#and greg would be exasperated with them

[tsakmaster]

so I've seen a lot of people wishing the cast of ghosts would appear together on taskmaster but what about the actual ghosts themselves? (let's just imagine everybody can see them for the purposes of this post... perhaps they all fell off the knappett)

my initial thoughts are:

robin would generally go for the more straightforward physical solutions before suddenly surprising everybody with an extremely cerebral move

julian would attempt to bribe alex at every turn and get into fights with thomas when they're put into a team of two

every single prize task he brings in is just a massive wad of cash of dubious origin

the captain would get a crush on a distractingly handsome cameraman, keep nervously looking over at him and end up fumbling a task he was about to absolutely ace

thomas spends so long deliberating over the exact meaning and wording of each task he never manages to actually finish any, completely breaking alex

kitty is generally rubbish at the tasks but she has so much fun every time that she's a joy to watch and everybody is very charmed by - and protective of her - in the studio

mary HATES alex's guts and spends every task roasting the shit out of him

her whimsy and lateral thinking pay off big time in the final episode

pat generally thrives but has one memorable breakdown after greg arbitrarily gives him one point, shouting, "what sort of game show is this anyway?? give me 'it's a knockout' over this rubbish any day!"

fanny walks out before they even start filming

[windvexer]

But considering then that maybe one should learn a form of banishing, just in case, but doesn't relate to the golden down practices, what could be a practice of banishing that is more connected to witchcraft ?

We are in reference to this ask about whether or not the LBRP is required learning for all sorcerers & practitioners (it is not).

Someone asked me for my opinions and I'm giving them! Please understand this to be a post full of my personal opinions and methods.

I think a fine way to regard any practical sorcery is to consider it to be a mundane action extended into the spirit world.

Therefore the best way for a witch to deal with banishment is to ask what you if you were in a nice Studio Ghibli anime where magic is tangible. If a rambunctious pig spirit were tearing through your house, knocking over furniture, what would you do?

Banish for your needs based on what you have. Any banishment spell is better than no banishment spell. Here are a few for the intrepid witch:

Ask It To Leave

This is a good starting operation, especially if you have ethical concerns. Especially helpful for troublesome household spirits and energies.

Go to where It is. If that is not possible, create a sympathetic image (drawing, sigil, poppet, etc.; then correctly consecrated*).

Speak to the image and tell it firmly and sternly to leave. Do not ask, do not show your belly. "You have got to stop coming to morning meetings, Greg. You have better things to do and you are not helping. I am sick and tired of hearing you before lunch, Greg. Stop doing it."

Open the Door and Smack It With a Broom

Another good starting operation, but you must have access to the location; best reserved for spirits or intruders.

Open all the doors and windows you can. Speak a prayer over the broom, vacuum, or mop; invite it to cast off its lampshade and glow with the vigor of four hundred generations of exasperated grandmothers.

Sweep out the house, all the while staying intent on the idea that the intruder is going to be chased out.

Close doors and windows after, as desired.

(Modifications on the above: blessed water in a spray bottle, rolled up newspaper swatting the air, and so forth; the studious witch will observe that if a place is consecrated to be other than what it is, things on other strands of fate can be swept away.)

Cast Dispel Magic (wizard 3 abjuration)

A fine early step, but it draws a line in the sand. It's more like a temporary ward, but it'll do in a pinch. It's also energy intensive, but requires no materials.

Using energy work, root yourself down into the earth. Call up a great deal of power from the earth into your body.

Coalesce a ball of power in your abdomen (or wherever suits you best; you must already know how to work energy in this matter to use this method).

In your preferred method, program the energy to be immensely banishing; envisioning ultraviolet flame can work well.

Expand the ball of energy outwards from your center so that it grows and eclipses the space around you, sending the unwanted thing out and away.

If possible, then work the far boundary of the energy sphere to become like a wall that can't be crossed over again.

Call the Magistrate

Not so harsh, but certainly drawing a line in the sand. This can be performed not only on spirits or intruders, but also on situations (to banish unfair treatment, etc), on people, and so forth.

Take one or three dried Bay Laurel leaves, or the equivalent crumbled. Say, think, or sign, "Bay Laurel, I call you here today to assist with removing an unwanted force."

Read over them the Orphic Hymn to the Sun, all the while envisioning that the leaves begin to glow with an immensely bright light, as if you're staring at the sun.

At the completion of the hymn, politely address the leaves and explain to them exactly what you would like chased away. Ensure you clarify if this thing may come back later, or never at all, and how far away from you it should go.

When you've said you part, seal the spell (classically, "as my will, so mote it be").

Use charcoal disks or your preferred method to burn the leaves. This should be done as close as possible to the thing intended to be banished. If burning is not an option, put them in some tap water and boil it on the stove until the scent diffuses.

(To further energize: read the hymn between three and nine times, each time following up with fervent prayers)

Call the Mob

Harsh. For use when you do not want to be polite. Can be directed at anything, but be sure there is no concern of behavior escalating; this is an aggravating spell.

Take one or three dried red peppers, or a teaspoon of red pepper flakes. Say, think, or sign, "Red Peppers, I call you here today to assist with removing an unwanted force."

Read over them the Orphic Hymn to Mars, all the while envisioning that the peppers ignite into a black and scarlet flame that's like hellfire.

At the completion of the hymn, rambunctiously address the peppers and explain to them exactly what you'd like chased away. Encourage the peppers to chase after the thing like the baying hounds of hell, to chase it to the ends of the earth, and past the earth, and so far away that the thing cannot be returned.

When you've said you part, seal the spell (classically, "as my will, so mote it be").

You should not burn the peppers at all unless you can do so outside, because breathing in pepper smoke is Bad. But fire greatly improves this operation. If possible, arrange the peppers around a candle and burn the candle to activate the spell. Otherwise, use the simmer pot method.

---

*Consecrated: In this context, to assign a new magical identity, purpose, and fate. This may be done organically during its creation, or all at once with a ritual. A poppet shouldn't be used in sympathetic magic until it has been magically given the true identity of the thing you want it to represent.

[pvlvsdog]

I feel like most sinners have some sort of praise kink or need for affection and attention because of what’s happened to them.

Hmm sort of? In my opinion, there are a few that like those things more than the others, yk. For example there are quite a few lines where Heathcliff reacts strongly to praise/compliments and you can kind of see he wants attention, at least from specific people. Take that time when others were discussing Ishmael’s past (CIV I think? It was when they first mentioned her being on a boat) and he butts in with a boat joke, clearly expecting a reaction from her (even in CV when he jokes about being spanked Dante notes that they can almost hear Ish reacting to that. Which btw, is a bit wild). So like, definitely uses the quips to get attention, in a class clown sort of way? [affectionate]. And given his flustered reaction when he was informed that Dante’s club comment could be a compliment, praise is definitely going to work well on him. Same with characters like Gregor or Emil. Greg’s unused to being perceived in a positive light in general. The best he ever got is being a useful tool for his mother, but that’s just as awful and beyond that, he was generally labelled as dangerous and disgusting. I’m… not sure if he would take compliments and attention in a way Heath or Rodya, for example, would. He’s more bitter, more convinced that this stuff just isn’t something someone like him gets. Sure, he’s nice and friendly (Dante notes that when he’s silent things seem off since he’s usually the one trying to lighten the mood and chat to other sinners) but there’s no doubt that he’s pretty cynical about the world. He’s very defeatist and doesn’t expect good things from life. Add to it his particular sensitivity to being compared to a pest (something Heath points out at one point) and I think he wouldn’t trust your intentions when you tell him kindly or pay special attention to him. I mentioned it before but I think the best word here would be exasperation. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. And even if he wants to receive your affection “the proper way” he’s lost on what that way would be. His life up to this point didn’t provide the kind of environment where one learns the ropes of human connection. So he shifts under your gaze, freezes upon gentle touch, stumbles over his words when you give him compliments. And that is when he can even spot them. Mostly he just misses the hints. So yeah, I mean, he could use more of that kind of treatment, but don’t expect him not to fumble spectacularly. With Sinclair it’s a bit better? He clings to the feeling of being cared for and liked. It’s something he knows from his past and misses dearly. Plus like, I might joke about him liking milfs but in the book he’s very affected by the idea of a ‘maternal woman’ in a romantic way. Same with his older friend, he likes the way Demian offers him guidance and protection. In the game you get that too with how much he enjoys getting treats or how easily convinced he is by Rodya to perform. So all three things you mentioned would have an effect on him for sure. Only way it wouldn’t work is if he’s um. Going through it. And doesn’t think his actions deserve much in terms of being rewarded. Like how he told Heathcliff that he wouldn’t want to get praised for the way he was trying to make things right for Pilot. Rodya, on the other hand, would not turn down any praise in my opinion. Her self esteem is in shambles and much like her book version, she needs and craves being told good things about herself. She wouldn’t admit it, but her thoughts are rather horrid, so she will use any words that counter her inner doubts. And with the way a lot of the things she does are in relation to being recognised as the hero of the story, your attention would definitely be well received as well. The last one miiight be a bit of a stretch, but Yi Sang just could use more positive connections overall. After his canto you can see him seeking out interactions and experiences more. And I think he deserves to hear nice things. It would make him happy I recon.

