This blog has been archived. If you would like to interact with Darcy, Cian or Oz please see the blog they’ve been moved to: @ofxuniverses
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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DEAR READER
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@irishellraisers-archived-blog
This blog has been archived. If you would like to interact with Darcy, Cian or Oz please see the blog they’ve been moved to: @ofxuniverses
We Go Home || Mary Jo + Darcy
She allowed herself a small laugh at his comment, the colour that she had been trying to will away once again rising in her cheeks and ears. By no means was Mary Jo a (haughty) woman, but she was aware she was attractive and it was not uncommon for her to find herself being flirted with - especially at the gym, though it was a more and more rare even those days after she had refused enough offers for drinks. However, she was mildly flattered, and blue yes had always been a source of weakness for her dating all the way back to when she had stolen her first kiss from the neighbor boy. Not that she was thinking about kissing him, or what that accent would feel like on her tongue. Nope.
Shoving her thoughts aside, she occupied herself with once again wondering just what had caused his need for a wheelchair. There was very little muscle atrophy as far as she could see in with his thighs (careful to examine out of her peripheral as opposed to glancing down again) so the bloodflow was healthy at least until his knees. Below that she was unable to tell, his legs mostly concealed beneath jeans that were just a bit too large for the man. An accident, perhaps - vehicular made the most sense with how localized it appeared to be. “If you’d like,” she said, a small - albeit still sheepish - grin spreading across her features as her suddenly far too busy mind returned to her conversation with the man and Dr. Wendell retreated to the back of her thoughts. - “I could try to be less distracting.”
Oh she could, could she? Well actually she could try but he doubts she would be very successful. A woman with looks like her’s tended to catch anyone’s eye. Be they owners of good sense(himself) or not (Oz). The only one not effected by her is Cian, and he’s too busy picking Oz up off the mat from another knock down for it to be entirely obvious.
“No o’ffense lass bu’ ‘oi dunna t’ink ye’d be very successful.”
And now it’s Darcy’s turn to a little pink in the ears. Because yea he might have thought it but he’d not exactly meant to say it. And the ipod he’s holding out to her, suddenly becomes rather heavy. His arm falling back to his lap, head ducking a bit, as a nervous chuckle works out of him. His mother had raised him a bit better than this. He’s not Oz. Darcy’s not a skirt chaser. Though he wonders if he might have been, if not for this damn chair. And again he extends his hand, offering the ipod up for her to take again. Trying to ignore that fact that his two best mates are now watching the two of them, instead of running through paces like they were supposed to be doing.
“’Oi mean m’no’ sayin’ ye couldna....”
“....t’at came ou’ wrong....”
He took the hand gratefully and sat up further, then slowly made it to his feet, stumbling a bit. “Yeah…I don’t think I hit it that hard, but it hurts.” He rubbed the back of his head with his free hand, and realized he was still holding on to the other’s hand. “Erm…sorry,” he said, blushing slightly. “I thought I saw someone I knew and didn’t want to run into,” he confessed. “Next thing I know, I’m flat on my back.” Great choice of words, Kai. He hoped he wasn’t blushing again.
The comment about not wanting to run into someone you knew, has him curious. But unlike his mate, Oz, Cian knows when not to ask. Well that’s maybe a bit unfair. Oz knows when, the arse just doesn’t. Stop that is.
Once the other is up on is feet, the Irishman lets go of his hand. Though a second later Cian’s brushing a bit of dirt off the other man’s shoulder. And all to well noticing the other stumbled. Cian’s no doctor but he knows head injuries and being a bit disoriented after a blow to your cranium can mean a concussion or worse.
“Well I suppose no’ runnin’ inta t’em be wort’ it....”
“Ye sure yer alroi’ght? How many fingers m’m’oi holdin’ up?”
She nodded. “Yeah, it’s on the other side of town.” She’d noticed him tense up for a moment and said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” She smiled sheepishly. “I don’t have a car myself or I’d lead you there, but I could ride with you and give you directions, or write some down for you.” She paused. “My name’s Angwu. I take it you’re new in town? Or is that a stupid question?” She smiled sheepishly again. “Anyway, I’d be more than happy to show you where that and anything else is. Sometimes being lost in the city can be just as bad as being lost in the woods.”
She rambles, something he doesn’t really mind. She’s friendly. Something not exactly overly common in this new city. And it tugs up one corner of his mouth into a small grin, amid a slightly defeated sigh. A small curse in his own tongue, passing out from between his lips. Hands shifting back and forth a little, rocking his wheels and subsequently his chair a little.
“Mac soith....I dunna have a car eitha....”
He looks up and down the street again, before his gaze settles back on his lap a moment, and then back up to her face. Angwu. It different and it reminds him how big of a melting pot this city is. How him and his mates are probably not the only transplanted people that live here. And he’s flashing another grin at her.
“S’nice ta meet ye Angwu m’ Darcy ...and aye m’a bi’ new.”
“M’ afraid I dunna have a pen bu’... Oi’ go’a map...oi’ll take any kinda help ye’er willin’ ta give me a’ dis point, lass. Thank ye.”
