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Post by Johnnie Rae Mercer on May 28, 2013 18:54:13 GMT -5
There were moments where everything felt like it was spinning out of control. And by ‘everything,’ Johnnie Rae Mercer (formerly Mrs. Charles Weber) meant the one little piece of the world that she called hers. With everything spinning as it was, she laid in her bed, pondering exactly what she had to do, say, and deal with. There was no simple way to go about the big reveal. Well, there was, but that method would be strictly glared at in most social circles. With crimsons, onyxed or not, it was a poor plan to walk up to one, shove a puppy at them, and say, “I’m pregnant! Hooray!” and walk away, leaving the other individual with the puppy and some serious questions. Even with the infamous Scott cool and calm (and that was a bit of a lie, let her tell you), she didn’t exactly want to do that to Daryll, even if it would be funny. No, this clearly required copious amounts of pie. She sighed and reached for her phone and punched out a quick text that basically summed up to, “here, soon, there will be pie,” before pulling the blankets over her head and pretending the world didn’t exist for a few more minutes.
Of course, pie required action and so she crawled to a sitting position position at the edge of her bed, a vast improvement from hiding, fully clothed, under the covers and pretending the world didn’t exist outside of them. The way she was dressed, she looked like she should be having fun, not hiding from the panic and the insecurity that came with big life changes like this one. She pondered whether this was how all women felt when they were pregnant, whether he own mother had gone through this kind of insecurity every time she got pregnant, only to have another one miscarry or be stillborn. She wondered if she’d felt this insecure when Jo was still in utero, waiting to see if her husband would come home or if her fifth pregnancy would actually be successful. What Jo would give to have her mother there, right now, to pepper with questions. But alas, she was not. Jo was reminded that she wasn’t alone, however, by something pulling at her skirt. What she had, it turned out, was a puppy, a human who reminded her of a puppy sometimes, and a validly commitment-phobic best friend to whom she had to break some rather important news.
A sharp yapping broke her out of the trance as the puppy play-bowed around her feet and yapped at her for attention. She grinned. Oh the irony that she should even have a dog. Before the bender induced decision to buy the little furball pulling on her dress and licking her toes, the last thoughts she’d had about a dog were how she was going to get her revenge on Ramses for trying to ruin the mood. Now she was wondering if that would have been so bad. She reached down, letting the silly thing come to her before lifting him up and setting him on the bed, where he proceeded to bounce around the down comforter. “You’re just a right terror, aren’t you?” she asked with a laugh, scratching him behind the ears as he tried to grapple her other hand down to the bed. She’d have to name him soon enough, it wasn’t enough to just keep calling him Terror. Or was it? It seemed fitting at the moment and it was a damn sight better than Ratchet (although she did keep her opinions to herself on that one). She leaned back on the bed, where she was immediately assaulted by puppy breath and licking. “Terror it is then,” she said, grabbing him and standing up.
On the walk out to the kitchen, she set the newly christened Terror on the floor, where he commenced pulling at her dress and attacking her toes again. With the puppy in tow, she started collecting everything that she needed for pie. She did this quite often, even if she hadn’t been planning on it. Making pie crust was a kind of meditation for her, something done with precision and style and perfection. There was nothing worse than a slab of powdery or cardboardy pie crust. No, they must be flaky heaven and made with all the care in the world. She opened her freezer to see that not much remained but the plastic tubs labelled ‘future pie.’ There had been an incident where one had gone missing and no one got pie for two months because she was so mad. Since then, the future pies had remained untouched, right where she left them. She pulled out a tub of peach and set it on the counter near the heat vent to cool. It would take a while and what was fine with her. In her given state of mind, she was likely to screw up the first round of pie dough anyway, it was just that kind of day.
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notes: >.> >.> here goes bebe talk
words: 841
outfit: here
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Post by dar on May 28, 2013 19:30:54 GMT -5
He hadn't heard from her for two days at least. So when he got the text from her, telling him to come to her home and that there would be pie he couldn't help the eyebrow raise and a bit of confusion to go along with it. He wasn't totally unused to her just not talking to him but it didn't mean he didn't feel some sort of sliver of worry. Besides, he saw it as his sort of duty to make sure she didn't dip back into the crazy side of herself, she'd helped him a long time ago, and it was only fair that he return the favor. He stared at the phone for a bit longer before letting it drop back onto the coffee table next to the couch, his eyes flicking back to the tv. He let out a bit of a grunt as Ramses readjusted himself, the dog was stretched out on Dar, who was laying on the couch. Normally Dar didn't let the dogs on the couch. But Ramses had climbed up and laid his head on Dar's chest, staring at him with those big blue puppy dog eyes.