But then we have characters like Ryoshu, who, in me eyes, wouldn’t care for attention in general. Like, if you’re romancing her then sure, listen to her talk about art, but that’s not very universal. In general, she’d rather have you understand and appreciate her art than be overtly doting. This would also overwhelm Don a bit, as (I haven’t played her canto, forgive me if I don’t get it) her way of connecting with you is more that of exchanging worldviews and stories. And trying to get you interested in her Fixer stuff. Obviously, you will fluster her with specific compliments, but it’s not a crucial part of building a relationship with her. Lastly, I think you would need to lean in more so on the understanding when building a relationship with Ishmael. Cause like, attention is only a small part here, she needs someone to see with her eye to eye and maybe even challenge her when she’s fixating on the wrong path. Like, I’m not saying you shouldn’t give her attention. But in terms of pure fluff I think it would do a better job if you got her to relax and let go a bit, especially when her anxieties are getting the best of her. Like, get her to stop frantically gripping onto feeling of control. But like, if we’re talking specifically praise, I’m just not sure that it would work as strongly, like compared to Heathcliff for example yk. But I mean, showing affection and being attentive towards your partner is not a miss so, like, go for it

I don’t have much notable thoughts in terms of others. Like yeah, I can see like, Hong Lu liking that type of treatment too. So I guess there’s that? But like I generally agree, I just wanted to share my ‚most’ and ‚least’ receptive to someone being to them the way you described. Despite the formatting, those are my loose thoughts I wrote on a bus haha not like scenarios or anything. Though if you want that from me, I’ll take an ask like that

[starkraivennemad]

The Wager

“Oh, surely you jest.” Sherlock’s tired voice gave every indication of just how little he thought of the supposed jest.

“You know that I’m not.” Mycroft closed his laptop.

“I cannot.” He shook his head.

“Incorrect, you will not. You know I know the difference with you.”

“Such a thing, as I think I have explained to you many times before…” Sherlock looked up, fully prepared to enumerate the oh so many reasons why what was being asked of him was not feasible.

One perfectly arched brow silently informed him of the breath he’d waste should he continue.

“Sherlock Holmes, you are stalling. Would you like privacy?” 

“If you would not mind?”

“Too bad.” A finger pointed emphatically at the phone, “Make the bloody call!”

“And they all say you’re heartless,” Sherlock grumbled. “I cannot imagine why.”

“I know what they all say,” Mycroft's amused voice chuckled, “And heatless is by far the nicest.”

“You are cruel to make me do this…”

“THAT they all have said as well. And much more – I imagine. I’m waiting…”

With a huff, Sherlock speed-dialed a number without looking.

“What do you want, Sherlock? I’m kinda busy here…” A familiar gravelly voice answered.

“Good, no time to elaborate. A wager was lost, and the cost of the wager is an admission to one's feelings for another.” Sherlock looked up and grinned evilly as he spoke quickly. “My brother is in love with you, Lestrade, but has not to bollocks to so say.”

“Sherlock!” Mycroft bellowed.

“The wager, in your exact words – Brother mine, was, ‘One must admit to the love you know is there.’ And now I have.” Sherlock smirked at his brother’s glare.

Several swear words from a different yet equally familiar voice were heard before Greg spoke again, “Oh, like you don’t have the bollocks to tell John how in love you are with him as he is with you?”

“Lestrade!” / “You know?! He is?!”

It was Sherlock’s turn to bellow as John Watson’s shocked voice was heard loud and clear through the phone.

“Payback, Sherlock. Shoe doesn’t feel as nice on the other foot, huh?” Lestrade said smoothly, “Now, take it off and hand it to the heart you know is mine, you bellend.”

“Excuse me?” Sherlock stared at his phone, blinking rapidly.

Mycroft held out his hand. “Take it off speaker and give it to me.”

“Gregory…” Mycroft sighed in gentle exasperation. “Apologies…”

“Not exactly how we intended to break it to them that we’re together, I know.” Greg chuckled, “I’m giving the phone to John here so he can speak to His Nibs before he completely melts down. See you at Diogenes later?”

“Yes, I believe there’s still a wingback left for us to christian.” Mycroft stood to leave, not bothering to hide his schadenfreude, knowing Sherlock would get the subtext as he handed the phone back to his brother. ��It’s for you. Gregory and I are fine. What was it you said to me at Buckingham Palace? Laterz.”

-------------------------------------------------------

@mystradepromptsandscenarios

[witchygagirlwrites]

Us Again-Part 3

Greg “Mouse” Gerwitz x Reader (nicknamed Tink)

You’re getting closer to being discharged and you’re scared of hurting him by not remembering fast enough while he just wants you to heal

Warnings: mentions of injury

The meeting in the ivory tower took longer than Mouse had expected it to but with Voight and your union rep the city had been more than happy to agree with any terms set forth. You’d been a damn good cop since graduating the academy, you’d put your life on the line numerous times for this city. You were owed their loyalty now that you needed it.

That meant any and all specialists were covered between the insurance he had that blanketed you and the insurance you had from your job. The two of you had spent weeks making sure both branches worked cohesively should a situation arise where they were both needed. 

He thanked Voight for coming as they walked out to the sidewalk. Voight nodded “Of course. She’s one of mine” Mouse smiled slightly “I appreciate it.” “If you need anything Mouse, you know how to find me” Voight told him with a nod before heading to his suv.

Mouse nodded to himself then turned to head to his truck. The last few days he’d been trying to give you a little breathing room even if it was ripping his heart out of his chest. He would come to the hospital during the day, spend time with you and talk to Will and Connor about any tests then when visiting hours were over he’d head home. 

Today however he had a set time to be at the hospital. You were meeting with the physical therapist for the first time because they wanted you to get mobile. That was the first step towards your treatment plan. That was also the first step towards you being discharged and your treatment being on an outpatient basis. He was worried about that part. If you wanted room from him now, what would happen when you were discharged to his care?

He sighed and climbed into his truck. He wanted to get to the hospital before the PT got to your room.

Mouse walked past the nurse’s station headed to your room and April cut her eyes up “Glad you’re here” he raised an eyebrow “Why?” she shook her head “Just go on to her room” he was a little worried then.

When he got almost to your room he heard your voice “I may have a broken arm, broken leg and a broken brain but fuck you” oh god. That did not sound good. He knocked on the door as he was pushing it open. The PT Jonathan Mendez gave him an exasperated smile “Hey Gerwitz” he nodded “Jon, how’s it going?”

“Your lovely wife wants to kill me” he looked towards you and god help you were sitting in the bed, with your arms as crossed as you could get them with your left one being casted from right below the elbow down. “Tink, what’s wrong” you glared at the corner of the room “He wants me to use that thing”

Mouse followed your line of sight and saw the wheelchair. “Sweetheart, maybe it’s just to help you to start?” he tried, looking at Jon. “She can’t use crutches with her left arm” Jon reasoned and you scoffed “Like hell I can’t. Give me a pair”

Mouse didn’t want to smile, god he didn’t want to smile but you sounded so much like yourself he had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smirking. “Would it fuck up anything just to let her try? I mean we could both be right there if something goes wrong?” he offered and Jon sighed “Fine, first time she sways though she’s in the chair”

Mouse looked back at you “Does that work?” “Yeah, I guess” you whispered and he nodded “Ok then” Jon left to go retrieve the crutches and Mouse walked over to the bed. You cut your eyes up at him “Thank you” he knew he looked as confused as he felt even before you clarified “For backing me” he smiled “You’re my wife, kind of my job even if you don’t remember”

You smiled slightly “I want to, if that helps any?” he nodded, his hand brushing against your right one “It does and I’m not going anywhere. I promise you”

_______________________

When the PT Jon came back with the crutches he and Greg helped you to turn to the edge of the bed and it was only then that it occurred to you that you had a hospital gown on. You felt your face warm as you whispered “Greg, my ass is hanging out” he grinned “You have underwear on. I’ve seen everything you have and Jon will be respectful”

Jon winked at you “I promise” you nodded and let Jon adjust the crutches to your height then they helped you to get up. You swayed a little but Greg kept his hands on you to keep you steady. “Ok, let's move around the room. With the skull fracture I need to observe her gait”

Greg smiled at you “Nice and easy” you nodded and moved forward with the crutches, being easy on your left arm and keeping weight off your right leg. It was painful, you were slow but you weren’t falling and you weren’t swaying. 

