#mel blind item
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👀🍿🍿🍿
#CDAN blind items#lemme guess he’s slipping up again because he’s among friends who’ll cover for him?#blind items#grain of salt#another guess is colin jost x scarjo#mel blind item
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summary: in which sevika becomes your roommate. read part one here
content: fluff, angst, lesbian disaster
word count: 4k
sorry for the long wait! i've been very ill and it's taken a long while to recover since i'm immunocompromised. let me know your thoughts!
Chapter Two
Sevika is right...
Her friends are nice.
The first time that you meet them is two weeks after she moves in.
She tells you that she initially, “Just wants to show them the place.”
She asks if you’re okay with that.
“Of course,” You respond, taken aback by the question.
You have a feeling that Sevika will do that often–ask for your permission, that is.
A part of you is flattered that she respects you so much to do so.
When they arrive, there’s two of them. One is a short heavy set woman with a buzz cut and gauges. She has striking cheekbones and smells nice. Her name is Hazel.
The other is a burly man, maybe ten years your senior, with a greying beard and ash brown hair. He wears clunky boots, something that you notice about him immediately and his name is Vander.
Hazel hugs you upon introduction. She has a tattoo on her neck in red ink; a viper with its fangs bared. The sight catches your breath. Instantly, you decide that you like her.
The four of you make your way throughout the flat. It’s easy to laugh along to Vander’s terribly corny puns and Hazel’s witty side-remarks. Sevika is the tamer one of the trio, which is not something you had expected, yet makes sense nonetheless.
When you all have made your way to the living room, the setting sun shines through the blinds of the patio door. It must be closer to dusk–a time of day that you often enjoy.
Your stomach grumbles and your nerves have settled to near nonexistence. With a sense of ease, you turn to Vander and Hazel and ask, “Would you two like to stay for dinner?”
You can tell that your offer shocks them. The original plan was for their visit to be short. At least, that’s what Sevika has assured you of. But you didn’t seem to mind their company for a few hours more.
“We’d love to!” Vander replies, without hesitation.
When you glance towards Sevika, she’s peering at you with bright sparkling irises. A slow smile creeps onto her face, one that displays her pearly whites and gap. A buzz of exhilaration shoots through you. She winks, a small notion that somehow manages to speak a thousand words.
Your veins nearly explode.
Your teeth gnaw on the inside of your cheek, as you struggle to contain yourself from bursting into a shit-eating grin.
There’s a routine to you and Sevika’s livelihood.
She usually cooks the meals. You do your best to clean the house afterwards. Though you're not much of a cleaner, Sevika’s presence seems to make you want to do so. She’s particular about her living space. She likes everything tidy and organized; two words that you weren’t very familiar with before meeting her. But she somehow makes those traits easy for you to adopt.
She likes to grocery shop. You don’t take kindly to those sorts of errands; that was a chore that Mel used to happily complete. But now, it’s been delegated to Sevika.
When she arrives back home from the store, you meet her in the parking lot. She always looks mighty and powerful when she pulls up in her shiny black truck.
And it feels natural when she regards you with a warm grin, climbing out of her ridiculous vehicle with ease. You never fail to smile in return. Because smiling around her is the easiest thing to do–nearly as easy as breathing.
She slips a few bags of groceries into your arms–which always seem to be the lightest loads–while she grabs the heavier items. And the both of you walk back to the apartment, glued at the hip, chatting about everything that comes to mind. Or, on some days, nothing at all.
Conversation is never a necessity around Sevika.
Her presence is, invariably, more than enough.
Sevika has a girlfriend.
It’s brought to your attention a month after she moves in. One day, Sevika asks you if her girlfriend can stay the night. “Is that okay with you?” She mutters, during the early hours of the morning.
You were aware that she had started seeing someone, but you didn’t think it was so… serious.
Not serious enough for her to want the woman to sleep over. Not serious enough for her to ask your permission.
“If it’s not,” She adds. “I completely get it.”
She wants to know if you’re okay with that idea. Oddly enough, the fact that she’s merely asking for permission is a gesture that spreads warmth inside of your chest.
But there’s also a much stronger emotion that washes over you. For some reason, your instinctive reflex is to wrinkle your nose. You catch yourself trying to cloak that reaction by diving your nose into your mug and taking a hearty gulp of your tea. The liquid burns your throat.
After you swallow, you turn your back towards her, expressing a sudden interest in the toast she’s made you. Suddenly, you aren’t as woo’d by her request to make you breakfast. Did she butter your toast because she wanted to? Or because she was trying to lift your spirits, in hopes that you’d be okay with meeting her girlfriend?
Your mouth sours. “Why would it bother me?” Your voice is hoarse from lack of usage. “You’re a grown woman. You can have anyone over that you’d like. I’m not like,” You clear your throat. “Your mother or anything.” Then you shove a piece of warm buttery toast into your mouth. You aren’t the type to eat toast on a daily basis, but since she’s moved in, you have. You hate how much she makes you love it. “Plus, you're on the lease. So this is your place too. You don’t have to ask me for permission.”
She hesitates before replying, “It's the polite thing to do.”
You roll your eyes.
Polite this and polite that.
Sevika’s always being polite with you, even when you don’t ask her to. Even when you don’t feel like you deserve it.
Even when you’re being anything but polite to her.
You hate that about her. She makes your muscles relax and your toes simultaneously curl. She makes your heart leap whilst somehow causing your breathing to even. She makes you feel like a walking contradiction. She makes you…
She makes you–
“She’s your girlfriend, Sev.” You don’t mean to seem disgruntled when you say this. But somehow–you just are. “If you want her to be here, let her be here.”
You grab your mug then your plate of toast, and head to your room.
“Thanks for breakfast!” You force yourself to sound chirpier. It’s an attempt to smooth things over, because you feel bad for being grumpy, even if you don’t have the emotional intelligence to actually correct it.
She doesn’t reply and she doesn’t follow after you.
You shut your bedroom door with a sigh.
You meet Sevika’s girlfriend later that night. It’s brief.
You had been eating pizza while watching reruns of The Nanny in the living room. Your mouth was full of crust when Sevika came traipsing through the living room, introducing you to her girlfriend while holding her hand.
“This is Monica,” She said.
The first thing you noticed was that Monica was pretty. Big chocolate brown eyes, russet brown skin and a leggy figure.
Your chewing came to a halt then, eyes widening in surprise. A part of you wanted to shrink at that moment, due to your faded old tshirt and sweatpants. Monica was the sort of woman that you’d probably find yourself ogling any other day. But today was different, because she was Sevika’s Monica. And that made you feel…weird.
“Your tights are ripped,” Was the only reply you gave, zeroing in on the exposed patch of skin above her knee. It was the only flaw that you could spot at first glance. It was the only thing about her that didn’t make you feel small.
“Oh,” Monica mumbled, gazing down at her leg. “Um, thanks for.. Letting me know?”
Your lips pulled into a toothy grin, “Anytime.”
“Alright, well..” Sevika’s sentence trailed off as she took a few steps toward her room.
“I ordered pizza, by the way!” You called, hoping to keep her there. Just for a few more moments. “It’s from that favorite place of yours on Eastern Avenue.”
Her lips twitched when she peered at you, halting her steps. “You’re the best.”
“I know.”
An awkward drag of silence filtered in.
Suddenly, you were aware of Monica’s presence again. “It was nice meeting you… Melissa, is it?
A laugh track from The Nanny sounded. You don’t remember the TV being so loud.
“Monica.”
“Oh, right.” Your grin widened. “Monica. That’s a beautiful name.”
“Thanks.”
When you tore your gaze away from her, Sevika was grinding her jaw, glowering at you.
Your teeth clenched through your smile, and it took all of your strength to keep from laughing. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Monica!”
She hummed quietly, seemingly offended. Sevika’s steps quickened.
Seconds later, her bedroom door slammed shut.
You would be lying if you said that you weren’t bothered by the idea of Sevika having a girlfriend. But it's not for the reasons that someone would assume.
You don’t care that she’s interested in another woman. No, that’s the least of your worries. You totally don’t care about that at all.
She can date whoever she wants to date.
It’s none of your business. Plus, she’s merely your roommate. Nothing more.
What you do care about is the fact that Monica doesn’t seem right for Sevika. Even though you're still trying to figure out why you feel that way—it still rings true to you hours after meeting her.
When you walk into the kitchen every morning, you’re normally met with the sight of Sevika making toast. You greet Sevika, and she talks with you about everything going on in her life.
It’s a routine that the both of you have made.
But Monica disrupts that.
It begins with her standing in the kitchen beside Sevika the morning after she sleeps over. And she's eating toast.
Your toast.
Melodramatic or not, that’s your first straw.
“Hey,” Sevika smiles.
“Morning,” Monica chirps.
You’re tired, eyes half shut, bonnet nearly slipping off your head and lips chapped.
You try to muster up enough energy to be genial.
But that’s disregarded when you see Monica reaching for a burgundy mug with yellow daisies.
Your favorite mug.
Your eyes widen and your lips part.
“Oh,” Sevika mutters, swiftly grabbing the mug from Monica’s grasp. “That’s not yours.” She sets it down infront of her, before reaching for another mug and holding it towards Monica. It’s one that you rarely use. “This one is.”
Monica blinks owlishly, a little thrown off by Sevika’s quick interjection. But she takes the mug with nimble fingers, muttering, “Thanks.”
When you walk closer towards the island, Sevika tilts her head towards the daisy-ridden cup. It’s tea. “I hope it’s warm enough.” She says.
You’re groggy and still trying to recover from your fatigue. You had a late night. But you do have to admit that Monica’s presence doesn’t help your sour mood.
A part of you is aware that your dislike for Monica isn’t rational. But a bigger part of you doesn’t care.
“You look exhausted.” Sevika says.
You take a swig of tea. She’s made it exactly how you like it.
“My colleague’s been out of office for a while so,” You sigh. “I’m stuck with the brunt of her work.”
Sevika’s lip tightens. “That doesn’t sound ethical.”
“Probably not. But,” You shrug. “That’s the way it’s going to be for now.”
Another swig of your tea while silence envelops the room.
Monica rests her head against Sevika’s shoulder, nibbling on her toast absentmindedly. You allow your gaze to linger on her for a few moments. She's close to perfect. Clear skin, sleepy doe eyes, pouty lips.
You don't question how she's caught Sevika’s attention. Anyone would be enamored by Monica’s beauty.
That's something that you can at least acknowledge.
“Toast?” Sevika mutters, pulling you out of your reverie. When you glance at her, she’s waiting with a quizzical stare and quirk of her eyebrow. She's caught you staring and the better half of you feels the need to look rueful. But you settle for a small smile and shake of your head.
“No, I’m alright. I'm going to start some work soon.”
“Already?” Creases form in her forehead.
“Early bird gets the worm.”