And Dar had rolled his own eyes and turned his attention back to the tv. He'd let Ratchet do that when Ratchet was a puppy, he supposed letting Ramses do it once wouldn't be that bad. Besides, when Dar said no the dogs listened. He loved his dogs, he really did, he supposed they were about as close to children as he was going to get and he didn't much mind. Ratchet and Ramses were both very loyal dogs, and they helped him keep his cool. When he let Aki out the dogs were probably what kept the familiar from going feral, since the familiar channeled all of Dar's hate and rage and anger that came with being a crimson, not to mention the fact that he liked to push those emotions down and away as much as he could. He didn't know where he'd be without the dogs, even if they were just dogs.
Eventually he sighed, reaching up to tug Ramses' collar to get him off of him, hauling himself up and off the couch. He figured he'd shower and change clothes, then head over to Jo's for pie and whatever else was on her mind. He definitely wasn't going to complain about going for pie, now that he thought about it he was a bit hungry. He was curious to see why Jo went silent, but he wouldn't push it if she didn't want to talk about it at all. He moved to his bathroom, shedding his clothes and starting the shower, stepping in after he adjusted the showers temperature. Sighing deeply he let the water wash over him for a long while, he needed to go on a hunt he thought, let Aki run again, he'd gone a few weeks ago but he was just feeling antsy and it would be better for him if he let the familiar vent out his frustrations, let him take down a deer or something.
Ramses and Ratchet would certainly appreciate the run, they always liked going out in the forest and they could do with another long run. He washed quickly before stepping out of the shower, picking up a towel and drying off before slipping into some clothes, a pair of jeans and a soft green shirt. He moved into the kitchen, bending down to grab the water dish for the dogs, filling it up and putting it back onto the floor. He reached to scratch Ratchet behind one of his big ears and smiled lightly. Such a good dog, he'd done right with the German Shepherd. He could remember the day he went and got the little puppy, how he'd thought he'd end up strangling the puppy who wouldn't stop peeing on the god damn couch. But he'd gotten him to stop and ended up with one of the best dogs he'd ever had, including his fathers if he did say so himself.
Daryll made sure there wasn't anything for Ramses to chew before he stepped out of his apartment and headed down the hall way to Jo's. He hardly bothered to knock, instead giving one solid knock and then just walking in. "Hey Jo, glad you're makin' pie. I'm hungry" He grinned at her as he caught sight of her, before a wiggle at her feet caught his eye and his gaze dropped to the floor. And he froze. "What the fuck is that." He didn't like little dogs, and sure it was a puppy yet, but he knew that little bastard (which he was SURE it was) wouldn't get much bigger. He hated little dogs. Words: 800 Tag: Jo Notes: Herrreeee we go. he hates the dog already xD |
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Post by Johnnie Rae Mercer on May 28, 2013 23:07:00 GMT -5
Cut the butter into the flour and sugar, get large crumbs forming, add water, gently shape into a ball, chill and rest for at least an hour. She knew pie dough. She could deal with pie dough. Pie dough was predictable and the first batch turned out fine she realized as she pulled it out of the fridge and unwrapped it. It was cool and smooth to the touch, just like it should be. She floured the counter and set the disc on it. As she rolled it out, she resisted the urge to put all of her frustration and her stress into the pressure on the rolling pin. She did her damndest to be gentle as she rolled the dough thin, forming a disc large enough to fill the pie pan. Bottom of the pan covered, she mixed blackberries with a liberal amount of sugar, spices, and cornstarch before dumping them into the crust. That accomplished, she pulled the next disc out from the fridge and made the top crust.