Jon walked you around the room twice before he nodded to Greg that you could make your way back to the bed. When Greg helped you sit down you knew he saw you grimace in pain. 

“I still think she needs the wheelchair as a backup” Jon spoke and you shook your head, half out of breath “No, look I don’t remember what our home looks like but I doubt its set up for a wheelchair is it?” you looked at Greg who shook his head “No but I can make it be” 

You groaned “No! You’re not adjusting anything else in your life. Dammit, I can do it with the crutches” him and Jon shared a look before Jon nodded “Ok. Well she did good. I’ll talk to Rhodes, Halstead and Deangelo. One of them will be in to talk to you two soon” 

He turned to walk out and Greg told him “Thanks man” you watched him go as Greg leaned your crutches against the wall. You grunted as you shifted your body around in the bed, tears forming in your eyes. He moved to help you and you let him. “I’ll get April to get you something for pain” you nodded slowly “Ok but if Connor or Will comes wake me?” he smiled softly “I promise” 

___________________

Mouse walked out into the hallway to find April and spotted Jon also. “Hey man. Wait up” Jon turned and grinned “She’s still got the stubborn streak a mile wide” Mouse nodded “That isn’t going anywhere. Do you think the crutches are gonna hurt anything else?”

Jon shook his head “They shouldn’t. As long as she’s careful. Once she can make a loop to the nurse’s station and back on them, I’d give the rec to discharge” Mouse nodded “Ok, I’m um gonna get her some pain meds” “Ok” he took a few steps before Jon called his name so he looked back and Jon motioned to your room “The stubborn streak? It helps. They don’t give up” 

Mouse nodded “She never does”

You were so relieved to see Hailey and Jay come through your room door you nearly cried. You’d asked Greg earlier if he’d mind bringing you some clothes. Connor had approved you getting regular clothes, said a nurse or cna could help you get cleaned up. They just had to be loose enough to go over your leg cast, not pull at the stitches on your side and the neck hole on the shirt be big enough to not tug your staples.

The thing was Greg of course hadn’t wanted to leave you. Now you could use the excuse of asking him to go and get you some food. He could take Jay with him and leave Hailey with you. Hailey smiled when she saw you were sitting up a little higher “Hey Tink” you smiled “Hey Hailey, I got crutches”

She grinned “I see! You’re getting mobile!” you nodded slowly “Yup, tiny bit anyways” luckily you didn’t even have to ask Greg because he stood and smiled at you “I’m gonna go get your clothes and grab you some actual food” “Thank you” you replied and he nodded “Of course” then looked at Jay “You wanna go with me?” Jay nodded “Sure” then leaned down to press a kiss to Hailey’s lips “I love you” “I love you too” she replied. 

You didn’t miss how Greg’s face fell just slightly at that interaction. He missed that. You felt your own heart twist again. Your heart knew him even if your brain didn’t and seeing him hurting was killing you. You weren’t worth this. “Be careful. See you when you get back” you told him and he smiled, “See you when I get back” 

As soon as Greg and Jay walked out and you were sure they were gone you looked at Hailey “You said we’re close, like I’m your best friend. You’re my best friend right? Our texts read like that. Our photos look like that” she nodded “Yeah”

“So, if I say something you wouldn’t repeat it?” her eyes widened “What’s wrong?” you dropped your gaze to your hands “I’m getting discharged within a couple days and I’m terrified” “Why?” she whispered and you slowly raised your eyes to meet hers “I don’t want to keep hurting him. He keeps looking at me and wanting his wife, mourning his wife. Maybe I should check into a treatment facility until we see if my memory will heal?”

“No you shouldn’t…” she moved closer to gently take your hand in hers “I know you don’t remember but that man loves you. He would do anything for you. If he lost you? I don’t know if he’d keep moving forward” “And if I never remember?” you asked, tears in your eyes. She raised her other hand to wipe the tears off your cheeks “We’ll cross that bridge if and when. Don’t worry about anything but healing. Ok?” you nodded “Ok. Thank you Hailey, I see why we’re best friends” she laughed “We just fit”

________________________

By the time Greg and Jay made it back your stomach was growling. When they walked in you smiled when your eyes landed on Greg. You had somehow landed in a hallmark movie of waking up and you have a hot husband. You didn’t understand how those women weren't ridden with guilt however. 

“I got you clothes and the chinese place you like” he offered so you smiled “Thank you” he nodded as Jay gave Hailey her food and the three of them spread out around the room to eat. 

_______________________

“Greg?” you spoke low, getting his attention. Jay and Hailey had just left and the nurse hadn’t long helped you get cleaned up and in regular clothes. You felt so much more human just being semi clean and having your ass covered. 

He looked up from the chair he was sitting in. “Yeah?” “Where do all these scars come from?” he smiled slightly “When you get home I’ll run em all down for you” you nodded “Ok, are you sure you can handle all this with these doctors and crap? They have inpatient treatment centers?”

His eyes widened in horror, “You’re my wife! I promised you until death do us part. For better or worse. I’m gonna be at your side for every step. I won’t crowd you, I won’t over step but anything you need from me..I’ll be there” you nodded slowly, tears threatening to spill “I just don’t want you regretting this decision if I don’t get my memory back” “You will” he sounded so sure. 

“Connor said three days tops. Then I just have to be careful and come back regularly for CT scans during the healing to ensure there’s no bleeds along with all the specialists” you reminded and he nodded “I know” “I’m so sick of this hospital” you admitted and he laughed “Oh. believe me I know! You and Jay have always competed for who hates hospitals worse” 

“Who knows? Maybe being home will help?” you offered and he smiled “Maybe” 

Part 4

@yousigned-upforthis

@shadotiger9

@forensicgirl99

@elvenpirate51

[f1tales]

i was enchanted to meet you - cs55

i was enchanted to meet you || part one

previous part || next part

pairing: carlos sainz x singer!ofc

summary: carlos and lennon meet in baku. everything changes after that.

faceclaim: none.

Lennon Sage Abbott was fresh off her first American headlining tour when she found herself in a car on her way to her first ever Formula 1 Grand Prix. It had been her father’s dream for so long to work within the travelling circus that is Formula 1 so when the job offer was finally there, he didn’t hesitate and took the job.

Lennon was so proud of him; she always had been. Harry Abbott had worked as Chelsea FC’s physiotherapist for most of Lennon’s life. But now that both his children had left the nest, he was ready for a new step in his career:

Formula 1.

The twenty year old singer played with the lanyard that was hanging from her neck. She took in the sights of Baku that passed by the window. She had never been to Azerbaijan before in her life. It looked nice enough; she would have to explore more tomorrow.

She tore her eyes away from the sights outside as her phone vibrated from where it was laying in her lap. A silent giggle left her mouth at the name of her groupchat with Mason and Declan. Her brother, Beckett, had come up with it years ago. It stuck. It became their ‘official’ friendship group name. She opened the chat, fond memories of her childhood with Mason and Declan filling her head.

money mase lenn, i can’t believe you’d rather go to f1 than come and see us!!

money mase kidding of course, have fun! say hi to your dad

money mase wasn’t kidding completely, this f1 thing doesn’t quite compare to a match at the Bridge

dec have fun, lentil!

dec tell harry we’d like some tickets next please

Lennon grinned at the messages in the groupchat. She sent them a quick reply, thanking them for their kind words, eye roll, and that they should ask her dad for tickets themselves. They’re big boys after all, cue another eye roll.

The car came to a stop not long after. Lennon thanked the man who had opened the door for her and helped her out of the car. A bit much, if you asked her. She was more than capable of getting out of the car all by herself. Nonetheless, her parents raised a polite, young woman so she thanked the man. She looked around. People were dressed in vibrant red, papaya orange and dark blue. She tried to listen closely to a man that was now speaking. But to be honest, her focus was anywhere but at the man in the white polo in front of her.

Lennon blinked a few times when she realised the man in the polo was now staring at her expectantly. She grimaced, “sorry.” She sheepishly smiled. “I didn’t quite catch that, sorry,” she apologised. She felt her cheeks heat up ever so slightly as the man let out an exasperated sigh. She noticed how a few people around her rolled their eyes; not very discreetly even though they tried. Some just let out loud groans, not trying to be discreet about it at all.

The man once again explained about the paddock, about how to enter, where they could go, so on and so forth. The man crossed his arms over his chest, expectantly looking at Lennon again. She nodded quickly. “Got it,” she kept nodding. Her eyes squinted at the name tag on his polo: Greg.

He looked like a Greg, Lennon concluded.

Lennon squirmed slightly when she realised Greg was still looking at her. His arms were still crossed over his chest, but one of his eyebrows was raised. Lennon looked to her left and saw one of the lady’s from before, the one that had not so discreetly rolled her eyes, scanned the pass that was hanging from her neck.