You need a distraction. Sevika’s been taking up too much space in your brain lately. Especially since Monica is in the picture.
Work will help you recenter yourself—and it'll be nice to get out of the house.
“See you later,” Monica interjects. Her voice is much smaller, eyes trailing to you slowly with a tentative grin.
You find yourself halting, thrown off by her voice.
For a small, small moment, you had forgotten she was there.
Your eyes flicker to Sevika, who’s watching you with an incomprehensible expression. She rubs her lips together, creating the smallest craters in her cheeks. Cheeks that look quite soft to touch—to caress.
You blink away those thoughts before they have a chance to plant a seed of other desires into your mind.
Nodding, you manage to return Monica’s grin, “See you.”
Then you're heading back towards your bedroom.
Sometimes, Monica is with Sevika while she grocery shops.
Those are the instances that you wish, more than ever, you had tagged along with Sevika instead.
Those are the few moments that you feel a sudden desire to embark on errands that you usually hate.
It’s been a little over a month since you’ve met Monica, and Sevika certainly didn't wait long until she started having her way with the girl.
It’s not like Sevika isn't allowed to have sex. You should have known this would happen at some point. This is her home too. And she’s an adult. She can do whatever she wants in her room—with whoever she wants.
But it starts to become an issue when you hear it.
Initially, it makes you laugh a little. Sure, it’s a little uncomfortable and causes your stomach to knot in a nauseating way, but it’s also fairly comical. The night begins with you relaxing in your room, watching a Julia Roberts rom-com on your television, while eating a bowl of ice cream. A loud knocking noise erupts halfway through the movie, and is what makes you pause your movie.
Then, fervorous cries are heard seconds later.
“Fucking unbelievable,” You mutter, jaw falling slack.
You listen for a few moments while ice cream drips onto your cleavage. Then you frown at the sound of Monica wailing, passionately, “Oh Vika!” Which is followed by, “Oh my god. You're so good..Too good.”
Those words, within itself, are traumatic enough for you to press play on your remote and raise the television volume up to a thundering 40 decibels.
The next morning, when Monica is long gone, you sit in the living room with Sevika. She’s going over tattoo designs in her sketchbook, looking completely domestic in a pair of grey cotton sweats and a baby blue crewneck. You hate how enamored you are by the beauty of her brown skin, and how it seems to pair perfectly with the color of her sweatshirt.
Liza Manelli sings before you on the television screen—surely a choice of yours rather than Sevika. But your roommate always seems to be content with whatever you put on.
It's only when she glances up from her sketchbook, catching you mid-stare, when she truly looks at you for the first time that day. She’s been absent minded for the majority of the evening.
She sends you a smile, “Hi.” She addresses genially.
“Hey,” You swallow.
Then you take this opportunity as a cue to begin your complaint about the previous night. She’s in a good mood right now, and it’s better to hash it out sooner rather than later.
Sevika listens intently. And when you're done, she nods, presses her lips into a firm line before apologizing earnestly.
Of course, you accept her apology right away.
“All is well,” You respond.
Then, without more than a beat that passes, you find yourself adding, “Besides, from what I heard, it must have been worth it. You're too good, apparently.”
Sevika lips part, eyes darting to you with traces of shock. “Oh my god.”
“I mean,” A slow smile stretches across your face. “You're far, far too good.”
She groans. “I hate you.”
“Oh, Vika!” You mock, hand flying to your heart. You present your best impression of an impassioned Monica, voice lilting up to the same squeaky resonance as hers. “You're just…too-”
“Jesus. Shut up.”
You laugh because it's easier to laugh about it. At least when you do so, you aren't allowing yourself to focus on the nagging lump at the back of your throat.
Seconds pass before Sevika’s laughter joins you.
The next time Monica sleeps over is three days later. You find the pair slipping into the apartment late at night, hand-in-hand, while they steal quick kisses from each other. You're sitting in the dining room, watching it all unfold with a mug of tea in your hand.
“Fancy some tea?” You ask.
Monica screeches, jumping away from Sevika as her hand flies to her chest.
Your roommate halts her movements, turning towards you with a snap of her neck and a string of colorful words.
The lights flicker on.
“What the fuck?” Sevika grumbles.
“Sorry. I shouldn't have interrupted,” You raise your mug. “No need to stop on my account! I’ll head back to my ro-”
Deep lines etch into Sevika’s forehead. An incredulous expression paints her features. She shakes her head, almost out of pure disbelief. “Why the hell are you sitting in the dark?” Her grey irises flash with a hint of annoyance.
In all honesty, you had been scrolling through Facebook on your phone and must have lost track of time. You were having trouble sleeping again and your usual habit of music playing wasn't helping. So you decided to make yourself a cup of tea.
It’s past midnight; a time that Sevika is rarely out. If she does stay out this late, it’s because she's spending the night at Monica’s residence. You hadn't exactly expected either one of them to come walking through the door. But since they have, you might as well pick some fun.
You clench your teeth through a smile, trying your hardest to suppress your laughter. “So, I’m guessing that’s a no?” You clarify. “...To the tea?”
Monica seems to be coming down from her fright, staring at you with furrowing eyebrows and a frown. Sevika rolls her lips into her mouth, placing both hands on her hips as she gazes down at the floor and leans onto her heels. You can tell that you're trying her patience. You’ve been doing a lot of that lately.
From your articles of clothing laying around the house to the sound of your music playing late into the night—you've really been testing her. It’s something that you’ve found yourself doing ever since you overheard her and Monica having sex. An act of rebellion? Sure. Immaturity? Most definitely.
No matter how much you try to talk some sense into yourself, nothing can really dissolve the feelings that you have towards that night.
It’s affecting you deeper than you currently understand.
“You have a little something right…here,” You say, raising your hand to the corner of your mouth. Your observation is directed towards Monica, and she mirrors your actions, wiping away at her smudged lipstick. “Oh, you almost got it. Sev, why don't you help the poor girl out?”
Sevika hardens her gaze at you, a warning that you should probably heed.
A warning that you, instead, disregard.
Standing up, you grab your mug and add, “Last call for tea? Going once?”
Monica lets out a bitter chuckle, peering at you under her lids before muttering something under her breath. She shakes her head, directing her attention to her nail beds.
“Twice?” You turn towards Sevika, who remains unamused. “Well, you can't say I didn't offer.”
You're not sure why that exactly makes Sevika snap.
Any other day, she'd happily say yes.
But tonight, you’ve seemed to provoke her.
Instead of being met with her charming smile, you're inflicted with the sight of steel eyes and hard lines.
“May I speak with you for a moment?” She doesn't wait for you to respond, instead, turning on her heels and walking towards the living room.
You follow after her, without so much as a glance towards Monica.
“What is it?” You ask, the moment that you step into the kitchen. You're barely able to get the question out before Sevika flips around, nearly knocking straight into you.
You stumble backwards, attempting to regain your balance, as your head tilts back to meet her gaze.
There’s something about the way that Sevika towers over you that makes you feel emotions you’ve never experienced before.
You generally don't like to be around people who diminish you; who make you feel small. Despite the obvious height difference, Sevika’s never been the type of woman who’s made you feel like that—even with all of your insecurities considered.
But even in that moment, it’s almost as if she could swallow you whole.
As if she could consume you.
Even with all of her fiery anger considered…
Even with—
“What's your problem?” Her question comes out cold and harsh.
It takes a lot of effort for you to not flinch. You aren't used to her having such an attitude with you—this is something completely new.
“My problem?” Your response is akin to someone being deeply insulted. You don't even try to hide your anger. “Am I not allowed to enjoy some tea in my dining room, for Christ’s sa-”
“That's not what I’m talking about and you know it.”
“I don't know what else you could be referring to.” Your arms fold across your chest while your wall of defense grows a foot taller. “Is it because I scared you? Scared her? I didn't think you’d be home. I assumed you would be at her place.”
“Why are you acting like this?”
Your lips purse as you roll your eyes. “...Don't know what you're talking about.”
“It's not like I haven't noticed it—she notices it. The way that you are around her…” Sevika tilts her head. “Are you trying to scare her away? Do you not like her? Because if so, I’d suggest that you say whatever the hell you need to say instead of acting like a teenager.”
Her breath mingles with yours, eyes flickering over your face with urgency. Looking. Searching for something.
Then she’s pulling away, putting space between the both of you as she leans against the kitchen island.
Her attention diverts to the surface of the countertop, shoulders heaving as she tries to catch her breath.
Although you probably asked for it, the effect of her words still land on your heartstrings, tugging painfully. Your ears ring and your gut twists.
“I ran out of my ambien.” You announce, voice taut. “So if you fuck her tonight, will you be a dear and do so quietly?”
You set your mug in the sink, but with more strength than you intend, so it falls over with a loud clatter. Out of the corner of your eye, Sevika startles at the sound.
When you walk past her, her hand that is closest to you twitches. Then it moves, as if she’s reaching to stop you, but you're already swatting her away.
“Don't,” You say, just loud enough for her to hear.
Her hand falls. She concedes. A low curse slips from her mouth, but you don't stay around long enough to address it.
Instead, the apartment remains silent for a few breaths as you slip back into your bedroom and ignore the cruel echo of regret.
#au writing#fanfic#piscespetals writing#sevika#sevika x reader#arcane au#arcane netflix#fluff#why are gays like this#roommate!sevika#divorced!sevika#sevika fic
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don’t know how you can be a melissa stan and not see the things her ex and his fans used against her are the same things being used against a woman whose ex-husband btw has already been convicted on 12 cases of domestic abuse in the UK in november 2020. seems like the smeltie is on the right side of that one, and since melissa supports evan rachel wood, whose abuser is besties with this other trash man… I know whose side she’s on
Friend, I don't know, should I draw a comic book so you can understand things I say or something?, that I am not interested in the trial, I have other things going through here, in my town, with women and children with war trauma, so no I am not going to dig into it, because I like to be well informed before I make an opinion. And in this case, I;m not going to.
And of course, smelties are right, aka the people who see absolutely no problem with McGrath working with Mel Gibson aka child and women abuser, homophobe and anti-Semite. Because it's soooo amazingly easy to shit on people you hate, while ignoring things your precious fave are doing, the same things you make you hate the others, huh?
And seriosuly, I have no idea what are you talking about in the next part, be more cryptic, be more mysterious, sounds like you love blind items, huh?
And seriously, go and take a shower, because the smell of your butthurt is overhelming.
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I remember seeing a blind item randomly about Mel and Mega Mind a while back that threw me off. I've never seen either of them in the blinds so idk if that makes it more or less credible, but it was about him cheating (like he always does). If I remember correctly, it said she was having to follow him around like a child to keep him from sleeping with his co-stars. Awkward.
i’m p sure there has been other blinds abt him cheating on her b4 back when we were still living in a sc world so wouldn’t surprise me if true 🙄 i do hope for her sake that it isn’t bc she def doesnt deserve that. like as much as i love dunking on him & dislike him i still hope she is happy in her marriage yk….so like again wouldn’t surprise me esp bc he has always been a known cheater (before melissa i mean) but as a melissa girlie i would hope it’s not true…..unless of course we consider the scenario where he is her b[gun shots]
#i am not spiteful. i dislike her husband but i still want her to b happy u know….even if i question her choices…….#anonymous#ask //
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Corey and Oats in…
The Spooktacular Trip To Spirit Halloween.
