lady Elissa laughed and said, “I may… but not by the route you think.”
The night before she was to set sail, she was summoned to the Sealord’s Palace, where the Sealord served her herring, beer, and caution. “Go with care, my lady,” he told her, “but go. Men are hunting you, all up and down the narrow sea. Questions are being asked, rewards are being offered. I would not care for you to be found in Braavos. We came here to be free of Old Valyria, and your Targaryens are Valyrian to the bone. Sail far. Sail fast.”
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☁︎- Angst ♣︎ - Fluff ☀︎- Mature Themes ♥- Personal Favorite ✉- Requested
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SCENARIOS
Johnny
↳ Homecoming ♣︎ ☀︎ ♥ (Late 2019)
high school reunion/ CEO! au || When a high school reunion drags you back from the bustling city to your hometown, you can’t help but feel inadequate compared your friends’ settled lives, who have thing you have wanted most— kids. You may get your most desperate wish when your long-lost best friend sweeps into town, not quite the shy nerd he was from 10 years ago.
Taeyong
↳ Muse ☁︎ ♣︎ ☀︎ ♥ (Mid 2018)
painter! au || Your stagnant world is shaken up when abstract painter Lee Taeyong propositions to you in the middle of an art galley.
↳ Sasaeng ☁︎ ☀︎ (Early 2019)
idol! au || Someone’s obsessed, but it’s not who you think it is...
Yuta
↳ Whiplash Part 1 | Part 2 ☁︎ ☀︎ ✉ (Mid 2018)
badboy! au || “They say good boys go to heaven, but bad boys bring heaven to you.”
Jaehyun
↳ Dalliance in Drudgery (escalation ver.) ☁︎ ☀︎ (Early 2018)
CEO! au || He pulled you in like a moth to a flame, and you were about to get burned.
↳ Paradiso ☁︎ ☀︎ ♥ (for the nct writer’s summer prompt challenge) (Mid 2018)
summer vacation/ rich kid au || Escaping to Italy and having a torrid fling to escape your pushy father sounded like a good idea, but the man you were screwing? Yeah, well, he was, erm… married.
↳ An Event ♣︎ ☀︎ (Epilogue)
Sicheng
↳ Birched Part 1 | Part 2 ☁︎ ☀︎ (May 2020)
BDSM/ coworkers au || There was something that lurked beneath that pretty boy smile of Dong Sicheng— something dark, something dangerous… something you knew you would get pulled into once you got too curious.
Ten
↳ Mile High Club (kindled ver.) ☀︎(Late 2018)
CEO!au || The passenger in the first class cabin was getting a little bit... antsy. How convenient that you were a model air hostess that served to please.
Lucas
↳ Appetence ☀︎ (Dec 2018)
fratboy! au || You’re cornered at a frat party by none other than Lucas Wong, and decide to get forget your cheating boyfriend for a night. Thing is, your boyfriend? He’s in the room next door…
I hope my fantasy becomes yours.
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