As she was crimping the edges down on the two crusts, there was a single knock at the door and then the presence of one Daryll Scott. She felt her stomach lurch slightly. This was not going to go well if she beat around the bush too much. “Don’t you just have a second stomach for pie?” she asked with a bit of a smile, picking up a knife and slicing neat holes in the upper crust before sliding the whole thing into a preheated oven. The pie was more of a peace offering and hopefully panic reducing agent than anything else. Hell, she hadn’t been too enthused when she figured out what was going on with her body. Then again, who would be? She’d thought that they were pretty much safe from anything and everything related to children. It was hard enough for a crimson and an azure to have kids, but two crimsons, or one crimson and one crimson-turned-onxy? Almost unheard of. The walking dead did not normally make one and one add up to three.
Aware of a new person in the room, Terror decided it was time to make himself known and bounded over as Daryll expressed his concern over the little furball. “Oh. That’s Terror, he’s part of why I called you over here,” she said with a smile. She should have known that Dar would react that way. For his part, Terror was doing his best to be charming, propping himself up against the new person’s leg and giving what had to be the best puppy dog eyes ever.
Her train of thought ground to a distinct halt.
Best puppy dog eyes ever? Puppies? This really was going to her head and faster than she had anticipated. What was she even going to do with herself? Apparently, she was just confused. Maybe it was the emotions and the stress, maybe it was hormones, maybe it was all of the above. All she knew was that she’d pretty much pay whatever she had to feel normal again.
“Anyways,” she started, getting her mind back on track, “how’re you? Sorry I’ve been cagey the last couple days, I’ve been stressing out a bit and apparently hiding under the covers with a book in between puppy walks was the grown up thing to do.” It was close to the truth. Not right on to be sure, but it hit the high points of what was going on at the moment. Well, most of them, but she’d rather wait until the pie was out of the oven and cooling to break that news. ‘I’m pregnant! Hooray!’ was far more acceptable with pie, rather than a puppy. One piece of Jo being responsible for another living being news at a time, it was the only way that this was possible. Let the puppy set in and then let him in on her other revelation.
Maybe.
Maybe blurting it out was a better plan keeping the news from him any longer. Confused and trying to fight back what she knew was the crazy creeping in, she hopped up onto the counter facing the mess she had made rolling out the crusts. It could wait. This was her house, dammit, and if she wanted to let the dough get hard, that was her prerogative. Would she hate herself later? Probably. But it was the one thing that she had in her absolute control at the moment and she wasn’t going to clean it. It was a problem for future-Jo, like she wished all of the rest of it was at the moment.
Clearly, this was more difficult than she had been expecting.
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notes: oh jo.
words: 783
outfit: here
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Post by dar on May 30, 2013 17:32:19 GMT -5
He'd expected Jo to be in her kitchen with a pie, which she was. And that was good, she looked good, and his worry eased a bit. Until he spotted the little dog. His train of thought about filling his stomach with what he considered was the best pie he'd ever eaten was immediately brought to a grinding halt. What in the hell. Jo didn't have a dog. What the hell happened in the few days she'd been completely M.I.A? Her question about his second stomach was completely ignored as he watched the dog approach with wary eyes. Which quickly turned to glaring when the puppy leaned against his leg. "Terror. Jo, what the hell possessed you to get a rat?" He wouldn't call it a dog. Dog's were big, they weren't little tiny things that wouldn't grow bigger than a freaking bread loaf (though given the dog was only a puppy he really shouldn't be so mean about it).
He easily stepped away from the dog, stalking closer to Jo, now he was a bit worried. Only part of the reason she'd called him over here? So there was more than a ratty dog running around her house? One he was pretty god damn positive he was going to end up looking after. He'd let Ramses eat it. The husky needed some more meat on his bones anyways, little rat dog would be perfect for him. "So what's going on?" He leaned against the counter, completely intent on ignoring whatever the fuck that thing was on the ground. Jesus. He hated little dogs. He crossed his arms, his lips in a thin line as he tried to figure out what in the world was going on. Jo didn't do pets, in fact he was pretty sure if he didn't step in she'd probably end up killing the thing (though letting her kill it might not be a bad idea).
The fact that she had something more to tell him had him worried that she'd slipped up or something. Perhaps he should have made more of an effort to get into contact with her. She asked him how he was and he just shrugged, his eyebrows drawing together as she mentioned being stressed. "Stressed about what?" He relaxed a bit, having assumed that she was having issues with the crimson part of herself, that he'd help her settle this stress and things would be just fine. And then Daryll'd have some pie. Really that was like a weakness to him. He very much enjoyed Jo's cooking and part of the reason he felt they got along so damn well was because he wouldn't risk losing Jo's cooking. A bit of a selfish and childish reason, but he hadn't found any other person who could, or would, cook for him like Jo did.