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Corey Covid’s first halloween in New Zealand had been very successful and he was looking forward to having another one this year and he couldn’t wait to get his inner monster on and he asked Oats if the two of them could go on a spooky adventure. ‘Can you, me and Mel go on a spooky adventure together?’ ‘Sure…where do you want to go?’ ‘I know of a special halloweeny place to go where we can have all sorts of fun.’ Oats showed him a page of a website for a store called Spirit Halloween, and that immediately gave Corey an idea. ‘Oooh, let’s go there.’
“How are we going to do it though?”
“Leave that to me…”
Oats ran over to the bedroom and picked up the bedbox and pulled out what appeared to be a magical item which was a key which unlocked a hidden door which got them to the entrance of the store known as Spirit. The duo raced over to the entrance as they saw the reaper, the doors opened as if by supernatural magic and they walked inside it. Corey grabbed a basket and started to look around, Oats galloped over to the costume section and went to try on some of the costumes. He put on a Princess Peach costume and he turned into a half-equine version of her, but he was still himself, he put on an Emily (Corpse Bride) wedding gown and turned into a ghostly bride pony-girl version of himself that had a similar gown to Emily’s, he enjoyed putting on all of the feminine costumes and exploring his feminine side so this was natural for him.
He walked over to the masks and saw all the different horror character masks, and also stood near the spot that was used to activate one of the animatronics, the animatronic he was standing next to was Lord Raven…Lord Raven yawned as he awakened, looking impossible and frightening with his claw-like fingers, his glowing eyes and his bird-like face. Corey was impressed and took on a half bird-like form and sat on Lord Raven’s shoulder. Oats galloped over to Monty and Monty played a song for him with his cymbals as the equine twirled around, imitating a ghostly ballerina.
The two of them looked at the Beetlejuice memorabilia…’Do you ever noticed that it’s almost always Betelgeuse and Lydia that get all the merch? But hey, look there’s Adam and Barbara, and also the hunter with the shrunken head, and the sandworm.’ ‘I wish they would make some of Otho. Otho’s my second favorite character.’ ‘I like the Adam and Barbara plushes though, those are adorable.’ ‘Oatsie, how about we check the Nightmare Before Christmas stuff?’ ‘Yeah, that sounds fun.’
Oats looked through the Nightmare Before Christmas merchandise and he saw some Jack, Sally, Oogie Boogie and Zero shirts and toys but he did manage to find some Mayor hats and costumes and Mayor plushes. ‘Yaaay, I KNEW Glenn Shadix wasn’t going to be missed out on representation-wise.’ Corey squeezed an Oogie Boogie plush and the plush performed the Oogie Boogie song.
“Let’s get some Beetlejuice stuff for our friend.”
“Yeah, and some Nightmare Before Christmas things too.”
Corey nodded as he went through the laboratory walkthrough and he saw Nozzles the clown and Barry. He enjoyed going through and watching the displays, and upon emerging from the laboratory walkthrough he watched the tubes with the bubbles and also saw the Bog Zombie while Oats was playing with Betty Sharpe. Mel was having a go at pretending to be a scarecrow and standing next to Strawman and Possessed Pumpkin.
Mel also took on the form of a voodoo queen that was half living voodoo-doll as she performed the song Funky Nassau with Grim the skeleton and a group of singing ghosts, she also picked up some Haunted Mansion things and bought them along with some blind-bags. Oats got all excited about the Hocus Pocus section and looked at the costumes, he saw a Sanderson Sisters funko pop set. ‘Oooh, Sarah. She’s my favorite Sanderson sister.’ ‘Do you think that the actress who plays Sarah really does look like me?’ ‘Well Sarah Sanderson IS pretty but you’re pretty too, in your own way.’ ‘
The duo saw the bobbleheads of Jason Voorhees and Freddy Krueger and mimicked the head-bobbing movement in a style that was also referencing the infamous Butabi brothers from Saturday Night Live. Oats looked over at Mr Punchy and gave that animatronic a go, he chuckled as he saw Lucky Bottoms laughing away. ‘These guys are pretty fun.’ Next, they went over to Regan…’I loved you in The Exorcist, you were very scary.’
“Yeah, that voice and everything.”
Oats looked over at Lil Skellibones and played with him while Corey pretended to have a boxing match with Shorty from Killer Klowns From Outer Space. The duo had all sorts of fun in the store, playing around with the cast of characters, a couple of hours later Mel called them over and the duo paid for the things they picked out. ‘Here Corey, I got you and Alcina an Adam and Barbara plushie.’ ‘Aaaaw, thank you.’
Corey looked over at the zombie babies including the ‘burrito babies’ and frollicked around in the laboratory area once more, observing the ‘bubbles of death’ and pretending to be electrocuted, he definitely thought of this place as being so much fun he didn’t want to leave, but luckily he knew he could come back anytime. After he went back to Mel, the duo left the store with her and headed outside.
A black and orange pumpkin car was right for them outside, they hopped in the pumpkin car and went on a bit of an exploration as they visited graveyards and learned about ghosts and different takes on them in lore and pop culture, and after that they arrived back home at their house in Nile Road.
The duo got out of the car with Mel as they looked around before going into their house, Corey couldn’t believe all the fun he had at Spirit. ‘Do you think we’ll have more fun and that we’ll be able to go again?’ ‘Oh I just know it, that store is always there through August, September and all the way until November.’ ‘Yaaaaaay!’
Corey hugged Mel as he set up his special spooky display, later that evening the microbes all told scary stories and listened to funky halloween songs as they got ready for the upcoming halloween festivities to come, and they remembered to ask Mel if they could go to Spirit again, to which she said yes. ‘This halloween will be microbial.’ ‘It certainly will be.’ The duo laughed as they hugged each-other.
And when it was time for bed they snuggled up and dreamed of their adventure in Spirit and dreamed of their new friends like Regan, Lord Raven, Possessed Pumpkin and Lil Skellibones and they dreamed of having a monster party and being monsters with Corey as a vampirus (vampire virus) and Oats as a ghostly bride pony.
The fun isn’t over there though, for stay tuned for ‘Oats and the Unicorn Princess’ the ‘2022 Halloween Spooktacular’ ‘Oats’s Magical Flower Garden’ and quite a few other stories.
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Robyn problem is she lets people get in her head and doubt her husband Mel and her mother will have her alone miserable and blind items can definitely be lies that is why Robyn didn’t want Rylee to look at them because she know how it’s works because I am sure she has some written about her the fake that Chris blocked Rita and it not entertaining her shows he changed he is flirt and people person that is his personality he can’t change that and Robyn is the same way around men have them drooling
Oh Mel is bitter AF she need to stay away from that one
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MAN WALKS ON THE MOON
MAN WALKS ON THE MOON - https://keywestlou.com/man-walks-on-the-moon/Originally posted July 2017 Many times I have mentioned that the two happenings which excited/impressed/moved me the most were man walking on the moon and the Berlin Wall coming down. Today, the anniversary of the first man on the moon. The year 1969. Neil Armstrong: “…..one mall step for man, one giant step for mankind.” It happens too many times as I get older. Go for a routine physical feeling fine. Walk out concerned. Every 3-4 years my blood pressure goes out of whack. It is out of whack again. Big time. One of the highest numbers I have recorded. My ankles a bit swollen, also. Most people might not be greatly concerned. At 82, I am. Everything concerns me. Tests next week. Water pills for a few days immediately. My blood work normal. Doctor thinks my murmur is louder. Sad about John McCain. A brain cancer tumor. One of America’s greats. May God help resolve the problem rather than take him. Trump at it again. His consistency is his inconsistency. Never know what he is going to do. When he does perform, it is generally incorrect. Three items of concern this week so far. Note it is only thursday. First, pulling the CIA out of Syria. A major Putin victory. Makes us look less than dependable to the free world. Plus, Trump got nothing from Putin in return. Second, the Presidential Advisory Commission on Election Integrity which Trump appointed. Met for the first time yesterday in Washington. I listened to the Chair and Vice-Chair speak. Two nuts. Both already believe there were major problems in 2016. Finally, Trump’s words last night re Sessions, the Justice Department and Mueller. Trump fears the police arm of our government. He should if he has something to fear. Which I believe he does. He wants to get rid of Sessions and the Acting Attorney General. Also Mueller, if Mueller gets into his and his family’s finances. On top of which he wants the FBI to answer directly to the President. Anna, my Anna. She is presently in Athens. Always in a place where excitement is going to occur. She e-mailed me yesterday. The media carried the story, also. Ermou Street in Athens is one of its finest shopping areas. Like our Fifth Avenue. I walked down it twice every day. To Playka and back. I wrote about Ermou several years ago. The streets full of beggars. Like I had never seen before. Makes our homeless look good. So you can understand. Every day there was a man with no arms and legs. Face badly scarred. Hair burned never to grow again. Blind. Propped up on a curb. His hands out searching for contributions. Anarchists ran Ermou Street monday. Breaking windows, destroying the inside of shops. Throwing chemicals about. Sixty stores involved. They were protesting on behalf of a 29 year old woman whose appeal of her terrorist conviction had failed. The police did not interfere. When asked why, they said they did not have instructions to do so. I can understand. As I wrote many times several years ago, the Greek Nazi Party is influential with the police. Half the members of the Nazi Party are police officers. The Golden Dawn (the actual name of the Greek Nazi Party) are a law unto themselves. I wrote I had a sense of fear every time I saw them. Young Aryans. Blond. Great bodies. Wear black shirts, ties and pants. Swastika look a likes as armbands. The Hitler salute. The Jew of Hitler’s days is the immigrant of today. They blame immigrants for everything. I saw what I assumed was an immigrant being violently beaten by them one day. Just off Ermou street. Two police officers were nearby. They turned and walked away. Hemingway Days today. At 6:30, the preliminary round of the Hemingway Look-Alike contest. Sloppy Joe’s Big day in Key West history. On this day in 1985, Mel Fisher discovered the mother lode of the Spanish galleon Atocha. After 15 years of searching and struggling. $400 million in gold, jewels, and other artifacts. Enjoy your day!
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I think I need an intervention guys 😅
Latest merch haul from @shandian-go! I actually couldn’t fit all the photos in one post, so I’ll be adding the rest in a reblog lol.
I didn’t order it all at once, a bunch of stuff just arrived around the same time lol. Thank you so much Mel, everything came in perfect condition! And it looks like I got my preferred choice for the blind box items, the stationary sets are so cute!
