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all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney · 3 years

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The Couple Next Door IX (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)

Find Part Eight Here

A/N: Surprise! I’m briefly back from a year-long Hiatus and I have one chapter for TCND, one for ATU AND a George Harrison one-shot I’m just gonna drop and then probably disappear again for another few months. I’m also finding it even more difficult to write for Roger seeing as I’ve kinda been listening to nothing but The Beatles for the last fifteen months and I really only hear Queen at work, so that’s gotta change. But I am very sorry about the LONG wait. I really do appreciate you guys, and I think you’ve all waited quite long enough to find out what happens next...

Summary: Roger and Y/N spend the morning taking care of Bobby; they talk a little more about the future and come to the conclusion they both want the same thing.

(Let your imagination run free, bc this can be either Canon or Borhap!Roger)

WARNINGS: Swearing is probably a given at this point, self-doubt, mentions/ suggestions of sex (advise you to avoid if you’re under 18), and I usually revise when I’m stoned so there’s probably some typos in here too, sorry.

Rated T for Teen-- (I feel like a video game rating smh)

Bobby was crying again.

Granted, it was about seven in the morning, and he did sleep for the rest of the night.

Roger was the last of the both of you to wake up; not because of the crying-- he didn't even hear the crying-- but he was wrapped up in the blankets with you, and you were trying to remove yourself from his grasp.

"Don't leave," Roger grumbled as he pulled you tightly against his chest, eyes remaining closed as you whispered back to him.

"But I have to go. Baby's cryin'."

Roger loosened his grip on you, much to his dismay, and you slipped from his embrace, leaving him cold, and alone.

"Come back, Baby..." He really hoped his gravelly plea would entice you to return from the nursery after tending to Bobby, and although you were probably against having sex in your friends' bed, he figured there was no harm in testing the waters.

"That's not how that works when you have a baby, Rog. The day starts now."

Roger groaned in protest, but as he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, he revealed to himself that you were no longer in the room, and the baby's cries settled when he heard your voice float down the hall from the nursery room.

Roger, as much as he didn't want to, tossed the comforter off of his body, and after rising to his feet and combing his fingers through his hair, he shuffled out of the bedroom and made a beeline to the stairs.

He was glad he was familiar with John's kitchen; because he was certain you had no idea where anything was, meaning he would be the one preparing breakfast that morning, and the one following it, most likely.

Fuck it, he would (try to) cook you up seven different meals a day if you asked him.

Anything for you.

He put the kettle on, and moved to the pantry in search for John's teabags, yawning lightly as he pulled the door open.

Nothing in the pantry really stuck out to him as being a good breakfast that morning, so Roger ended up migrating to the fridge after retrieving the tea, where his eyes fell on the carton of eggs on the bottom shelf.

He settled on making French Toast for breakfast seeing as he, according to you, made the best French Toast in England.

So he got to work whipping up some eggs and pulling four slices of bread from the bread box on the counter-- but not before he got one of Bobby's bottles out for you, warmed it, and placed it on the kitchen table.

Roger was frying the French Toast in no time, and he hummed gently as he busied himself with focusing on the now whistling kettle, and when the right time to flip the toast would be.

"... I thought you were still in bed," your words were sudden, and it made Roger jump a little. But when he realized it was only you, Bobby in your arms, his mouth contorted into a dopey smile.

"Nah," Roger turned the pan's burner down a little, and after he flipped the French Toast, he set his spatula on the counter, turning to face you.

"I was gonna let you sleep in, since you were so reluctant on waking up," you explained with a yawn. "But here you are awake, and making breakfast before me."

"Well it wouldn't be fair then, would it? Me sleeping in while you've all this work to do?"

"I don't know, would it?"

"I really don't think so, Dove."

He felt pride swell in his chest when pink dusted your cheeks at the sound of your new nickname, and he took this chance to swoon you further by pulling you in gently by the elbows, and he enveloped both you and Bobby in his embrace.

"Beautiful..." Roger's voice was barely a whisper as he touched his lips to your jawline, and you responded with a soft exhale.

"Even when you've just woken up," Roger mumbled against the skin of your neck, lips curling into a smile, "you are the prettiest goddamned thing I've ever laid eyes on."

"Mmm, down, boy," you purred back jokingly, taking a small step back. "Baby still needs to eat."

"Well yours is coming right up," he teased, "and Bobby's is already at the table." Roger pointed to the bottle on the other side of the room before tapping your rear. "Take a seat, and I'll bring your food over."

You didn't have to be told twice. You took a seat at the table, and although Bobby was growing a little agitated, it was short lived when you put the bottle of milk in his possession.

Roger, not five minutes after you sat down, joined you at the table with your French Toast and your mug of tea, made just the way you liked it, of course.

"'S the right tea, yeah?"

You took a quick look at the label hanging from the mug.

"Yep." Your eyes squinted after letting the label fall where the string tied to it would let it. "Y'know, you've been making my tea right for months, you don't have to check to make sure you're right."

"You know I'm always gonna make sure it's to your liking."

"And I love you for it."

"Hopefully for other things too. I'm not just good at being your barista."

"Oh, don't you worry. I'm not overlooking your other good traits," you smiled as you brought your mug to your lips and having the first sip of tea of the day.

As Roger sat down next to you with his own plate of food and mug of tea, he decided to wait on Bobby to finish so he could eat with you.

So, naturally, he took the time to evaluate again what kind of situation he was in.

There was nothing like watching you care for Bobby. Roger had known you for years, and not once in his life did he ever think he would be sitting next to you at breakfast while feeding a baby, whether or not the child was his own, or yours.

The whole scene looked too good to be true, though like the previous night, Roger just drank in the sight of you putting all your love and care into a child at breakfast with him.

How did you think you weren't cut out for being a mother?

This was in your nature.

The domesticity of the situation made Roger a little emotional. This was the closest he'd ever gotten to experiencing a breakfast with a family he'd built, and he spent every passing second filling his mind and heart with the beautiful sight before him.

"Y/n, you would make a wonderful mother." Roger's words left his mouth faster than his brain could register what he'd said.

You looked to Roger from Bobby, cheeks and tips of your ears darkening, and Roger was talking again before he could realize it and catch himself.

"Any man would be so damn lucky to have you. I honestly can't believe you stick around me still."

Your face was feeling real hot, now. Roger's head was still lagging behind his words, and clearly, he wasn't done talking.

"You could be out building a beautiful family right now, but instead you're babysitting with your best friend who you also occasionally sleep with. I just... I don't understand."

It took you a second to respond, but Roger didn't blame you. Honestly, he didn't even know what he would have said if he were asked the same question.

"... Well, I love you, Roger."

Your words were simple, and Roger knew your statement was nothing but platonic, but that didn't stop his heart from pounding against his ribcage.

You'd said those exact three words to him minutes earlier, but the context of the conversations contrasted their meanings.

"But we promised each other at the beginning of all of this that we'd be fine giving up pursuing family life if that means living with one another..."

"... You sound unsure, now."

The atmosphere felt heavy, and it was almost as if Bobby had known making noise wasn't in his best interest. He decided to finish eating at the right time.

"... It's not that I'm unsure. It's just..."

Roger waited patiently for you to answer, but you had noticed Bobby finished his milk, and you took the bottle from him.

You burped him, and placed a pacifier you pulled from your pocket in Bobby's mouth. You must have gotten it from upstairs before you came down.

"Let me," Roger offered his arms out for the baby, and you let him take Bobby. You'd stood up and moved to the sink to wash the bottle.

Meanwhile, Roger, who'd also gotten to his feet, was slowly walking around the kitchen. He was praising Bobby for finishing all his breakfast, insisting he was so proud of him, his smile wide and gaze adoring as he evaluated the child in his arms.

"It's just that. There. The way you're behaving with him," you turn to face Roger, finger pointed at him. "The way you're treating him as your own."

Roger's mouth opened and closed a few times, but after shutting his jaw for the third time, he decided the best thing to do in this situation would be to keep quiet.

"You'd make the most wonderful father, Roger. The way you behave with Bobby, god, the way you behaved with Raymond the other day," you sounded frustrated, and all Roger could do was watch you pace the kitchen, his sheepish face now a deep red.

"It's just that I would want the father of my kids to be just like you. I wouldn't settle for anything less."

Roger opened his mouth again to speak. He felt like his chest was on fire. Your thoughts were becoming painstakingly parallel to his, Roger had noticed. He couldn't get any words out before you started speaking again.

"Like you said last night, this job is giving us a chance to experience what it'd be like to have a family... and maybe I'm upset I did throw the chance to have all of that away."

You looked like you were on the verge of tears, and all Roger could do was watch you and listen to what you had to say.

"Roger, I hope you know you will always have a special place in my heart. You're my family, you have been for the last five years of my life, and there's no doubt about it. But being able to have a child..."

Your hands ghosted over the robe's fabric covering your definitely unpregnant belly. "... I think I want to have children."

"... Y/n I hope you know I feel exactly the same way."

And then everything was clear.

Roger understood where his band was coming from.

Getting married to you would solve all your problems.

He knew what the both of you were thinking in this new moment of silence, but there was absolutely no way Roger was going to fall to one knee and propose to you right now when he wasn't even romantically involved with you.

And he just felt it would be very inappropriate if he took this moment to spontaneously ask you on a romantic date with the intentions of courting you.

"Listen, Y/n," Roger finally built up enough courage to break the silence. Bobby cut him off with a short cry, and Roger immediately started swaying the baby in his arms. Sure enough, Bobby's agitation ceased, and Roger could continue, keeping the movement going.

"Just because we're living together without families now doesn't mean we won't be able to have families, say, five to ten years down the road."

At this point, although it was necessary, Roger didn't really want to mention the discomfort he felt when imagining you falling for someone who wasn't him.

Your eyes were big and sad, lip pouted as you considered Roger's words. "... are you sure?"

The idea of you and him having to move out of the condo Roger risked the both of your love lives for didn't sit well with him.

You'd be gone making sweet love to some lucky asshole who probably didn't deserve to be in your presence, while Roger goes on a bender, gets ahold of some weed and coke, and sleeps with enough girls to distract him from realizing he'd thrown the best thing in his life away-- you.

He didn't want you to think he thought you were selfish. The last thing he needed right now was to feel guilty for making you feel guilty.

So he just nodded. "No house isn't forever anyways." When you didn't respond to his little joke, he sighed.

"Y/n, we're still so young. You don't have to commit yourself to anything like that just yet. Enjoy being able to go out drinking with me every weekend, and sleeping in on our days off. Your chance to start a family will come when the time is right."

You let out a shaky breath. Roger was actually a little surprised with how well you were keeping yourself together.

But his actions put the both of you here, and to see that this conversation nearly reduced you to tears had Roger drowning in guilt, even without the help of mentioning any of his inner conflict to you.

"I just hope you're right." Your voice was broken and your fingers were tangled stressfully in your hair.

"Hey," Roger's voice had gone soft again, his rocking slowing to a halt, and you looked up to find him with an open arm, awaiting your touch.

You slowly unravelled your fingers from your hair, and you gave into the hug not moments later. Roger pulled you to his chest tightly, his free arm occupied by the baby.

"Y'know... I made you French Toast to start the day off good." When you didn't say anything in response, Roger pulled away from you just enough to look you in the face.

He was giving you that same look he did at the Garrison's again; that unreadable gaze he'd achieved with those big blue eyes that seemingly bored holes into your very soul.

His free hand slipped up from your back to your neck, and he leaned in to just touch his lips to the corner of your mouth.

So close, yet so far away.

It wasn't before long that he pulled away from you, but Roger just couldn't keep his eyes off you.

"You come sit down and enjoy your French Toast, Dove. I've got Bobby."

"But--"

"Please?"

Roger knew he'd convinced you as soon as he said that magic word. Though you took a moment to look from the bundle in his arms to the breakfast you really were dying to dig into, you eventually sighed out a gentle "thank you," before taking your seat again at the table.

He came around and kissed the top of your head. "Enjoy, Honey." Roger took a seat next to you, Bobby still in his one arm, and the both of you ate your French Toast in relative silence for the first few seconds.

"... God, you really do make good French Toast, Blondie." Roger was smiling now. At least you were talking again.

"I only improved my cooking skills for you, y'know," he admitted with a mouthful of his food, though he didn't sound ashamed of it.

"And thank God for that. Cooking every other night sure beats cooking every night."

"You can say that again," Roger mumbled before shoving the last of his breakfast into his mouth. You still slowly ate away at your meal, and Roger was making funny faces at Bobby in between taking sips of his tea.

The telephone in the living room started ringing, and you stood up to go get it, but Roger immediately dropped his fork and grabbed your wrist.

"Nuh-uh. I just finished eating. You still have a little bit to go. Take Bobby and I'll get it." You scooped the baby up without another word, smiling when he opened his eyes.

"Can you at least bring back his rattle from his play pen?"

"Can do, Princess," he called over his shoulder as he approached the phone.

"H'lo?"

"Roger?"

"Oh, hey, John!" Roger tucked the phone's handset under his chin, carrying the telephone in his left hand so he could get Bobby's rattle.

"Isn't it a little early to be up?" Roger glanced at the clock, which read that it was quarter after seven.

"Biological clocks. Just wanting to checking in. Is Bobby okay? Has he been any trouble?"

"No, of course not! He's doing fine, John." Roger tucked the rattle in his back pocket when he found it, and returned to the writing desk where the phone was meant to stay.

That was something he loved about you. You always bought him pyjamas with pockets. The concept was cool, and being able to use them was even cooler.

"Y/n's got him in the kitchen right now," he explained, taking the handset again with his now free hand. "We're all just finishing up breakfast, actually."

"Oh good. How is she?" John paused for a second, his voice dropping a little lower. "... How are you guys?"

Roger made sure his voice was a little quiet, as well. "John, this may have been your guys' best idea ever. I don't know why I was against this in the beginning."

"Really?! What's happened already?!" John, everyone would have guessed to be one to avoid certain kinds of gossip, though when it came to Roger's business with you, he liked checking up on that.

"I told her about all that family stuff."

"And?"

"And, well..." Roger set the phone back onto the desk and scratched the back of his neck. "... She may or may not be having the same problem," he mumbled.

"So... so you both want a family?" John tried clarifying.

"Yes."

"Then why are you two not together?!" Roger slipped away around the corner into the main hall with just the receiver so he was a little further away from the kitchen. He didn't want you hearing their conversation, or John through the receiver.

"Well I'm not asking her here!"

"Then where? And when?"

Roger knew John was just getting excited, and his questions honestly had Roger brainstorming every possibility when it came to asking you.

"... I don't know, yet," Roger said after a while of thinking. "But soon. God, it needs to be soon." He didn't quite know why he was pressuring himself to ask you sooner than later.

Maybe it was because he was scared someone much better and more deserving of you (or alternatively, a selfish prick) was going to waltz in and steal you from him just before he had you for sure.

"Do you need any help with that part? I can get Fred and Bri--"

"No no no, it's okay, John." Roger leaned up against the wall of the hallway, fingers tapping the handset absentmindedly with his eyes squeezed shut for a moment.

"You guys have already done enough, really. I... I think I'm good on my own from here."

"Well, I'm glad," John expressed to Roger. "It's not every day you need to help Roger Taylor get with a girl, y'know."

"This is different, and you know it."

"I just like to tease," John defended, and Roger could even hear a smile evident in his words.

"Anyways, Veronica and I will be home tomorrow around noon. Y/n's got our number. You two take care."

"Of course, you too," Roger was making his way back to the writing desk.

"Thanks. Oh, and Roger?" John added quickly.

"Hm?"

"If you two end up doing anything, for God's sake, please wash the sheets."

As John was speaking, you'd walked into the living room with Bobby in your arms. "We're gonna go and have some play time, now! Yes we are!"

Roger was too panicked by your presence to even realize you weren't paying any attention to the phone call, and he hoped to God you didn't hear a single thing John had said. "Yeah-yes! Laundry. Will do."

He nodded his head once, though John couldn't see him, and after saying their good byes, Roger hung up the phone.

He turned to where you were in the living room. You were looking in the play pen for something, and Roger suddenly remembered the rattle in his back pocket.

He pulled it out hurriedly and held it out to you. "Shit! I'm so sorry about that--"

"Don't swear, Roger," you took the rattle, a smile on your lips you both knew you were trying to frown away. "There's a baby here."

"What? He doesn't know what that word means."

"Well, the more you keep saying it, the more of a chance he has at that being his first word, and I do not need the Deacon Family hunting us down for teaching their kid swears." You looked from Roger down to Bobby, shaking the rattle gently and grinning when Bobby squealed happily and reached out for the toy.

You took a seat on the couch, and played around with Bobby while Roger went back to the kitchen to do the dishes.

From 7:30 AM to about 2:30, all that really happened was play-time and lunch, something Roger prepared. You offered to do the dishes, but Roger wouldn't allow it. He just suggested you put Bobby up for his nap. He'd fallen asleep in your arms during play-time, like he did with Roger the night before.

The both of you thought it was crazy Bobby would just fall asleep rather than cry, but honestly, neither of you were complaining. Quiet baby for the win!

Roger just finished putting the last plate on the drying rack on the counter as he listened above for your footsteps leaving Bobby's room. He dried his hands off with the dishtowel hanging over his shoulder after turning off the faucet.

From behind, Roger felt a pair of arms slowly circle his body, and he smiled warmly at the feeling of you pressed against his back.

"He asleep?"

"Mhm."

Roger's smile only widened as you inched your palms up his chest. He turned in your arms and pressed his hands against your hips, inching you closer as he leaned back against the kitchen sink.

"Well, what do we do, now?" Roger asked. He sounded like he was up to no good. With the sultry look in his eyes and the way the smile on his lips looked like he was repressing a naughty suggestion, he knew you knew he already had something on his mind.

"Well, I mean," your hands slipped up into Roger's long hair, fingers tangling themselves between the strands. "Anything, really."

You knew what game Roger was playing, and you loved how cute he was, thinking he was going to have you on your knees for him.

His eyes shamelessly raked over the top half of your body, and he squeezed his hands, still at your hips.

"What'll you be doing with your free time, Roger?" You took one more step closer to him, and he pulled you the rest of the way to him so your groin was flush with his.

"I'm looking right at her."

He was already strained against his jeans, and you just offered a smile, fingers tightening their grip in Roger's hair.

"Mmm... I kinda like the sound of that," you admitted lowly, half of a smile on your lips. You shifted your hips from side to side, and Roger tried to pull you even closer.

You rolled your hips against Roger again, and the cheekiness in his face fell with a look of long-awaited relief, and his head dropped to your shoulder.

One of his hands moved up to grab you by the back of your neck, and when he lifted his head to look at you again, his second hand dragged upwards from your hip to squeeze your waist.

Roger lifted the hand by your neck, and combed your hair back with his fingers. His eyes fell onto yours for a brief moment, and you could have sworn there was something he tried to tell you there.

You just couldn't read him.

But he didn't care. He pulled you in close again, and his lips were on yours.

You'd kissed Roger before. Not in public, but definitely in the bedroom. And they weren't very scarce. Honestly, if Roger's lips weren't somewhere else on your body, they'd be on yours.

But why was this feeling different from all the other times he'd kissed you?

He was being a lot less forceful and needy than he usually was.

His grip wasn't tight on you, and it wasn't like he was crushing you against him as if indicating he needed more of you, now.

He was holding you rather, and the hand at your waist circled around to press against your lower back. The hand on your neck shifted a little forward so Roger could gently slide the pad of his thumb down the column of your throat.