He idly glanced down at the dog again, glaring at it before turning his attention back to Jo. Definitely let Ramses eat the little thing. His foot tapped lightly, he was hungry now that he thought about it, and he definitely wanted some of that pie that she'd just put in the oven. "You could have at least called or something, thought you'd gone off the deep end or something" He commented idly, his eyes flicking down to the dog again, glaring at it. He'd like to kick the little fucker. Hated him already. Words: 580 Tag: Jo Notes: Short and he's grumpy |
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Post by Johnnie Rae Mercer on May 30, 2013 20:36:02 GMT -5
She rolled her eyes. Little ball of fur or not, Terror was pretty damn adorable in her eyes. Better than that stinking Ramses. “He’s not a rat, Dar, he’s just small. And, well, I’d have to chalk it up to a lot of whiskey and a treasure hunt,” she said with a shrug. Some parts of the night were a blur and some were startlingly clear. How exactlty she’d acquired the pup was in the fuzzy section of the night. Not so fuzzy was the moment she’d puked her guts up behind a bush at the smell of fried food for unknown reasons only to continue feeling nauseous all night. Normally, that feeling passed rather quickly, then it didn’t. It had only taken a few more weird incidents over the night to prove that something was incredibly, incredibly different about her body. Small wonders, huh?
At the first question, she bit her lip, trying to figure out what to say. Movies and novels made this whole damn situation seem a lot easier to deal with. Hell, she didn’t even know if he’d want to know. Of course he would, right? After all, she couldn’t exactly get this way on her own and damned if he hadn’t helped in the best ways possible. That train of thought reminded her that she owed him a couple of shirts for that particular escapade. She was fairly sure that she’d bought at least half the shirts in his closet and delivered them with a pie soon after their predecessors’ destruction. It was something like a guy sending a girl flowers, she supposed, only less romantic and more 'sorry I like ripping your clothes off, have some pie and a new shirt.'
The second question popped her back out of her own head and into the real world where a couple of ripped shirts were the least of her concerns. She wasn’t going to be able to wait to tell until the pie was out of the oven, was she? “What’s going on,” she said with a bit of a forced smirk. How to explain what was going on in her head and, more importantly, in her stomach. She could go on for hours about how baffled she was. “And I know I should have called or something, its just one of those big life changing realizations hit and yeah, I nearly did lose it, kind of still don’t know what to do about everything, but I didn’t and I'm sorry and I’m still one hundred percent me,” she said with shrug. It totally sounded like a cop-out. She pushed a hand through her hair and watched as Terror decided that Daryll was boring and headed back to pulling on the hem of her dress even though it meant he had to stand on his hind legs and lean against the cabinets. She was probably going to have to break him of that soon enough, but now was not the time for that.
She sucked in a breath and glanced up at him. It was actually kind of unfair that she was beating around the bush. She should have someone to freak out about this with, in particular the other responsible party. Yup. “Dar...” she started, changing track mid-though. “I... we....” The pause drug out as she searched for words with ineffective waving hands, her brows a little knotted and her jaw set. “Fuck, why are words so hard right now? It isn’t even that difficult a concept to grasp.” Another breath. “I’m... we’re....” She glowered. All she wanted to say was that she was pregnant. That was all. Maybe a different approach was necessary in this situation. After all, they were friends, being a little sassy with one another was natural. She looked over at him, best imitation of a grin on her face. “Daryll Anthony Scott, you have successfully kn...” Apparently, even euphemisms were out of the question here. Maybe she should have practiced saying these thing out loud in the interim. She groaned and leaned back against the wall. Maybe plan A with the puppy was how it was gonna have to go. Or, maybe he’d figure it out on his own. Slim chance of that, but she could always hope he said the damn word first. She stared at him, almost wishing that they'd imprinted at sometime in the past. Then he'd know. Well, maybe.
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notes: bahahahaha, I had not anticipated her not actually being able to say pregnant or knocked up xDDDDDDD
words: 711
outfit: here
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