#mdzs#mo dao zu shi#grandmaster of demonic cultivation#word of honor#wangxian#shan he ling#mdzs merch#tgcf#shandian go#my merch
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I'm curious: what's with the scarring/markings on Melliwyk's arm?
the SHORT answer is: once upon a time, Melliwyk was doing an experiment with lightning magic and almost blew herself up
(pictures taken moments before disaster)
The longer answer is that her primary area of study is magic item crafting, and she was working with a theory that involved, among other things, imbuing magic into items with similar inherent attributes-- in this case, she was trying to put some kind of lightning enchantment on a lighter that ignites fuel with a spark. She actually managed to get the magic to hold for a moment, which ended up being really bad news, because instead of just dissipating (or blasting the other side of the room), the energy built up until it abruptly backfired on her. So, the scars are Lichtenberg marks (warning: google image search of marks on the skin of people who've been struck by lightning). Apparently in real life these burns on people don't typically permanently scar, BUT this was magical lightning and I can do whatever I want 😌
This incident is why she became ambidextrous; the blast knocked her out and nearly killed her, and burned her dominant arm pretty badly, so as soon as she recovered she started training to be able to write with her right hand as well in case anything ever permanently happened to her writing/ wand arm.
This incident also had some other repercussions, which the DM devised. She was still at the academy at the time, and her roommate walked into the room just as the project backfired; the lightning itself shot back up Mel's arm, but the explosion/ lighter shrapnel also hit Amberly, permanently blinding her and ultimately leading to her having to drop out of the academy and stop pursuing the study of magic. However, rather than getting in trouble over it, the academy as an institute was impressed with the progress Mel's experiment had shown, and the whole situation sort of ended up fast-tracking her career as an experimental artificer. To be frank, I don't, on principle, love the idea of DMs tinkering with backstory stuff like this, but fortunately in this case it fit with Mel's character and some ongoing character development stuff and gave her backstory a lil kiss of angst that happened to have added depth to her whole deal as a person and I'm into it, lol.
#she had an unseen servant on standby with instructions to administer first aid if she got hurt#which it turned out is why she didn't die lmao#the spell she was channeling was witch bolt so one time I rolled for the damage (1d12) and it was enough to KO her#as a pre-level-one wizard#SO in light of the DM's new developments to this story I imagine the electric shock hurled her back#which is why she didn't get HER face fucked up or anything#so the last thing Mel remembered was realizing the thing was gonna blow and then seeing Amberly come into the room just as it popped#I feel like that's the last time she ever saw Amberly-- she sent flowers but avoided her and moved rooms as soon as possible#oh also I have since researched lighters and the ones that use an electric spark are like. modern. like of course they are#sparks from flint aren't electricity which I already knew so I could have put this together myself if I'd thought for two seconds but SHRUG#gnomes just have whatever inventions I need them to have don't worry about it#about me#my OCs#Melliwyk
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The scs are especially triggered right now because they found out their “inside source” was lying this whole time about Chris and Mel getting divorced. Their source being the girl who used to run the archive account. Luckily she seems to have disappeared (account is being run by other people now). Mcfadden was not pleased when he found out she was a liar though lol
You want to tell me that... smelties were made idiots by a Chris' psycho fangirl?
XDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD
No, seriously, smelties, confitm - was she your blind item source?
#smelties#tantrumcorpses#anons#LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLL
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You Bring Me Home—Chapter Eight: Don’t Worry Baby
a/n: hello hello!!! a massive apology for this one being so late it’s been such a hectic week for me, so I really appreciate your patience <3 Thank you for sticking around and for the continued love and support you have shown to this story. It really means the world to me :’) I hope you enjoy this chapter, feel free to chat with me afterwards, I’m intrigued to see where y’all think this story is going now👀 there is certainly much 2 think about... Much love, Mel <3
Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character
Warnings: swearing
Word Count: 4.5k
catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, six, and seven
The faint clanging of pots and pans, Freddie barking, and Pua’s laughter rouses Alani from her peaceful sleep. She sees nothing but pink as her eyes peel open and momentarily thinks that she’s gone blind, but her vision soon focuses on the vague outline of black ink. With a curious dent between her brows, she removes the sticky note pressed to her forehead and turns it over.
GOOD MORNING!
MAKING BREAKFAST DOWNSTAIRS. SEE YOU THERE :)
♡ H
Her mouth, still puffy with the touch of sleep, curls at the edges as she clutches the note to her chest. One hand slides over to the indentation left in her bed by Harry and it’s still warm, which means that he must not have been gone long. Alani climbs out of the covers and races to the top of the stairs where she can hear him and her sister having a playful exchange.
“I don’t think you put enough chocolate chips,”
“What do you mean? It’s about 90% chocolate right now,”
“So make it 100%,”
As she creeps down the stairs, she spots Pua perched on a swiveling chair at the kitchen island, Freddie snoozing in her lap, while Harry meticulously sprinkles chocolate chips into a bowl of pancake batter next to the stove. The scene makes Alani’s heart swell, so she silently observes for a moment before interrupting.
“Is this more to your liking, Your Majesty?”
“Much better. Even Freddie thinks so,”
“I thought dogs couldn’t have chocolate,”
“Must you question everything I say?”
“I think he’s right,” Alani confirms, stepping into the kitchen to tussle her sister’s hair and pet Freddie. Harry lights up at the sound of her voice and immediately sticks his cheek out for a kiss. She gives him a peck and accepts the chocolate chip that he holds to her lips, letting him have a taste as it dissolves on their tongues.
“Please, don’t stop on my account,” Pua grimaces.
The pair separate and Alani pokes her tongue out at her younger sister, making Harry chuckle beside her.
“Hey, no fighting,” he warns. “Or no one gets pancakes.”
“She started it!” both sisters defend in unison.
They share a laugh and dissolve into their own antics while Harry returns to the stove with a cheerful whistle. He methodically shapes the pancakes into hearts on the skillet, playfully swatting Alani’s hand away from the bag of chocolate every five minutes or so. Freddie waits patiently at Harry’s ankles during the entire cooking process, praying that the human will drop a scrap of food his way.
“Sorry, Mr. Mercury,” Harry apologizes, reaching down to give the dog a gentle pat. “These aren’t for you. Take it up with Mother Nature,”
Alani fills Freddie’s bowl to relieve Harry of his dog-sitting duties before hopping up onto the counter beside him. He slots himself between her legs, flashing a cheesy grin that makes her giggle, and her fingertips trace over the faint shadow of stubble around his jawline and above his lip.
“Can you grow a beard?”
“Do you want me to?”
Alani shrugs, considering the idea. “I was just wondering if you were capable,”
“Hey,” he pouts. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She smiles innocently, pinching his chin. “Nothing, I like the fresh face. But stubble’s kinda hot,”
“Noted,” Harry winks.
“I like spending my mornings with you,” Alani admits quietly. “And the whole chef thing you’ve got going on is definitely a perk,”
Harry’s dimple resurfaces and his emerald eyes gleam. “Me too, sweets. Did you like the note I left you?”
“Yes, it was a very nice touch,” Alani confesses, heart still soaring over the sentiment.
“Didn’t wanna wake you. Looked so peaceful drooling, hair all in your face—”
“—Hey!”
“Did you know that you kinda talk a little in your sleep?”
“I do not!”
Harry kisses the wrinkle in the middle of her forehead and it eases. “Do too. It’s cute, though.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Alani grumbles with a small, affectionate smile. “Let’s eat.”
Both Pua and Alani compliment Harry on the restaurant quality of his heart-shaped pancakes, and he accepts the praise with a bow that makes them both giggle. The three of them gather happily around the dining table, sharing jokes and analyses of each other’s dreams from the night before. Of particular interest is Pua’s dream about her teeth being replaced by kernels of candy corn, which Harry explains is a warning to cut down on the sugar before bed.
“You’re no fun,” Pua teases with her arms crossed. “Only had a pint of ice cream last night,”
Harry snickers. “As opposed to?”
“Alani, can you date a dairy farmer next time?”
“Hey!”
Alani rolls her eyes, but her smile reveals her true amusement. “Be nice,”
“Thought I was your ‘favorite singer,’” Harry sulks.
Pua’s eyes dart to her older sister. “You told him?!”
“What?” Alani asks innocently. “It was sweet,”
Harry’s brow furrows. “Why wasn’t I supposed to know that?”
“Cause you’ll get a big head,”
“Too late. I won your sister over, even though she’s way out of my league,”
“And don’t you forget it.” Pua cautions with a friendly tussle of his hair before standing with her empty plate.
Harry chuckles lightly. “I thought we were friends,”
“Sisters before misters,” Alani shrugs, grabbing his plate and utensils to put in a pile with her own. “So whatcha doin’ today?”
“Good question,” he ponders, tapping his chin. “Get dressed, we’re going out,”
“Where to?”
“It’s a surprise,”
“I don’t like surprises,”
“Tough,” Harry maintains. “And you’re a liar cos everyone likes good surprises,”
Alani traces a heart onto the back of his hand with her fingertip and sighs. “But I need to know what to dress for,”
“Dress for the perfect afternoon with your favorite guy,”
“James Marsden’s coming?”
Harry purses his lips and stands. “Alright, I’m leaving now,”
“I’m kidding!” Alani giggles, offering an apologetic kiss. “I’m sorry, sunshine. Please don’t go,”
“I wasn’t aware that James Marsden made you these pancakes,” Harry dodges her affection.
“Or that he had your face as his screensaver,”
“You do not!” Alani counters, eyes wide.
She gasps when he holds up his phone to reveal her unflattering selfie. “Why?!”
“Because you’re so cute, that’s why!” Harry explains with a delicate smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Even when you’re mean,”
Alani playfully swats his arm and pulls him closer by the pocket of his hoodie. “I’m sorry, ku’uipo. You’re the sweetest. Thank you for breakfast.”
“Welcome, dove,” he beams. “Now grab some clothes, we gotta stop by my place first.”
********
Alani slips on a pair of platform sandals and smoothes out her skirt while Harry pulls on a white t-shirt with a blue bandana secured around his neck. The polka dots on her yellow dress bring a fond crease to the corners of his eyes as he swipes a pair of black sunglasses from his dresser and pushes them into his unruly curls for the time being.
“Give us a twirl,” he requests, whistling when she obliges.
Alani spins into his arms and her hands smooth over the soft material of his burnt orange button up adorned with white lilies. “Digging the white tee, babe. How very James Dean of you.”
“Only the best for you, doll.” Harry shoots back in his best American accent.
As they make their way to the back of the house where the Cadillac is parked, he queues up a song that he hopes will bring a smile to Alani’s face. “Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini” begins playing as loud as his phone speakers will allow and he flashes a cheeky grin in her direction. “Bit of a theme song for you today,”
“You’re such a cheese ball,”
“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” he teases with a pinch of her thigh.