The both of you were holding your breath, and Roger was the first to pull away. The both of you sucked in some air, and before you could even draw in a full breath, Roger's lips were on yours again.

He pushed towards you, guiding you backwards until your back was flat against the refrigerator. His warm hands grabbed for yours and he pinned them above your head by your wrists.

Okay. This, was something you were used to. But there was nothing that could have prepared you for when Roger's hands loosened their grip on your wrists, and he was lacing his fingers between your own.

Your hands felt very small in Roger's. How had he never noticed that before? What else had he neglected to realize about you?

In that moment, he felt you pull away to breathe, and he looked down at you worriedly, fingers frozen, yet still laced with yours.

"I- uh... I-I'm sorry--"

"No no, don't be. It's okay," your response was very rushed, but you didn't skip a word.

There was about a minute of silence, your hot breaths mingling in the space between your lips, though your gazes were locked with one another, and you couldn't look away.

"Did-uh... did you want me to... to stop?" His question was gentle, almost sincere-sounding, but he still made no effort to move from his place.

"No. God, no." And as soon as you'd answered, Roger closed the space between the both of you again, his fingers unwound from yours to grab you by the jaw, and you just held his waist, pushing your body as close to him as he would let you.

He shifted around a little, and moved his leg between yours. You could feel his mouth bend into a smirk against yours, and he began to apply pressure to the apex of your legs with his knee.

Before long, as much as you wanted to resist it, you fell to Roger's submission, and as you waited for him to grab your waist and put you wherever, he hesitated for a second, and dropped his hands from yours.

You opened your eyes again to find Roger, face red, and staring at your chest. Not in an ogling way, but more of a method to avoid looking you in the eye.

He could tell you were looking at him, and he shifted his gaze to you. He itched at his hands awkwardly, mouth opening and closing as he tried to explain himself.

You just waited. You gave him time to think, and he had an answer for you sooner than either of you would have thought.

"I just... I wanna try something else. I don’t want to control you like I do every night."

It wasn't much of an explanation, but a good beginning to a demonstration.

"Will you come to bed with me, Y/n?" His offer was gentle, yet confident, despite offering a hand out hesitantly.

When you dropped your hand into his, all of the tension in Roger's being relaxed, and he quietly led you up the stairs, past the nursery, and into John and Veronica's room.

Before you could say anything he gently explained that he'd do laundry later, and then he pulled you in for another kiss he'd been waiting to give you since the last one.

Roger pulled you closer to him, hands cupping your face as his lips began to desperately chase after yours. You kissed Roger back with just as much vigor, but then he slowed the movements of his mouth, and guided you backwards until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed.

Roger helped lower you down onto the bed, and he leaned over you, dipping down to kiss your lips again. He knelt between your legs, and pulled them up around his waist so he could lean in even closer.

You felt his hands squeeze your hips, and he pulled at your bottom lip with his teeth. You hummed lowly, your eyelashes kissing your cheeks as Roger pulled away ever so slightly-- just enough to pull his shirt off of him, and close the distance between your bodies again.

You tangled your hands into his hair, and he hummed in approval before pulling back just once more.

"I'm sure that's hardly fair..."

"What?"

"This," Roger tugged gently at the hem of your shirt.

"Why's yours still on?"

"... I never said it had to be."

Roger exhaled, and slowly pulled your shirt up over your head after you raised your arms to help him out a little.

He placed the palm of his hand over the smooth skin of your belly as he stared at your bare torso. And before long, he dipping down to kiss you again.

You reciprocated his actions, wrapping your arms around his neck and tightening your legs around his hips, to which he rocked himself against your core, and then---

Bam!

The headboard hit the wall, and Bobby woke up.

"Nooo..." you squeezed your eyes shut as the baby's cries began to reverberate down the hallway.

"Fuck!" Roger groaned, eyebrows knitted together helplessly as he climbed off of you. You both knew it was Roger who technically woke the baby up, and it was just silently agreed on that he went to put him back down.

"Dammit to hell, those separated headboards."

Roger opened the nursery door, and made his way to the crib in the corner of the room. Bobby's cheeks were wet with tears, and Roger's heart sank. "'M sorry, little guy. C'mere. Come see uncle Roger."

He picked the baby up and rocked him back and forth, though it wasn't exactly doing much, so Roger took a seat in the rocking chair on the opposite side of the room, swaying the both of them with a push of his feet.

Bobby's cries settled, and Roger felt proud of himself. Sure, he wanted to get back to what he was doing before, but instead he took his time in making sure Bobby was comfortable and not in need of anything before he drifted off to sleep again.

Bobby played around with Roger's fingers a few moments after his agitation ceased, and he couldn't believe how large his hands were in comparison to Bobby's. He was once that size.

A little while later Roger set Bobby down in his crib, and the infant was out. The drummer smiled at his accomplishment. He didn't even need your help.

With that, he left the room without a sound.

He stepped into John and Veronica's room, and closed the door quietly behind him. He was in the middle of turning on his heel when he stopped dead in his tracks.

You'd taken some of the pillows off the bed and wedged them between the wall and the headboard to keep the bed from making noise.

You were also splayed out on the bed in a lot less clothing than he remembered you in when he left.

With a teasing beckon from your finger, Roger knew three things were for certain.

1. You were the smartest woman he knew.

2. You were the most gorgeous woman he'd ever laid eyes on.

3. He, the Roger Taylor, had fallen madly, and helplessly in love with you.

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A/A/N: Again, you’ve all been waiting long enough for the next chapter, so here you are. i hope you all enjoy, and if my response is great with this one, I’ll see if I can spit out another one soon <3

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celticcrossanon · 3 years

Note

I’m so sorry for the rant. I just needed to clear my head and got compelled to do it in your inbox. 🙇🏾‍♀️

Not a question just some thoughts. Sorry I’m spamming you so much. I just read your latest reading about the wanna be“tour” and all I can do is SMH. I think to some extent we saw this coming but they are dialing it up and expanding. Conscious humans would’ve called it quits by now. The Remembrance Day pap walk, Going to elementary schools, “donations”, writing letters like they are world leaders, etc. On one hand I can’t see this becoming much of a “thing”. I don’t think MM and Jarry will go on doing this for long unless they can get some Hollywood to pay attention and acknowledge them. I think another reason with the more public European Royals work so well in their media is because their countries are relatively small, like California and Texas are on the large side in comparison, am I right? So much can happen on one side of the country that I only hear of thanks to friends back in California. I can’t see these two visiting any farm in Montana as “royals” if ever. They got a Clinton and Perhaps more big names and “engagement” is to come (oh god 🤦🏾‍♀️) I’m sure they and the sugars are just loving it but it all looks, sounds and feels so incrediblly STUPID & ABSOLUTELY VAPID AND INSULTING. etc etc. I cannot stand entitled people and the fact that these two cut off, trashed, and demand from their own families for a fleeting moment in the spotlight is unfathomable. That’s a testimony to how strong narcissistic delusions can be. It must be the best high I could ever ask for. 🖤Im new to “Royal Watching” if you can call what I do ‘that’, so I don’t really care about all the other indiscretions. I don’t trust the media and I think it’s just the BRF turn in the hot sun to catch hell. See Andrew, see the Clintons and all the others. Whatever drama is going on with Charles, see the rest of big business. I’m a narcissistic abuse survivor and I still study on the disorder. Now here I am watching these two who make my skin craw, this train needs to SPEED UP . I think I’m just looking for a bit of JUSTICE in the world right now. Between this administration, COVID, my job and all my other drama (I’m sure we all have some, if not BLESS YOU and pass it on 🥺) I’m flabbergasted and a little sick in my stomach at watching yet another set of people be able to walk through life seemingly so unbothered. It’s like the world is closing in and I’m suffocating. 🖤Like, your telling me that just because he was born a Prince and she married him and found a way to have children they get to get away with all of this?. The entitlement, the lies, the forced Wokery, using heavy and important subjects like mental health and racism for a PR boost all just to get a⭐️ on the Hollywood walk of Fame? For a couple of royals they sure know how to dump cold water on ya, they are the epitome of LIFE ISNT FAIR. And I’m sure that all depends on perspective, for example; their sugars who must be going diabetic RN. THEY think they have suffered as well. Look at the Cambridge’s who have not put a foot out of place yet have to deal with these tantrums from all over their family. All families have drama and I can see how the Harkles and the rest could be a payback of the Firm and family as a whole. The Queen covered so much and never really saw that Henry and Andrew and god knows who else were set straight. Look what having so much privilege can do. But is there a limit, anywhere?🖤

🖤Anyways, another thought I had was, this could be the end for any thought of reunion. This Narcissist has worked her magic and this clueless tone deaf fool has really gone and done it. I was driving and I thought of Prince William and the entire remaining Windsors & Mountbatten Windsor’s and the whole Aristocracy cutting the Harkles off entirely because the BRF called a wrap (or had to) and the UK became a Republic after Her Majesty. MM get the privlage in her narcissistic head that she’s the last ever to become a Duchess, Cathrine wouldn’t become the Princess of Wales and it all came down in part because of her and Henry’s actions. Yes Andrew and whoever else aren’t helping but these two made it exceptionally difficult. I think they would take pride in that especially publicly but only when they are praised for it. I think the Cambridge’s would have an easier time with moving on with their family, free to live as they please with no pressure to serve the public. Cathrine can be “lazy”, sleep in, & raise her kids and Wills is free to🖕 the paps who would surely still follow them. A La “where are they now”. The two that would have it the worse are the Harkles as they last bit of what they had to separate them from the rest of Hollywood is gone, no more Royal sheen but they don’t have much now. It would be stupid to use the titles after an abolished monarchy but they’d do it and expose themselves further.🖤 If you made it this far, one last thing. I got cut off while driving. That’s not unusual in this Miami traffic and usually i ignore it but with my mental state I couldn’t help but to compare. it was a packed road and I just really wanted to know where the heck the fire was. Why did this person need to rush so much on a busy road that no one else mattered even though we all have somewhere to go? That’s how I feel about the Harkles. What’s the point, where are they going? They went to New England for Christ sake to play faux royalty, in more trashy outfits might I add. 🤦🏾‍♀️

I guess I do have a question, DOES THE WORLD REALLY BELONG TO THOSE WHO JUST Get UP AND TAKE IT?

Thanks for humoring me and providing this space. ✌🏾

Note: My apologies for this very long post, everyone. I can't put a page break in and the writer needs to let it all out. I am sure a lot of you will be feeling somewhat similar to them.

Reply under the cut, so this is not any longer

Hi april14vc,

You are welcome to rant here.

It sounds like you have a lot going on at the moment and it is all becoming a bit much to handle, as there is no relief anywhere. Is there something fun and relaxing that you can do for you sometime today, just to have a break from it all? I feel like you need to tune out for a bit and do something that is just for you.

I am so sorry that you suffered from narcissistic abuse, and so glad that you survived this. I think the Harkle shenanigans must hurt you in a more personal way than those of us who have never suffered under a narcissist. It is very hard to watch the Harkles seemingly get away with all their entitled abuse without any form of justice coming for them.

I think the Harkles are suffering. They usually are unable to get any sort of attention from the media unless they pay for it, and even then they don't trend - it is a 'blink and you miss it' situation. Look at what happened with Meghan's 40 for 40 program - it was dead in the water before the day was over, and she spent a fortune on PR for that. Compare that to the natural (not paid for) hype that surrounds anything that the BRF does, especially the Cambridges or HMTQ. That hype and attention is what Meghan wants, and she is not getting it.

What the Harkles are getting, and what they hate, is mockery. Look at the response to their Times 100 cover. Look at the comments on this pseudo-royal tour. They are a walking joke, and no narcissist would like that. They tried to cull all negative press while they were members of the BRF, were unsuccessful in stemming all of it, and now have no clout at all to stop any negative media attention. The Harkles may live in a delusion of success, but to the vast majority of people they are no more than very risible z-list celebrities.

The Harkles also have serious money troubles. They may be ignoring them, but those debts will have to be paid, one way or another.

What we are seeing now is the slow slide of the Harkles into obscurity, and their desperate attempts to reverse the process, which never work. They are no more popular and wanted now than they were at the time of Megxit, and in fact their popularity has declined since those days. They may look like they are winning, but it is all an illusion, caused by the amounts of money they are prepared to pay to give the illusion of wealth and star-quality celebrity. The paid for events happen, and then nothing. The paid for PR happens, and then nothing. Their slide downwards continues, and nothing that they do is reversing it.

Yes, at the moment they are on a high and beaming put of every report on their activities. Wait a week and then see where they are. This is like the Oprah interview all over again.

My next reading is going to be on the consequences of this pseudo-royal tour for the Harkles, so maybe there will be some justice for you there.

Edited to add: As for taking down the monarchy, I can't see that happening. For starters, the British government would have to put the matter to the people for a vote, and even if they are insane enough to do that, I can't see the British public voting to remove a beloved Queen because of the antics of two people who are despised that that country. The logistics of replacing the monarchy are also staggering - you have to rework the entire government of not just Great Britain, but of all the commonwealth realms who have HMTQ as Head of State, and that is not an easy task or a light undertaking. In addition, those Commonwealth Realms can keep HM as their head of state even if she is ejected by the British people (which would never happen, but I am stretching the bounds of probability here). After HMTQ comes Charles, who will have a short reign simply because of his age and health, and then William will be king, and he is also loved by the British public. I just can not see all that thrown away for the Harkles, who are rightly hated by the British public.

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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years

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when all hope seems lost

desc: George finds himself to be lost: his business, merchandise and home have been destroyed in the war and his twin brother is still healing from a battle wound that could’ve been fatal. He’s living temporarily in a flat in a desolate looking neighborhood, and he’s desperate for anything to feel like it used to be. It seems as though all hope is lost, until he meets someone who reminds him that he’s got to endure the darkness to be able to appreciate the light.

A/N: yaknow i hate myself sometimes because whenever i just wanna write ~one fic~ i always add WAY TO MUCH INFORMATION and need to make it either a two-partner or a series smh why can’t i write shorter pieces man??? also this is me just feeding my feelings sorry.. i know some other friends need some light too so hopefully this two part (maybe more?) mini-series can help you a bit, too

pairing: george x fem!american!reader

word count: 1.9k

warning(s): mentions of war, anxiety, mental health

tag list: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @dreamer821 @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @purplefragile @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hollands-weasley @andromedaa-tonks @bbstrawberry0421 @princessof-theuniverse @cappsikle @mytreec @imseeinggred @idont-knowrn @flyingserpxnt @auroraboringalis57 @godricsswords @jejegu @annasofiaearlobe @starlightweasley | message me to be added!

When it seemed as though every bit of light had been drained from the universe, you wondered whether the pavement beneath your feet would implode, catapulting you into some other world, some other place where maybe the darkness wasn’t so evident.

George was wallowing again, letting his unhappiness swallow him whole, the happiness he always seemed to emanate now diminished by the hollowness he felt inside of his chest. What had happened to him? How had it come to this? How had he let his desires go by the way side? Why had he given into the melancholy feeling overtaking him?

You wondered whether things would ever go back to normal. Though the war had taken place in England, it hadn’t stopped the following of the most dangerous wizard in all the world to make their way to America. They’d stopped at nothing. Not that you were surprised, really. You’d heard just how awful things had been across the pond. It was no wonder that they’d seemingly wiped out half of the population and then headed for the states, looking to inflict more damage upon the Wizarding community.

A sharp honking noise came from round the bend, but George didn’t move. He stood, feet cemented firmly into the cobblestone as he peered up at his shop; or rather, what was left of it. A few measly bricks and the siding that had been blasted open, showcasing the inner lining of the shop, their flat above it, and all of the products that had been destroyed along with it. The following of Voldemort hadn’t been kind. If he’d been there, if he hadn’t been at Hogwarts, he could’ve saved it -- Fred could’ve saved it --

You peered around the desolate little street you now found yourself on. Though the war had ended, the damage was still very prominent. Here you were -- halfway around the world, no job, no home, no life plans on the horizon, for they’d been smashed to smithereens the same way your tiny little home had been. You wondered if England would be the better choice than America. A wave of doubt surged through your bones, and you very quickly scratched at your head to try and ignore it as you made your way toward your new home.

Fred was busy at the Burrow. After his almost near experience with the great beyond, Molly had insisted that he come home. He hadn’t been too resistant, actually. He reckoned he could use some time there. George, however, desperately searched for a new place -- at least for a little while. A new place for himself, until Fred got better, and they could go back to their plans. Though, now, as he angrily clenched his fists inside of his pockets, the foreboding feeling of doubt swept through his mind, and he wondered if he and Fred would ever be able to replenish all that they’d lost.

Your suitcase clicked rather annoyingly against the cobblestone. You stopped and took an exaggerated deep breath, threading your brows together as you looked up at your new home: a tiny little apartment right on the outskirts of London. It was freshly painted a very stark white; it was beautiful, but nothing like what you were used too. It wasn’t just a new apartment -- it was a whole new world. England was too far from America, and every aspect of home felt as though it were light years of miles away.

George opened up the door to the room of his new flat: it was desolate looking -- bare walls, muted colours, a sort of dryness he wasn’t fond of, and he knew Fred wouldn’t be either. There was absolutely nothing exciting about this place. He set down his trunk in the corner and stood there for a few moments, half in a sort of daze and half in denial. He then threw his jacket onto the bed and made way toward the kitchen to make himself a much needed cup of tea.

You were busy tracing your hands over countertop in the kitchen when someone scared you. A redheaded man stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide with confusion as they glanced over you. He was tall and lanky; he desperately needed a haircut (or a hair taming, rather) and appeared as though he hadn’t caught much sleep in days. You stuck out your hand to introduce yourself: right. You forgot you’d be sharing a home. With a stranger. From England.

“Hi.” George’s voice sounded weirdly firm and unfriendly in his own ears. He cleared his throat a bit and forced a smile onto his face; in his desperation to find a place to temporarily live, he’d forgotten that he’d agreed to another flatmate. He slid his hand into yours and shook gently. “I’m George. Nice to meet you.”

By the puzzled look on his face, you wondered if he knew he was going to get a roommate. A female roommate. An American female roommate. You figured probably not, because he seemed to be caught rather off guard when he walked into the kitchen and nearly froze on the spot. The startled expression cleared from his face, and he offered a rather genuine looking grin. You introduced yourself right back. “Nice to meet you.”

George found himself in a better mood when he realized that you were bound to be a good flatmate: you were tidy, didn’t have as many belongings as he’d imagined, and offered to shower either morning or night, it didn’t really matter to you -- whatever worked best for him. He was grateful to how accommodating you were being right off of the bat, especially when he felt as though his entire world was collapsing. But when he wandered past your room that first night and saw you sprawled out on the floor, hurriedly going through your belongings and peering down at what seemed to be some type of photographs, he wondered if you were possibly going through something, too. He pretended not to notice when you dabbed at your eyes.

It was nearing midnight, and you forced yourself to place back into your suitcase all photographs of your home -- or, the home you once had. It wasn’t doing you any good looking through them; if anything, it was just making the move to London that much more difficult. Suddenly, a gentle knock pulled you from your thoughts: George was standing at the entrance of your room, two cups in his hands. “I normally have a bit of tea before I head off to bed, and well.. you looked like you could use some. Hope I’m not overstepping.”

