@sternenblumen said: prompt 22! (“Please tell me what I can do. There has to be something I can do.”)
Gonna make it Bashir-related because why not :^)
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Julian was sitting on the floor by one of the larger windows on the promenade, looking outside. There was a cup of tea (Tarkalean, extra sweet) in his hands to warm them as he looked outside, waiting.
For what, he was not sure.
Soon, a familiar form sat down in front of him. Jadzia was smiling and in those ageless eyes of hers, there was knowledge. Julian sighed, knowing all too well what the knowledge in Jadzia’s eyes meant.
Captain Sisko had informed the bridge crew of Julian’s...differences.
“So”, Jadzia said, “quite a childhood you had. You’ve probably already been told this but I’m amazed at how no one had found out before now.”
Julian sighed. “My father is a professional liar”, he scoffed, “that’s how. He and my mother even lied to me for nearly ten years. I was 15 when I found out about the augmentations.”
“Not an ideal age, I imagine”, Jadzia breathed, placing her hand on Julian’s knee, “with all the things you already must have been going through...I’m sorry you had to keep it a secret for so long.”
Julian hummed. In a way, he was relieved that he didn’t have to leave DS9, but he still felt angry for the way his parents had ignored his wishes. They’d thought they knew better and hurt Julian by going to Sisko behind his back.
Taking a sip of his tea, Julian closed his eyes. “I knew it couldn’t stay secret forever”, he said, “and maybe this is the best way it could have come out. I just wish I didn’t feel so...empty, I guess. Honestly, I thought I’d feel angrier about this.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Jadzia asked, frowning. She hated to see her young and foolish friend so sad. “There’s got to be something I can do for you.”
Julian looked down, avoiding Jadzia’s eyes. “Just”, he whispered, “don’t start treating me any differently, please? I’m still the Julian that talked your ears off in that shuttlecraft when we first met. Most of me isn’t a lie. Just that one part is. Was.”
Jadzia shuffled a little bit closer to Julian and pulled him into a hug. “Hey”, she said sternly, “I would never imagine treating you any different because of what you had to live through as a child. You had to hide a horrible secret, Julian, and I want you to know that if anyone tries to mistreat you because of it, they’ll have to go through me to do so.”
Blinking, Julian chuckled and wrapped his arms around Jadzia. “Thanks”, he whispered, “I appreciate that.”
Standing up, Jadzia smiled at Julian. “Now, how about we horrify Quark with another one of our Starfleet snacks?”
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Favourite thing about them: His youthful earnestness
Least favourite thing about them: His rashness and seeming lack of empathy. Remember that time when he called Constance a "coward" when she didn't want to continue her relationship with him (for understandable reasons) or when he was a jerk to her while she was grieving Bonacieux's death? This is me at d'Artagnan during those scenes:
Favourite line:
BroTP: Athos and D'Artagnan
OTP: Constagnan (Constance x d'Artagnan)
NOTP: Him with Milady, I guess? I mean, I know I wouldn't want to hang out with the woman who tried to manipulate and kill me multiple times
Random Headcanon: In his earlier days in the Garrison, he used to get all sad and mopey whenever it rained until one day, one of the others figured out that it triggered memories related to his father's murder. Now, whenever it gets all cloudy and rainy, one of the others casually invite him to stay at their lodgings which inevitably ends up being a group hangout with food, blankets and cuddles. Eventually, he gets better at handling his grief.
Unpopular opinion: Eh, am not really sure what counts as an unpopular opinion and what doesn't. For what it's worth, I was not really on board with his Season 3 look. I thought he looked better in the previous seasons (when he had that puppy look going), hehe, don't come at me 😛
Song I associate with them: I am terrible at these. I am terrible at remembering songs and even more so in connecting them with people. You have to excuse me in this section 😔
Here, have a laughing d'Art as compensation
Favourite picture:
I mean, come on, even you have to agree with me there
rdprice29 replied to your photoset “Decided it was time to change out the bed. I’m calling this...”
I love the orange fitted sheet! I can't believe you actually use top sheets. I can't stand them, and haven't been able to since way before that was a "thing". But, I also can't bring myself to throw them away, so I have a linen closet full of unused top sheets that may soon be cut up for bleach cloths and/or bandages depending on how the world decides to tip...Hugs and kisses to the fur babies!
I used to not like topsheets as a kid, but I’ve grown to appreciate them mostly because as an adult I live somewhere FUCKING COLD and they add a weirdly effective layer of insulation. Plus I have to wash the duvet cover less often :D
froofie replied to your photoset “Lift, breathe, pet the belly, run, repeat…. [Description: Three...”
She’s telling you it’s leg day.
I walk on my legs, erry day is leg day!
That is what I tell myself because I hate leg day.
sternenblumen replied to your post “Hi internet dad, your tag crafting in a time of cholera made my day....”
It's actually a very good book!