“Never said I didn’t,”
“Fair enough,”
“So, are you finally gonna tell me where we’re going now?” Alani asks, batting her eyelashes.
Harry shakes his head and tuts in mock disapproval. “Are you gonna try to ruin every surprise I plan for you?”
“I just wanna know what to expect!”
“You’ll like it, promise,”
“A hint?” she bargains. “An itsy bitsy, teenie weenie one?”
Harry captures his bottom lip between his teeth and thinks. “It’s for something in your room,”
“That’s all?” Alani blurts. “That could mean anything!”
“You said one hint and I delivered! So why don’t you just sit back and enjoy the ride now?” he suggests, laughing to himself when Alani crosses her arms with a huff.
The drive is scenic and the weather is especially nice, which explains why the beaches they pass are more crowded than usual. Alani checks “beach” off her list of possible locations, racking her brain for the items in her room that could have possibly caught Harry’s attention. She wonders if he noticed the various scented candles perched on her nightstand and dressing table, deciding that a candle shop probably isn’t likely. Momentarily, she recalls the pile of books on her desk and her mind flashes back to their conversation about one of their mutual favorite authors, Angela Avery. Getting warmer. Harry remains tight-lipped and merely offers a coy smile or a whistle each time Alani ventures a guess. But just when she started to believe she would wear him down, the two of them pull into the parking lot of Moku Records and draw her speculation to an end.
“Of course,” Alani surrenders, stepping out of the passenger door that Harry opens for her. “I should’ve known,”
“Came here my first week. The day after I met you, actually,” he explains bashfully.
Alani’s cheeks warm at the sentiment, and she laughs at the way he swings their joint hands softly as they cross the empty parking lot. Harry pulls the door open and she takes a curious step over the threshold, noting the hint of jasmine and sandalwood mixed in the air of the little shop. Her eyes immediately land on the A-B section first where she spots ABBA and The Beatles, and her fingers tenderly run over the cover art.
“Like a kid in a candy shop,” Harry observes fondly. “Pick out whatever you want,”
“Are you serious?” Alani asks, eyes wide.
He shrugs nonchalantly. “Course. Wanted to make a contribution to your collection,”
“I don’t know,” she smiles sheepishly. “I don’t want you spending a lot of money on me. I really appreciate the offer, though,”
“So what if you pick some out for me, too? Then we can think of it as compensation for your generous musical recommendations,” Harry puts forward.
“You make music for a living,” Alani scoffs. “What do you need my recommendations for?”
“What, you think musicians are born knowing every song that exists?”
“Okay, fine. Who can we credit for your music taste, then?”
Harry mulls it over for a second, a gentle hum vibrating in his Adam’s apple, before he responds. “My mum, mostly. Some friends—”
“—Any exes?” Alani fishes.
“Yeah,” he confirms shyly. “Some I guess. You?”
“Same, pretty much,”
“Right, well now you’ve gotta tell me where you picked up all of these albums ‘cause I don’t wanna be buying shit your ex-boyfriend introduced you to,” Harry teases to lighten the mood.
An amused exhale escapes from Alani’s nose and she shakes her head. “No, I meant your exes also inspired me,”
She holds up a record with the numbers “1989″ and a familiar blonde on the cover, and Harry shoots her an unamused look. “Okay, now you’re just being mean again,”
“Long hair, slicked back, white t-shirt,” Alani sings as he turns to walk away.
“Keep it up and you’re gonna be buying your own bloody records!”
“Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style,”
Harry gives her a sharp side-eye, but the faint curl of his lips betrays the intended message of his glare. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because it’s a good song,” Alani giggles. “And you’re just being a hater,”
“Thanks,”
Alani turns on her heel with Harry’s palm pressed firmly against hers, and continues to sort through the collection of vinyls. The two of them snake through the aisles and pull albums that they think the other person would enjoy. Harry grabs one from Wings that has been in his recent playlists while Alani explains that he absolutely must own the vinyl version of “AM” by the Arctic Monkeys. He picks out a Shania Twain and highlights the track “You’re Still the One,” which Alani counters with The Mamas and the Papas.
“Wait,” Alani stops, pulling another record excitedly. “You gotta have this one as a starter,”
Harry accepts the copy of Queen’s “A Day at the Races” and adds it to the growing pile. “A classic, of course,”
“And I already have its sister album, ‘A Night at the Opera,’ so we can share, ” she suggests, turning back to her browsing.
Harry’s phone rings and he shuffles the albums around in his arms before lifting it to his ear. “Hello?”
“Hey,” Jeff’s voice carries through the speaker. “Film crew’s here. Are you on your way?”
“Shit,” Harry curses, eyes shutting tight.
“You forgot?”
“I’ll be there as soon as possible,”
He had completely disregarded all of his previous plans in favor of spending every possible minute with Alani. One of those plans, however, was a mini documentary following the formation of his debut solo album which would start filming that day and continue over the course of the week.
“No worries,” Jeff continues. “Might wanna give Alani a heads up if you bring her, though.”
“Thanks, mate. See you soon.” Harry says before ending the call.
Alani had only been half listening, still admiring the artwork of the vinyl covers. “Everything okay?”
“Music thing I forgot about. Gotta go back to the house for a bit,”
“Okay,” she nods understandingly, though it pains her to do so. “So you can just drop me off at my house and we’ll hang tomorrow,”
“Tomorrow?” Harry repeats. “I can pick you up after work, it’ll just be for the afternoon,”
Alani shakes her head apologetically. “My dad’s picking me up on his way home from the airport. He’s getting back from his trip tonight and he’ll wanna see me and my sister,”
“Oh,” he relents, defeated. “Okay, so tomorrow morning?”
“Well, tomorrow afternoon. I work the morning shift,”
Harry groans. “Twenty-four hours?”
“We’ll be fine,” Alani chuckles, taking some of the records from his hands to lighten the load.
“Distance makes the heart grow fonder and all that,”
“That’s a load of bollocks,”
“Bollocks? God you’re so British,”
“And you are so American,” Harry pouts over the sudden derailment of his romantic afternoon plans. “God, this sucks,”
Alani offers him a kiss to soothe the sting, which he accepts with a hum. “Majorly. But hey, what can you do? The music calls.”
They check out and she carries the bag on her hip, the temporary relief of retail therapy distracting her from the disappointment of their time cut short. Harry checks the time and calculates that he’ll be a little later than promised, but he’s more concerned with making every second with Alani count. There’s a bit of cloud coverage over his usual sunny disposition, so she tries her best to cheer him up by lifting their intertwined fingers and pressing gentle kisses to his knuckles.
“Thank you for the most perfect afternoon,” she murmurs against his skin.
“Wasn’t supposed to be over for a few more hours.”
“Every minute with my favorite guy is like heaven.” Alani admits, watching intently as his smile slowly returns.
********
“How’s California?”
“You know, it’s kinda growing on me. My nana and pops send their love,”
“Aw, miss them,” Alani smiles, shifting the phone to her other ear. She decided to spend her free afternoon catching up with her best friend still on the mainland, though her thoughts occasionally drifted back to Harry. “Any cute surfer boys?”
“Maybe one,” Maleah confides. “But it’s nothing serious,”
“And you’ve been holding out on me?” Alani gasps.
“His name’s Max, he’s a lifeguard,”
“I demand photos immediately,”
“Sure thing,” Maleah giggles sweetly. “Speaking of boytoys, where’s yours? I thought you two were attached at the lips at all times,”
Alani walks her toes up the wall, a soft grin easing onto her face when she spots the pink sticky note from earlier. She turns her head to Harry’s spot and takes a deep breath to soak in the lingering scent of vanilla.
“Working, kinda,”
Maleah frowns. “Doing what exactly?”
“Some music thing. I guess they’re filming a behind the scenes mini-film or something, I’m not entirely sure. Harry was kind of cryptic,”
“That’s weird,”
Alani sits up. “Do you think it sounds fishy?”
“No way. Mr. Perfect would never,” Maleah assures her. “But you know him best. What does your heart tell you?”
It hadn’t even crossed Alani’s mind that Harry might not be telling the truth, but for a brief, guilt ridden moment she considers it. She quickly closes that door after considering all the things he had already been so open about. “He would tell me if something was up,”
“Then there you go,” Maleah says decisively. “That’s good that you guys are so open. Communication is key as they say,”
“Yeah, absolutely. Mind if I gush for a second?”
“Of course not, spill!” Maleah urges her.
Alani recaps the events of the last couple of days, from the painting and the heart-shaped pancakes to the record store. The weight of Harry’s absence grows heavier with each passing minute until it forms a lump at the back of her throat, but she swallows it down.
“Wow,” Maleah swoons. “What planet did this guy come from, and are there more of him there?”
“Sometimes I think he’s too good to be true, like I made him up or something,”
“Can you make me one like that, too?”
Alani giggles. “What about Max?”
“Well hey, maybe we can all double date sometime,” her best friend suggests eagerly. “He’s kind of coming to visit when I go back home,”
“I thought you said it wasn’t serious?”
“Yeah, well, I just didn’t wanna jinx it,” Maleah explains shyly. “So whaddya say? Think Harry will be in town a couple more weeks for us all to meet up?”
Alani searches her brain for any mention of Harry’s travel plans and it suddenly dawns on her that she didn’t know how long he planned to stay, or where he would go once he did eventually leave the island. He had said once that he considered London his home, but it hadn’t exactly been a straight answer. The thought of his inevitable departure makes her stomach turn, so she musters up a more hopeful answer than what reflects her worries. “Definitely.”
********
Harry rushes into the house and runs a hand through his disheveled hair. The voices of his manager and friends mixed with the unfamiliar chatter of another person echo from the kitchen, and he takes a deep breath to steady his nerves.
“I’m sorry for being so late,” he apologizes with an outstretched hand towards one of the strangers he’d only conversed with over emails. “It’s nice to meet you,”
"Paul,” the man offers warmly. “Paul Dugdale,”
“Harry,”
Paul introduces the rest of the film crew that will be following the band for the week and Harry extends a gracious welcome to each of them, despite secretly wishing that he’d never agreed to the project in the first place. Every minute on camera, he realizes, is another agonizing minute away from Alani.
“So listen,” Paul instructs. “Based on everything we’ve discussed in our creative meetings, we’re gonna approach this very fly-on-the-wall style. Very little intervention, you won’t even notice we’re here,”
“Good deal,” Harry nods.
“We’ll save the interviews for when you come back to London in two weeks,”
“I’m sorry, what was that you just said?”
Paul’s brows furrow. “About the interviews?”
“The two weeks bit,” Harry clarifies.
“Oh, right. Well we’re gonna need you back in London in two weeks so we can film the sit-down interviews that will sort of guide the narrative. But don’t worry, we already scheduled it around the Dunkirk shoots so there shouldn’t be any conflicts.”