George was glad to see the grin that appeared on your face at the sight of him holding two steaming cups of tea. He watched you quickly got up from the floor and pull your hair back into a ponytail. “Thank you,” you told him, cautiously blowing on your tea to cool it. George figured now would be a good a time as any for a casual conversation, since it didn’t look like you’d be going to bed anytime soon. “So -- America? What brings you to England?”

He caught you off guard when he asked this. When you turned back around to look at him, he was casually leaning against the doorframe. His eyes looked much more awake than when you’d first met; it seems as though your foreignness had piqued his interest. Gently, you offered, “My home was destroyed. In the war. Crazy how everything that had started over here wandered all the way over to the states. Lost my job. Lost other...personal things.” You cleared your throat a bit and watched as George bit down on his lip; he seemed to understand. “Figured it was time for a fresh start, you know? New place, new adventure. Though I suppose I could’ve just moved to another state instead of across the country. But hey, England seemed as lovely a place as any, right?” You chuckled a bit before continuing, the first genuine laugh you’d had in months. “How about you? What brings you to this little apartment?”

“I’m so sorry. That’s awful.” George felt a tightness in his throat at your words. He hadn’t expected you to be so frank right off the bat. He wondered if all Americans willingly told intimate details of their lives to complete strangers. Though it was sort of strange to him, he felt as though it was an opening. He bravely took a step forward. “My reasoning isn’t any happier than yours, I’m afraid. I own a business with my brother -- the war destroyed nearly all of it and my flat above it. Fred’s back at my mum and dad’s; he was poorly hurt. I’m kind of on my own for the time being, struggling to find which way is up. That’s how I ended up here.”

“I’m so sorry.” A sudden wave of sadness took you over. You wanted to reach out and grab his hand and squeeze it, seemingly letting George know that you knew, sort of, how he felt. You’d both lost things due to the war. You’d both had to find a way to start over. You resisted the urge and instead sipped again on your tea. You lifted your eyebrows in shock. “It’s strange, the aftermath. It’s startlingly much worse over here than it is back home.”

George found himself laughing, genuinely giggling, for the first time since before the war. “England hasn’t scared you off, has it? I promise, it normally doesn’t look this bloody dismal. And, well, this little area on the outskirts of London really did take quite a hit. Not my first choice in terms of places to live, but I reckon for the time being, it’ll do.”

You swore you caught a bit of a glimmer in his eye, and you wondered how long it’d been since it had been there. George didn’t seem like a particularly melancholy kind of guy, but you knew that with his business destroyed, his brother hurt, his home demolished that he was entitled to a few (or more than a few) bad days. You peered out of your window to see the little rain covered cobblestone street, lit by nothing but the pale light of the street lamps, and breathed in gently. No, England hadn’t scared you off -- dismal looking or not. It had actually turned out to be much nicer than you’d imagined. You nodded at George, who offered up another small grin. “It’ll do.”

When George went to bed that night, he fiddled around with a few test products he and Fred had been placing the finishing touches on. He sucked in multiple breaths to stop himself from crying and just tried to remind himself constantly that they’d work it out. Fred would get better, they’d repair the damage, they’d create new products, their flat would be fixed. When he said all of it in the same breath, it sounded like too much for two blokes to handle. So he tried to focus on one thought at a time. Right. Fred will get better, after some much needed rest. George could handle being in this flat. It would give him time to work out logistics and design more products in all this new free time he had. He glanced to his bedside table and noticed a copy of The Quibbler underneath his wand, and his trunk in the corner of the room. The furnishings actually sort of reminded him of his dormitory at Hogwarts, and he chuckled to himself before shutting his eyes. Perhaps you were right. This new life? This time for all to heal? This time spent in a new flat?

It would do. It would do just fine.

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mallowstep · 3 years

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(bivalve) related context

do this every time i sit down and write 2k words smh. anyway.

brightsky die of [haven't figured that out yet] when leopardpaw is around four.

after brightsky dies, mudfur falls apart and can't take care of leopardpaw. brightsky was part of...hailstar or crookedstar, whoever's in charge, household, and so leopardpaw gets placed with shimmerpelt.

anyway, he stays a few states away (leopardpaw has to move), but he vists when he can. usually it's for a week or two every few months.

stonekit and mistykit are born a few months after that, and bluefur immediately relinquishes them to oakheart and greypool. it was a deliberate plan on all parts this time. doesn't make it terribly much easier for everyone involved.

so they're roughly five years younger than leopardpaw.

sorry skyheart, your character was assassinated because i needed a specific role. anyway, blackclaw is a year or two younger than leopardfur, so skypaw is going through a tense time, and then her parents are taking in another kid, and she feels it really sharply, so she takes it out on leopardpaw.

this is probably the most new england thing i've written, isn't it? only reason quahogs didn't make it in was because i wanted the second scene with crawfish and mistyfoot.

but also yeah riverclan is on new england's coast so they still have that vibe. lots of seafood. not just shellfish, but the clambake, crawfish boil, lobster fest, etc., is a big thing over summers.

leopardfur is in a five-year program which is why she overlaps stonefur in college. it's only by a year, but then she does a year (?) of grad school (ish) to get a qualification in administrative stuff, so it's somewhat like two years.

backing up backing up, mudfur relinquishes leopardpaw when she's thirteen, and the logic is basically, he feels bad because he knows she's waiting for him to take her back, but like it's just not happening. he loves her, but he's struggling and can't provide a good environment for her, and he's not going to be able to.

sunpaw and leopardpaw date for about six months before sunpaw realizes something is wrong. she breaks up with leopardpaw but she's pretty hurt by it because her needs weren't being met.

human stonefur and leopardfur might not be as touchy-feely as their cat-selves are, but they grew up together and are still fairly affectionate.

shimmerpelt's family lives in main house because *mumble.* crookedstar's family also lives there, and brightsky used to. there was enough space for her and mudfur and leopardkit, but she moved out. the house is divided (roughly) into two wings, with...i think two or three stories, haven't decided. crookedstar is on the left (call it east if you want), shimmerpelt the right. mudfur moves into the set of rooms below crookedstar.

oakheart and co live in a smaller house in the back. there's two, and another family definitely lives in one, but i haven't decided who.

#mine #human misty au #2021

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ukaiknowsbest · 3 years

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Review: Two Car

After years of watching just sports anime with boys I've become increasingly bored with every new release. My main problem is that the tropes among animes are just recycled over and over again. Moreover I have developed an aversion to being able to identify male voice actors across different works. Watching animes have sometimes turned into a "guess the voice actor" game with myself and eventually I hated it.

Therefore, since 2021 I have started watching sports anime that feature girls.

Anyhow the first anime I'm reviewing is called Two Car [CONTAINS SPOILERS]

Setup

Highschool girls. I forgot what year they're in. They live on this island where racing is a Thing. Their school is a powerhouse for sidecar racing. And sidecar racing enthusiasts all over japan go there and hang out. Basically their whole island is a sidecar racetrack. Their culture revolves around it. Yuri Miyata and Megumi Meguro are the best highschool racers in their island, and also in japan.

The team is composed of these 2 athletes, 2 technicians and their coach. Before the series started, their coach left them to pursue his dreams of being a pro racer in the Isle of Man in England. He could leave the girls behind coz they were already skilled af and they had a local lady coach who could handle things. Now Yuri and Megumi may be partners but they are also rivals. They want to beat each other guts. Think momoshiro and kaido from prince of tennis. They work quite well together coz they're so competitive with each other.

Now make no mistake, Sidecar Racing is an extreme and dangerous sport. People legit die from this irl. The trust between pairs (a driver and passenger) is important because they need to balance each other AND the vehicle or else they'll steer off-course and crash (and then die).

From what I remember, this 12-episode anime focuses on the national competition in sidecar racing. Therefore the best pairs all over japan have come to the island to be the national champion. 5 other female sidecar pairs are introduced. For some reason, the drivers and the passengers are housed separately, but the pairs train and plan together.

The anime follows the histories and conflicts of each pair as they all practice to get used to the race track. This culminates to the final battle at the end of the series.

My Rating: 3/5 -the plot is pretty meh. I was honestly curious about how it will unfold though. The characters are weird and meta af, combine that with girl power and "female flavor" (for lack of better word), it's a different POV on things honestly.

Art and Animation

It's pretty decent ngl. I enjoyed watching the racing sequences and how the sidecar pairs moved while operating the vehicles. It is smooth and the colors are pretty.

Technicality

I'm not into vehicles but there were technical aspects discussed. Modifications and etc. are often shown and you can see how the characters manipulate the different parts of the vehicle (like clutch and accelerator handling, etc.) Techniques to improve speed and handle curves/bumps are also briefly explained among other stuff. I dont know how realistic or legal some of the stuff they're doing tho so..watch with a grain of salt. XD

Characters

I'd say the characters were interesting. The main characters aren't beginners and are smh treated as pros even in their own island. So you dont get that "dumb beginner idiot with freaky abilities vs loner genius" partnership that is so common and overused in shonen series.

It's refreshing to see adults enjoy the same sport too and they also help the characters.

next part is under cut because [spoilers]

The MC's rivalry is honestly so..uh...petty and icky if you think about it. Both of them got this crush on their coach (help me pls) and they want to defeat each other to become their coach's partner in the sport. It's honestly so childish? but also reminded me of CLAMP/CCS bullsht and if I survived CLAMP then this plot point is basically peanuts.

They have healthy competition tho. Both of them grew up together (childhood friends) and developed love for the sport together because their moms were the og teammates. (yeah their parents participation and love for the sport is a big thing in this series).

The other character pairs are interesting too:

announcers

twins

master-servant

lesbians (like legit sailor neptune and uranus type)

osaka girls

and etc.

Each had their own drama and they resolved it within the series.

Realism

Honestly this show is more meta than sport. Like... it's not for casual viewing. I remember there was some deep psychological issue which the twin pair portrayed. There's a lot of drama okay? HOWEVER!!! I've only been exposed to Shonen type of drama (like the USTs and hero complexes) so whatever Two Car had was unique to me!! Girls are really written differently. It easily reminded me of my interactions with fellow girls (albiet more extreme).

Fanservice

They are always shown to be in the onsen after every practice day but honestly it doesnt count as fanservice. Only their busts are shown.

You'll have to get used to shots of the butt especially in sequences of the passenger manuevering the vehicle tho. I guaranteet that there is no excessive boob action sequences and other sht.

Look I have seen stuff over the years and since this show didn't provide see-through-shirt stuff, Two Car is "fine" in my books.

HOWEVER There is a dream sequence (one of the characters dream stuff up) which is straight up bdsm (i think that's in ep 6). NGL I dropped this show for a while because of that but hah it's honestly just a few dreams for one episode.

I TOLD YOU THIS SHOW IS META ALREADY.

Final Notes

Would I recommend this show? Honestly...no. But watching this was an Experience. Against the highly sanitized world of shonen anime, it's an interesting change of pace.

First of all, in girls sports, there is a lot of casual skinship because it's normal and comfortable. And there is more communication. Maybe it's a writing flaw that conflicts aren't as dragged out but idk, we dont have a lot of decent female sports anime to see what really works. Because I am often frustrated with how slow burn most shonen are, seeing characters resolve conflicts BY TALKING IT OUT is the most rewarding experience.

Honestly I really had fun watching the whole thing. The ending made me want to flip tables tho but the rest was quite enjoyable.

Personally I think ppl have more freedom in writing girls/women. There is just so much you can do with them.

you can see my live reactions in this twitter thread lmao

#two car #anime #sports anime

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im-not-shouting-im-projecting · 4 years

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Some Seamster!Quinn Cooper HCs

I didnt intend for this to be this long, but my seamstress heart was inspired. I got kind of carried away, and had to refocus, so I'm going to do another post soon with some advice and anecdotes for wrighting costumers.

For the last couple of months I have been absolutely Obsessed with @poindextears 's Crickets, her SMH post-Waffle Frog OCs, and I have had a lot of headcannons about Quinn Cooper: a theatre kid extrordanare and Hoh icon who talks like he's from 50s and is the boyfreind of Nando (Cricket dman) as we have quite a bit in common. All of Mel's fics are amazing, and I would highly recommend! Give them a read on tumblr or AO3

I know Mel has said that Quinn's favorite place is Joanne's, which is completely understandable for someone who doesn't live near actual textile markets... but Joanne's (and similar chain craft/fiberarts supply stores) suck.

Like first of all, on a monetary level... I'm going to start with the assumption that high school Quinn didn't have a large project budget (reasoning: 1. his family is already tight with money, 2. I can't imagine his not-particularly-supportive guardians gave him lots of spending money (esp with theatre fees and materials) 3. I can't imagine he brought in tons of money on the side with a theatre schedule + grades good enough to go to med school + time with his old lady freind + time for sewing)

With that being said: Fabric is expensive. Way more expensive than people expect. Especially if you don't have expensive machinery (like overlock machines) that make cheap synthetic fabrics usable. Also I like to imagine Quinn is in the "fabrics made of plastic are itchy and bad for the enviornment" club like me.

All that is to say: Joanne's is absolutely the worst place that isn't actively upscale to buy fabric (or materials) on a budget.

- The shop's target demographic is stay-at-home white suburban moms who have the time to clip coupons, buy materials on a "when it's on sale" basis as opposed to a "my sister didn't notice the four seperate places I marked my shears 'fabric only' so now I physically cannot continue this project without buying new extra-sharp fabric scissors'" basis, and importantly: can stop by the store every day for a month because discounted items change on a day to day basis, all of which is not particularly conducive to someone a high school kids on a budget.

- Even with all the discounts in existance, the fabrics there are still super expensive and especially for the often lackluster quality (like... they are fine but if I'm paying literally $40/y for enough faux fur to make a big enough "mane" to cover the gap between the cowardly lion's padding and the actor's neck, we shouldnt have to sweep the fur bits off the stage at intermission)

- Additionally if you need a lot of fabric, say enough 7ft squares of heavy mustard yellow fabric for 30 lioness cape/pants? You might just need to run 4 seperate Joanne's out of two different fabrics that were close enough to each other to work

If you are putting in the time and effort to make something complicated,

- Also, and this is probably the most obvious: there just aren't that many options. If you want anything other than a cotton or fleece, than you better hope the single shade they have in the right color works

So I have established: Joanne's = Bad

So how does Quinn factor into all this?

Well first of all I would like to imagine that at some point Quinn helped out in SMH costuming, where they teach him the magic of using something that already exists. Samwell being as liberal as it is, I would like to think that the costuming people are aware of how awful the current state of fabric waste is, and, how his sewing skills are so much better used altering things at thrift shops beginning his journey twords my completeley basess headcannon that he one day adopts some vintage looks

While I think he would be down to adopt some of these practices in his costuming (a la my personal anectode below), I have a feeling that Quinn is one of those people who just likes to make things from scratch. (reasoning: 1 his general personality, but far more importantly, 2 THIS BOY WANTED TO MAKE EVAN HANSEN'S POLO BY HAND, WHY??? WHAT IS THE PURPOSE??? DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH TIME THAT TAKES???????? YOU ARE WILLING TO SPEND UPWORDS OF TEN HOURS OF YOUR LIFE ON A MODERN STYLE SHIRT THATS GOING TO BE SEEN 4 TIMES???)

I get it, especially for historical reconstructions, there are people who genuinely love sewing by hand, I love Bernadette Banner as much as the next seamstress, but I honestly don't know how they do it.

I like to think that Quinn would be wandering around some thrift store and out of the corner of his eye notice some curtains and have a vision of frolicking through a meadow like Julie Andrews in cloths made out of a curtain... metaphorically. But he def gets "Do a Dear" stuck in his head every time he wears it

Of course the SMH Costuming crew introduce him to some better places to at least get draping and mock up fabrics, but I think they would also introduce him to an actual fabric store.

Samwell is close enough to Boston that I'm sure there's an actual fabric warehouse within driving distance, so when Quinn can't find a suitable material at his beloved Joanne's, and is understandably skeptical about ordering fabric online, Ford is just like dude, go to the fabric warehouse, so he gives it a try.

Ok his fist thought when he gets there is omg everything is so big. Ok, that's his second thought, his first thought is ugh this smells like the SMH locker room, bc a giant block of concrete with no internal climate control in the New England humidity stuffed to the brim with moisture-holding fabric is def gonna make some kind of funk.

But after that like...

Ok, on the left is your average Joanne's while on the right is your average fabric warehouse

I can totally imagine him physically getting lost. He is tiny, and those places are total mazes, absolutely ginormus, they are all stacked literally 8 feet tall, and all the rows look the same.

Fabric in warehouses is stored for maximum capacity as opposed to places like Joanne's where it is purposely stored in ways that display the whole selection at once. Additionally, while hobbyist bolts face out as much as possible so you can see it at a glance, professional grade bolts face in for protection

...If it's on the shelves at all, the hallmark of a textile warehouse is just dozens of bolts leaning haphazardly in precarious places

This tiny boy is just absolutely surrounded by rows upon rows of fabric, stored in ways that are absolutely not conducive to being looked at easily, and is incredibly frusturated bc Aggghhh I can't look at any of this without moving all of it around, and I can't reach any of it!!!

BUT!

Guess what he has?

Nando to the rescue!

Quinn's big strong dman boyfriend is more than willing to move around and carry the bolts for him and when need be he'll just straight up plop Quinn on his shoulders so he can see the stuff at the top :)

Ok, that's the gist of what I had to say, some other little seamster!Quinn hcs:

his old lady friend taught him the absolute basics, and his wedding gift from her is her 70 year old sewing machine that he first learned to sew on and he treasures that thing FOREVER

bc of his apparent love of hand sewing he is one of those people that swears by genuine leather thimbles, idk why it just feels like him

whenever people compliment his outfit he is just casually like "Oh thanks, I made it" (bc non sewers are always astounded by that and we get to gloat) because I said so

he makes Nando cute crop tops

#quinn cooper #the crickets #Poindexters #alannah talks about sewing #oh look i said something #sewing #costuming #quindo

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queenhosana · 2 years

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They say exposure weakens, so I'm sharing. I can't find the capacity to pray or worship, but I'm still gonna try to not spin. Doesn't make much sense, but for me, #Imtrying The hardest part about not being rooted somewhere and not having a support network is having the need for #Deliverance and not being able to get it. And unfortunately there's so much hidden #witchcraftinthechurch and on people's tongues knowing who to trust is nearly impossible. Before some dummy try and tell me to go back where I was or what happened to the friends you had... You don't know what I know. My reasons for leaving after 15+ years are SOLID. And God's reasons for making me walk away from those people are SOLID. I'm good on vomit. ✋🏾 #Rage & #Anger have a hold on me right now and #unforgiveness & #depression are trying HARD to move back in. I haven't felt this way in so long.... I almost want to give in to it for the release, but that'll only bind me up more. Can't say I won't at some point, I'm human. But I'm damn sure gonna try. You can't do #selfdeliverance for everything. Some things you need assistance with... I recognize this is one of those things... I also recognize that most churches in this country are practicing #witchcraft in the pulpit and playing patty cake with demons. Devil's can't cast eachother out. That's why some of you go for Deliverance and leave the same way. The person administering your Deliverance is clearly not clean. Other churches are too scared to administer Deliverance or ignore it altogether like it wasn't a direct command from #Yeshua. Especially here in MA. Outsiders are scared to come here to deliver and the shepherds here are scared to administer. Smh No wonder there's so much darkness in New England... Jehovah, let me loose and I'll do what your so-called shepherds are afraid to in this region. I already lost everything and the world already thinks I'm crazy, what do I have to lose? I'll account for speaking on Your prophets. But I'm tired of keeping silent. They don't care about Your people. They're too good to get their hands dirty, but want an offering or seed for everything. Vultures. #INEEDDELIVERANCE #STRONGMEN #leviathan #jezebel https://www.instagram.com/p/CW3IKVXLWRv/?utm_medium=tumblr

#imtrying #deliverance #witchcraftinthechurch #rage #anger #unforgiveness #depression #selfdeliverance #witchcraft #yeshua #ineeddeliverance #strongmen #leviathan #jezebel

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findmyrupertfriend · 6 years

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SERIOUS SPOILERS TO A SIMPLE FAVOR FOLLOW:

Meet Rupert and Anna Kendrick’s son!