I believe it! I should read it. Now that I’m not assigned to read it in school, I might enjoy it! (I was never actually assigned because I read Bless Me Ultima instead, but I could have been.)
celticjade13 replied to your post “My biggest struggle with making things is what to do with the stuff I...”
When you say you don't know if canvases can be reused, all I can think of is Rene Russo in the 1999 Thomas Crown Affair who said, "Monet reused his canvases." (Obviously, an unimpeachable source.) I love the focus on the process, though. That's one of the things I talk about when people ask me why I do or don't do something. I focus on whether or not I like the process rather than the end result.
LOL! I mean, I know that they used to reuse canvases, but with modern canvas and paints I had no idea if that might not be like, super toxic or something.
Thanks, @sternenblumen! This is such an adorable look into the Hidden Farm house, and you write Michele so well!
The Perfect Medicine
by Sternenblumen for insertcaffeine/girljen
Summary: A migraine striking down Michele takes both her and Sam by surprise, but her husband does his very best to care for her.
Wordcount: 1248 words
“Morning, sweetheart!”
Michele's eyes shot open, and she was immediately assaulted by the bright light coming from the door, piercing through the darkness of her bedroom. She could not suppress a moan when her head reacted with vicious pain that clamped around her temples.
“You've slept late, I can't believe I'm actually awake earlier than you for once! I have even fed Peacho already – and I made pancakes!”
Her husband's cheerful voice was usually one of Michele's favourite sounds in the world but today, it battered against her ears with the force of a drum. It felt like a monumental effort to raise her own voice in response, and it was only a feeble “Sam ...” she produced.
However, it was enough to stop him in his tracks, and he was at her side in a flash. “What's the matter, Michele?” he asked anxiously. “Are you sick?”
She squeezed her eyes shut but extended her hand to him, and a second later it was in his warm grasp. “My head ...” she said hoarsely. “Migraine.” It was not a new experience for her – back in Zuzu City, they had been a rather regular event in her life. But she hadn't even noticed that she hadn't had any since moving to Pelican Town.
“Oh no,” Sam whispered, obviously making a huge effort to keep his voice down. “How bad is it? Do I need to get Harvey? What can I do?” He placed his free hand on her forehead with infinite care, as if he was worried she would break at the touch. “You're cool, though, I mean you're cool all the time because you're the coolest person I know, but I mean … You don't have a fever.”
Michele giggled helplessly at his rambling even if it made her teeth hurt, then squeezed his hand. “It's okay,” she assured him. “Maybe drop by the clinic later and ask Harvey for medication? I haven't had one for so long, I don't think I have any ...” She sighed. “Otherwise, just … sleep. Darkness. Quiet.”
She could hear the frown in his voice when he asked: “So you've had those before? Why didn't you tell me?” She made a noise, and he quickly checked himself. “Okay, right. Quiet. Sleep. Time for conversation later. Okay, then sleep, darling, I'll check on you later, alright?” He kissed her forehead, gave her hand another squeeze and then got up and left the room. The door clicked shut behind him, and blessed darkness enveloped her. She sighed and let herself sink deeper into the cushions. She did not look forward to that conversation – mostly because she could always just give Sam the same answer she always did: “Because I don't tell people things if I don't have a reason to.”, which he had learned to accept but she thought he still didn't fully understand. They were absolute polar opposites in this regard … But on the other hand, it was why they were such a good match, complementing each other. And it was something to worry about later, anyway. For now, she could only sleep and hope that by the time she woke up, the pain had let up.
Michele woke to the sound of soft footsteps and a cup set down on her night table. She blinked up at the ceiling – though it was dark, not even the slightest bit of light coming from the door, so she didn't really see anything – then turned her head to the side. “Sam,” she said softly, sleepily. Her head felt heavy, more stuffed with cotton than painful now, but she was still glad of the darkness and silence.
Sam froze, no more than a silhouette in the dark room, then carefully felt his way to the side of the bed and sank on his knees beside her, reaching for her hand and giving it a light squeeze. “Hey,” he said in a low voice, “how are you? I just wanted to bring you some water and the pills Harvey has given me.”
“Mmmm,” she murmured, “better. Mostly sleepy. A couple more hours, and I should be fine.” She tugged lightly at his hand. “Come lay with me?”
He resisted a bit, though he lay his other hand against her cheek, stroking it gently. “What about the work? I guess you won't be doing anything today, so I should--”
She tugged again. “I know you did what needs doing. Trust you. Now I need you.”
Sam laughed but hushed himself quickly. “You're very insistent.” He freed his hand from her grip, then rounded the bed, careful in the dark, and slipped under the covers on the other side. Pressing close against her back, his arms encircled her, and she leaned her head back against his shoulder with a content sigh. It took only a few more lazy blinks until her eyes drifted shut, and she was asleep again.