Lennon put on her best smile, “thanks so much, Greg.” she patted his shoulder and then copied the lady’s moves. She was in. She took her phone from the small bag that was hanging from her shoulder. She told her father she would text him when she got here. She texted him, telling him she had finally arrived then put the phone away again. She took in the sights around her; she could understand now why they called it a circus. There was so much going on, cameras everywhere, people everywhere.

She stepped aside quickly before a guy with a big camera could knock her over. A girl with a clipboard with the Netflix logo on it apologised to her before following after the camera crew. Yep, this was quite the circus, Lennon concluded.

From her peripheral vision she caught sight of the guy in front of the camera. He had gorgeous, dark brown hair that was covered by an orange cap. Their eyes briefly met as he passed her. She politely smiled before looking down at her feet. 

Lennon fiddled with her fingers as she waited for her father. It was a habit, she tried to stop it, but she couldn’t. Whenever she was nervous, she fiddled with her fingers. A few years ago, when those fidget spinners were very popular, Lennon had millions of them. Much to Mason and Declan’s amusement, who took every opportunity to make fun of her for owning so many of them.

Oh, how she wishes she had one on her now.

“Lenn!”

A familiar voice broke her train of thoughts. Her brother, Beckett, was pushing his way through the crowd. His face scrunched together in irritation when the Netflix crew from before got in his way. He pushed the guy with the mic out of his way, receiving an equally irritated stare in return. She let out a chuckle when she was finally pulled into a tight hug.

“Dad’s treating one of the guys right now, so he’s asked me to come and get you.”

The Abbott siblings walked through what Lennon now learned was “the paddock” together. Beckett had his arm wrapped around his sister’s shoulder. Lennon listened as her brother talked to her about the paddock. He had been a lifelong race fan and their father used to take him to Silverstone every year. Lennon and her mother would usually take a trip to the lake district to visit their grandparents instead.

The younger Abbott let a huf escape her mouth, which in return gained her brother’s attention. He raised one of his eyebrows at her. Lennon cheekily smiled, “you could’ve mentioned years ago that all the cute guys come to these races! I would have attended ages ago!” she playfully hissed in his ear. She grinned as Beckett’s loud laugh could possibly be heard through the whole paddock. Lennon linked her arm through her brother’s and they continued their way to where Lennon presumed her father was right now.

“Let’s go to dad, he said he’d have lunch with us.”

Beckett leads them to what Lennon learns is the Toro Rosso hospitality. They reach it just in time for her stomach to start grumbling. The only thing she ate before leaving for the track was an apple. She overslept and missed the hotel breakfast by ten minutes. After checking his phone, Beckett tells her their dad will join them in five minutes.

“You want a Red Bull in the meantime?”

Lennon scrunches up her nose at that question, “absolutely not. Can you just get me some water?”

The siblings wait for another five minutes when their father comes through the door, a young man by his side. They laugh as they talk about something. Lennon has good hearing, but not quite good enough to hear what they are talking about.

Harry Abbott’s eyes lit up when he spotted his daughter, “Lenny Penny!”

Lennon’s cheek flush bright red at the embarrassing nickname. It doesn’t stop her from jumping out her seat and sprinting straight to her father, though. She hadn’t seen him for months and was more than happy to be wrapped up in his arms again. Harry caught his daughter as she launched herself towards him.

“Oh, honey,” he mumbled in her head, “I missed you so much.” He kissed the side of her head. Lennon checked the room, seeing everyone had stopped what they were doing and were looking at the reunion of Harry and his daughter. “You’ll have to tell me all about the tour, okay?”

Lennon grinned; she’d happily tell him about the tour. It’s not like he didn’t know everything already. Her mother had accompanied her to the USA and had debriefed her father after every concert. She’d still happily share her point of view.

She politely smiled at the young man standing next to her father. He awkwardly scratched the back of his head. “Oh!” Harry laughed. “Lennon, this is Alexander Albon. He drives for the team.” Lennon shook his extended hand. “Alex, this is my daughter Lennon.”

Alexander, or Alex, grinned as he shook Lennon’s hand. “Big fan. Loved your album!”

“Thank you! I’d say I’m a big fan of yours, too, but I don’t know much about the sport to be honest. And I don’t want to lie to you.”

Alex burst out in laughter. He mumbled a quick ‘pleasure to meet you, Lenny Penny,’ before being ushered away by some girl. 

The Abbotts had their lunch together as they caught up on their lives. Lennon told her father and brother about the tour, her father filled her in on his new job and Beckett told them how he was so happy to finally be graduating and getting his finance degree.

After her father gave her a proper tour of the paddock, the Toro Rosso hospitality and the garage, it was nearly time for ‘lights out and away we go’. The two Abbotts made it back to Beckett with just enough time for the two to find their seats in the grandstand. Harry told them he’d see them after the race.

And Lennon would never admit it to Mason or Declan, but she found the race so much more thrilling than any of their matches. Ever. The speed of the cars, the strategies. The speed of the cars! Her heart leapt whenever a car overtook another. 

She hadn’t quite decided what would be her team yet. She liked the orange cars. And the red ones looked pretty stunning, too. She’d ask her brother later when they’d be back in the hotel. Although she was certain he would tell her to support Red Bull Racing, like he did.

The three Abbotts had gathered together at the entrance of the paddock about two hours after the race. Harry had finally wrapped up his work and was told to go so he could enjoy some time with his children.

“Lenny Penny!”

Lennon internally groaned at the nickname and cursed the day her father had come up with it. She saw Alex Albon hastily running towards her, a shit eating grin on his face as he once again called out her nickname. He was out of breath as he skidded to a halt in front of them.

“A few of us are going out tonight, care to join?”

“Sure.” she nodded. “Stop calling me Lenny Penny, though.” Lennon took her phone from her pocket and searched for Alex on Instagram. Once she found him she hit the follow button. “DM me where to meet you.”

next part coming soon

the divider is by @/enchanthings || original post

[carionto]

Difference in encounters

Human: "Hey, try this VR headset on for me would you. It's not a free fall experience thing this time, just a slow trek through some nature that you control."

Alien: "Alright, Human Greg, I will give these things ONE last chance."

H: (muahahahahaa, time to introduce Slenderman and classic monsters to them! I wanna know how they look when scared by something like that instead of the typical existential dread they get when we show them our latest technology)

A: [plays the game]

H: [excitedly anticipating the jump scare moment]

A: [keeps playing]

H: (huh? they definitely would have encountered at least three monsters by now, is it bugged?)

A: [finishes playing and takes off the headset] "Well, that was indeed a lovely experience, Earth's nature of the past is truly verdant and diverse, even in the dark of night. Although I don't understand why I could not interact with the other players that appeared every now and then."

H: "??? It's a single player experience, there are no other players. What?"

A: "Yeah, you know, the two sub-species of the Glak'Rori (Xenomorphs), a weird looking large Hrok (Cloverfield), and the Vrishmishnami one (Zaat) who looked awfully similar to their ambassador to my home planet. Also, how was there a Quatni (Slenderman) playing? They are still a pre-industrial civilization in my home sector. Don't tell me one of you Humans "adopted" one while we weren't looking? You know that's a crime. We've been over this before!"

H: (exasperated) "But! It was supposed to be sca- you know what, nevermind. Want to see what Juliana has been working on, she had this great idea about combining a gravity well and a light speed accelerator!"

A: (in sheer terror, scrambling out of the setup, escaping the premises)

H: "I guess that'll have to do... still, not the kind of fear I wanted to see..."

[housethemd]

Behind Closed Doors

When Chase happened to mention he had to be out of his apartment for 24 hours due to windows being replaced, Wilson invites him to stay with himself and House. Chase gets to see a side of his boss few do.

Established married House/Wilson.