DO I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION? Thank you. Side note: how many fictional sons of this actor do we need to see until he stops dying, actually fathers one of them, or has one of his own irl? Smh…

I read A Simple Favor! And it’s good! It’s not great, but a quick and fun read. Here’s a little Q & A on the character who Rupert is likely to play (h/t to @r_s_k_s_r for the deduction).

ETA: @ajdito reminded me that the press for A Simple Favor has emphasized that Feig is moving away from comedy and that this will be a thriller. Read below with that in mind.

Remind me, why do we think Rupert is playing Chris?

The character of Chris is the only important character not listed on IMDb and Rupert confirmed his participation, as did the Toronto TIFF press. Plus, the character’s general description fits with Rupert’s skills and prettiness perfectly.

But, wait, wasn’t he only in Toronto for a week when it was filmed?

Yep, and that’s why we think the book’s super hot and well-told story of Chris will be seriously abbreviated in the movie, sadly.

Why isn’t Rupert listed in the cast when everyone else is?

My suspicion is that they’re only deciding in post-production whether or not to feature him. (Paul Feig has a history of post-production controversial reshoots, fwiw. He might be covering his bases.) Two issues: First, the dicey topic of an incestuous affair between half siblings being depicted may be at play. It’s true love in the book. The characters meet when they’re of age and didn’t know of each other previously. (They share a father.) Second, the chronology of the book might be a challenge for the screenwriters. Chris’s character is part of Stephanie’s (Anna Kendrick) backstory. It’s an important part of her backstory, the most important, actually, but they may choose to keep the movie focused on the later thriller story.

So, what’s the movie all about?

It’s notable that the book is not a comedy but the movie must have strong comedic elements given that Paul Feig (Bridesmaids, Spy, The Heat, Ghostbusters II) is the director, producer, and co-screenwriter.

Hollywood’s theme du jour - the secrets we keep (think Big Little Lies) and how they play on us in profound and absurd ways throughout our lives - is central to the story. Stephanie’s shame over her affair with her half-brother, Chris, is the reason for her obsession to be a perfect mother after he dies. She becomes a mommy blogger which frames the latter thriller story. BUT, here’s the thing, the central relationship of the book is about Stephanie and Emily (Blake Lively). So, you can all understand the challenge for the screenwriters.

Well, if he’s shown will there be some hot sex?

Almost certainly! Chris’s central purpose in the story is his sexual relationship with Stephanie and none of the other pairings in the book feature much sex. But. Comedies aren’t really known for their hot, sexy scenes, are they? Also, I’m assuming given the young crowd Blake and Anna attract, they’ll want to keep the movie to a PG-13 rating. The biggest reason there WOULD be a sex scene is that it’s, well, sex. There are plenty of people who would want to see Anna in a scene like that.

Stephanie’s love, obsession, and hot sex with her half brother was very compelling - dark and forbidden yet he’s the unambiguous love of her life. The author doesn’t equivocate on that fact ever. That’s super interesting, if nothing else.

Anyhoo, here are some excerpts about Chris from the book and I promise they will make you smile when you think about Rupert:

Chris had a beautiful smile. We all laughed again. It was more laughing than Mom and I had done since Dad died. “Have more,” my mother said, and refilled his plate without waiting for him to answer.

He sat down next to me. The back of his hand grazed my breast. “Come over here,” he said, though I was already there. I can still hear him say it, and when I do, I feel breathless and my knees get weak, just like they did then. After that, I understood what sex was supposed to be about. Why people would do anything for it. Die for it. Once I knew, I couldn’t get enough.

When I went to college, Chris left Madison and rented an apartment near my dorm. Because he was a carpenter, and good at it, he could pretty much find work anywhere. After I got out of class, I’d go to his place and wait for him to come home. We’d spend the late afternoon and early evening on his bed, just a mattress on the floor of his cold room, as the New England winter sun went down early and the light turned charcoal, then blue. We were so happy being together, naked skin against naked skin. We were each other’s drug and each other’s dealer.

Chris and I had been in love ever since that day he walked into my mother’s house. There was never a moment when we didn’t know we were doing something wrong, just as there was never a moment when we thought that our love affair wasn’t going to happen or when we believed it was going to end. We would swear off each other; we’d promise ourselves that we’d stop. Then Chris would call or drop by, and it would start again.

Both were alpha males: Chris in his street-macho way, and Davis [Stephanie’s husband] in his equally hard-headed old-family WASP way.

I was at the food table. Chris came up behind me. When I turned around, there he was. My happiness, when I saw him, was more than brother-sister happiness. It seemed so obvious. I looked across the lawn and saw that Davis had seen it too.

There was a lot of cursing and snarling, but finally both Davis and Chris were relieved (as they always were) that things hadn’t gotten physical. They’d never come to blows. But the two men I loved most in the world despised each other and didn’t care who knew. They wanted me to know it. They didn’t want me to forget.

Miles [Stephanie and Chris’s son, we discover later] adored his uncle. Chris and Miles had special names for each other that Davis and I were not allowed to know.

I thought that my having Miles, that Davis and I having Miles, would change things. I thought it would make Chris and me come to our senses. But it had only driven us further underground, where the air was closer and steamier and hotter.

Whether or not Rupes gets depicted in this movie… isn’t it nice to know he was cast properly?

Btw, I have a sneaking suspicion that Anna is a serious fangirl.

#spoilers #A Simple Favor #anna kendrick #rupert friend #joshua santine #paul feig #by: cynthia #a simple favor spoilers

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imagine-wannaone · 7 years

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Park Woojin Hogwarts Au

This was actually easier to write than I predicted, so here we go~

• So you’d grown up moving place to place to place, country to country constantly growing up, • You’re parents move around a lot as they’re both some of the world’s best healers, moving place to place to teach people new techniques or ideas on how to treat rare illness’, or how to treat common ones more effectively, • They also travel to wherever is in need of healers - say a disaster happens or a new wave of flue, they’re be there, • So you and your twin sister just go with them, learning what they teach and picking other subjects up yourself as you go along from whoever was around you, • Or when your parents had some spare time, • Which was rare, • All of this adds together to make you and your sister extremely close, your best friend - or only friend , • A study buddy, • A partner in crime, • Simply company, as the two of you are often the only ones around,, • But you’re sisters, and ones that look identical at that, so there’s going to be arguments, • Big ones, • But yanno, let’s leave your dark past behind,

• Unlike Woojin himself, • But then your parents decide that maybe you should be getting a legitimate education, not just picking things up as you go along, • They both went to Hogwarts so they decide that’s the best place to go, • Because Hogwarts is the best school there is, obviously, • Although you where doing completely fine with that, and the thought of being surrounded be so many people in a school and making friends scared you tenfold, • I mean, you’d often been in crowds before, there where a lot of incidences in cities where you’d explore and experiment with the language and play with things, • But school is different okay, • So many rules, so many restrictions, you where forced with people, • You’d met other kids before and they’d talked about how some of the classes weren’t specialized or they where old fashioned, how hard it was to just learn, • Smh @ school system, • But your twin is excited at the prospect of an adventure, of gaining something, making the most of her new environment, probably to show off her knowledge of the world, of playing quidditch with others, • And she did absolutely everything to persuade you, so you agreed to go because it’d make her happy, • And people had always assumed if one of you where happy, the other was as well, • But your parents are still in Thailand dealing with a new advanced flu going around, so you end up at kings cross by yourselves, • You’d been to England many times and you’re used to having to blindly find your way, but the instructions on how to get to your platform are the least helpful, • And it doesn’t help your opinion of school, what kind of school has some vauge ass instructions on just to get there?

• Do they want you to attend or not? • So you hang around until you watch a group of older kids run head first into a damn solid wall and not crack their skull open but disappear, • You would be amazed but you’ve gotten used to being surprised constantly with the wizarding world, • So your sister grabs your hand without a word and drags you towards the wall with a huge grin on her face, • The platform is buzzing with activity as you pop onto it and your sisters eyes light up instantly but she grabs your hand to comfort you straight away, knowing you too well, • You manage to snag the smallest compartment to yourself, right at the end of the train where you already know no one else will look, • Your sister takes off quickly to go to explore and chat, so you sit and watch the scenery go past for the trip, • Completely alone, • You just pretend you’re in some moody music video and try not to think about how scary this all is, • As if starting your first school year isn’t scary enough, you have to get sorted with the first years as well, • But then you adopt some Muggle born kids and have to ignore everything on the boat ride to the castle to get sorted, • Because the only time you’re not awkward and shy? • When someone else is more awkward and shy than you, • So you pretend you know exactly what’s happening and that you totally aren’t afraid of what could be in those waters, • You know too much about magical water life, • And you entertain them with stories of when your sister and you adopted an injured Kneazle that sulked the streets in Switzerland that you refused to leave, • Your parents where all for it, especially because he was injured, • But tbh you’d take the kneazle, now named Schutz, whether your parents let you or not, • And that’s why you had a beautifully weird looking silver speckled cat with a lion’s tail, • He l loved you but was, okay, maybe slightly aggressive, • You gave a warning to the first years to maybe stay away if they wanted to stay un-injured, • (That kneazle only seemed to love you and your sister solely oops), • So you wonder in with the first years and have to stand at the front, a good head above all of them but at least you have your sister, who walks confidently and with a smile that could charm anyone), • You’re incredibly embarrassed but you watch as your sister gets sorted into Slytherin, smiling and she bounces towards the green group of smiling students about her height, • And then you wobble up to the hat, • Your sister sends you a warm smile and a thumbs up, which spikes your confidence, • It’s on you for less than 5 seconds, • Gryffindor, • You feel like crying as you trudge towards the red and gold students, wondering how a hat can go so wrong, • Although they look warm and fun but you can’t help but wonder what the hell you’re going to do in this scary castle on your own, • Because your sister is already happily chatting with some of the others, bursting into laughter, and you can already feel yourself being distanced, • And it feels like falling, • So when you have to move into a room full of girls who are completely new, and are expected to quickly adapt, and everyone wants to talk to you about where you’ve been and what you’ve done, • It’s a little too much, yanno, • And while the people in your new house, Gryffindor, are as welcoming as it can get, you still find yourself unable to adapt, • You sit with your sister at meals, but she’s always chatting to her new friends, ones she made easily, and you’re just like a shadow, • You learn that there’s really no point, so while everyone sits eating in the hall, you find yourself in the library or walking around the lake or hiding in your home room, • You spend a hell of a lot of time with your cleaver Kittie Schutz, becoming your closest friend and most trusted confidante, • Schutz also seems to find it hard to adapt, following you most of the day, hissing at certain people, • (Who you then stayed well away from, Kneazle’s have good senses for people), • And keeping a healthy distance from other people, wary of tummy rubs even from the nicest Hufflepuffs, • After everyones eaten you trudge all the way to the kitchens, you just pop in and the house elves become quite fond of you, • But you’re not a Gryffindor, obviously not loud and adventurous and extroverted- like your Slytherin sister, • You become an elusive figure at Hogwarts, only your sister coming to find you occasionally to tell you the latest gossip, unaware of your discomfort at the school,

• And if you do walk around the school without obvious Gryffindor uniform everyone mistakes you for your sister, • And she breaks your heart, how she doesn’t seem to care much for you anymore, how she’s distanced herself and is living her dream, • But you don’t say anything to he because you don’t want to bring her down, she’s always been more outgoing, which makes you question why she isn’t Gryffindor, • But the classes are weird, • You’re massively ahead on some things, • Mainly the subjects that help healing, you excel in everything to do with that, your parents always very keen to teach you everything there is, • Madam Pomfrey who? • But have huge gaps in your knowledge with other things, so trying to stay with it all is challenge in itself, • But it’s weird for a different reason, • Your year of Gryffindor’s take classes with the Hufflepuffs’s so at least the class has a warm enough atmosphere, • But, • There’s this one boy that sits next to you no matter what, • Woojin is like your knight, • He doesn’t expect conversation, but sit next to you completely relaxed, always offering to be your partner, • He seems to pick up where you’re struggling, where your gaps are, and explains the topics with an efficiency that’s amazing, • He constantly smiles at you although it seems rare he does it to anyone else, • And you start to smile back and occasionally add comments or give him insiders secrets on all of your healing knowledge, • Then your sister fills you in on Park Woojin, although unaware you know him at all, • She tells you about how he’s part of the most popular friendship group in Hogwarts, how he’s close to 10 other boys but holds a distance to almost everyone else,

• Just like Schutz wow,

• And that confuses you, but you nodded and smile as your sister gushes about Seongwoo, one of Woojins friends and a Chaser of Gryffindor, • And she talks about how she’s become a Slytherin chaser, and you have enough knowledge to know she’s dangerous on the field, • And it just so happens that the next day that’s exactly what Woojin is stressing to you about, • Because he just talks to you and you listen and add the odd comment, • “Seriously Y/N, one of our chasers has a sprained wrist and we have a competition against Slytherin next week, and your sister is a damn annoying thunderstorm we have no idea how to tackle,” • You look down at your notes as the words slip out of your mouth, • “I could fill in if you want,” • “Woojins eyes snap to you because??? This isn’t like you??? Has he finally broke your shell?? • "You can play? You think you can beat her?” • You take a deep breath before turning you head to face him with a smaller smile and roll your eyes, • “Of course I can, I’ve been playing with her since we where tiny. Woojin, I know a all her weak points,” • Woojin can’t help but wrap his arm around your shoulder and squeeze you tight, • Which makes butterflies flutter around your stomach, • Because with Woojin being a constant kind figure in your life, he always makes butterflies appear, • So he appears out of nowhere as you wonder around the castle avoiding your homeroom and drags you off to practice, • You’re greeted by a rowdy group of 6 who all suffocate you in hugs after they see you fly, and you finally get to know this Seongwoo, • It would be overwhelming but you love quidditch and the team seems welcoming, you get the sense they actually want yo there because they like you, but they also leave you to your own devices when you want to, • You just hope your team checks your colours and not just your face before throwing you the quaffle otherwise they could accidentally throw to your sister,

• But you still feel like an impostor on the team, as you’re not really a Gryffindor, • But you bear with it, • And then the day of the match comes and you feel like throwing up constantly but Woojin wraps a secure arm around your shoulders and doesn’t leave enough time for you to be nervous, • And when you walk into the pitch you can feel the shock of everyone around at seeing you, all eyes on you, • The team didn’t let anyone know that your where playing, keeping you a complete secret to shock the other team, • So the rest of the school is probably quite surprised to see the schools ghost walk into the pitch, Woojins reassuring arm wrapped around you, • “This is brave, Y/N, your a true Gryffindor, even if you’re a quite one,” • And that makes confidence spurt Through you because, yeah, maybe he’s right, • And when the Slytherin team walks on, they all look equally shook, • And you kinda love it, • And while your sister looks shook, a grin quickly spreads onto her face, knowing this wont be a walk in the park and relishing the idea of a Challenge and proud that you’d finally, finally, come out if your shell a little, • She sends you a wink and a thumbs up, but a smirk that promises a challenge, • And it is, • It’s like a private battle between the two of you, • Having spent a lot of spare time playing on your brooms with quidditch balls growing up, as well with your parents whenever they had some spare time, you where an infamous pair currently unmatched in skill, • So the two of you keep each other busy, a whirlwind, taking away each others powers, making the victor whoever had a stronger team minus the two of you, • *cough cough Gryffindor* • I’m sorry, • But the Slytherin’s had bet a lot of their money in your sister as their strong point and then you’d come along and ruined it, • But when the match ends with a Gryffindor win both you and your sister speed towards the ground, • She swallows you in a hug and it’s the rebirth of your sisterhood in a new fashion, • But after the match a lot of things change, • Because you’re forced out of your shadows and with your tiny bit of new confidence,you don’t mind as much, you’re happy to share your stories of Russia or Canada or Japan, • But Woojin still keeps you close, and you start eating with him and his friends, not alone, • And you learn that he keeps his distance from others because he’s also a little shy,

• And he never, not once gets you confused for your sister, which actually means a lot to you, • And sometimes your sister invites you over or you revise together and you get to know her friends as well, • You’re sat with Woojin one night, • It’s like insane time, everyone else is asleep so your alone in Gryffindor common room, sat facing each other on one of the sofas, • And your watching amazed because Schutz is Rolling all over Woojin and almost begging for ear scratches, • And your honestly feeling a little betrayed, • “He’s never like this with anyone but the two of us,” • Woojin just smiles all fluffy and heart melting and you lower your eyes back to your kneazle because you can’t keep his beautiful eye Contact, • “Woojin, why did you stick next to me? When I first came here?” • The question had been bothering you since you first came to Hogwarts and it seemed a question fitting to ask in the dead of night,

• You’re pretty sure he has the same thing as you, only coming out of your shell when faced with someone shyer, • He brings his eyes to meet you before blushing and keeping his eyes on Schutz,like you had earlier, and running a Hand Through the Kneazle’s thick hair, • “I guess you where shy and I knew how you felt, I kind of hated your sister for leaving you and you looked as if you need a friend. A mystery I wanted to crack.” • You smile at that, • “Well you cracked me,” • He holds your eyes, his brown ones becoming intense and his hand stilling, taking a deep breath before smiling, • “Y/N, You have so many stories, and I want to hear them all, from you. I want to play quidditch with you and sit next to you in class and spend holidays together, travelling, show me the world through your eyes. Make sure you never feel as if you have to become a shadow again.” • You know what he’s asking without him having to say so, and it’s the start of Hogwarts sweetest couple, • Your sister gushing with you about it and threatening Woojin like an overprotective parent, • Both of you are shy so spend a lot of time at night together or doing simple things, taking it slow, • His quidditch jumper the damn comfiest thing okay, • And like during holidays? • You either go to his parents or if your parents aren’t in a crisis the two of you travel with them, you sister sometimes tagging along as well, • And Woojin starts learning a hell of a lot about healing okay, • And he could possibly be one of the safest people on earth, • Because you know the spell or potion for everything, he could do anything and you be there in a second, waving your wand, • Because you create a few of your own healing spells, • You fly to the roof of Hogwarts and watch the stars sometimes, when it’s just the two of you when any words can be whispered, • And while your still shy, you have a new confidence at Woojins’ side, and the two of you explore together, learning and becoming braver, adventuring, and he shows you the secret traits of Gryffindor • Not the loud ones, • That sometimes bravery is just doing something small that scared you, • Like catching that spider,

#park woojin #woojin #wanna one #imagine #fluff #headcanon #scenario #fanfic #fanfiction #hogwarts au #og admin

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transarchive · 7 years

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Within these walls

"July 12th 2009

The house sits alone in the middle of the neighborhood, run down, a ‘for sale’ sign stuck in unkempt, thick grass; the only house on fraternity row that remained vacant."