“You look a bit lost.” Angwu had been walking down the sidewalk when she spotted the male figure looking around. “Are you all right? Do you need some directions or something?” Then she remembered that a lot of men didn’t like asking for directions-oops. Well, it was the thought that counted, right? She walked closer to the man and smiled. “I’m willing to lend a hand if you need help with directions or something,” she said.
Hands on either wheel tighten at sound of the voice, as blue hues dart upwards to find the source. Shoulders that had tensed up with the startlement instantly relax. Thank Christ. People had been rushing by him so fast he hadn’t thought catching someone’s attention would have been worth the trouble. But apparently someone had noticed him, without him even trying.
“Aye...a bit.”
“Ye don’happen t’know where t’DMV is, do ye?”
“Ugh…” Kai groaned and tried to sit up. He’d remembered something startling him-a sudden loud noise and the sight of someone who looked like one of his old gang members. He’d let out a yelp and then taken quite the tumble. “My head hurts…” he whined. “But I think I’m okay…maybe. Thanks for um, checking. That’s nice of you.”
An arched brow, a hand offered to help the other up. A small shrug at the thanks. Not exactly like he had to go far to check. The guy had more or less landed right next to him in the alley Cian was passing, on his way back home, from the corner store.
“S’on ah’problem....”
“Ye hi’ ye head?”
He feels like a god damn tourist right now. He’s completely lost. Lost and tired from making his way around in what has ended up to be one gigantic bloody circle. It shouldn’t be this hard to find the DMV, but his phone died an hour ago. Which he’s guessing is about the time he took the wrong turn, that’s had him going in circles.
“Feck me...”
“Ye alrigh’ t’ere mate?”
“S’bi’ o’ah tumble ye took.”
“Shu’ ye hole...”
“S’ta early fer dis shoite....”
Just because one half doesn’t work, doesn’t mean he has to let the other half slack. Actually it’s probably more reason not too. Gotta keep himself in shape because lugging around your own weight, even if you’re on wheel isn’t easy as it looks. So seated as he always is, he’s pounding away on the tied down punching bag. Not much paying mind to the room around him. Fairly used to the looks and stares. Though the bag is starting to come loose and making his work out a little harder than it should be. But Darcy’s stubborn and in the proverbial swing of things; so he’s not going to stop to fix the bag. At least not until he has too.
It’s a shit little dive. The kind frequented only by regulars who have been going for years and those desperate for a cheap who don’t care about the cleanliness of their surroundings. Just the type of place Barney Barton feels at home in.
He can’t remember who started the song, but it’s been going for a few rounds. Someone will buy a round for a the bar and the song will start up all over again. He’s drunk and happy and can’t be bothered to care about how the racket from several drunks singing off-key sounds from outside the bar, or the fact that the door has opened to let someone in.
“Fuck you, I’m drunk! Fuck you, I’m drunk! And I’m gonna be drunk, ‘Til the next time I’m drunk!”
It’s not terribly often he goes much of anywhere without his mates. Mostly because they’re his ride. But tonight’s a bit different. Him and Oz had a spit, and instead of the younger storming out; Darcy did. Cian cursed at not to follow him, and for once the arse actually listened.
So here Darcy is,heading into the first bar as they call them here that he happens across. Taking advantage of someone going out, to quickly wheel himself in through the swinging door. And even for his sour mood he can’t help the little chuckle; at the off tune song that slams into him. It’s a loud but nice reminder of home. Of the pub just down the corner from where he used to live called Keegan’s. Sure him and his mates are a year off the boat as it were, but he still misses home.
A small sigh, as he wheels over to an open spot at the bar without a stool. Waving down the barkeep and ordering a pint o’ black; which thankfully he’s not forced to clarify what that is in ‘American’ and waits for it. Watching the revelry nearby as the song starts up again. Another chuckle, though this one is louder slipping out. Making his shoulders shake a bit. The lot of them were horribly off key, but that’s what made it great. And he’ll not be one to see it stop, so he makes an offer.
“Buy ye o’not’er ‘round ye can manage t’sing t’full t’in’ o’er again.”
This blog is now on hiatus. Time frame : undetermined.
The Rumjacks - An Irish Pub Song
We Go Home || Mary Jo + Darcy
Mary Jo was not sure where to look first - his ridiculously blue eyes, his lips at the sound of a deliciously thick Irish accent (she had heard enough of them growing up so close to New York), or his legs in an attempt to determine the reason behind his wheels that he was very obviously accustomed to. There was a momentary pause before years of medical training reminded her to look at his face and offer him a polite smile as an embarrassed blush began to creep across her features at her own clumsiness.
“Ah - ha - “ she stammered rubbing the back of her rapidly reddening neck before remembering that she had been on the treadmill. Hastily, and as casually as she could manage, she lowered her hand to her shorts and attempted to dry it. Today was just not her day, she thought to herself. “Wasn’t trying to throw it, promise,” Mary Jo continued as she regained a small amount of composure. “If I was trying to hit you, I would’ve hit you - not that I wanted to.”