(This is the fic that got the most votes when I did a poll on which of my WIP people were most interested in.)

~~~~~~~~~~

Chase stood awkwardly outside the door of 221B, trying to convince himself to knock. It wasn’t too late to turn around, get a hotel room. Wilson had offered, nay, insisted that he stay with him and House for the night however.

Wilson was a nice guy. Far to nice to be married to House in Chase’s opinion, but the two seemed to make each other happy so he supposed he couldn’t judge. He doesn’t know what he’s so nervous of, he’s been at 221B before. He knows there’s no sex dungeon or large aggressive dog waiting on the other side. Maybe it’s that it’s his boss, that it’s House.

He closes his eyes, bites the bullet, and knocks. It takes long enough for someone to answer that Chase begins to wonder if this wasn’t some elaborate prank. While House is usually the one staging such things, it wouldn’t be unusual for Wilson to get involved. He’s about to turn around and leave when he hears the door unlock and it opens to reveal House himself standing on the other side.

“Um. Hi.” Chase says. He’d been hoping Wilson would answer the door.

“Wombat.” House replies.

House is dressed in one of his band t-shirts and a pair of loose fitting basketball shorts. His feet are bare and he’s leaning on the wall, his cane nowhere to be seen. They stand eye to eye for a few moments, neither speaking or moving, when a voice calls out from inside the apartment.

“Don’t just stand there, invite him in!” It’s Wilson’s voice, and it holds a tone of fond exasperation.

House doesn’t say anything, but turns around and limps into the apartment. Chase glances around, but ultimately follows him in. Given House’s lack shoes he opts to remove his own. He’s more comfortable that way anyway. He’s never understood why Americans wear their shoes at home.

House is sitting on the couch, and there is an American football game playing on the TV. The windows are open, letting in the slightly cool September breeze. He can smell something delicious coming from the kitchen where Wilson stands at the stove.

“You made it!” Wilson says when he sees Chase.

“Yeah, found the place alright.” Chase jokes.

He stands awkwardly for a moment, not sure where he’s supposed to be going or what he’s supposed to be doing. Should he be offering to help in the kitchen? He’s a little nervous to just sit down next to House. At work they’re comfortable around each other, hell the could go for a drink and it probably wouldn’t be awkward, but something about being in House’s domain makes him nervous.

“Sit down, make yourself comfortable. I’ll bring you a beer in a second.” Wilson tells him.

He does as he told, and sit on the opposite end of the couch to House, who doesn’t acknowledge him.

“You want another beer, Greg?” Wilson sticks his head out of the kitchen.

“Yeah.” House replies.

It’s strange hearing House called “Greg.” He shouldn’t be shocked, they are a married couple for God’s sake. Still, House is one of those people who seems like he only has one name - House.

Wilson comes out with two beers in hand. He’s dressed in grey sweatpants and what looks like one of House’s t-shirts. It strikes him as odd but he reminds himself again that they are married. Wilson hands the beers over the back of the couch. Chase makes a point to say thank you but House just sort of grunts, eyes never straying from the TV.

After a while Wilson appears again with two plates full of what looks like homemade Pad Thai. After placing them in front of the two of them he leaves and returns with his own plate, sitting down between them.

The food is delicious. They all dig in with reckless abandon and take turns making comments on the game. House makes scathing deductions about the players personal lives and Chase has no idea if he is serious or is just saying ridiculous and offensive things to make Wilson laugh.

“Stop stealing my chicken.” Wilson says without taking his eyes off the game.

House had been using his chopsticks to steal bits of chicken off the edge of Wilson’s plate.

“You barely gave me any.” House whined.

“I gave you plenty.” Wilson replied as if reasoning with a small child.

“Fine. But it tastes better when it’s yours.” House’s voice held a tone of flirtation which Chase took as his cue to go grab a beer from the fridge.

He felt lucky that Wilson didn’t seem to escalate the situation in an amorous direction, though when he was returning from the kitchen he did catch Wilson feeding House a piece of chicken from his own plate.

House and Wilson finished their food before he did, and they both took their plates out to the kitchen. Chase paid them no mind, until he heard House’s voice speaking in a low register.

“Dinner was extremely acceptable.” He said as he leaned on the kitchen island.

“Oh my, that’s almost a compliment.” Wilson replied, placing both hands on either side of House’s hips on the island, leaning into his space.

It was like watching a car crash, Chase thought as Wilson pressed a deep kiss to House’s mouth. He didn’t want to be watching his boss and his husband make out, yet he couldn’t quite look away. It was so odd, seeing them in this domestic light. While everyone at work knew they were married, they didn’t really engage in a lot of PDA.

“If you want to thank me for that extremely acceptable dinner, I can think of a way.” Wilson rasped when he pulled away from the kiss.

One of Wilson’s hands moved from it’s place by House’s hip, to grab a handful of his ass.

Chase immediately turned back to the game. That was more than he needed to know about the intimate dynamics of their marriage. He quickly finished his food, and excused himself to the bathroom. When he returned House was on the floor in front of the TV, pulling at something on the stand.

“Wilson!” He exclaimed, far louder than necessary given that Wilson was just in the kitchen.

“Yes, Darling?” Wilson came into the living room, hands on his hips and smirk on his face.

“Where are the cables for the PlayStation?”

Wilson’s eyes lit up, seeming quite pleased with himself. Chase wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was going on.

“It’s your night to do the dishes.” Wilson stated, still in his hands on hips position.

“Are you hard of hearing? I said where are the cords for the PlayStation.” House over emphasized, staring at Wilson with a Jack Nicholson level stare.

“And I’ll tell you where the cords for the PlayStation are, as soon as you’ve done the dishes.” Wilson mocked.

“You really think that will make me do the dishes? I’m a genius, you think I can’t just find the cords?” House argued.

“That’s exactly what I think. You can either spend hours searching for the cords, which you won’t find by the way, and then do the dishes or you can spend ten minutes doing the dishes now, then I’ll give you the cords, and you can be playing GTA before the sun goes down. But it’s up you, genius.”

Wilson looked exactly like the cat that got the canary as House used the coffee table to help push himself up off the floor, grumbling about how rude it was to make cripples do chores.

“I put the stool in front of the sink for you so you don’t have to stand!” Wilson called after him, before starting a ridiculous and frankly awkward looking dance of victory.

Twenty minutes later House limps back into the living room, declaring the dishes complete. Wilson goes as far as to inspect the kitchen, including opening the oven for some reason, before opening the cupboard under the sink and pulling out a blue bucket filled with cleaning supplies. Reaching his hand inside he produces the cords, handing them to House.

“There you go, have fun.” He says with a fond smile.

Chase is truthfully confused. Wilson cooked dinner, had his food stolen by House, at some point he took apart their PlayStation and hid the cords just to bribe House into doing a completely normal household task, and yet he seems completely unbothered. In fact he seems to be enjoying himself.

House, on the other hand, seems slightly less abrasive though he wouldn’t go as far as to call him caring. He doesn’t really know why the incredibly kind Wilson tolerates him as his spouse.

Once House has the PlayStation up and running Wilson brings them each another beer and together the three of them play a few rounds of Mario Kart. They are all competitive and while Chase never manages to beat House, he takes solace in the fact Wilson does.

“Would you guys mind if I went out for a run? I like going to this trail just outside town so I’ll be gone a couple hours.” Chase asks.

“Sure but don’t think you can you use our shower.” House says, getting up from the couch to hobble over to the piano bench.

“He’s joking. Of course you can go for your run and of course you can shower after.” Wilson shoots a look at House, who is staring innocently down at the keys of the instrument.

Chase changes in the bathroom, and when he returns to the living room Wilson curled up on the couch reading a book while House plays a quiet, gentle melody. It’s shockingly domestic and Chase puts on his shoes and slips out the door quietly, not wanting to disturb them.

When Chase returns from his run, Wilson is still sitting on the couch but now he’s watching a black and white film on TV. House is stretched out across the couch, right foot propped up on the arm, left foot tucked under his right knee, and his head in Wilson’s lap. He’s also snoring softly.

“Is he…” Chase trails off as he toes off his running shoes.

“Asleep? Yeah.” Wilson says, not turning from the TV.

Wilson’s fingers are in House’s hair. Just absentmindedly stroking as he watches his movie. They look very sweet, the two of them.

He walks as softly as possible to the kitchen for some water, opening the fridge gently.

“You don’t have to worry about being quiet. He’ll sleep until I wake him up.” Wilson says.

He’s not watching the movie now, he’s staring down at House’s sleeping form with that fond smile on his face again, like House is the most wonderful thing he’s ever seen. Chase can’t imagine what about the misanthropic doctor makes Wilson so happy.