For the @omgcpumpkins prompt: “The Haus is haunted, but not by Mandy and Jenny. The angry spirit wants SMH out of the house"

uhh no real triggers that I can think of? this is basically like a pg-13 ghost flick

ENJOY UR HAUNTS! AO3 LINK

July 12th 2009

The house sits alone in the middle of the neighborhood, run down, a ‘for sale’ sign stuck in unkept, thick grass; the only house on fraternity row that remained vacant.

Two men and a woman walk up the cracked concrete sidewalk to stand in front of it. One of the men eyes it cautiously.

“So what happened to the last owners, again?”

“Oh, it's been vacant since the early nineties,” the woman explains. “Used to be a sorority house, but one day they all just moved out. Probably to somewhere more spacious.”

“They all just...left?” The other man pipes up, staring at the house in awe.

The woman nods “it's not as strange as it sounds. It's an older house, after all.”

~~~

August 18th 2013

There's something off about the house, that's the first thing Bitty notices. There's something off about all frat houses, he'll be honest, but this is a different kind of ‘off’. It's heavy, almost, like the house exerts a pressure that can be felt just by acknowledging it. Half of what Shitty says just goes over Bitty’s head as they're ushered into the house, because the pressure is almost overwhelming inside. None of the other boys seem to notice, or if they do, they do as good a job at ignoring it as Bitty does.

Bitty doesn't mention anything. He finds the kitchen, he rummages through the fridge and the cupboards and he manages to find half an empty bag of flour, and if he cuts the mushy, bruised bits off these apples, they'll make a fine filling-

Soon enough, he's got a pie out of the oven and onto the counter, and it doesn't matter if the place gives him chills because the kitchen works and that's all that matters. After a thirty minute detour of pie, Shitty rounds everyone up and the tour starts again.

“Listen up, frogs, because you'll wanna know this if you plan to make it through your hazing. There's about eight steps from here to the staircase, and from there there's fourteen steps to the end of the hall on the second floor, give or take for stride. Remember this fucking layout!.”

Eight steps to get from the kitchen to the staircase, then ten steps on the staircase, followed by fourteen steps to the end of the hall, Bitty notes, and prays he'll remember for hazeapolooza.

~~~

September 9th, 2013

It's late. Usually Bitty makes it a point to get back to his dorms by 9, but there's an English quiz that hasn’t been graded, and seven pies to stress bake, and one is taking quite a lot longer than he anticipated. It'll be another ten minutes before the pie is out. Ransom, Shitty, and Holster said they don’t mind if he ever stayed late anyway, and Jack…

Well Jack’s opinion didn't really matter to Bitty, to be quite honest.

Bitty shivers and pulls his jacket on tight. Nighttime in the fall is always so drafty in New England.

There’s a thump from somewhere in the house, and Bitty flinches, then chuckles to himself. Lord, if the boys saw how worked up he got, they’d never let it go.

The thing is, sometimes, when Bitty stays at the house late, he feels like he's going crazy, like something’s watching him; underneath his skin, something is crawling, and he wants to dig at himself until it stops .

He tries to be out to his dorm by 9, just in case.

~~~

October 10th, 2013, Hazeapooloza

one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

There's about five drinks in his system, but Bitty, in his dizzy and blindfolded state, remembers that at least.

Fourteen steps to the end of the hall, probably more.

One...

Two...

Three…

there's a creak.

Bitty turns sharply, stumbling back a bit.

He waits. Nothing. He turns back again.

Four…

Five…

Six…

Seven…

Eight…

A solid mass bumps against Bitty’s outstretched hands, and he immediately pulls back and yelps.

“Sorry!”

“It’s just me, Bitty,” Johnson's voice calls through. “Keep going straight, you're all clear”

Nine…

Ten…

Eleven…

Twelve…

Thirteen…

Fourteen…

~~~

“For a second upstairs, I almost lost it.” Bitty admits. The drinks had mostly passed through his system, leaving him pleasantly buzzed as he, Ollie, and Wicks walk back towards the lockers to get changed.

Ollie laughs, “What happened upstairs?”

“Oh, nothing! Just some creaks, y'know how old houses are.”

“Better watch out, Bits,” Wicks chimes in, “That house has a wicked rep for being haunted.”

Bitty rolls his eyes and snorts. “Sure, okay.”

~~~

October 31st, 2013. Halloween

"Oh yeah, Bits? This place is like hella haunted." Ransom throws out casually, digging through the fridge. "Oh?" Bitty frowns, hands tensing around his mixing spoon. It's reflex, a byproduct of growing up watching his daddy's boys stuff condoms into lockers and throw freshman into lakes; hell, a few times he was that freshman. And that sophomore. And that junior, and so on. He's no fool to hazing.

"Yeah, like. I figured I'd tell you since you're around a lot, y'know? Don't want you to get spooked if you hear ghost footsteps, or whispering or something." Now Bitty puts the mixing spoon down and eyes Ransom curiously. "So, what's the story? Does anyone know?”

Ransom emerges, triumphantly carrying an half empty Tupperware dish of macaroni that makes Bitty wrinkle his nose. "Knew I'd left this in there. Right, so, supposedly there were some sorority girls that got trampled one kegster night in like, the 90s and died. Don't know how true that is, cause it's like a decade long telephone game, but that's what's been past down." For a second, Bitty thinks about having been tackled during peewee football, and a shudder goes through his spine. "That's so sad.”

"Yeah," Ransom nods in between bites of macaroni, "it really is.”

They sit in silence for a bit, before curiously eats away at Bitty fully, and he has to ask. “So before the sorority girls, any idea who lived here before.”

Ransom hums, thinking for a minute. “Dunno. It wasn’t part of the college. Jacks a history major, though, bro. He probably knows a thing or two.”

~~~

November 2nd, 2013

Talking to Jack is as still nerve-wrecking as it always is, even outside of hockey. He just stands and stares, like he expects Bitty to grow a second head.

Finally, Jack lets out a sigh “It was a family house. There’s not much else. Sorry I can’t help.”

“It’s alright, I was just curious.” Bitty gives jack a small smile. Jack smiles back, and Bitty wonders if Jack's ever smiled at him like that outside a game.

~~~

November 15th, 2013

The next time Bitty is alone and he feels the crawling stare just under his skin, he stops and looks around anxiously- for what, he isn't sure; a figure in the doorway, maybe, or a shadow against the walls, anything that the gaze could belong to.

There's nothing. It's always nothing.

Creak…

Bitty turns back to his pie crust. They're harmless.

...Creak….creak…creak…

Five...

Six...

Seven...

Eight...

Bitty closes his eyes and wills himself to stop shaking. They're harmless.

Nine…

They're harmless

Ten…

They're harmless they're harmless they're harmless they're harmless-

“Bittle, what are you doing?”

Bitty flinches violently from the soft hand against his shoulder, making Jack yank his hand back.

“Shit! Jack! I'm sorry, I didn't-I didn't know anyone was home.”

“I just got out of class. Is everything okay?”

Bitty looks towards the empty stairwell, then back at Jack. “Everything's fine.”

Still, Jack doesn’t make his way upstairs, instead stays next to Bitty, then sighs.

“Look, I wanted to apologize for the game yesterday. It was uncalled for, what I said. I’m your captain and I should be encouraging you.”

It’s definitely not what Bitty ever expected to heat out of Jacks mouth, and it has him stunned for a second.

“It’s-it’s alright, Jack. All water under the bridge.”

Jack nods, and walks back upstairs as Bitty goes back to his pie. Maybe this’ll be a new start for them, Bitty thinks.

~~~

February 4th , 2014

“So, what do you think of the house?”

At first, Bitty doesn't realize the question is directed at him. Lardo had been deep in conversation with Shitty, and Bitty had politely tuned out of it. She gives him a light kick from underneath the cafeteria table to get his attention.

“Huh? I mean, I don't really live there?”

Lardo nods “yeah. It's just-” she stops, then turns to make sure no one else is listening, and leans in. “The boys always chirp me, but I kind of hate it. It feels like you're being watched, y’know?”

Bitty knows.

~~~

March 13th, 2013

The scratching feeling builds up and up and up, until Bitty feels like he’s going to scream and cry in frustration. Until it’s a weight in Bittys head, making him want to never set foot in that damn house again.

Then it stops, and Bitty isn’t sure if the nothingness is better. It’s like Bittys waiting, anticipating some kind of horror to attack him. nothing happens, but it still leaves him in fear.

It starts again the next time Bitty enters the house, and Bitty takes a breath, and braves it.

~~~

April 4th, 2014

Things go on the same, Bitty learns to ignore the sensation of being watched, or maybe to find comfort in it. It's a strange thing to become accustomed to, like there's six people that live in the haus instead of five. Seven, if the story ransom told is true.

God, Bitty doesn't know if he could handle seven people fussing over him right now. He's concussed, not dying.

“Jack, I promise, I'm fine.” Bitty waves his offer of more blankets off. They end up on his desk chair, just in case.

“That really isn't necessary, Holster.” Because really, isn't five pillows a little excessive? Somehow, Bitty ends up accepting them anyway, and he nests himself in his bed.

“It's okay, Shitty, I just need to rest.” Honestly, food is the last thing on Bittys mind. Shitty leaves the plate on his desk table.

There’s quiet. Bitty almost forgot how much he hated this house when it was quiet. It doesn’t take much to convince Bitty to go to sleep and avoid the sinking feeling in his chest When Bitty opens his eyes again, it's dark outside, and he can very clearly see the door opening a crack.

“I'm fine” Bitty murmurs out, already falling back asleep, “Just napping.”

The door closes quietly.

A sudden crash has Bitty screaming, scrambling up and nearly falling off the bed. The door bursts open, and Jack, followed by Shitty, then Ransom and Holster, all pile into the room, asking concerned questions.

Bitty can't stop shaking enough to explain. He just stares at the wall, and the broken pieces of plate and food around it.

Eventually, Jack is able to shoo the others out of the room, and quietly picks up the food and plate scattered across the floor. Neither he or Bitty say anything, there's just a silence in the room.

Finally, Bitty pipes up “Jack, I didn't…” he trails off, then again, quieter, “I was asleep.”

“It's alright, Bittle. I believe you.” Is all Jack says.

~~~

April 19th, 2014

It's a bright, crisp spring day when Johnson walks over to Bitty at the pond, shakes his hand, and says the words, "You got my dibs, lil dude!" By now, Bittys learned that whatever Johnson says, it's probably harmless, so he accepts the handshake, then presses on. "What are dibs?" "Ask Ransom and Holster, they'll tell you" he adds. "Oh, and I'm sorry in advance!" Bitty frowns "For what?" "For the plot. Nothing personal, y'know? We don't choose what universes we inhabit.”

-0-

July 22nd, 2014

The snap of broken glass being stepped on beneath his first steps into the house has Holster cursing under his breath, and when he pushes the door open wider, he realizes the broken glass is from a cup, and that the cup isn't the only thing that’s broken. Behind him, Ransom swears loudly.

~~~

@Omgcheckplease Ransom and Holster got back today and it looks like the haus got ransacked. Furniture thrown around everywhere, broken glass, etc @Omgcheckplease it's just really scary to think about. Someone just breaking into the house you're about to move into. What if they come back?

~~~

August 14th, 2014

Bitty stands outside the house, taking it in for the first time in months. The feeling of being watched already creeps into him, like radiating heat from being too close. Nothing about the house has changed since Bitty was last there, but something about it looks foreign to Bittys eyes. He never really stopped to look at the haus before. It looks normal, Bitty thinks. Perhaps the most unsettling thing, though, is how normal it looks, like it doesn’t, or shouldn’t have this heaviness attached to it.

A slap on the back from his mom has Bitty jolting forward, almost making him drop the box in his hands. She shoots a look of worry, and Bitty waves her off, readjusting and trailing behind her into the house

It's weird to think that a month ago someone was breaking into the house. There's no trace of someone having broken in anymore. Plates, cups, and broken picture frames have been replaced, the ugly green sofa is back on its legs, pillows are where they should be.

Bitty walks upstairs and unlocks the door to his room. The air is stale, and as Bitty drops his box of things down on his bed and begins unpacking, he tries not to look at the indented mark on the wall across his desk. A Beyoncé poster ends up going over the dent, and along with more posters, curtains, and a brand new bedspread, Bitty thinks his new space is pretty nice.

There's a knock at the door, and Bitty jumps, having missed Holsters calls from downstairs. The taller blonde laughs a little. “You know there's nothing to be scared of, right? It was probably just some lax bros messing around. They did the same thing my freshman year. So like, where do you want this?” Holster gestures to the box in his hands.

“Oh! Here, let me get those.” Bitty ushers them both downstairs.

~~~

While Bitty has stayed late at the house plenty of times before, and was accustomed to the creaks and groans of boards settling against each other, that doesn't mean he likes it. Ransom and Holster had done their best to reassure him that there was nothing to be afraid of earlier, and Bitty knew it was all in his head. The fear of moving into a new house, with the knowledge that someone had broken in, and whatever happened with the plate before is getting to him.

Creak...creak...creak.

Bitty sits up on his elbows, expecting someone to knock or open his door, but there's nothing. A few seconds later, the creaks start up again. Three of them in a row, then a pause, then three more.

He pulls the covers up tight and tries to make himself fall asleep.

~~~

August 16th, 2014

Bitty tries getting up and opening the door, just to see who's walking around outside his door, but the second his feet hit the ground, the creaks stop.

~~~

August 23rd, 2014

“Hey.” Bitty starts, making Jack look up at him from the kitchen table, and making Bitty look back down at the dishes he's washing. They're friends now, Bitty thinks, talking to Jack shouldn't make him this nervous. “So, I keep hearing someone walking around outside my door almost every night. It's not much of an issue, mind you, I can sleep through it fine. I was just wondering if you heard it too?”

Jack is silent for a second, then he shrugs. “Yeah. It's just the house settling, I think. Don't think about it too much.”

It's a reasonable enough answer. Still, Bitty isn’t convinced. Jack must sense it, because he looks back up at Bitty again, and says “It’s easier if you just ignore it, Bittle. Trust me.”

~~~

September 1st, 2014

The sound of footsteps outside his door at night is another thing Bitty becomes accustomed to; that barely makes him bat an eye now. No, what makes Bitty bat an eye, or more, squint at his computer screen, is when he looks back over his most recent vlog.

It was a simple recipe on homemade pumpkin spice and butterscotch cookies he'd done in the kitchen; about halfway through, Bitty turns from the camera, a spoon falls to the floor, and Bitty bends down to get it. At that second, a dark figure dashed in the background, completely unbeknownst to Bitty.

Bitty stops the footage, then plays it back, then repeats.

~~~

“Could be a trick of the light.” Dex suggests.

“Maybe it's a smudge?” Ransom tries.

“I really don't know what to make of that.” Jack says.

Maybe on it's own Bitty would pass it off as nothing more than a bug on his camera flying off, but not with everything that has piled up.

~~~

September 10th, 2014, Hazeapolooza

The night started off perfectly. Everyone was a little bit drunk, having fun, even Jack was smiling brighter than usual. They'd separated into teams, Jack picking Bitty, and headed off into the night, wandering around campus. Finally, after hours of stumbling around the darkened buildings, they headed to their last stop before Faber to get their clothes and gear: the house.

Normally, the game was for the blindfolded to be lead through the building while someone else piggybacked and gave them directions. Because of the height of some of the upperclassmen, and the low ceilings of the house, the goal of the last stop was just to lead the blindfolded person around from behind them while the others waited in the living room.

First up was Holster and Dex. They went around the house, bursting into laughter as Dex ran straight into the kitchen wall on his way out. They went upstairs, and came stumbling down.

Next were Ransom and Nursey. Aside from a small bump in the form of the kitchen table, they made it through and up the stairs, then down, with no incident.

Then Chowder and Lardo made their trek throughout the house. Bittys hands trembled with the thought of him and Jack going next, and having to deal with whatever the hell he'd seen. Maybe it'd stay away if he was with Jack?

A sharp scream broke out, making Bitty jump, Jack and Shitty shoot up, and others turned their heads in shock. Within seconds, Lardo and Chowder were tripping over themselves down the stairs, frantically shouting.

While Shitty calmed Lardo down, Jack and Bitty sat with Chowder, who was almost vibrating with the force of his shakes.

“What happened up there?”

Chowder shakes his head “I don't- I don't know what we saw. I couldn't see. There was something up there, though. We thought it was one of you.”

Jack sighed “Let's just get everyone back to Fabre, yeah? It's been a long night.”

~~~

While the freshman went to go get changed, the older kids waited at the bleachers with Lardo, who refused to be alone.

“We were upstairs, made it through the hall, and turned back.” Lardo starts, then stops and sighs “I thought- I don't know what I thought. One of you'd managed to get a fake body and prop it in the middle of the hall? Fuck, I really don't know.”

Everyone's quiet for a minute, working out what they were hearing. Then Holster spoke up.

“I mean. I guess we can't keep ignoring this, right? Like. Come on. There's some freaky shit living in the house with us. We've all seen something.”

No one says anything.

Quietly, they all disperse. Shitty, Ransom, and Holster make sure Lardo and the Frogs get back to their dorms okay. Jack and Bitty walk back across the campus to the house in silence.

It's quiet, like there wasn’t anyone but the team in the house just hours before, like there wasn’t anything to be terrified of. Bitty stares at the staircase in reluctance while Jack walks up the stairs, then turns back halfway when he notices Bittys yet to move.

“I- If you want, you can stay in my room for the night? There’s an air mattress, and I get it if you don’t want to be alone.”

For a second, Bitty thinks about going back to his room, and sleeping by himself in the dark, and shudders. “yeah, that’d be nice, Jack.”

No one in the house gets much sleep that night, as it turns out. At around two am, Shitty was knocking on the door and inviting himself into jacks bed, muttering something about being cold, then around thirty minutes later, Ransom and Holster showed up unexpectedly.

They stay up, trading horror stories about the house from the years before.

To no one surprise, Holster is great at telling stories, and Bitty feels himself pressing closely to Jack. Instead of shoving him away like Bitty thinks he will, Jack wraps an arm around Bittys side, and Bitty presses closer.

~~~

September 16th 2014

Bitty likes to think he and Jack are friends now, they've settled into a routine together, starting every morning at 4 am and ending after practices or games, depending on the day, so when Jack doesn't show up at 4 am, he jumps past elated and moves straight to concern. It doesn't help when Jack shows up at breakfast at 7am with bags under his eyes.

Bitty shoots Jack a worried look while he's grabbing his eggs from the cafeteria line, and is met with a sheepish wave in response.

Long night Jack mouths.

That doesn’t make Bitty feel better, somehow.

Later, after practice is finished, Bitty tries to look for Jack again, but he's not anywhere in the locker room.

“He’s probably at the library,” Shitty shrugs. “I think he's got a big test coming up.”

Bittys at the house, baking cookies before he even thinks twice about it. When they’re out of the oven, Jack hasn’t walked in, yet, so Bitty knows he’s still at the library.

Sure enough, Jack is studying a book deeply when Bitty shows up, handing over the small baggy of cookies.

“Made you a study snack.”

Jack smiles softly, and takes the cookies. “Thanks, Bits.”

Bitty smiles back and nods “Of course, Jack.”

~~~

September 24th 2014

In the weeks that pass, no one really speaks about what happened. Not even Lardo mentions anything the next Monday, she just shows up at Fabre for practices, and the cafeteria for breakfast and lunch.