She cursed again - internally, this time, as she caught herself beginning to stammer as she stood there still attempting to catch her breath. There had still been a few minutes left to go on her run yet when her ipod had slipped from the band on her wrist and had taken flight somewhere behind her. Apparently, it had nearly struck the man, and she had very nearly fallen in an attempt to stop the machine and turn to make sure that he was alright. Now, she was making an idiot of herself - and she dearly hoped that he did not think it was because of his chair.
“Sorry, really. Hope I didn’t interrupt your guys’ training session.”
He’s used it, maybe a little to much at times, but so much so he hardly notes her lingering glance down. It isn’t something he holds against people anymore, never really had been. He isn’t the same as everyone else, its a simple life fact, but sometimes maybe its easy to forget about it. Still her stammering has his grin widening a bit, and he dismisses what’s causing it. People can be nervous around him if they don’t know him, something that comes with the territory.
“S’no’ah problem....would ye of? O’ well t’en guess s’m’oi lucky day.”
There’s a genuines to the words, even if they are a little laced in a tease. He’s wheeling a bit closer then, holding the ipod out to her. His gaze tracking to the two idiots in the ring when she mentions the training session.
“No more t’an anyun’ else wit’ ye looks would. Oz’d oggle a’ anyt’in’ wit’ o’ n’oice view. Costs ‘im a round or two somet’oimes. ”
There’s a slight wink to that answer. Maybe it’s a little more flirty than his usual self, but the woman isn’t exactly hard on the eyes. And Oz had noticed first, like he noticed everything that even smelled remotely close to good looking. Plus it’s easiest to blame it on Oz. General rule of thumb is, Darcy is invisible to the opposite sex, most days anyway.
“”
tv meme: 10 male characters · tim riggins “My mother never took me shopping for a pageant gown and because of that I never placed at Miss Texas. That’s why I got into football”
We Go Home || Mary Jo + Darcy
Hair elastic. Check. Sports bra. Check. Tank top. Check Shorts. Check. Water bottle. Check. Music. Check. Sneakers. Check. Staring at herself in the mirror as she did her mental checklist to ensure that she had everything she needed, Mary Jo tightened her ponytail and ran through her list again. It was unnecessary to do it a second time, but after a long shift at the hospital the previous night and another one yet to come she was very much not in the mood to put herself through her usual and by no means easy workout regimen. However, she knew that once she started and finished that she would be feeling much better and far more prepared to take on the evening - not to mention she would hate herself for breaking up the routine she had found for making sure that she had a productive night shift. Satisfied and finally hauling herself towards the door of the women’s locker room, she entered the main area of the private gym. She was met with the sight of a relatively empty room, the only machines being a couple of the treadmills and the boxing ring was occupied by a tall blonde man and his buddy, and a man sitting on the far side was growling instructions with a thick accent (Irish, she thought) and tips. They were new, she noted as she made her way over to the mats to stretch, ignoring the blonde’s lingering gaze as she sat down and began to prepare her limbs for her cardio portion of her work out. Shouting that included instructions to stop enjoying the view had Mary Jo looking up, only for her to roll her eyes when she saw the blonde man in the ring watching her with a lopsided grin that, while somewhat charming, was just a little skeezy and she went back to ignoring them. She had shit to do before her shift at the hospital (on the ER floor that evening) and she did not need men who couldn’t keep it in their shorts to get in her way, thought Mary Jo as she stood and made her way at last over to the first available treadmill.
"No ye feckin’ tool, ye lef' foot. Lef' foot Oz. Chr'oist!"
He'd been far to busy reading over Oz's schedule, and watching Oz's feet to notice the woman enter the room. They had a month to get Oscar where he needed to be. The youngest of their trio was good, but he still had faults. Hole in his dance and defenses that any number of the other continders could easily use against him.
It isn’t long before Cian has laid the youngest man out, and Darcy is spitting curses again. Tossing the clipboard aside and wheeling around to the front of the ring. The smallest fleeting glance, shot in the direction of the treadmill across the way. And eyes roll because he knows exactly what had distracted their would be champion.
“Ye feckin’ arse, pay ‘ttension! S’no’ a feckin’ club. Ye not ‘ere ta pick up girls fer fecksake! Ge’ ye shite t’gether!”
The words are hissed, and Oz sneers at him, but gets up again. Keeping his focus souly upon Cian, leaving Darcy to his stewing. He doesn’t remain in that spot long however. Wheeling about quite deftly, to disappear again behind the ring. Re-appearing a moment later, clipboard in his lap to find a slightly more quiet spot to gather his thoughts. And he finds one, a few feet away from the treadmills. At a low table, against the wall.
It doesn’t take him long to get lost in his work, but none to soon he’s disrupted again. This time by a rather feminine curse, and something clinking into the metal rim of one of his wheels. He glances down to find a pink framed ipod, sans the headphones, spinning on the floor. He’s quick to pick it up, turning about, and offering the woman a small hitched smile.
“Gonna wager ye aims off a bit, lass.”
Empty.
North Philly.
X100S