Harry’s head spins. He had been living in such a carefree bubble with Alani that every other responsibility in his life career-wise had slipped his mind entirely. There was no way on Earth that he could pack everything up and leave just when things had started to fall into place for them. With uneasiness burrowing a whole in the pit of his stomach, Harry musters up a pleasant smile. “Course, sounds great.”
The film crew sets up quickly and urges Harry and his friends to go about their usual business, but nothing feels natural about the clock ticking away inside the singer’s mind. He had always known that he was living on borrowed time in Hawai’i, but he hadn’t planned on finding something worth sticking around for. There had to be something he could do, some way that he could stay even if it was just until the end of summer before Alani would have to return to school full-time in the fall. Despite the uncertainty surrounding his plan to buy more time, one thing is certain: he can’t tell Alani until he has a solid course of action. Harry is fully aware of the risk he runs by leaving her in the dark, but it seems less daunting than the possibility of her ending things because of the sudden expiration date put on their relationship. And no matter how long Harry is able to extend their time together, he knows it won’t be easy to leave Alani and everything they had built together behind. His anxious fingers fiddle with the strings of the guitar resting in his lap as he imagines what it will take to prove his feelings, wishing all the while that he could just hold her in his arms and hear her say that everything would be alright.
********
Alani yawns, but she rubs the drowsiness out of her eyes and returns her fingers to the keyboard. She isn’t sure whether she should go through with the Rolling Stone submission, but writing has always been her way of processing her thoughts, so she decides not to let the material that she already has go to waste. Her phone buzzes on the nightstand next to her cup of coffee and she lifts it gently before reading the caller ID.
“Hey, sunshine,” she murmurs.
“Did I wake you?”
“Nah, just doing some writing,”
A smirk tugs at the corners of Harry’s mouth. “Anything I would like?”
“It’s about you,”
“Love it already,”
Alani giggles softly on the other end and it makes Harry’s chest ache. “Funny that you called. I’m actually having a bit of writer’s block,”
“Alright, let me help you out,” Harry clears his throat. “Harry Styles: aspiring musician, fashion novice, phenomenal lover—”
“—And the most humble person I know,”
“Yeah put that, too,” he adds playfully. “Hey, what time are you working tomorrow?”
Alani yawns and closes her laptop for the night. “Eight to three,”
“Shit,”
“She works hard for the money or whatever Donna Summer said,”
Harry checks the time on his phone—23:39—and he decides to act quickly. “Can you stay awake for another 20 minutes?”
“Yeah, I guess. Why?” Alani questions, taking a sip of her tepid coffee.
“Just don’t fall asleep. I’ll call you back in a few.”
“Okay.”
She assumes that Harry must have gotten busy again and puts on a movie to keep her awake. Fifteen minutes pass and her eyelids are as heavy as bricks, but the ringing of her phone nearly causes her to jump out of her skin.
“Hello?” she answers weakly.
“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair! Or a ladder, preferably,”
Alani’s face scrunches in confusion. “What?”
“I’m outside, sweets,”
She quickly jumps to her feet and makes her way over to the window at the opposite side of her room. Sure enough, Harry is waiting below with a thumbs up and she chuckles to herself as she lifts the windowpane up.
“What are you doing?”
“Climbing this tree I guess, since you’re no help,” he explains, already finding his footing in the Acacia Koa outside her window.
“We have a front door, you know,”
Harry swiftly maneuvers from branch to branch, which frankly surprises himself as much as it does Alani. When he finally reaches the window and hoists himself inside, a victorious grin spreads across his face punctuated by a dimple on each cheek. “Can James Marsden do that?”
“You’re crazy,” Alani muses, an incredulous look in her eye.
Harry shrugs and reaches behind his back to close the window gently. “Only about you,”
Alani wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in for a warm kiss, humming when she feels his strong hands smooth up and down her spine.
“Missed you,” he whispers against her lips, tickling her sides lightly.
She giggles and tightens her embrace. “Missed you more,”
Harry kicks off his shoes and follows Alani into her bed, his head tilting when he spots a familiar picture tacked to her ceiling. “Is that—?”
“—An original from my favorite up-and-coming painter, Harry Styles?” she questions, completing his thought. “Why yes, it is. But it’s not for sale, so don’t even think about it,”
“Right next to the O’Keeffe one,” he boasts. “I’m honored,”
“You should be,”
Harry searches his memory to no avail. “Where did you say the original was?”
“New York Botanical Garden,” Alani murmurs against his neck, fighting the fatigue weighing on her muscles.
“I’m gonna take you one day,”
“Promise?”
“Promise,” he affirms with a feathery kiss to her temple.
Alani sits up and rests her chin on his chest, peering down at him with sleepy eyes and a sweet smile.
“Can’t wait,”
“I should probably go,” Harry breathes deeply, his own exhaustion settling in. “Let you sleep. I just wanted a good-night kiss,”
“No, stay. I’m not even tired,” Alani pleads.
“Your droopy eyes say otherwise,”
“So tell me something to keep me awake,”
Harry swallows. He searches his brain for something to say other than the news that he isn’t ready to break yet. “Like what?”
“Liiiike,” Alani sighs. “Why One Direction broke up,”
“It’s not a very interesting story,”
“I don’t believe you, but whatever. Tell me a secret, then,”
“A secret,” Harry leans in close, the tip of his nose brushing agains the apple of her cheek. “I really wanna kiss you now,”
Alani pulls back the slightest bit to steal a glance at his mouth, already parted enough for her to slot her lips between his. She buries her fingertips in the soft curls at the nape of his neck and the taste of Harry’s spearmint washes over her tongue. His hands brace each side of her neck as he plucks needy kiss after needy kiss from her generous lips.
“I can’t believe we didn’t even make it a whole day apart,” Alani jokes when they pull apart slowly.
“It’s after midnight,” Harry mumbles against her skin. “So we kinda did.”
She chuckles and plants a delicate peck to his forehead. “I love the way your mind works.”
#harry styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fic#harry styles fluff#harry styles writing#harry styles x oc#one direction#one direction fanfic#ymbh
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Apparently Chirs once again cheated on Melissa, Scs are tweeting about it.
Their source - blind item...
Everyday few Scs wake up and tweet Chris is cheating, expect Melissa to divorce him
Come up with theories for Meltie, claiming Mel and Katie are secretly in love..
This is few SCs everyday life.
I hope they forget about Melissa when Katie finally moves to other projects and ship Katie with any woman that breaths near her, come up with 1000 theories claiming that the actress husband is cheating on her, she needs to divorce him and date Katie Instead.. pity those women who are friends with Katie...
Cause if you are being friendly with Katie, you are in love with her, your husband is cheating on you, abusing you, it's all a PR stunt, you are a closeted gay..
Let’s just think for a second about them claiming that Chris HERMIT Wood interacts with fans and spread there his private information.
Like, only people with no working brain cells could believe it.
So far they accused him of cheating on her when she was pregnant, not supporting her projects, the having marriage problems and heading to divorce, him being like BJ, her being codependent and basically going from one abusive relationship to another, him sending his dick pics to a fan and now spreading pics of his son to random people. Aside of their wet dreams about *eltie.
I said that once and I will repeat it: if they claim they are Mel fans, then they should act like them. No one asks them to like her husband, but this is the person she chose and builds a life with. A person who makes her happy and there is nothing that even suggests there is something wrong there, besides the fact it’s NOT ANYONE’S BUSINESS anyway. For now they act like Mel is their baby doll and they can project THEIR own wantings and desires on her. It’s fucking disgusting. And the fact they want a victim of abuse being in another abusive relationship and the fact they want her to go through another divorce is double disgusting.
They should go and seek some mental help and I’m serious here.
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so why does twitter meltie convinced that mel and [redacted] are getting divorced. never been a fan of that guy but Mel has a child w him not even a year ago and girl had some pretty shitty things happen to her. Selfishly I want her to be happy with whoever makes her happy. but from where exactly did it start. I knew about the blind item(which i'm not very trusting) and Twitter gatekeeps everything.
What does her having a kid have anything to do with the strength of their marriage?
Alexa, play “The Very First Night”, “illicit affairs”, and “So It Goes…”
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Love Is Blind: Chapter Twenty
Robyn sighed as she carefully made up the bed then plopped down to catch her breath. The kids were asleep but Chris was still up doing work for when he returned back to work. He had agreed that it was time for him to move back into their bedroom but she was really worried about whether that’s what he wanted to do. They hadn’t slept in the same bed in weeks and she was concerned whether it would be awkward for them.
“Babe, you up?” Chris called out as he made his way to their bedroom. Robyn turned towards the doorway just as he appeared, “hey you. How’s work going?”
“It’s going. You ok? I thought you’d be asleep by now.”
“I needed to change the bedding and stuff. You alright?”
“I’m good. I think I’m done for the night.”
“Oh. Just coming to say goodnight then?”
“I thought I was moving back in here unless plans have changed.”
“ Huh? No. I just didn’t- never mind.”
“You thought I changed my mind?”
“I didn’t think you were gonna do it anyway.”
Chris chuckled lightly as he walked over and sat down beside her, “I thought we were working on trusting each other.”
“We are. I just didn’t want to rush you into anything. It’s only been a week or so since we’ve started hashing things out.”
“We can hash things and still share a bedroom.”
“I know.”
Chris slipped his arm around her shoulder and hugged her close to him. Robyn kissed his chin before resting her head against his chest, “you drive me crazy but I love it.”
“I don’t mean to.”
“You still do. How was lunch with Mel?”
“It was good. I liked getting out of the house.”
“I’m glad. I’ve still been a little worried about you being isolated here.”
“I’m isolated for medical reasons and I’ve learned to accept that and adjust. My life is just gonna be different for a while, that’s all.”
“How’s the business going?”
“Good. Mel and I dropped in on the shelter while we were out. We hired another on-call doctor to help with the increased business but other than that not much has changed.”
“Beverly enjoying being the boss?”
“She’s always thought she was, now she just getting the pay too.”
Chris laughed, “gonna be hard to talk her down once you go back.”
“I think I’d let her stay vet director and just be the doctor for a change. I can’t handle the stress of patients and paperwork.”
“Oh, that sounds great.”
“If having a five minute argument with you had me passing out, I don’t think dealing with vendors and donors is gonna be too good for my health either.”
“Understandable. You sound a little winded, do you need your inhaler?”
“Please.”
Chris reached into the nightstand and handed the item to her. Robyn pumped on the trigger two times before inhaling deeply. She handed the inhaler back to Chris and he put it back in the drawer, “Sorry.”
“What you apologizing for?”
“I’m sure having to take care of a sick girlfriend, a toddler and a newborn wasn’t in your plans when we got back together.”
“No but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“We’re being open here, you don’t have to say the ‘right’ thing.”