Bitty still hears the footsteps outside his door, and tries not to imagine a zombie like figure crawling around, and just sleep through it. It's almost three in the morning when they wake him up again, and he groans, pulling himself out of bed and wandering over to the bathroom.

As Bitty washes up and turns the sink off, he turns to the door and frowns at what sounds like more footsteps outside the bathroom door. Quickly, Bitty reaches over to yank the door open. It doesn't budge. He tries again, checks the lock, pulls. The door still doesn't open.

Bitty knows falling into a panic won't help him get the door open, he tries to reign in his breathing, gives the door one more tug. It gives, and Bitty scrambles out and back to his room, unsure if the door slamming behind him was because of him or not.

~~~

October 3rd 2014

Sometimes, Bitty wakes up, and the first thing he does is take a deep, gasping breath, like his lungs had never felt the luxury of air in them. His neck will be sore and stiff the next morning.

Bitty can never remember the dreams that lead up to him waking up like this. Only the lingering fear, and the anger.

~~~

October 31st, 2014. Halloween

“Hey y'all! Welcome back to another vlog, as always, thanks for watching. Now, this vlog is a little different. This is…definitely not something I talk about normally. I've never really believed in the paranormal, but living in this house for the past few months, even having been around it last year, there's definitely something.

“It's honestly been something that I've noticed since I first set eyes on this place. Like, something just didn't feel right. I always felt like I was being watched, in the worst kind of way. I heard people walking down the stairs when I was alone, that sort of thing. And then, the first big thing happened. A plate that was sat on my desk went flying. This was after I'd got concussed, so for a while, I just thought I hallucinated it. When I got back here in August, at the end of summer, there was still a crack in the wall.

“Since living here, it's only gotten worse. There's been footsteps outside my room almost nightly, I've seen shadows in my recordings of these vlogs, my friends have actually seen someone hanging in the middle of the hall, I've been locked in the bathroom a few times. Most recently was yesterday. I was walking down the stairs in the morning, and I swear, I felt someone try to grab my shoulders and shove me. It wasn't like I tripped, but something grabbed me.

“This didn't start when I got here, either, some of the boys were saying they had weird things happen to them since they've been here the past few years. The same kind of stuff, they tried to brush it off as pranks at first.

“I really don't know why I'm making this. I guess to prove to myself that there's something, or to document. Talking about it helps, I guess? I'm just- I'm really at a loss for what to do here.”

~~~

@omgcheckplease I'm kind of freaking out. The video I wanted to post today isn't loading. The footage is corrupt somehow?

@omgcheckplease this wouldn't be an issue, but when you know what I just recorded, it means way more than just a messed up file.

@omgcheckplease I'm gonna try again, and hopefully it uploads?

~~~

December 13th 2014

Between the oppressive feel of the house, and the oppressive feel of being anywhere blow the Bible Belt, bitty isn't sure which he prefers. Samwell has been amazing for him, he'll admit, but he can't help but feel a bit of relief from getting out of that damn house for a month. The last of his clothes has been packed into his travel bag, and all that’s left to do is sit on his bed and wait for his uber.

At first, Bitty thinks one of the boys forgot something in the house, and had let themselves in downstairs, and goes back to ignoring the little sounds he hears. The sounds get closer, and he can recognize whispering, but can't make out the words.

Everything goes eerily still, and then Bitty can feel breath on the back of his neck as someone whispers.

“ You need to leave. Now.”

Bitty spends the next few minutes waiting for the uber outside, cold wind be damned.

~~~

January 25th, 2014

The thought alone of going back to the house made Bitty’s blood fill with dread, but he knew he had to.

Unpacking his clothes went without incident, as did the arrival of the others in the house, and for the first few weeks, everything went by normally.

Then the banging started.

It was soft, at first, almost like tapping, just barely muffled. No one noticed it for the first few nights. Then it got louder, and louder every night, making the basement door shake with force. It only stopped days later, when Jack decided upon leaving the basement door ajar.

When they check in the morning, the basement door is wide open.

~~~

February 21st, 2015

Normally, Bitty wouldn't bat an eye at seeing Jack in the library, settled around dozens of books and papers, not when graduation is around the corner for the senior. It's when Bitty notices what Jack is looking at that makes him curious enough to ask. It's old books about Samwell history, maps, and when Bitty walks up to Jack, he sees old death and birth certificates.

“Are you doing a side project?” Bitty asks, sliding into the chair across from Jack.

Jack shrugs “Kind of? I got curious about everything going on in the house, so I've been doing research.”

“So what have you found?”

For a second, Jack doesn't say anything, and Bitty is about to back down from his question, but Jack manages to find his words. “There are records of two sorority girls having died in the house, but it's weird. They were found hours after a party, dead at the bottom of the staircase. No witnesses, despite there being hundreds of people there.”

“Maybe they were still drunk in the morning and fell?” Bitty shrugs. If it were that simple, why was Jack still digging?

Again, Jack pauses, but this time Bitty notices the look of awkwardness, and stands. “You don't have to tell me anything, Jack.”

“No, I-” Jack sighs “It's just-this is going to sound weird, Bittle. When I overdosed, my heart stopped for about a minute. The doctors and nurses managed to resuscitate me, but since then- it's like I can sense things?”

A year ago, Bitty would have found the whole thing ridiculous, but as it is, Bitty finds himself nodding along to what Jack is saying. “So what do you know?”

“One, it's male, and there's only one. Two, it's angry and bitter and wants to be alone. Three, it's not that old. Less than a hundred years.”

Bitty nods. “If you need any help, you know where to find me, Jack.”

~~~

February 30th, 2014

When Bitty wakes up to piercing shrieks in the middle of the night, his first thoughts are ‘what now ?” followed by ‘wait, shit, that's Holster .’ and he shoots out of bed and runs towards the attic, where Jack and Shitty are already huddled over Holsters body, lying crumpled on the floor, next to a rambling Ransom.

His blood runs cold as his mind jumps to the worst, of his close friends lifeless body on the ground. Bitty breaths a sigh of relief when he hears a groan of pain coming from Holster.

“What happened?” Jack asks, kneeling next to Holster.

It's not Holster, but Ransom that responds “I fucking told him not to! The noises wouldn't stop, but I told him not to say anything to it. I told him it would only get madder.”

“ What happened?” Jack repeats.

Slowly, Holster stands up and lifts his shirt, showing off three bright red and bleeding scratches on his abdomen. “I told it to shut up.”

~~~

March 13th 2014

Everything is silent. It throws Bitty off just how quiet it is. For the first time in the Haus, there's no pacing in the hallway, or banging on the doors. Everything is still.

Bitty sits up in bed, waiting for the noises to start up again, some kind of reminder they were there at all. It's 12 am when he finally gives up, pulls the covers above him, and goes to sleep.

~~~

It's cold. Why is it so cold? Why isn't there any light?

Bitty stands up, and if feels like he's floating in blackness. He reaches for the door handle that he knows is there, and pulls, but it doesn’t give. Bitty tries again, unwilling to believe that he’s just been locked in a closet overnight. The door still doesn’t give.

Suddenly, Bitty’s shoved forward and falls, and when he gets back up, he’s not in the storage closet of his old high school. He doesn’t know where he is. Why is it so damn cold? Bitty reaches his hands out again, but there’s no door, only a cold, hard wall.

There’s a scrape behind him, and Bitty spins around, suddenly aware of another person's breathing. Bitty looks around the darkened room to no avail, and then right by his ear-

“I’ll kill you. I killed them, and I’ll kill you.”

Sharp nails dig at Bitty’s arms from behind, and Bitty’s too scared to move.

They shove at him roughly, and Bitty’s falling, falling down, hitting every step on the way down.

For a moment, Bitty lays there: every bone in his body screaming. He manages to open his eyes, and he sees the stairwell, and a dark figure on the top.

Still, through his pain, Bitty manages to whisper out “Who...who are you? What do you want?”

There’s silence.

~~~

With a deep, gasping breath, Bitty wakes up, one word ringing in his head.

Emmett. Emmett. Emmett.

He can’t forget. He won't forget.

It feels like Bitty blinks and he’s in front of Jack's door, knocking repeatedly. The door opens, and Jack looks confused to see him.

“Jack! Jack, I need you to listen. His name is Emmett, Jack. I remember it! I remembered my dream-“

Bitty doesn’t realize he’s swaying forward until he feels Jack’s warm hands steadying him. “Okay, Bittle, slow down. You had a bad dream?”

“It’s not just a bad dream, Jack.” He lets himself bury his head on Jack's shoulder as Jack's hands move to his back. “He showed me. He’s been showing me. He showed you too, but you never remembered.”

“You need to sleep, Bits.” Jack mutters quietly, “You had a nightmare.”

Bitty frowns and pushes himself roughly out of Jack’s arms. “If you won’t help me, I’ll do it myself.”

“Bittle, what are you talking about?” The worry in Jack's voice almost makes Bitty stop, but instead, he brushes Jack off and all but trips running down the basement stairs. Jack’s shouts and Bitty’s own racket running around has definitely woken up the rest of the house, the sound of their footsteps upstairs are barely noticed at all by Bitty.

Off to the left of the room is the old boiler, Shitty’s scrawl still drawn across it, and Bitty goes straight for it, Jack following closely behind. The boiler doesn’t budge when Bitty tries to shove it out of the way, so Bitty kicks at the wall behind it instead. Pain shoots through Bittys foot, and he hisses, but gives another swift kick.

“Eric, please, you're going to hurt yourself!”

Jack’s hands wrap around Bitty’s waist and pull him back, but Bitty kicks the wall hard once more, and it gives.

There's shouting in his ear as both he and Jack go tumbling to the ground, but Bitty can only concentrate on the mess in front of him. White, hard fragments on the cold floor, mixed with plaster. Bone.

Behind them, Ransom mutters, “Oh, shit.”

~~~

Fifteen minutes have passed when sirens begin approaching fraternity row.

“For now until the investigation is done, you’ll have to find other lodgings.” The officer explains “It’ll be two days to a week. We can't have people walking in an out of a potential crime scene.”

Bitty sits quietly with Jack on the lawn while the police work, walking in and out of the house, getting statements from Ransom and Holster. Shitty had gone off to talk to university officials about housing for the next few weeks. It feels like an end.

“His name was Emmett.” Jack says finally. “I can’t- if I tell the police this, they won’t believe me. But I felt him when you broke the wall. His death never went reported. You were right.”

Bitty nods.

