Selyse and Shireen at the Wall
Peter Falk rocks, but Columbo, oh, Columbo:
Embrace the wonder and the majesty.
I’ve read some (very good) fic. I ate some lunch. I cleaned three huge rooms from stem to stern. And now it is time for my OTP, my “I will go down with this ship”:
me + nap
Part of Drabbleverse.
His fucking sons couldn’t do anything fucking right. Not one fucking thing.
"Remind me what I said about mixed fibers?" he demanded, glaring at Domeric. Domeric, at the very least, should know better by now.
"Dad, it’s such a stupid—" Domeric began, but Ramsay cut in "It was my idea, Dad."
"I don’t care whose fucking idea it was—we don’t stock mixed fiber clothing here. Get rid of it," he snapped.
"Dad—it’d be good for business. We could get some more people in here, because we’d have cheaper stuff."
"Are you whining at me, Domeric?" demanded Roose.
Domeric’s jaw jutted out. ”No. I’m not. I’m just—”
"What about ‘a front’ don’t you understand?" Roose breathed. "We don’t want fucking business. We have business where we need it and—”
"Yoohoo!" Her voice cut through the shop before the bell on the door even tinkled. "Hello, darlings." Walda was grinning broadly, her arms laden with bags.
"Well, don’t just stand there. Help your step-mother," snapped Roose.
Domeric started forward and Ramsay slunk after him.
"Thank you, boys," Walda said as they took all but one of her bags from her. "Roosey, I just got you a new sweater."
"A new sweater?" he asked.
"Yes. It was on sale at Marshall’s."
"It’s the middle of summer."
"And that’s the perfect time to stock up on all your fall and winter clothing. I got matching ones for Domeric and Ramsay if they want them, too. Final sale, so I can’t return them. Here!" she withdrew a pastel pink sweater. "Try it on."
Roose’s eyes widened. ”I—” he stammered, but didn’t know how he would continue so he accepted the sweater and tugged it over his head.
"My Roose in rose!" beamed Walda. She kissed him full on the mouth, slipping her tongue between his lips. "I love it. Here, boys—put these on." She waved more pink sweaters at them.
Domeric looked mildly sickened and Ramsay’s jaw was dropped. Roose, however, looked down at himself. It was a decent cut, he supposed…and it had made Walda overjoyed to see him wearing it…
"Put them on," he commanded. Domeric looked like he was contemplating reaching for the knife he kept tucked into his boot as he tugged on the sweater, and Ramsay was glaring bloody murder at Walda.
But she was beaming, and that made Roose…happy.
I am laughing so hard I am crying.