“I’m not. Listen, having you back in my life in general was not something I ever thought would happen. Being in a relationship with you and having a baby, double miracles in my book so I am happy to take on whatever I need to because this happened.”
“Don’t start making me be all mushy.”
Chris chuckled, “Don’t start crying or I might have to get your inhaler back out.”
Robyn laughed as she leaned into his chest, “I have a feeling I’m never gonna get rid of that thing.”
“There’s always room for things to get better. Do you feel like your legs are getting better?”
“Yea, I can stand a little longer so I guess the physical therapy is working. I still got months to go unfortunately.”
“What’s so unfortunate about it?”
“Us can’t do us things because I can’t physically handle it. I’m not trying to have a seizure while we fucking. Too weird.”
Chris laughed, “Robyn, the last thing I’m worried about is sex. As long as I can wake up to you, I’m good.”
“Here you go being all perfect again.”
“What would you like me to say, Babe?”
“I don’t know. Just stop being so good because it makes me wanna fuck you and I can’t.”
Chris kissed her temple as he wrapped his arms around her, “Woman, I love you so much, you know that?”
“I love you too. You’re really gonna stay in here with me tonight?”
“Tonight and every night after.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Can you do me a favor?”
“Whatever you need.”
Robyn smiled up at him, “stop being so sweet. Anyway, can you check my stitches for me?”
“Of course. Is the kit where I left it last?”
“Yea. I’ve been trying to keep it clean but I don’t know if I’ve been doing a good job because I can’t really see it.”
“That’s not an issue, Sweetie. You could’ve asked me to do this a long time ago, you know?’
“I was embarrassed. I still am but since we’re being open, I’m rolling with it right now.”
“I understand. Lay back.”
Chris went to the bathroom to wash his hands and grabbed the little medical kit out the bottom of the sink then went back into the bedroom. Robyn was lying on her back with her shirt pushed up to the underside of her breast. Chris sat the kit on the bed beside her then put on some latex gloves. Carefully he pressed around the sides and top of her belly then moved down towards the spot where the doctor’s had cut her open. He gently pressed against the closed wound, “can you feel that?”
“Yea, I can feel it.”
“Does it hurt?”
“No.”
“No stinging? No sharp pains?”
“None.”
He shined a small flashlight on the area for a second then grabbed a small jar of black/white ointment, “have you been putting this on?”
“Trying to. I don't know how much I’ve actually put on the stitches or just around it.”
“It looks pretty good to me. It doesn't hurt but you’re also not numb and there’s no smell to it. I think you’re good.”
“Ok. Thanks, Babe.”
“You’re welcome.”
He carefully put some ointment on the area before throwing his gloves in the trash and repacking the kit, “you got any other pains in your belly, not just near your stitches?”
“No. I’ve had some stiffness in my neck but that’s usually only in the morning.”
“Have you told your doctor?”
“I mentioned it but it wasn’t that bad really.”
“So you mentioned it but you downplayed it.”
“Kind of.”
“Robyn.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sweetie, the fact you are still having so many aftereffects is concerning. Nothing is a small thing when it comes to that, ok?”
“I know. I just didn’t feel like having them poking me and sending me for a bunch of tests.”
“What else is bothering you?”
“I’m forgetting stuff more frequently.”
“Things or thoughts?”
“Thoughts. A lot of my memories are fuzzy or missing parts. Sometimes I can’t remember what I did for pockets of time.”
“Robyn, I think you’ve been having mini seizures.”
“What? No. I don’t shake or nothing.”
“Not all seizures require shaking though, the doctor told you that.”
“He did.”
“I think we really need to get you checked out.”
“In the morning, please. I really need to sleep.”
“Tomorrow morning we are going to the hospital, ok?”
“Ok. I promise to cooperate.”
“I don’t want to lose you not just after getting you back.”
Robyn gently palmed his face, “don’t get all melancholy on me. I’ll be fine.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chris kissed the palm of Robyn’s hand as the doctor hooked her up to an EEG, “you ok?”
“I’m fine,” Robyn replied as she looked up at him, “you’re more nervous than I am.”
“You can tell?”
“Definitely can tell but I appreciate the concern, Baby.”
Chris turned to the doctor, “Will you be able to tell if she’s had any previous seizures?”
“We will attempt to use her last EEG and compare if there has been any changes. There’s no guarantee that we’ll see anything but if she’s been having them often, there should be some kind of abnormality,” Dr. Richardson replied as he carefully checked the placement of the nodes, “it doesn’t hurt a bit and should be over fairly soon.”
After a few minutes, they were sitting in a regular examination room as Dr. Richardson placed her EEG results up on a board beside him, “so, there is definite evidence of prior seizures. Have you ever felt stiff, unable to move, sort of like you're frozen in time?”
“Yes, a few times,” Robyn replied.
“You were having mini focal seizures. People often don’t categorize them as seizures because there’s not always shaking or twitching involved. When this begins to happen postpartum, the usual cause is eclampsia. They are also contributing to your respiratory issues as well.”
“Oh. Does it affect memory?”
“Yes, it does. We may need to change the anti-seizure medication you are currently using because it doesn’t seem to be working for you.”
“Do you know how long I’ll have this problem?”
“Usually it only goes on for about six weeks postpartum but seeing as yours has persisted beyond that, we don’t have a clear window on whether your body will completely return to normal.”
“So I’ll be on anti-seizure medication for the rest of my life probably?”
“That is a high possibility.”
“And the respiratory issues?”
“Your respiratory system is stronger than it was, so it seems to have rebounded well. I still want you to take it slow, minimize your stress and continue your physical therapy.’
“Does this happen often?”
“It is rare for a case to be this severe but it does happen. Unfortunately, there’s no definite explanation for why it develops or why it persists longer for some women than others. With monitoring and care, you should be relatively back to normal within a few more weeks outside of the need for medication.”
“Thank you.”
“Not a problem. You’ve been doing well so keep up the good work but please don’t hesitate in letting me know about any more symptoms, I can’t treat what I don’t know about.”
“I understand.”
“I’m going to write a prescription for a new medication. You are not to take it for a week, I want your system cleared of the last medication before you start this to minimize any complications. I don’t want to set back your progress.”
“Ok.”
“I will notate the date you are to start on the prescription bottle. After about a month, we’ll run a new batch of tests to see if it’s helped. In the meantime, if you have any more symptoms, that includes stiffness, numbness, an altered state of consciousness, inability to move your limbs, feeling like you're frozen, blackouts etc., return to the hospital. I don’t want you to ignore it and it becomes worse and possibly causes a stroke.”
“Yes, Dr. Richardson.”
“You can sit here for a few moments or go to the waiting room while I complete your chart and send your prescription.”
Chris shook the doctor’s hand before he left, closing the door behind him. Chris turned to Robyn, “how are you feeling?”
“Overwhelmed. I didn’t anticipate this after having our baby.”
“It’s a lot to take in but we’ll get through it especially now that we know what to expect going forward.”
“I just wanna go home and lay down.”
“You hungry?”
“No, I’m good.”
Chris helped her down off the table and to stand up straight, “you need your walker?”
“No, I think I can make it without it.”
Chris grabbed the portable walker and folded it up into itself while following Robyn’s slow gait out of the examination room. They sat in the waiting room for a few minutes before they were cleared to leave.
Chris watched as Robyn tucked her feet underneath herself as she sat in a chair on the front porch. The newly installed rocking chair helped as the weather got warmer and the kids wanted to be outside more. She carefully started to rock and Chris had to stop himself from going to her immediately. He knew she was still trying to come to terms with the doctor’s diagnosis. Having your miracle baby but developing serious health problems as the result of it is a lot for a person to handle. His therapist had cautioned him to let Robyn take her time to adjust to any new situation before he rushed in to talk to her about it. Everyone needs their space to think before trying to problem solve. He finished washing the cup he was holding when an idea came to him.
Robyn sighed as she brushed a tear off her face. She didn’t anticipate postpartum life being this hard. A few minutes passed when she heard a knock on the wall beside her. She looked up and Chris smiled at her, “Hey Babe.”
“Hey you. Mind some company? I got hot chocolate and sweet cake.”
Robyn giggled, “my favorite. I guess you can sit out here too.”
Chris set the tray down on the side table while he grabbed a chair from the other side of the porch to sit down.
“How you feeling, Baby?”
“I’m ok. Still wrapping my mind around my new body, I guess but I’m ok.”
“You know you don’t have to put on a front for me. I know this is hard and definitely not either of us anticipated when you got pregnant.”
“Definitely.”
“But you don’t have to suffer through this in silence. I’m here whenever you’re ready to talk.”
“I don’t know how we do this.”
“The same way we do anything else; we adjust, adapt and just do it. Unfortunately, there’s no prewritten playbook for this.”
“I know. It’s just- it’s overwhelming. How are you?”
“I’m good but I’m focused on you. I wish I could tell you I understand how it feels but I’m no woman and I have not given birth so I can’t possibly help in that aspect but I want to help you by making this easier for you to deal with.”
“I don’t know. I’m trying to adjust to the weight, the breathing, the walker, and the seizures all at once.”
“It’s a lot, Sweetheart. I know but you are the strongest woman I know. You’ve made it through so much that I have no doubt if we really give it our best shot, you’ll get through this. You’re not alone in this. Maybe we can approach this the same way we’ve approached getting back to center. One thing at time. Your health is way more important than the whole weight thing right now. Once we get your seizures under control which in turn assists with your breathing, we can worry about that.”
“I guess that would be best. I guess I’ll have to get used to being a size 14 for a while.”
“Which is not a bad thing.”
“You’re only saying that because my butt is bigger.”
Chris playing raised his brows at her and Robyn laughed, “Listen, intercourse may be out of the question for a while but my hands are not broke.”
“Oh my God, Christopher.”
“What? I’m just being honest. I can rub on you a little bit, it can’t hurt.”
“You’re such a troublemaker.”
“I love you.”
“I know. I love you too.”
Chris smiled and leaned over to kiss her lips, “you wanna go on a date with me?”
“We have the kids here.”
“I know. We’re not gonna leave the house but I wanna do something special for you.”
“How?”
“You let me worry about that. Just need a yes or no.”
“Uh yes.”
“Good.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Ok, are your eyes closed?”
Robyn chuckled, “does it matter? I have a blindfold on.”
“I’m just checking, Ms. Fenty-Brown,” Chris replied with a laugh, “it’s just a few more steps.”
“I don’t know why I have to be blindfolded, we’re at your house.”
“Our house. And I still want this to be a surprise. You been fussing for the last five minutes.”
“Because I’m anxious. Hurry up.”
Chris carefully guided her to the middle of the backyard before standing behind her and taking the blindfold off, “what you think?”
“Aww Babe, this is beautiful.”
Chris held her waist to keep her steady as she started to walk around. Decorative lanterns were placed inside and outside a large tent with the opening flaps pinned to stay open. Small lights were hung inside the cloth and metal structure as the all white pillows and palettes glowed underneath them.