~~~

One week later, they’re back inside the house like nothing ever happened

Five weeks later, they’re at a cemetery on the outskirts of Samwell. It has nice, shady trees and bushes that blossom with red and pink flowers in the spring. It’s as nice an end as any.

~~~

March 13th, 2027

The morning starts off the same way it does every day of the year. Bitty wakes up an hour after Jack goes on his morning runs, and makes himself coffee. At around six thirty, the door opens, and Jack makes a detour to the kitchen to give bitty a morning kiss and to steal a sip of Bittys drink, and goes to wake up Connie, then comes back downstairs and idly chats with Bitty while he makes breakfast for the three of them.

Connie tumbles downstairs around thirty minutes later, dressed for school. Jack tells her he and Bitty are going on a trip for the day, and that Alyssa, their sitter, will be picking her up from school and spending the night with her, they'll be back in the morning, behave well for Alyssa, and they love her very much. Bitty wonders if she’ll catch on one day, that they always go on a trip the same day every year. Jack sends an email to his classes, and Bitty calls in sick at the bakery.

They make the forty minute drive to Samwell and arrive at about one thirty. Samwell is always beautiful in the spring, Bitty thinks. Jack's hand rests on his as they drive. It's nice. They’re lucky they never had to move far from Samwell before Jack retired.

Jerry’s Diner has held up through the years pretty well, all things considered. When they arrive, Shitty and Lardo are already at their usual booth, waving them over.

“How’s the squirt?” Shitty asks fondly as the take their seats.

“She’s doing good.” Bitty smiles “Starting 3rd grade this year. And Caleb?”

“Starting 6th, time really flies, you know? Feels like just a week ago we were at the agency, now it’s been 3 years.”

Lardo nods. “He’s been so excited about seeing Connie.”

The four of them talk, and laugh, and when Holster and Ransom get there a few minutes later, they order food, and for a second, it’s like they’re kids again.

When they finish eating, they all drive up to the cemetery on the outskirts of Samwell, with tall trees and pretty flowers on bushes that always bloom so beautifully. The flowers they left on the grave the year before have since withered, and Shitty replaces them with fresh ones. It felt weird at first, coming to see someone they never met, but they go every year. It’s a perfect end, Bitty thinks.

#omgcpumpkins #some zimbits #but v little #otp: this boy

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passportrequired · 4 years

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Gesundheit! Fitness, Weightloss, Wine, Dessert and Clarity in Europe

While we borrowed “gesundheit” to mean good health when someone sneezes, it translates into health and fitness. Speaking of foreign countries and trasnlation, visit this article if you need to Professionally translate a document.

Why am I worried about gesundheit? Well because I barely made it to London, England on April 17th, before I had to jump on a plane to Vienna, Austria. Day one in Vienna I found myself in the gym at the Le Meridien dancing with my eyes closed to Tony Braxton and Loon’s “Hit the Freeway”. I had just finished weights and a bunch of other exercises and dancing was my reward to self for working out while on vacation in Europe. What was I thinking? I should be drunk off cheap wine or gin spritzers and stuffing my face with schnitzel!

Instead… Ich habe mich auf Reisen der Gesundheit verschrieben. (I was committed to health while traveling.)

When I missed my flight to London, I thought for sure my vacation started and stopped in that one moment. It was 4,000USD to change my premium economy ticket! That didn’t even include the change fee, smh.

I had carefully planned everything. I knew exactly what snacks I was bringing for Curry puppy and I packed all his food and snacks two days in advance and placed in the back of the X5. I checked with my nephew to see if the Trader Joe’s is still in West Hartford, Connecticut so I could buy his extras and I crossed him off my list. I was headed to CT so I can leave Curry while I chased clarity in Europe.

I woke up super early and packed my suitcase, Curry’s toys and bed in the car. As soon as I was about to leave, I let him outside to pee and he ran off to Charles’ house. Okay, I can dig. At 4am I didn’t want him running over to Trenton Place to Higgins’s house (his bestie), so him running next door was cool. Curry puppy was always trying to run off somewhere, it’s his little game he likes to play with mommy. A dangerous one at 4am. I got him back. Packed him in the car and I checked off him, my luggage, water, healthy bars for me to eat on the ride so I wouldn’t stop on the New Jersey Turnpike and buy junk. Check! Check! Check! It was the perfect pack.

I drove 6 hours to my sister’s house. I gallivant for a few days. Played electronic UNO with the kids ‘til late at night. Even decided since I had time on my hands I might as well get my hair done. Check!

Now, it’s super hard not to eat unhealthy at my sister’s house. Real Jamaican food being cooked here. Curry chicken. Rice and peas. Oxtail. Jeez. I feel like I’m in Jamaica for the first leg of my trip. Just pure yummy Michelle food. Resistance is low in Bloomfield, Connecticut. I went to Trader Joe’s and bought 4 cases of water to counteract any craziness. Check! It’s important to know I don’t practice deprivation. I eat. Weight loss happens regardless. Mainly because when I’m home I’m strict. I’m on vacation. Live a little. Check!

I was so relaxed. Then comes departure day. Or night. It was dark out. I woke up at 2am. Exhausted I just went to bed at 1am. Why won’t I sleep? Ugh. I woke my nephew up. We had to drive to JFK for my 7:55am flight. But as soon as I got up to leave, I knew. I knew I had forgotten my passport at my home in the safe, 6 hours away in DC. I looked at the time and I looked at my nephew and I wanted to cry. I had the whole weekend. I could have driven to DC and back, or even had my passport FedExed. Man, oh man. Alright. No point fussing. Let’s figure this out. How? Passport is required. I was screwed.

British airways didn’t open until 7am!!! Wtf. I’m definitely panicking now. Okay. Okay. Doesn’t matter. Life goes on. Two days of stress eating crap, I was sure I put back the 10lbs I had lost at my weigh-in at the weight loss center. All day and I barely drank any of the water I bought. I finally sorted it out and I got on a plane two days later and made a commitment to get my shit together. My weight loss shit together that is.

The point of the back story is nothing ever goes as planned. Life happens. You have to be prepared. I actually thought that in October when I jumped on this weight loss journey that being conscious of my emotional eating and my triggers would always make me prepared. Stress eating? No problem. I had it under control is what I thought to myself. I keep watching the weight drop because I was focused. First it was only diet and mind games for 3 months with light walking. Me and my trainer agreed to delay starting so I could ease my body of some of the weight so I am not discouraged by the workouts. I already hate the gym.

The idea was, if I felt too much pain then I would associate it with the gym and get discouraged, or plain whole STOP. Like I had done in the past. I was playing so much psychological mind games with myself. Shit I didn’t even need to do that when I was eating the food that put the weight on in the first place. Crazy, right? But clearly forgetting my passport and dealing with that stress and being in a trigger environment in Connecticut was too much to handle and I realized we are never fully prepared. It’s what we do next that matters. I was stressed because I needed this vacation – this thought trip. My soul yearned for it. And I had carefully and thoughtfully planned it. I had to go.

It was a photo from my family reunion that encouraged me to get moving. I’ve never battled too much with self-esteem so I never once looked in the mirror and saw an ugly face, but I definitely wrestled with what fat I would cut off and, where, if I could just take a knife and do it. I took one look at me in that pink dress in that photo and I realized that night I had to put on flip flops because my ankles were swollen from the 6-hour drive to Connecticut from DC. I also looked at the dress and my belly filled out so much of it I couldn’t wait around to have that heart attack most black people have in their 50s. While my face looked super young and people think I’m anywhere between 28 and 35, I was turning 43 that coming January and I needed to finally make a change.

In October 2018, I became super focused and I went to a weight loss center and lost 30lbs quickly. My joints felt good. I went to the trainer and we decided on one day a week. It seems like nothing but it has been so effective. I started to build a relationship with fitness that I hadn’t have in a long time. We are now at two to three days a week.

Bill Walker at Balance Gym in DC and I do weight training with kettle bells and resistance weights. He is the best trainer I’ve ever had. And I’ve had several. Sometimes I get through the time and I’m like that’s it? And he’s like well done. Now don’t get me wrong, Bill makes me feel like I’m going to die with every workout lol. But I say “that’s it” because for the first time I’m actually enjoying my workouts. I want to show up. I can only attribute that to Bill and his style of training. Never the seller, more focused on my care and my outcome. I have a left knee injury, a back injury and carpal tunnel in my left hand along with a strained right ankle from surgery. But Bill is so knowledgeable in joint and muscle pain that we would shift the workouts depending on what ailment I was having. It was a no brainer when I decided to sign up for a full 6 months of training.

I found my way out of Connecticut on an American Airlines flight and my first stop was London. I got to Heathrow late. I ate something light when I got to Misha’s. I slept the next day. Sleep is so important when you’re trying to lose weight and I don’t get enough of it so when I can, I do. I am naturally an insomniac. My thoughts and ideas flow better at night. This is either true or we insomniacs think so and have fully convinced ourselves of it :-).

I ate one boiled egg and a toast and salami for breakfast. The salami wasn’t the best option but I drank lots of water. Have to keep my ankles skinny especially after flying. My ankles always swell. Ugh. I watched a movie. Lounged and took another nap. Apparently, I was exhausted. So much drama with the airline and flight. I finally got up put on my gym clothes and decided to walk the streets of London and people watch. This is how I get my exercise when there is no gym. Getting my steps in. I actually love that about UK and Europe. Walking is so easy. And people are funny to watch. The pubs were already packed. It was a holiday weekend and they started early on that pint of Guinness.

The thing is, vacations and weight loss are not synonymous because we want to cheat. We have garnered this idea that being on vacation means we have to binge eat and stuff our faces with the worse foods. My goal was to taste everything. But I wasn’t planning on being stuffed. If I was stuffed, I couldn’t walk and I couldn’t people watch. What’s the point of being on vacation in a food coma? I actually like to see and explore the places I visit.

I made soup and festival for dinner and had a beer. I drank more water. The next day I was on a plane to Vienna. After getting sick on schnitzel I knew I had to be careful with foods in Vienna. Everything seems fried or processed into sausages. So, I made sure there was a salad or something light at every restaurant we dined, so I can have a healthy option. I drank plenty of water. I never shy away from desserts or alcohol but I’m not naturally a dessert eater so I don’t always indulge. But alcohol – definitely. Wine was cheap in Vienna and though not as cheap, gin spritzers were a “thing” and very delicious.

I told myself I had to work out at least once in every city I traveled to. With Misha, I was going to walk more than the average person anyway. We did over 12,000 steps a day. But I craved my Bill exercises. I went into the basement of the Le Meridien and was elated when I saw kettle bells. Great gym. I had my Bose headphones and I blasted some hip hop and rap and got to it. After my Bill reps I stretched. I was amped. Feeling good about myself I put on some hip hop and danced my ass off. I danced for another 20 minutes. I drank more and more water. In case you haven’t noticed, besides alcohol, I only drink water.

Misha and I walked so much I could hear the weight say, “I give up” and got off the next train stop before I could. We rode the train and walked everywhere. We went to Schöenbrunn Palace and got lost in the maze and even took unforbidden photos inside the palace. We visited the Jewish Museum and saw some amazing exhibits including that of Arik Brauer. We saw a horse show at the Spanische Hofreitschule Riding School and watched an opera, which left me singing “Nichola” the whole night. It was the only word I could remember since the language eludes me. We ate Art on a plate at the Pramerl and the Wolf in Roseau, Vienna. We took photos by the Hofberg Imperial Palace and we ate dinner at one of Vienna’s oldest restaurants. We had wine and downed calamari and mussels at Naschmarkt. We ate street food in Vienna City Centre. We did so much I can barely remember most of it. Like I said, I was with Misha and we did 12000 steps or more a day.

Misha went back to London and I went off to St. Julian, Malta. The first day was chill. Lazy and lounge. Malta was a breath of fresh air. Beautiful. View outside my balcony was to die for. I could retire here. The Mediterranean Sea looked amazing. Day two was sightseeing and walking. I ate whatever I wanted. No gym. And water was scarce. The water was not drinkable so restaurants don’t offer it up unless you buy. And I hadn’t noticed they didn’t bring any cause me and Kerina were drinking wine and beer. Malta was scenic. I ate rabbit (tastes like chicken), and we sat at the top overlook at City Lounge in Valetta and ate and drank and laughed.

Amsterdam was my reboot. First day we found a treasure right next to the hotel called Dragons Delight. Oat milk latte and avocado toast with scrambled eggs. This is too easy, I thought. Kerina worked out with me first day in the hotel gym, and we walked around Rembrandt Square that night checking out food, nightlife and coffee shops.

My fake henna tattoo from Malta got five Moroccan boys’ attention and I stopped so they could read the Arik Brauer quote I picked up at the Jewish Museum in Vienna. “There was never a manifesto, it simply” just “happened”. I added just to put my own spin on it. We chatted them up for a little bit. I exchanged numbers with one of them and carried on. He thought I was 24. The next day we did 17700 steps walking from our hotel in the Pijp to Museum quarter and Vondelpark. Once Kerina left I made sure I ate well and kept moving.

While I explored Amsterdam some more, I couldn’t give up my oat milk latte. I went to dragons delight daily. Partly because they serve breakfast all day. Yum! Jade, Luca and Jasom are super sweet. Jasom was always checking what else I needed. Jade and I chatted about her bulldog pups back in England, while I went on about missing Curry puppy. But Luca told me they made sure the freshest ingredients were on hand and had monthly specials. This month, I was lucky it was the smashed spicy avocado toast with scrambled eggs. Good healthy food, good hot drinks with non-lactose options like oat milk and good people. I couldn’t have asked for nothing more in the Pijp. Except on King’s day, I watched the orange clothes roll by on boats. I didn’t get caught up in the crowd, but I enjoyed the scenery.

Malaga, Spain was the final leg of my trip and I got there late. This city was mine to enjoy alone. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. The next morning, I hit the streets and committed to a Misha day filled with at least 12000 steps and more if I could. I was going to forego public transportation and use my Chevy two (feet). It was the home of Pablo Picasso. The history of the Moors. Food and wine were cheap. Museums were free. I was determined to see it all. My clothes felt looser and I knew my weight shifted for the better.

Weight loss is at the forefront, but it wasn’t going to trap me either. Not every person over weight eats unhealthily. My cholesterol levels are great. I started clean eating after doing an amazing program with Emmanuel Galland in NYC. Clean eating means my meals are generally wholesome. Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s have been my rock! My problem was always over indulging and emotionally eating, never eating crappy foods like fast foods or greasy foods.

But with any weight loss program, you have to be ready, and it has to be internal. It’s a quest that must be accomplished by you, and you alone can make it happen. What I’ve learned so far and still learning is that consistency is key. Staying on course no matter how discouraged and feeling defeated or giving up is not an option. Those feelings are crap. Rome wasn’t built in a day. Stay on course. Nothing is easy. Keep at it and DO NOT look purely to others for support. While there are resources out there, they are not for everyone; therefore, encouragement has to come from within. Be your own cheerleader. And celebrate every win. Even if it’s small. I celebrated a big (30lb loss) with a trip to London.

I drank plenty of water in Malaga. The perks of being a Marriott Elite member, whatever you ask for you get. They were nice enough to give me more than the 2 bottles per day and so I told them to keep it coming.

I flew from Malaga back to Gatwick and then head to Heathrow where I would stay one night at the Marriott Moxy. Small, efficient and totally eclectic this hotel was noisy. I actually booked it to relax from my trip. However, I walked past a food truck and into the hotel, which had a red carpet laid out and girls dressed skimpily, handing me champagne. Where was I? After checking in at the bar (yes, the bar), I went upstairs, showered, changed and came back down to party. Who needs rest? I danced and chatted all night with a lady from Holland. We listened to a live band with steel drums, watched calypso dancers gyrate hips with practically no clothes on, took photos with a snake, drank free alcohol and ate free food. I was exhausted and hoped I wouldn’t miss my flight back to New York, but getting my exercise through dancing was fun.

When I got back from Europe, I had lost more weight. I had found my clarity while drinking wine and eating dessert, yet still managed to work out and lose weight. I call that success! I’m not encouraging anyone who is trying to lose weight to eat dessert because if it is a trigger then you have to be careful. However, I encourage consciousness, plenty of water, sleep when you can or just rest, walking everywhere, stop often if that’s what you have to do to reboot and hit the gym if your hotel has one, and if you can. Even if it’s just 15-20 minutes of weight training or on the treadmill or bike. Bike if you’re in Amsterdam. And it is a vacation, so enjoy it. I never forego any alcohol. I had wine, whiskey and beer. Food sizes are naturally smaller in Europe anyway so for an American traveler, I was already eating less.

I’ll let you in on a little secret, Vienna was the first time I worked out alone in a gym without Bill. It was quite an accomplishment. It’s definitely a “win” to celebrate and I am very proud of the relationship I have been building with fitness. I celebrated this big win by dancing for 20 minutes (big smiles). I start yoga again very soon. Who knows, my next PR article might be a yoga retreat in Bali.

Whether you’re touring Europe or staying at home and trying to lose weight. Don’t let it define you. Carve out how you plan to do it. Take charge and go for it. Don’t be discouraged by any setbacks. Life isn’t perfect. No such thing. Don’t forget to live your best life. Always. And if you’re an insomniac like me – drink lots of water. Oh, by the way, if in one night you down a whole bottle of wine in Malaga, Spain because you thought it was so cheap, drink more water. And make sure your next trip requires passport. I always do. It’s how I get my clarity. Besides, it’s less fun if you go domestic 😊.

Travel often. Travel well. Until next time – Gesundheit!

Gesundheit! Fitness, Weightloss, Wine, Dessert and Clarity in Europe was originally published on Passport Required

#African American Travel #Black Travelers #Black Women Travel #darnell Lamont walker #Europe #european vacation #Gym #Healthy Traveling #I'm Black and I Travel #London #Marceen A. Burgher #PassportRequired #solo travel #Travel Advice #Travel Writer #Traveling with friends #Weight Loss #Tumblr Travel Photography #TumblrTravel

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softestziam · 7 years

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I prompted someone to write about Liam and Petey and Zayn’s reaction. I am filling my own prompt because I clearly can’t say no to myself. SMH.

"Zayn?" Liam called his fiancés name as he entered their New York apartment. He walked further into the home, checking every room he passed. It seemed empty, the bag Zayn had been carrying around with him lately was nowhere to be found. "Petey, I think we're alone, bud."

All Liam got in response was a wagging tail, good enough for him. He had fallen madly in love with the dog, they took to each other instantly. It was supposed to be a short and sweet interview for Buzzfeed in partner with the Animal League. It wasn't Liam's fault that they bombarded him with close to a half dozen puppies. They all needed to be adopted, all of them looking for a loving home. He was supposed to be answering fan questions but kept getting attacked with an overload of cuteness. Puppies were his weakness. Some people's weaknesses were alcohol, drugs, junk food, not Liam. Liam James Payne’s ultimate weakness was a puppy looking for love. Petey took to him instantly, already acting like he belonged in Liam's life.

"Best decision ever," Liam cooed to the dog, scratching the top of the pup's head. "Watson will take to you instantly, hopefully."

Liam dropped off the bags he was carrying on the kitchen table. He had to stop at the local pet store to get everything Petey would need for the next day before he heads back to London where he had a lot more for the dog. Petey needed a new, snazzy name tag and flashy leash, food was a no brainer, of course. This puppy was gonna live in the lap of luxury, why not get him acclimated quickly. He thought maybe Petey would be their New York dog, their American dog. Watson was a handful, literally and figuratively speaking. Taking care of Watson and Loki got to be too much, on top of all their others animals in their house. Maybe keeping Petey in America wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

Liam crouched down so he was eye level with the pup, making kissy faces at the dog. He was instantly in love, he couldn’t help me. “Maybe you’ll stay here with Baba while daddy goes back to England. Okay?”

Once again all Petey did in response was wag his tail and give Liam’s cheek a tentative lick. The dog had gotten accustomed to him rather quickly but it was obvious why he was so apprehensive, he was used to being cooped up in a shelter, now he had freedom to roam and do whatever he pleased, within reason of course. Liam walked about the apartment, making himself lunch, answering emails and texts, taking phone calls from people from his label, all while Petey followed closely behind him. It was cute and endearing. It made Liam feel less alone seeing that Zayn was off doing god knows what, he was always off recording or doing other secretive things. It didn’t worry Liam at all, he was just as secretive about this music as well. Besides himself Zayn was his biggest critic and the one person’s opinion he cared about the most.

“Liam!”

Liam smiled instantly at the sound of his name leaving Zayn’s mouth. He was in the bedroom changing into a pair of comfy joggers when the front door opened. Petey was resting comfortably at his feet, his ears perked up at the new voice, eyes immediately locked on Liam. So he wasn’t an attack dog that much was obvious. Liam patted Petey’s head and told him to stay as he made his way towards the front door.

“Had a good time disappearing?” Liam greeted him with a warm smile and open arms.

Zayn shook his head in amusement as he engulfed Liam in his arms, inhaling his scent, which always smelt like home to him, no matter what. “You smell different.”

“I smell different?” Liam asked with a laugh, a bemused look on his face as they stepped out of the hug. “Maybe you’ve been out in the sun too long, love.”

“No,” he responded, inhaling Liam’s scent once more. His eyes rolled back, trying to decipher the smell plus loving the intoxicating feeling of being this close to Liam after such a long time. “You smell like Liam and something else I can’t place.”

Liam shook his head at the randomness of Zayn, taking his hand and moving him further into the apartment, pushing him onto the couch. “Relax love, take off your shoes, and enjoy our time together before I leave tomorrow.”

Zayn narrowed his eyes and he slipped off his shoes and placed them beside the couch, never taking his eyes off Liam. Something was up and definitely off about this situation. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he assured him gently, his voice a soothing tone. Liam turned his head briefly to look at the bedroom door, hoping Petey was okay and not making a mess of their room.

“Liam, are you cheating on me?” Zayn asked him directly, moving so he was face to face with Liam, could read his expression and see his face clearly.

“What!” He shrieked, half in horror and half in amusement. He just gawked at Zayn for a minute, opening his mouth to speak but words were getting stuck in his throat. “Y-you really think I’m cheating on you? That’s crazy talk!”

“Crazy talk is me coming home and my fiancé is being all secretive and smelling different. I have every right to assume what I’m assuming, Liam,” he explained, trying to not sound hysterical but coming off that way anyway. “We’re both busy, not being able to see each other all the time like we use it, things change, emotions change, I would understand.”

Liam sat back on the couch, feeling like his heart had just been ripped out of his chest and the remnants were laying on the ground by his feet. “Babe, I would never, ever cheat on you, not in a million, trillion years. No matter how difficult or tiresome the distance might be. Please, don’t ever think that. Ever.”

Zayn physically folded in on himself, feeling overwhelmed and ashamed over his outburst, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his other hand being wrapped up between Liam’s hands. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to jump to any conclusions or accuse you of anything, I love and trust you one hundred percent, love.”

“You want to know the truth?” Liam asked after a beat where the two of them just sat there, looking at each other and feeling their undeniable, palpable connection.

“Liam, it’s not necessary, you don’t have to-“

“I adopted a dog,” he announced, standing up and walking towards the bedroom.

“You what!” Zayn exclaimed, his calm demeanor changing quickly as he stood up too and followed Liam. “Liam, are you out of your mind? We cannot get another dog, we are never home to take care of said dogs. Do you not remember how we had to give Loki to your sister and how your mum is taking care of Watson?”

Liam purposely ignored the questions that were being asked of him as he opened the door. Petey was right where he had left him, sitting at the foot of the bed, his raised his head at the sound of the door and panted with excitement when he spotted Liam. “Look at him Zayn, how could I’ve said no to this face.”