As Chase passes behind the couch, heading for a shower, Wilson stops him.

“Hey, can you pass me the blanket that’s on the floor behind the couch? It’s usually over the back where I can reach it but I didn’t notice it had fallen.” He explains.

Chase grabs the blanket. It’s brown and fuzzy, very soft. He wonders how Wilson plans on getting himself under the blanket without suffocating House when Wilson tosses the blanket down the couch to cover House’s body. He isn’t totally successful though, the blanket falls at House’s knees, bunched up.

“Would you mind pulling it over him the rest of the way? When it’s on the back of the couch I can pull it down to cover him but my throwing skills need work.” Wilson says.

Chase does as he’s asked. The blanket is quite large and covers house from shoulders to feet quite easily. It occurs to him that what Wilson said implies this happens a lot - House snoozing on the couch using Wilson as a pillow.

“Thanks, he gets cold when he’s sleeping.”

“Does he usually fall asleep at 9pm?” Chase finds himself asking. Wilson chuckles.

“Sometimes. People tend to write it off, because of his other eccentricities, but he does have chronic pain. It can be pretty tiring.”

Chase momentarily feels bad. While House’s frequent Vicodin popping reminds them that House does experience pain, they tend to forget that the pills don’t make him pain free, they just keep him standing. Chase heads for the shower with this in mind.

When he’s towelling off he can hear Wilson in the other room talking to House.

“Greg, wake up.”

There is some unintelligible grumbling from House.

“I know Baby, come on. Chase is going to be out of the bathroom soon so you’ve got to get up.” Wilson’s voice is terribly gentle.

Chase runs the towel through his hair, and hears more caterwauling from House.

“You can bring the blanket with you, and I’ll still cuddle with you in the bedroom.”

Chase lets out a small laugh at that. He never would have pegged House as the cuddly type.

“My cane - it’s in the kitchen.”

The first actual words he’s heard from House. Chase is fully dressed and could walk out at any time, but he finds he doesn’t want too. He’s learned a little about them as a couple from watching them at home, but he’s curious about their interactions when he isn’t in the room.

“Just lean on me Baby.”

And Chase can’t imagine House willingly leaning on anyone to help him walk, yet the next sound he hears is the uneven gait of the two of them.

“Leg’s sore.” House says, their voices growing closer.

“You’ve just been laying down on the couch for nearly two hours, I’m not surprised. You’ve got some pills in the bedroom, we’ll get you your bedtime dose and it’ll feel a little better. I can massage it too.”

“Hmm, love you Jimmy.”

“I love you too, Greg.”

Chase is well and truly shocked. House leaning on Wilson to walk, admitting his leg is bothering him, saying ‘I love you’, it’s all so un-House like.

When he hears the door to the bedroom close, he finally leaves the bathroom to get the couch ready. The light above the stove has been left on, and he isn’t sure if it’s for his benefit or if they always leave it on.

As he arranges the bedding to his liking, and when he’s settled down he mulls over his experience with House and Wilson over the course of the evening.

He is reminded of a cat that used to live around the dumpsters near his school when he was young. It had been white at one time but it appeared more brown from the dirt the caked in it’s fur. It was a vicious thing, anytime you got anywhere neat it, it would hiss and arch it’s back. His friends liked to laugh at it, but one day after school he went back with some food for it. He felt sort of bad for the thing.

It became somewhat of a ritual and slowly the cat stopped hissing at him when he would bring the food, until one day he was able to touch it. Eventually it would roll over on it’s back and purr when he came to see it, but only if it was just him.

He tried to bring his friend to see the cat once, but despite him having food and it being only the two of them, the cat hissed and arched its back before disappearing behind the dumpster. His friend had laughed and claimed he knew that cat couldn’t like anyone. He went back after supper that night and sure enough the cat greeted him happily.

He remembers how special it made him feel, to know that cat was friendly only to him. Even if no one else would ever know, he did.

And he supposes that’s how Wilson feels about House.

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts (25) Intuition

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 25)

Summary: Rosie's protective foursome are visiting her in Paris, Mycroft shows off his poshness, and they all meet Timothy and his parents at a well-chosen location.

Twenty-Five Years Old

The years in Paris went by too fast, and suddenly I had turned twenty-five and was graduating from uni. Sadly, both mine and Timothy’s graduation ceremonies were on the same evening, but we all had plans to meet the next day. I’ll admit that I had mixed emotions about that. My parents and uncles were to meet Timothy and his parents, and I couldn’t help thinking of all the different directions that meeting could go.

“It’ll be fine, love,” Timothy assured me. “Mum and Dad are over the moon to meet your celeb family, and I’m sure The Fab Four will behave for a few hours.”

“Ha! My intuition tells me otherwise. I wouldn’t put it past Papa to give some snarky remarks if he’s annoyed with your mother’s lipstick or your dad’s shoelaces,” I sighed.

“You know John won’t allow that, Ro,” Timothy laughed. “And your uncles are less inclined to cause any damage, I think. Relax.”

***

I had only met the Browns once before. Marie was a secondary school teacher, loved the royal family passionately, royals in general actually, and she was also a decent tennis player. Daniel was a business solicitor, loved his singing, and was quite a wine connoisseur.

“They’re both perfect conversation partners for Mycroft,” Papa informed me after I’d met them. He can share gossip from the palace with her and show off his wine cellar to Brown senior.”

Dad tried to shush him, but his efforts were nonsensical, and I was inclined to agree. 

***

Whenever uncle Myc visited Paris, he stayed at the Four Seasons Hotel George V, and for my graduation dinner, we ate at one of the hotel’s restaurants, Le Cinq. His Poshness, as Papa called him, moved through the restaurant after the maître d’ like he owned the place. Uncle’s three-piece suit had never been more appropriate. The rest of us were dressed up as well. Papa even wore a tie, which I hadn’t seen on him since my uncles’ wedding. 

The food was arranged like tiny artworks, and I felt like a vandal ruining them with the cutlery. Once the first bite reached my taste buds however, all regrets were forgotten. Each dish surpassed the other visually, and with different textures and surprising combinations of flavours. Every wine was perfectly matched with the food, and even uncle Greg, who was more of a beer lover, admitted that it was quite good, which earned him an exasperated sigh from his husband.

“How’s the job search going?” Dad asked after the third course was devoured.

“I’m expecting a few answers over the next weeks. Hopefully, something turns up,” I said.

I actually had high hopes, having already been summoned to an interview when I was returning to London the following week. Papa gave me a thoughtful look and shifted his gaze towards his brother who lifted an eyebrow just the tiniest bit, which made me sigh and swallow my remark with some excellent chardonnay.

***

To Marie’s delight, we were meeting at Versailles the next day. Neither of us wanted to take the guided tour but preferred to walk in the gigantic garden. 

“Much easier to escape if the conversation gets tedious,” Papa teased.

“Brother mine,” uncle Myc warned, more out of habit than an actual rebuke.

We had agreed to meet on the balustrade where it would be easier to spot each other. I could see that Marie was fidgety and excited, while Daniel seemed quite composed.

“Better at hiding it,” Dad remarked, which earned him an incredulous look from me and a fond chuckle from Papa.

“Is this mind reading business contagious?” I sighed and walked towards Timothy and his parents.

***

“The Fab Four are behaving,” Timothy stated. “A bit disappointing really.”

“Try refreshing,” I retorted dryly.

“Do you think Sherlock would mind if I asked him to deduce some of the people here?” Marie asked in a hushed voice, which Papa had no problem hearing.

“I don’t mind at all, Marie,” Papa interrupted with a bow. “Anyone in particular?”

And with that, Marie and Papa stuck their heads together to conspire. Daniel and Timothy looked amused, while the rest of us rolled our eyes, though I must admit it was the perfect ice breaker, and I was relieved that my intuition about Papa’s behaviour had been wrong.

Also available on AO3

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @helloliriels @raina-at

More tags in the replies

[satansapostle6]

Kids | Rodrick Heffley

Spotify Playlist Link

Rodrick Heffley becomes obsessed when he finally meets his thirty-five year old band mate, Bill Walter’s, younger sister.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Sexual content.

“Break Stuff”

“Black Hole Sun”

“Mom, I cleaned my room yesterday!”

“No, you did not, young man!”

Sara Walter sat patiently on the stairs of the Heffley house, arms crossed lazily as she listened to her boyfriend arguing with his mother for the second time that day.

“Mom! I cleaned my room right after you told me to! Greg saw me!” Rodrick exclaimed, looking up the stairs for support. “Hey! Greg! Greg!”

Susan Heffley sighed, exasperated as she heard her younger son’s voice respond.

“Yeah?!”

Greg ran down the stairs with Rowley in an instant, worried he was about to get in trouble with either Rodrick or his mom. He stood on the stairs just behind where Sara was sitting, as Rowley Jefferson stood behind him, waiting patiently.