“Can we go inside?”
“Yea, just hold onto my hand and i’ll help you get down.”
Robyn kneeled carefully as she held onto Chris’s wrist then slowly crawled inside the tent, “this is so pretty.”
“You like it?” Chris replied as he sat beside her.
“I love it. It’s comfy and relaxing in here.”
“Good.”
“So what else you got up your sleeve?”
“What you mean?”
“I know you and I sense there’s something else going on here.”
“There’s no hidden agenda here, Robyn.”
“I didn’t say it was a hidden agenda, I just think you got something else planned.”
Chris smiled, “it’s not anything like you think, I promise.”
“Ok.”
Chris moved to close the flaps of the tent and shifted to press a button on a small black box that was situated on a small table behind them. A lens popped up out the top of the box and began to project an image on the white flaps.
“Aww Babe, my favorite movie. This is so cute.”
“I wanted to get the usual movie stuff but I know you can’t eat any of it so...I got this,” Chris grabbed a tray and sat it between them, “so there’s some green tea with honey, some mini sweet cakes and cookies.”
Robyn did a little dance and Chris chuckled, “I’m guessing I did good.”
“You did perfect. I only find these cookies at the airport, where’d you get them?”
“You can order them in bulk online. I found them last week.”
“You even chilled the green tea. You remembered.”
“You’re the only person I know who drinks brewed green tea cold.”
“It just tastes better to me.”
“You ready to watch the movie?”
“Yes. Can you move closer?”
Chris furrowed his brow then moved the tray out the way and scooted closer. Robyn leaned down and put her head in his lap. She grabbed one of his hands to hold it as the movie began to play. Chris leaned down and kissed her temple before whispering in her ear, “I love you.”
“I love you too, Baby.”
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Timestamp #226: Let's Kill Hitler
New Post has been published on https://esonetwork.com/timestamp-226-lets-kill-hitler/
Timestamp #226: Let's Kill Hitler
Doctor Who: Let’s Kill Hitler
(1 episode, s06e08, 2011)
Hello, sweetie.
Prequel
A phone rings as the TARDIS is in flight. The answering machine picks up and Amy leaves a message.
As the camera pans across the console and the dark control room, Amy asks if the Doctor will fulfill his promise to find Melody Pond. Even though she knows that everything turns out okay, she doesn’t want to miss Melody’s childhood.
The Doctor listens intently, but doesn’t pick up the phone. He’s clearly wracked with regret and sadness.
Let’s Kill Hitler
It was once a nice wheat field. Then the Ponds plowed through it, scrawling the word “Doctor” into the crop. They stop in the middle of the O – a giant crop circle – to find the TARDIS and the Doctor in his new pea green double-breasted coat. The Doctor shows them a newspaper article chronicling the event.
It turns out that this was the only way Amy and Rory could figure out to get the Doctor’s attention. He consoles Amy: He will find Melody because River lives. The moment is shattered by police sirens, a speeding red car, and a woman named Mels. The new arrival holds the Doctor at gunpoint and demands to be taken in the TARDIS. It seems that she wants to kill Adolf Hitler.
Flash back to a long time ago in Leadworth as young Amelia, your Rory, and young heretofore-unknown Mels grow up together. Apparently, Mels knows all about Amelia’s “imaginary” friend, the Doctor, and that knowledge gets her in trouble. A lot. Including stealing a bus. She’s also present when Amy finally figures out that Rory loves her.
In the present, Mels, Amy, and Rory take a trip in the TARDIS. Mels actually shoots the TARDIS console while in transit to Nazi Germany. In Berlin, 1938, those same Nazis are being observed by a team with future technology as a machine (posing as a custodian) shapeshifts into a Nazi officer. That team is inside the machine, a highly advanced ship called the Teselecta, which shrinks the Nazi officer and draws him inside. Since the officer is responsible for a series of hate crimes – after all, what Nazi wasn’t? – he is disposed of by a series of “antibodies”.
The Teselecta then goes to Adolf Hitler’s office and activates Justice Mode, but two things interfere in the plan. First, they are too early in Hitler’s time stream. Second, the TARDIS crashes through the wall into the office.
The Doctor evacuates everyone from the TARDIS as it smokes away, then stashes Mels’s handgun in a bowl of fruit. The travelers are beside themselves for actually saving Hitler. The Teselecta tries to attack Hitler again, but he shoots the ship before being stashed in a nearby cupboard by the Doctor and Rory. The Teselecta feigns a fainting spell while the crew analyzes the TARDIS and determines that the most wanted war criminal in history has arrived.
Also, Mels has been shot by Hitler.
Mels, short for Melody, regenerates into a very familiar form. Mission complete. Well… sort of. This new woman has no idea who any of her traveling companions are, she is incredibly self-centered, and has maintained her programming that demands murdering the Doctor. She tries multiple times with every weapon in the room, but the Doctor is several steps ahead of her, but he misses the poison lipstick.
Melody jumps out of window and takes on a squad of Nazis. The soldiers try to shoot her, but she survives due to her regenerative state and uses the discharged energy as a weapon. She picks up their guns and drives away on a motorcycle. Rory and Amy give chase with the sonic screwdriver, followed by the Teselecta disguised as a Nazi soldier.
The Doctor enters the TARDIS and extracts the smoke. He consults with the TARDIS voice interface – the sequence of trying to find a face that doesn’t remind him of his failures is hilarious – and determines that regeneration is impossible due to the poison extracted from the Judas tree. The interface mentions “fish fingers and custard,” inspiring the Doctor to set a course in the TARDIS.
Melody storms a restaurant and demands that the patrons give her their clothes. Outside, the Teselecta takes Amy’s form and miniaturizes Amy and Rory. Just before being killed by the antibodies, the Ponds are given clearance privileges and taken to the control room.
The Teselecta nearly passes judgment on Melody for killing the Doctor, but the Doctor arrives in a tuxedo and top hat. He uses a sonic cane to scan the ship. He also verifies that the Ponds are okay. The Teselecta places Melody in stasis before the crew explains that the mete out justice to war criminals at the ends of their respective timelines. Amy convinces the crew to offer any help they can to the Doctor.
The Silence, a religious cult who believe “silence will fall” when the oldest question in the universe is asked, are behind the plot to kill the Doctor. When the Teselecta crew reveals that they don’t know what the question is, the crew resumes their torture of Melody.
The Doctor asks Amy to save her daughter, so Amy disables the crew’s privileges so that they will all be attacked by the antibodies. The Teselecta releases Melody and the crew is teleported away to a mother ship. As the antibodies descend on Amy and Rory, the Doctor tells Melody to save her parents.
As the Doctor faces his imminent demise, he begs Melody to help him. She talks to the TARDIS and learns to fly the ship, rescuing Amy and Rory before returning everyone to the Doctor’s side. Melody Pond, a child of the TARDIS, wonders who she is. The Doctor asks her to find River Song and pass on a message.
As the Doctor falls unconscious, Melody asks who River Song is. Amy uses the Teselecta to show Melody her own face. Melody decides to pass on her regeneration energy – all her remaining lives – to the Doctor with a kiss, thus becoming River Song.
River wakes up in a hospital with the travelers looking on. The Doctor’s message was that no one could save him, which made her think that she could. This is how she learns Rule #1: The Doctor lies. The travelers leave her with the Sisters of the Infinite Schism to recover, complete with an empty TARDIS-shaped diary. She’ll find her way back to them in time.
As the Doctor ponders the data he downloaded from the Teselecta, River Song enrolls at the Luna University in 5123. Her motivations are simple: She’s looking for a good man.
There are a couple of items working against this fun ride: First, the introduction of the previously unknown Mels. Second, the crux of the assassination of the Doctor relies on him being the smartest man in the room again.
The first can be explained if we’re looking at the events of this season through Amy and Rory’s perspective, therefore seeing a low-impact change in the timeline after Melody’s birth and abduction. The second, while an annoying feature of the Steven Moffat era of Doctor Who, adds a lot of humor and hangs a lampshade on the Doctor’s blind spot for River Song. Especially considering the fact that she is the person who kills the Doctor, an act for which she is imprisoned and is now revealed to be a fixed point. The second also hearkens back to the Ninth Doctor in Boom Town, but it worked there because it wasn’t as much of a storytelling crutch for Russell T. Davies.
That humor, coupled with the character development for River and the Doctor, really makes this story work. The origin story for River Song helps tie off her story and could have provided a convenient story terminus if not for the character’s immense popularity.
The humor also worked because it was self-deprecating. The scene with the TARDIS voice interface poked at the ongoing theme with companion departures and shame, invoking Rose, Martha, and Donna in the process. The scene also point us back to a moment of combined shame and innocence by invoking Amelia Pond, whom the Doctor had not yet screwed up but did leave hanging for her childhood years.
Going back to Rule #1, we find out in this story that temporal grace – the state in which the TARDIS interior exists – houses a “clever lie”. The Fourth Doctor claimed that weapons could not be used inside the TARDIS in order to stop Eldrad in The Hand of Fear. Of course, we already knew that it wasn’t absolute from Arc of Infinity – “Nobody’s perfect,” claimed the Fifth Doctor when challenged by Nyssa about a Cyberman shooting in the console room – as well as The Invasion of Time, Earthshock, Attack of the Cybermen, The Visitation, and The Parting of the Ways.
With all of the discussions about Doctor Who canon/continuity in fandom, it’s a good reminder that Doctor Who canon/continuity has never been consistent.
This story also presents a fascinating parallel to The Caves of Androzani, during which the Doctor was poisoned by could survive by regenerating. The Doctor had several lives to spare at that point, but this encounter comes at the supposed end of the Doctor’s regeneration cycle due to the events of Journey’s End and The Night of the Doctor.
There are also several other franchise callbacks: We’ve seen “justice machines” in the past, though they were in the form of the Megara; We’ve previously seen the TARDIS materialize in a micro environment, courtesy of Carnival of Monsters, and materialize in a micro state, courtesy of Planet of Giants; We’ve seen the TARDIS materialize around people and objects before in Logopolis, Time-Flight, The Parting of the Ways, and The Waters of Mars; We’ve also heard about transferring regeneration energy in previous adventures like Mawdryn Undead, the TV movie, and The Ultimate Foe.
I’m also a sucker for the “Doctor who?” title drop gag, which has been around since the beginning. It makes me snicker every time.
All told, I really enjoy the action, the spirit, and the heart of this story. It takes a tired time-travel trope (“Let’s kill Hitler!”) and turns it on its ear to both develop characters and move a story along. Well done.
Rating: 5/5 – “Fantastic!”
UP NEXT – Torchwood: The Gathering
The Timestamps Project is an adventure through the televised universe of Doctor Who, story by story, from the beginning of the franchise. For more reviews like this one, please visit the project’s page at Creative Criticality.
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