“Easy, no,” he replied as he walked into the bedroom. “Liam, I get that your heart has too much love in it sometimes, and that’s amazing, one of the many reasons why I love you, honestly. But we cannot have another dog. They get attached to us and then we have to either get rid of them or give them to our family. It’s not fair to them and it’s not fair to the animals.”

“But Zaynie, look,” he cooed, getting on the floor to properly pet the dog. Petey immediately crawled into Liam’s lap and licked at his face, overly excited. “He is so sweet and gentle, he’ll be a perfect addition to our family.”

“Leeyum.”

Liam took one of Petey’s paws and waved at Zayn. “Hi Zayn, my name is Petey and I’m the cutest thing in this entire world. Please, please love me?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Zayn directed his comment at Liam with a pleased laugh. “You cannot hide behind this dog all day.”

“His name is Petey,” he corrected him, still waving the dog’s paw at Zayn. “He’s from the North Shore Animal League in Long Island, he needed a home and we have an abundant amount of them. Please?”

Zayn exhaled and took a seat on the bedroom floor next to Liam and Petey. “Liam, we can’t just adopt another dog and then abandon it months down the road, you get that, right?”

“I know,” he acknowledged and smiled brightly as Petey leaped off his lap and into Zayn’s nosing at his rings and sniffing him out, getting himself acclimated. “See he likes you.”

“He was in a shelter, he’ll like anyone who shows him affection,” Zayn corrected, trying to resist the urge to pet Petey’s head. He was pretty damn cute. “Babe.”

“We’ll keep him in New York with you, it’ll give me a reason to come here more often,” he tried to bargain with him, his face still in a wide smile as he watched Zayn and Petey interact.

Zayn looked up at Liam and back down at Petey, running a hand alongside the top of the puppies head, feeling how soft and warm and inviting this dog was. “So you adopted him as a ploy so you’d have a reason to come see me more, huh?”

“Is it working?” Liam asked, raised eyebrows and a warm smile on his face. He was secretly hoping this would all work out in his favor.

A slow nod of the head and a gleam in his eye was all Zayn was willing to give Liam at the moment. He couldn’t believe how easy it was to give into Liam, even after all these years. “You better come visit us often, okay?”

“I’ll fly here every week,” he promised, moving forward and giving Zayn as kiss. “My two favorite boys under one roof, doesn’t get much better than this honestly.”

“You’re such a knob,” Zayn laughed, properly petting Petey now. “It’s just gonna be us bros, Petey. Hope you get used to it.”

“Best day ever,” Liam sighed contently as he watched Zayn bond with Petey.

#ziam drabble #my wiritng

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infrnal-blog · 7 years

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INFRNAL’S RP PLOTTING CHEAT-SHEET

Want new-and-exciting plots for your character? Long to reach out to more of your followers, but don’t know where to start? Fear not! Fill out this form and give your RP partners both present and future all the of juicy jumping off points they need to help you get your characters acquainted.

Be sure to tag the players whose characters YOU want more cues to interact with, and repost, don’t reblog! Feel free to add or remove sections as you see fit. Template here.

Mun name: rowan ! OOC Contact: im’s are the best for me right now!

Who the heck is my muse anyway:

SIBYL PETYR is an ancient bloodwitch ( or vampwitch, succu-witch, whatever floats your boat ) from anglo - saxon england. she differs from other vampires because she wasn’t turned ; she was cursed, rather, by the old lord marduk, who gave to her the ultimate kiss of doom. since the day of her mortal death in 798 AD, she’s traveled across the world & assembled a small, close - knit bloodwitch coven ---- the coven lives together in new orleans, a modern - day haven for the undead.

Points of interest:

what will immediately jump out, so to speak, about sibyl is her skin, especially when hungry -- she’s pale, almost sickly green, & purplish cobwebs of veins adorn her face and hands. she’s also quite tall, standing at five feet & eleven inches. as for her teeth, her canines & outermost incisors are just slightly fanged, & these fangs are not rectractable.

What they’ve been up to recently:

lately, sibyl’s been using magick to recover memories of her mortal life & studying the lore of her kind. she likes to write, paint, & garden.

Where to find them:

very verse dependent as she’s been alive for so long. nowadays, you can find her in her garden district home or exploring the french quarter beneath the full moon. from the eighth to the tenth century, she remained in england, but by the eleventh century she’d grown restless & began her travels. she didn’t settle in one place until the mid - sixteenth century, at which point she chose a quaint venetian apartment to live in. by the late eighteenth century, she’d moved to paris, where she met the valdís twins, & then by 1846 sibyl found herself in her permanent new orleans home. she continues to travel, though, so you can literally put her in any place on earth & it’ll make sense.

Current plans:

m8 im genuinely just here fer a laff.

no omg but i haven’t written much here so i don’t really have any arcs going at all right now, nor do i have any planned !

Desired interactions:

i would absolutely love some more vampy / undead friends for sybil, so anything creepy like that ! sib also rly gets around smh so building up a shippy relationship would b cool too . there’s always like, the classique interview w/ the vampire scenario that i’m personally a hoe for, u know, the mortal being fascinated by the undead & asking a bunch of innocent questions.

Offered interactions:

sibyl’s ancient & very wise, but she’s a sloppy feeder, so she could easily feed from your muse intending to drain them only for ur muse to survive with little more than two swollen puncture - wounds ---- they could run after sibyl b/c they’re pissed ‘cause now it looks like they’ve got a fucked up hickey, or maybe ‘cause they want her to turn them, or idk.

since sib’s such a lovey, we could set up a romantic relationship between our muses ! if your muse is undead / a vampire, they could be dramatic & awful together & go on hunts together. OR if ur muse is a mortal, we could get really angsty bc a.) sibyl either wouldn’t turn ur muse because ur muse has a lot to live for, or b.) ur muse is too nervous to be turned.

oooor we can just go the established platonic route which is still awesome & sweet ! like i said, sib needs as many undead friends as she can get, but the idea of human friends for her tickles me half to death omg. like, her human friend wakes her up in the daytime n sib is like you better have a good reason for this jfc.

Current open post/s:

n/a rip

Anything else?

uhm i think that’s it !!! here’s a list of npc’s associated w/ sibs & here & here are some pages.

Tagged by: no one :o stolen from @vicemirrored !!

Tagging: @loversewered ily, any1 who wants 2 steal !

#█ ˢ . ✝ ∗ ∘ OUT.#// i like this jfdgsks plotting is unnecessarily difficult

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woodelf68 · 7 years

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Eleven questions, times 4

I was tagged by @stealing-your-kittens , @onceupona-chippedteacup , @smartgirlsaremean, and @grace52373. (*hysterical laughter*) Also, @hedwighood, I never did the new questions part of it when you tagged me, so consider these yours as well!

Rules: 1. Always post rules 2. Answer the questions given by the person who tagged you 3. Write 11 questions of your own 4. Tag 11 people

First, Christina’s questions!

1. What’s your OTP of all time -- Don’t really have one, old OTPs dim when I move on to new ones. Still like them, but not interested in re-visiting them in fanfic or anything like that. 2. If you could choose any career what would it be? -- I’d like to have a used bookstore that also featured an area where local craftspeople could sell their work. 3. What’s your favourite hot drink? -- I can’t drink anything hot or my face and ears start burning immediately. Hot chocolate if it’s allowed to cool, though. Can’t stand coffee or tea. 4. If you were given the opportunity to travel into space, would you? - No 5. What’s your MBTI? -- I think it was INFJ? 6. Are you more number-y or more word-y? - Definitely word-y! 7. What’s your hair colour and style? -- Brown, just let it fall naturally, usually in a ponytail. Goes a few inches down past my shoulders. 8. What place have you really enjoyed visiting on holiday? - I have vague but fond memories of a lakeshore lodge that my family went to for at least a few summers when I was a child. 9. Do you have pets? -- No 10. Do you like bread? white or wholemeal? - Yes and soft white. Don’t like the nutty taste of whole wheat, or the toughness or things like seeds mixed in. 11. Do you prefer hot temperatures or cold temperatures? - Cold! You can always add a nice snuggly layer of something, but you can’t walk around naked or take off your skin when bare parts of your body are already too hot!

Second, Kittens’ questions!

1.You don’t have to name the person, but what’s the one thing you wish you were brave enough to say to someone? -- I’ve pretty much called out all the abusive people in my life in the last couple of years, so can’t think of anything else.

2. You have the money, you have the time. Where are you going and for how long? -- England. Don’t know for how long, because I’d like the ability to stop and explore an area at leisure if it caught my fancy instead of rushing along from point A to point B on a tightly scheduled itinerary.

3. Do you have a favorite youtube video? -- Not that I can think of. I’ve seen some funny or cute ones here on tumblr, and sometimes I look up songs by my favourite musicians, but I don’t hang out on the site watching stuff.

4. What is your go-to, don’t-know-what-else-to-watch movie? -- Don’t have one; I rarely watch movies -- I simply don’t have that kind of attention span. I don’t know if I could come up with more than ten movies that I’ve re-watched a second time in my entire life! I don’t understand how people can repeatedly watch something once they know what’s going to happen.

5. Is there a song that makes you dance like an idiot regardless of your surroundings? -- First one that springs to mind is The Sleeping Highlander by Tempest. Will be at least bopping in my chair if I hear it!

6. If you could have any animal for a pet, wild or otherwise, what would it be? -- Not sure if I’d consider a horse a ‘pet’, so I’ll stick with a dog -- a rough collie or a Scottish Deerhound or any big, shaggy mutt in need of a home.

7. Favorite holiday? -- Christmas

8. Do you like those little gel cling window decals? - I’ve never had any, just the plain flat plastic ones. Never felt compelled to buy any, so...neutral?

9. How many pairs of shoes do you own? -- That I can still get on, 3. (Health issues > a lot of foot/ankle swelling > forget about finding anything that fits both feet)

10. How often do you trim your hair? -- I usually chop off a couple of inches once every summer.

11. Describe your dream house. -- Small to medium sized stone cottage with an already well-established garden with roses growing all over the place. A built-in pool and a wooden privacy fence. Wood floors inside, a room for a library.

Third, Smartie’s questions:

1. What’s your go-to comfort food or drink? -- I honestly don’t get the idea of ‘comfort food’. Maybe it’s because I’ve been overweight my entire life, and any food that really tastes good is going to be something that is fattening and would just make me feel guilty for eating it.

2. Do you collect anything? What and why? -- Books? I keep as many as I have room for, at any rate. And I have a sort-of collection of old/foreign stamps that I’ve saved off of envelopes, which are interesting and don’t take up much space if you just keep them all in a tin. I’d have a LOT more stuffed animals if I wasn’t so hellishly allergic to dust and had more space to display them, because cute! and huggable! As it is, the population is tightly controlled to what fits on top of a storage chest and it’s at maximum capacity. *sigh*

3. What is something that you feel grateful for? -- My tumblr community of friends

4. If you were going to become famous for something, what would you like it be? -- Helping others somehow

5. What is one quality or ability you pride yourself on? -- Fairness

6. What is your most cherished memory? -- Sitting on a fallen tree in a tiny patch of woods (since razed down to build more mini mansions, smh) reading a new book, having escaped from the house at Thanksgiving

7. Why did you choose your profession? If you’re not working now, what’s your dream career? - I’d run a used bookstore/shop that sells local crafters’ wares.

8. How would you far in a zombie apocalypse? -- I would be an early casualty!

9. Have you ever experienced a supernatural phenomenon? -- Nope

10. What would you most likely be arrested for? -- I have no idea! Unless I finally crack and beat the shit out of some people that deserve it.

11. What’s your favorite swear word? If you don’t swear, what word or phrase do you use to express frustration or anger? -- Shit

Fourth, Grace’s questions:

1. What is your nickname if you have one? - Nothing irl, Elf or Elfy sometimes on here.

2. Favorite fandom? -- Rumbelle!

3. Favorite movie? - Lord of the Rings

4. Do you like to shop? - For fun stuff, yes. Or if they actually sold cute clothes in my size at the local stores. Which they don’t. >.>

5. What is your dream career? - Combo used bookstore/shop that sells local crafters’ wares.

6. Favorite food? -- Don’t really have just one. Prime rib is really good, and rare enough to be savoured when I splurge on it.

7. Favorite alcoholic or non-alcoholic beverage? -- Frozen cokes, or various other slushes -- cherry, lemonade, etc.

8. Do you ship a couple that is not popular? -- Rush and Mandy, maybe? SGU is such a small fandom already, and some people either blame her for accidentally trapping Rush in the simulation program, or were already such die-hard Rushbellers before even watching the show that they don’t want to picture Rush with anyone else.

9. Favorite place to go to in the world? -- library (I’m not a traveller!)

10. Do you have a comfort food? -- Not that I can think of

11. Which relative or non relative are you closest too? -- used to be my mom, but no one anymore, really. I’m not good with people irl.

Fifth (phew!), my questions for anyone who wants to play, and hasn’t been tagged yet!

What colour/pattern sheets are on your bed?

Do you have a favourite decade as far as your musical tastes go?

Sailboat or motor boat for a day on a lake? (or canoe, rowboat, etc.)

Do you have a usual physical ‘type’ of person you’re attracted to?

What’s your favourite thing to make in the kitchen?

Do you have any squicks in fics?

If you have a wall or page-a-day calendar, what’s the subject of it this year?

What do you consider a comfortable room temperature?

What was the first thing that you can remember being really into as a child?

Do you prefer hand-drawn or computer animation?

If you write fic, which story of yours would you recommend first to someone new to your fandom? If you just read it, which fic by which author?

If you want to do it, and haven’t already been tagged -- @tjmystic, @theherothechampiontheinquisitor, @theheavenlyhinkypanda, @thateruditestranger-thatfucker, @little-inkstone, @ultrareginarules, @theoneandonlylittlebird, @beastlycheese, @the-questionmark-kid, @white-throated-packrat and @mrgoldsdearie.

#tagged!#grace52373 #stealing-your-kittens #smartgirlsaremean #eleven questions

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whopooh · 7 years

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Miss Fisher and the plight of miscommunication – February’s trope challenge

Does this whisky glass imply drinks, or something else, Miss Fisher?

You remember I couldn’t help but write a post about the soulmate trope of January, because it was so much fun and gave food for so much thought. The same really proved to be true for the miscommunication trope, so I decided to write about that one too. I remember that when the trope was announced, @quiltingmom was not the happiest in the fandom, fearing all the angst that would come up with this trope. She even taught me that “smh” means “shaking my head”. So, I decided to do the organisation of this post in a @quiltingmom proof way, by ordering them after their amount of angst, starting with the lightest and going to @ladyroxie. (I’d love some feedback from you about where you draw the line between nicely angsty and too angsty in this line!)

This is actually a very reasonable way to structure the stories. The nice thing with miscommunication -- apart from it fitting Phryne and Jack and their way of behaving rather well -- is that it can take turns in very different directions. The plot itself is usually one of comedy – in that classic sense of the word, which means the ending is happy – since miscommunication really needs to be cleared up for the story to feel completed. But that gives ample opportunity for different roads to be taken -- and very different length of fic -- between the start and the happy ending; I have made a division into humour; humour with an angsty part; angst light; and angst. (Here is the full collection.)

I am delighted that the February fic covered all of these possibilities, and in so many different ways. The wonderful humour part saw @olderbynow’s “Across Frayed Wires,” where Jack gets a message from Hugh over a very bad line. We are given the internal view of a delightfully overthinking Jack that tries very hard to not think about a certain lady detective, but when the message says “alarm” and “Fisher” he cannot help but associate this to Phryne. The message

made no damn sense at all, but still had Jack’s heart climbing into his throat as his mind helpfully supplied filler words that essentially translated the sentence into “Miss Fisher has done something reckless again and is in danger.” It was the sort of phone call he spent half his days expecting, of course.

Unfortunately for Jack, when he stumbles into Wardlow he instead disturbs Phryne in the middle of a tryst with a lover, and the mortification of Jack and all his awkwardness and thought-processes are adorable.

More humour and teasing with regard to their sexual relationship is present in @loopyhoopyfrood’s “Mistaken”. This is an original take, set before the timeline of the episodes, and gives us a sweet and fun and mistakenly heated encounter that is completely packed with misunderstandings, and poor Jack gets pushed into doors no less than two times by a very insistent Miss Fisher. A third teasing with the sexual theme is sassasam/@phrynesboudoir's “Miss Communication” that is set after the last episode. Phryne writes from England a rather juicy letter to Jack, that also quotes some of his own not completely innocent phrases from an earlier letter, but puts it in the wrong envelope. The exact look on Aunt P’s face when she reads that scandolous letter we are left to imagine from the line “with eyes almost bulging from their sockets.” Jack, poor duck, on the other hand, receives a letter that talks about embroidery.

A final predominantly humourous fic is @ollyjayonline’s “Nine times out of ten”. It is a delightful story of Phryne deciding to play match-maker and implicating Jack in that, while on the boat back home to Australia. It is rather emma-esque in the way her plan goes rather wrong, the girl Jack was meant to pay attention to suddenly interested in him and not in the original beau she was aiming to make jealous. Suddenly they find themselves in a situation where Jack has to play the role of not wanting Phryne, and Phryne the role of trying to get him – all while they secretly have an established relationship, that is still a bit shaken by the roles they play. It’s a wonderful way of contrasting their true relationship with the fake one and with what the people around them are believing about them. Above all there is a delicious tension – her decision forcing Jack to play a part, and then she herself not being sure when he is playing and when he’s sincere. Phryne faces emotional turmoil and realisations, while the humourous aspect is still the main one.

From this, the step is not far to @flashofthefuse’s “Mistaken relations”, that I decided to label as the first humour with an angsty part. The fic introduces an embarrassing moment when Phryne thinks Jack has asked her to come over, and while she has decided to surprise him with hardly any clothes on, he comes home with another woman. Awkwardness ensues and Phryne is thrown off-kilter a little bit, feeling unsure and a little bit jealous, but at the same time knowing she has no right to be jealous. And incredibly sweetly, what really annoys her is that “he was laughing, Mac. Before he opened the door, I could hear him laughing.” Phryne and Jack are so acutely aware of not pressuring the other that they completely fail in communicating what they want. Jack’s sister – because that’s the mysterious woman – asks him:

“So, you’re not worried about her?” “Because of this? No. I worry about her getting herself arrested, or possibly shot, but this kind of thing? No.

Of course, the readers just want to tackle Jack at this point, but he perseveres, and it’s probably lucky he has a clever sister. She has the same no-nonsense take on things as her brother, at least: “I hope I get another chance to meet her while I’m here, preferably fully clothed.”

In @firesign23’s “As stimulating as black coffee”, Jack has followed Phryne to England just for them to realise that they aren’t working, sexually:

It’s fine,” he said. “You just surprised me.” “I’m aiming higher than fine, Jack.” The man actually pouted. “Well, I certainly wasn’t achieving it.”

They have a wonderfully ridiculous argument and part ways, which is a very fun turn of the reunion in England -- of course that’s not the end of it though.

@promisesarepiecrust “Maybe more?” is a lovely short take on the question of Phryne and marriage, as she wakes to a note left by Jack that seems to say “marry me?” Phryne is rattled: “When she’d first read it, she couldn’t help the words that left her mouth: first a curse, followed by “Oh, Jack, no— why would you do that?!”” As the trope is what it is, maybe he didn’t exactly – and it plays out in a lovely way.

Phryne is Very Angry.

The final humourous fic is @jeneenp/collingwoodgirl’s “Licence to Thrill” and its theme of overhearing. Without him noticing, Phryne overhears Jack talking with colleagues, and is appalled as she realises he is talking rather demeaningly about her. Everything she ever thought about him crashes down completely, the betrayal is enormous, and she walks into his office and hits him hard in the face. Jack’s reaction is wonderful – without taking his eyes off her, he asks the other policemen to leave them alone:

For nearly a full minute, there was nothing but silence. All three men appeared to have been turned to stone by the furious goddess that stood before them. It was only when Jack reached up and, unbelievingly, dabbed at his cheek that she was reminded he was still flesh and blood. “Collins—” Jack growled, his eyes never leaving hers. When Hugh didn’t move, Jack barked again. “Both of you! Out. Now.”

And Phryne “found it largely reminiscent of a hostage negotiation. It was immensely satisfying.” What follows is a delicious conversation where he tries to understand her fury, she slowly realises that they had actually been talking about something completely different from what she’d gathered, and an equally delicious making up.

In the category angst light I place three fics. @suigeneris221b‘s “Someone is waiting” gives us Jack finding out through the newspaper’s gossip column that Phryne has married in London. He decides to immediately repress all his feelings until he can go home and have a breakdown in peace. It’s both humorous and angsty, and Mac’s telegrams to Phryne asking what the heck she is doing are great. As the trope is miscommunication, we probably shouldn’t take the newspaper’s story at face value, and we get truly wonderful interactions between the triad of Phryne, Jack and Mac while trying to make it all right again. Something similar can be said about @whopooh’s “I’d know you anywhere,” where the slightly angsty misunderstanding instead stems from Jack being feverish after a knife wound, mistaking people for each other. Again, Mac is a solid rock for her BFF Phryne. In @missingmissfisher’s “A thousand times over”, the misunderstanding evolves from Phryne having received a faulty message, which makes her walk in on Jack having dinner with and comforting Rosie, and this then leads to several disastrous attempts at contact between the two. Finally, in a lovely turn, Jack manages to communicate through the flower language, but it wouldn’t have worked out without the translation help from her solid friend Mac, educated in the natural sciences.

Finally, the end of the spectre: the angst proper of miscommunication, which obviously can be rather heavy. In @rositalg’s “Old Habits Die Hard Holding On” Phryne and Jack have just about started a relationship, and in a clever twist the fic in one single scene explores three things: Jack’s fear of Phryne wanting other men, the fear belonging to the threat of a serial killer in a case, and Phryne’s fear that goes back to her backstory with René. There is a flinch in the fic that is really devastating. Two fics deal with mistaken news of death: comeaftermejackrobinson’s “The tell-tale heart” explores a possible parallel to “Blood at the Wheel” – if it was instead Phryne who at that moment in time would receive a message that Jack had died, and also discovering that he had put her down as ‘next of kin’: “He had listed her as his next of kin and had never said a word about it. She could have killed him for putting her through this, really, had he not been already dead”. @omgimsarahtoo’s “In the Next Breath” explores the Phryne receiving mistaken news of Jack’s death when they are already in an established relationship -- the feeling of loss is acute:

Her head swam, and when she dropped her hand from her eyes, she could see Dot’s concerned face, black spots swimming through her field of vision. Ha, dots on Dot. The thought made her huff out a laugh, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified.

Only minutes after the news, Jack comes home to a devastated household, and acutely heightened from the thought of the loss are Phryne's emotions and the feeling of making love to him.

The last fic is the most angsty one, @ladyroxie’s “Between the Shadow and the Soul”. In this multi-chapter case fic, Jack disappears on his way to England without a trace, and as Phryne doesn’t even know he decided to follow her, it takes time before anyone starts to miss him -- a nightmare in itself. Jack has been badly injured by a person who steals his identity to travel, and when Phryne finally realises he’s gone missing, she investigates, takes help from an old friend in England, and goes to Egypt to try and find him. It is very suspenseful and the question is if she’ll manage to find him, and in time. Jack’s injuries here were so brutal that @221aubrina in “The Library” – which here can serve as a sweet appendix to the trope – wrote a wonderful meta story about the librarians that take care of all the ‘Jacks’ that have been out in circulation among the fanfic writers and have been damaged. After @ladyroxie’s fic, the librarians check the injuries and note:

“Yeah... he'll need a good deal of extra time and care in The Restoration Lab." Norton shook his head. "Huh. Pretty bad then, eh?" Harris nodded to his colleague. "We might have to bring a couple of the other copies out before this edition's fit to be checked out again, if it ever is." "Think he might have to go to the Special Collections Wing?" Norton queried.

Thus we can, even in this journey towards more and more angst, end on a humorous note.

This was the February trope, and I look very much forward to reading stories of March’s trope, “Bottle episode”.

#mfmm fanfic tidbits #reading miss fisher #miscommunication #mfmm a year in tropes #miss fisher's murder mysteries

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