“Did I, or did I not, clean my room yesterday when Mom told me to?” Rodrick asked expectantly.

“You did,” Greg said after a moment of thought, “I saw you.”

Rodrick threw up his hands at the revelation, looking back to Susan. “I told you so.”

“Well, if you did clean your room yesterday, you didn’t do a very good job,” she smiled sarcastically. “Clean it again.”

“But, Mom!”

“‘But’ nothing, it’s a pigsty in there,” Susan insisted in disgust.

“You’re being dramatic, there’s only a few shirts and jackets on the bed.”

“Rodrick,” Sara mumbled, “It’s fine, we can go after—”

“Then it won’t be that hard to pick them up!” she argued, cutting Sara off.

“But, I’m supposed to take Sara out for sushi!” Rodrick complained. “I saved up all month…”

“You’re not going anywhere if you don’t clean your room,” Susan repeated.

“Can’t I just clean it after?!”

“Rodrick, it’s fine,” Sara whispered, silently pleading with him.

“You know, Rodrick, I’m getting real sick of this attitude of yours,” she said crossly, “Ever since you started hanging around Sara, you’ve been irritable and rude. I think she’s a bad influence on you, Rodrick.”

Sara looked up at Susan with her mouth sitting agape, a look of disbelief in her eyes.

“But, Mom,” Greg spoke up, as Rowley began to seem visibly afraid, “Sara hasn’t even said anything this whole time—”

“Greg, this is between me and your brother,” Susan stated sharply, as Rowley pointedly backed up up the stairs.

“Sara has nothing to do with this!” Rodrick just stared at her.

“Hey, guys,” Frank Heffley’s voice cut in.

Everyone turned to see Frank standing by the stairs, confused by the fact that his entire household was gathered near the front door just before dinner time.

“What’s going on?” he questioned.

Susan was the first to speak, as Rowley and Sara were both equally uncomfortable as guests in the Heffley house.

“Your son is refusing to re-clean his room before he leaves the house with his girlfriend,” Susan explained promptly.

“…But, I just saw his room, there’s just some clothes on the bed,” Frank said, before seeing the look of pure anger in his wife’s eyes.

Then, everyone was silent once again.

“Frank. Tell your son that he needs to respect my wishes, and that we feel his girlfriend has been a bad influence on him,” Susan spoke firmly.

“We do?” Frank questioned, feeling as if he’d missed something.

“Yes!”

“Hey, I can just leave,” Sara offered, standing up out of extreme discomfort.

“Yes, I think that would be best,” Susan decided with a nod.

“No!” Rodrick cut in, angry on Sara’s behalf as she stood behind him. “You’re staying, and I’m gonna take you out for the best dinner ever!”

“Susan, maybe he can just clean his room once he gets home,” Frank offered a compromise, “You’ll be home before nine. Yes?” he asked with authority.

“Yes,” Rodrick nodded, growing frustrated with the situation.

“Absolutely not! He needs to learn responsibility!”

“He is learning responsibility!” Frank expressed. “And my stomach needs to learn what food is!”

“He hasn’t learned a thing!” Susan screamed back. “Not while he’s dating that—”

Greg’s face fell in horror, and his older brother was fuming. Sara stood behind Rodrick, experiencing more emotions than she cared to in the moment.

“While he’s dating that what, Mom?!” Rodrick shouted. “What is she, Mom?”

“She’s…” the woman just sighed. “She’s Bill.”

Rodrick’s eyes darkened with rage as everyone grew even more tense, if that was even possible.

Susan angrily shut her eyes for a moment, overwhelmed. “Rodrick—“

“No. You don’t get to bash Sara, again, just because you’re pissed at me!”

“So Sara’s exempt from criticism, just because she’s your girlfriend?!”

“Jesus Christ!”

Everyone slowly turned in horror, seeing Sara sobbing as she remained beside Rodrick, who stood blocking the door, stained black tears running down her face.

“Can I please just leave?!” she screamed.

Her heart was beating faster than she could track it, and she was shaking profusely. Frank Heffley looked at her with pity as Greg and Rowley both started to get scared for her and Rodrick.

“No, babe,” Rodrick said, taking her hand, “We’re gonna sort this out.”

“Sort what out?!” Sara cried, “She’s never gonna like me! No matter what I do!”

“Well, why should I like you?!” Susan asked confrontationally. “You smell like cigarettes, and you do drugs with my son, and you put crazy ideas in his head!”

“Susan,” Frank said quietly, glancing up the stairs, “The kids…”

She was past the point of taking them into consideration.

“‘Crazy ideas’?!” Sara questioned. “What crazy ideas?!”

“That a 2.9 GPA is a good thing to have, for one!”

“That’s what this is about?!” Sara gasped. “Rodrick came over to my house, crying because you all but called him stupid! I told him he wasn’t stupid, how am I the asshole here?!”

“You cannot speak to me that way!” Susan thundered.

“And you can speak about me, and my family that way?!” Sara screamed.

“Oh, don’t play the victim!” Susan shouted. “Just because you’re the one with the white trash family, and the crazy mom, and the dead cousin, no one can criticize you!”

Sara’s eyes widened as she froze, every instinct in her body screaming at her to start swinging.

“Jesus Christ, Susan!” Frank exclaimed.

“No, I’m tired of it!” she yelled, pointing an accusing finger at Sara as she froze, her fight or flight response beginning to kick in.

Evidently, ‘flight’ seemed to be the safer option when it came to your boyfriend’s mother.

“I’m tired of walking on eggshells around a seventeen year-old girl who used to do drink, and do drugs, and cut, and have sex with any boy who looked in her direction. My friend worked with her mother; even her own mother doesn’t like her! You should’ve heard the things she overheard!”

“Mom, stop!” Greg yelled.

But everything was already in motion. Sara had already forcibly pushed past Rodrick, and ran out the front door.

“Sara!”

Rodrick glared hatefully at his mother one last time before running out after her.

“Rodrick! Get back in here!” Susan shouted.

“Susan…!”

Frank didn’t even know what to say.

“What?!” she snapped furiously.

“Mom!” Greg cried, as Rowley ran up the stairs out of fear. “I love Sara!”

Susan looked up at her middle son in complete shock.

“What’s to like about a girl like that?!”

“Why do you hate her so much?!” Greg demanded.

“Because! She smokes, she drinks—”

“So does Rodrick!” he pointed out. “How is she any worse?!”

There was a pause as she tried to formulate a response.

“Mom, there was no reason to say that about her,” Greg sighed, hurt. “Sara loves Rodrick. And she loves us too.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Susan scoffed skeptically.

“Yes, she does!” Greg argued as his father just listened. “When she comes over, she asks you if she can give Manny candy, doesn’t she?”

There was no immediate answer to the question.

“When she comes over, she makes sure Rodrick does what he’s supposed to. She always makes sure he’s home on time when they go out. She asks me how school is, and she listens to my answer. She helped me with my history paper.

“She calls me names like ‘kid’ and ‘champ’ and ‘tiger’ because she thinks it’s funny. She told me if I ever wanna buy a girl jewelry, I have to know whether she likes gold or silver. She hugged Rowley for a full three minutes that time he came over after he heard his parents arguing,” Greg reminded her.

Susan was silent, not seeming to have any specific reaction to the case he’d made.

“Sara isn’t a bad influence on Rodrick. She’s the reason he’s happy. She’s the reason he hits me less and actually tries on his homework now,” Greg sighed. “Whatever‘s going on with you guys has nothing to do with her.”

Frank watched as his son ran back upstairs, taking one look at his wife before he ran outside.

“Sara! Sara!”

Rodrick was chasing her all down the block, breathless and terrified he was losing her.

“What?!” she demanded, still in tears.

“Come back!” he cried. “I’m sorry about my mom, let’s go back inside—”

“For what?!” Sara hissed, stopping as she slapped his hand away from her. “For her to just rub my family in my face again?! I can’t do this anymore!”

“Do what?” he stared, terrified of what was coming next.

“Maybe your mom was right,” she sighed, not knowing what to think or feel.

“What?! You’re not a bad influence on me!” he cried.

“No. Not about that,” she gulped, her voice cracking. “I think she was right… I’m not like you. I’m white trash,” she scoffed, laughing coldly.

A sad look graced Rodrick’s features as he tried to disagree with her as adamantly as possible.

“Mental illness and addiction run in my family like red hair, or twins. My mom’s a piece of work, and my stepdad’s a deadbeat with nowhere else to be,” she admitted. “I… I’m on the same path as everyone else in my family; schizophrenia, and a bullet in the head. I’m not like you; I’m not gonna grow out of this, the smoking and the crazy; you have everything ahead of you, and everything is behind me,” she concluded, running a hand through her messy blonde hair as her world slowly began to collapse.

“That’s not true!” Rodrick protested. “Any of it! I love you, Sara! You’re the smartest person I know! You’re nice, you’re kind, and you’re funny, and you help me, and you’re, like, the sun…! And you revolve around me, or something…! Fuck, I’m stupid! Fuck! Why am I so stupid?!”

“I make Bill look like the responsible sibling!” Sara laughed hysterically. “I’m a plane that’s already headed down.”

“That’s not true,” Rodrick repeated, a hopeless look in his sad eyes. “I love you.”

“That’s why you don’t see it,” Sara concluded, completely burnt out as she just walked off to her car.

Rodrick watched her go, unable to come up with anything smart or profound.

“Sara?!” he called, afraid she was truly walking away. “Sara?!”

She didn’t respond.

“Sara!” he screamed. “Sara… Please don’t leave me here,” he begged her.

Frank Heffley came running up with Greg now trailing after him, both of them worried for Rodrick as he sank to his knees in the middle of the sidewalk. He didn’t know what else to do, breaking down completely as Frank tried to comfort his son.