The third time she woke up, the pain was a distant echo, her limbs heavy and her body warm. There was a low rumble at her back, and she smiled when she realised it was Sam's snoring. It did not hurt, though, as the light vibrations rolled through her quickly and dissipated. Michele sighed and turned around, snuggling back into Sam's arms.
She dozed, on and off, until he stirred and opened his eyes. “Hey,” he murmured.
“Hey,” she returned, smiling.
“Do you feel better?”
“Yes, it's mostly gone.”
He heaved a deep sigh. “I'm glad.” He gave her a soft, swift kiss, then asked: “Can I turn on the light?”
Michele considered it and finally nodded. “Okay.” To be sure, she closed her eyes, though. The bedside lamp lit up, and she could see its warm shine through her eyelids. After a few moments, she carefully blinked one eye open. The light was too bright for a second but once she had blinked a few times, it was manageable. She repeated the process with the other eye, then finally looked at her husband who was watching her with open concern. “It's okay,” she told him.
Sam smiled and scooted closer again to wrap her in his arms. “That's really good ...” He gave her a short squeeze. “That was scary, you know. You sounded so weak and in so much pain ...”
She buried her face against his shoulder. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I just … didn't think of telling you. I'm used to dealing with them on my own, and I haven't had one in so long.”
He hushed her and gently kissed her hair. “It's alright. I just don't want to see you in pain.”
Michele bit back another apology and nodded. “I'll tell you more about what to do and what to look out for, so you can help, okay? And I'll go see Harvey, too, so I have some medication. But really, it's been the first one I had ever since coming here. I don't think it will happen again soon.”
“Good.” Sam sounded much better, less worried, and she smiled against his shoulder. He cared so much, and she loved that about him. “But right now, I prescribe lots of cuddles and staying in bed all day, so you can recover, and my poor heart can recover from the shock, too, alright?” He drew back to take her chin and raise her face for a deep kiss.
“That actually sounds like the perfect medicine,” she agreed with a sigh. “For both of us.”
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(Not sure if it's okay but hell yeah, positivity!) I am a delight!
hell yeah you are!
you are always a soothing and positive presence on my dash; not to mention your wide range of interests--from fitness to art to politics--has made browsing my dash not just pleasant but often educational. i love your writing and your musketeers fic in particular <3
and - i don’t know if this is weird on my part, but i appreciate that you like my posts that aren’t fandom related and have a kind word to say when i post something personal. thank you <33
-
( send me an ask with ‘i am a delight’ and i will tell you why you are a delight! )
That I have a job. I spent 6 months unemployed and it was slowly destroying me. I get some anxiety from work some days, but most of the time it’s fun and I really enjoy working here -- and being able to work! I don’t do well sitting around idly.
BEST birthday plays! I am not very keen on celebrating my birthday, but my boyfriend and I are going on a day trip to this really big department store (Ullared) for my 35th birthday and suddenly I am really looking forward to the day! :)
d'Artagnan and Constance, "Stay there. I'm coming to get you." ?
A modern AU for you as well!
***
Constance felt miserable as the phone dialled. She had just wanted to spend the weekend with her parents, finally having made up after the huge fight that divorcing Jacques Bonacieux had caused. She had wanted to have fun with her blood family, but it was becoming obvious that blood was not as thick as water, not for her.
Constance shook her head, even though d’Artagnan could not see it. “No, it’s not”, she said, dangerously close to tears, “we had a fight. I took my things and left. Can I come to your place?”
“Oh, Constance”, d’Artagnan muttered, “are you close to your parents’ house?”
Constance sniffled. “Yes, I’m almost at the train station.”
“Stay there”, d’Artagnan said, “I'm coming to get you. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Fifteen, if the traffic gets bad.”
Wiping her eyes, Constance nodded. “Thank you. I’ll wait by the southern entrance.”
“Alright”, d’Artagnan said. Constance could hear his fond smile through the line. “See you soon.”
“See you.”
Constance arrived to the southern entrance of the station and sat down on one of the benches. A few tears escaped her eyes, and she wiped them away immediately. She was determined not to show her weakness to some unknown passers-by who did not know the whole story.
The whole fight had started because Constance’s mother had complained how she missed Jacques who had always belittled Constance and whose values did not fit in Constance’s world. The whole marriage had been her parents’ idea, since they were Jacques’ friends. Constance, very young at that point, had thought it romantic but regretted the whole decision soon after the wedding.
When Constance had said that her mother could still meet with Jacques, her mother had begun to complain how awkward that would be. Her father had taken his wife’s side, making Constance defensive. The last straw had been him blaming Constance for the divorce that had originally happened because of how poorly Jacques had treated her. She had taken her things and rushed out, immediately calling d’Artagnan for comfort.
Her prince charming arrived soon on his ancient car. Constance rushed to him and he pulled her into a hug, kissing her cheek.
“I’ve got you”, d’Artagnan said, “and I have some chocolate cake in the freezer. Wanna open it and watch something dumb?”
Constance nodded, feeling grateful. “I’d love that.”