“I’m so stupid!” Rodrick wailed, as strangers seemed either curious or too nervous to acknowledge. “I’m fucking stupid! Stupid!”

Greg grimaced, physically pained as he’d never seen his older brother like this before.

“FUCKING STUPID! STUPID, STUPID, STUPID! I’M FUCKING STUPID! STUPID…!”

-

“This Night Has Opened My Eyes”

[angrythingstarlight]

Hiiiiii ⭐️! Could I please ask you how one of our favorite grumps, baker!steve, and our girl honey are doing? What happened immediately after the press conference when Steve revealed that he was *ahem* “partial to anything with Honey”

How are their friends faring re:this situation, too? Are Bucky and peach exasperated, more determined to bring them together, or deciding to let them figure it out - or something else entirely?

->Bucky and Peach are equal parts exasperated and amused by the situation. Bucky always knew his friend was stubborn but he didn't expect him to be this obstinate.

->At first Bucky and Peach were content to let things play out, they were certain that after the incident at the bakery that Steve was going to tell Honey how he really felt and explain why he behaved the way he did.

->Steve did not.

->So they moved on to Honey. They thought she needed a nudge in the right direction. Then she would confront Steve, get him to admit his feelings and she would do the same.

->She did not.

->Instead the two stared each other down while everyone was out for drinks. Stares led to a snide remark from Steve about Greg which led to a snarky retort from her about stale cupcakes. It escalated from there.

->Now neither one is speaking to the other.

->Bucky has a plan. He's going to get these two together. They just need a little peace and quiet to...work through their issues. And Bucky knows the perfect place for this to happen.

->He's confident Steve will forgive him.

[mimisempai]

Clear-cut

Summary

Greg is in hospital and injured. When Mycroft finds him, he tries to play down the seriousness of his injuries, but Mycroft has had enough and wants the unvarnished truth.

Notes

Mystrade Monday  3.0  #10 - Character A likes to include half-truths and tall-tales in their stories and Character B likes to keep track of them. (I deviated a little from it) 

@mystradepromptsandscenarios

On AO3

804 words - Rating G

"Greg! What the hell happened?"

The doctor who had just finished treating Greg turned to Mycroft and said, "Sir, you shouldn't be here..." 

Greg replied to Mycroft, "I'm fine."

Mycroft frowned and Greg sighed before insisting, "It's just a few scratches."

He folded his shirt sleeve over the bandage the doctor had just applied to his arm. 

"Monsieur Lestrade, we were this close to transfusing you, so don't minimize your injuries."

"And perhaps I didn't want my partner to worry!" 

Then, seeing Mycroft's exasperated expression, he added, "I certainly didn't mean to tell him like that."

Mycroft came and stood by the bed as he replied, "You would have minimized it even more. You'd probably only have told me half the story. I know how you are. Although I usually like to decipher your tall tales, this time it's not the case. This is serious, Greg."

Greg struggled to keep his eyes open and whispered, "But I swear I'm fine."

The doctor interjected, "I'd rather keep you overnight. "

Mycroft, knowing Greg would protest, intervened, "I'll take him home. I promise to keep an eye on him, Doctor."

Greg grimaced. They'd planned a dinner and now he'd ruined it.

"I'm sorry."

Mycroft took his hand and squeezed it gently into his own.

"Don't be. It won't be at the restaurant, but we'll spend the evening together anyway." 

Then he turned to the doctor and asked, "Is there anything I should be aware of?"

"Just keep an eye on him for the next 24 hours. Even if the wound isn't as deep as we first thought, it's still a total of sixty stitches in three different places."

Halfsmiling, Greg replied, "You should have seen the look of my opponent".

"Your opponent?!" 

Greg replied sheepishly, "The glass door to my sister's balcony."

"Greg..."

"I couldn't help it, she had cleaned it too well, I didn't see that it was closed and ran into it at full speed. Apparently there was already a crack and it literally exploded from the shock."

Feeling exhaustion wash over him, Greg added with a sigh, "Can we go home now? "

The doctor took pity on him and nodded.

Greg sighed in relief.

Mycroft asked gently, "Can you walk?" 

Greg grimaced and replied, "With help I should be fine."

Thirty minutes later, supported by Mycroft, Greg made his way as best he could through the door of their apartment.

His lover helped him make himself comfortable on the sofa before sitting down beside him, a worried expression on his face. 

Greg put his hand on Mycroft's knee and said quietly, "I assure you, I'm all right."

Mycroft wrapped his arm gently around Greg's shoulders and held him close before asking quietly, "Why didn't you want me to know? "

Greg dropped his head against Mycroft's chest and replied, "It's not that I didn't want to, but I wanted to tell you so that you wouldn't worry as much as you do now."

Mycroft harrrumpha, "Idiot, I'll always worry, and probably more if you don't tell me things as they are. No secrets, no half-truths, just the facts."

Greg nodded as Mycroft continued, "With you, when it comes to your well-being, your mental or physical health, I don't want to have to use my insight or deductive skills, I'd rather you told me plain and simple."

Greg nodded again, and after a few moments he muttered, "Mycroft."

"Hm?"

"It really hurts. I could use a painkiller."

Mycroft pressed a kiss to his lover's hair and replied, "I'll get you what you need right away."

He gently positioned Greg on the sofa, elevated his injured arm with a pillow, then went to get what his lover needed. He returned a few moments later with a pill and a glass of water, which he handed to Greg. When Greg had swallowed the pill and drunk the glass, Mycroft asked him gently, "Is there anything else you need?"

Greg nodded and replied, "Just one thing."

"Tell me, love?"

"That you take me in your arms."

Mycroft chuckled softly before sitting down next to Greg and wrapping his arms around him, holding him to his chest while being careful with his injured arm.

He planted a kiss on Greg's forehead and asked, "Is everything all right?"

Greg replied, "It's not the best I've ever been, but you're making it better."

He pressed a kiss to Mycroft's chest and added, "And that's not a half-truth."

Mycroft laughed lightly and tightened his arm around his lover, saying softly, "Try to get some sleep. I'll be here if you need anything."

Greg yawned and grumbled, "'kay..."

The backlash and the painkiller soon got the better of him and he fell fast asleep in Mycroft's arms. As for Mycroft, he didn't sleep and watched over his lover's sleep until he woke up again.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Mystrade mondays 3.0 : here

Mystrade masterlist here

[1-800-rh]

(Haven’t written in a few years so my writing skills have diminished over the years but promise to get back into it ! Also this is the first chapter to my book Insanity on wattpad . Enjoy <3 )

Rodrick Heffley X Fem!Reader

LIFE WASN'T PERFECT, Y/n definitely made it all feel better. Just a hug from her or a simple 'hello' was enough to make him flushed. He would deny it to anyone who asked but deep down he always did have a crush on Y/n . Their parents had lived next to one another since way before either teenager was born. It made the rough days easier for Rodrick as when he would argue with his parents, he'd climb Y/n's side of the house & up to her room.

"There's my Romeo." She would say . He would just roll his eyes & enter her room. She knew exactly what it meant when he'd climb through her window . Rodrick only did this when he didn't want the altercations to get physical. Tonight was a little more different. Y/n said her usual sentence as she pushed the window up, but this time Rodrick ignored her. She sucked on the inside of her cheek as she watched him throw himself on the purple bean bag directly from her bed.

"Was I interrupting anything?" She shook her head & eyed the open textbooks on her bed . "Nope. I was simply going over my notes, nothing important." He tapped his drumsticks against his thighs & let out an exasperated sigh. "I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not."

She chuckled & took her spot on the bed again. "No , i'm being serious. It wasn't anything too important." Y/n closed her books & set them to the side - the floor side of her bed. "What happened tonight?" She let the question linger for a couple of minutes before regretting it as it just roamed in the air. "It was just a stupid argument about my bandmate , Bill. I swear it's like they don't ever listen or care what I have to say."

"Maybe it's in their best intentions that they don't li-"

"You sound just like Greg." He said. Y/n sunk in her spot , arms crossed on her chest. "If it's not Manny or Greg saying something they don't care. It's whatever. The moment my band makes its big break , i'm skipping town." He rested his chin on the palm of his hand as he eyed the girl across from him.

Maybe it was his teenage mentality that he thought that everything was shit or that life sucked . Maybe he was right & his parents only put on this facade to display to the rest of the world that they were the perfect all america family . Maybe it was the pathway he took that made his parents so disappointed that they rarely mind him any attention. But no one knew the reality , unless it was the Heffley's.

Y/n brought her knees to her chest , resting her head against them. "I'm sorry to hear that . Truly I am. Um...on the topic of your band , have you decided what songs you're gonna perform for the rock festival this year ?" She said.

"Bill & Drew were thinking we should perform Projectile Diarrhea Diper but I dunno. I think it's too soft for the festival." He finally stood up to stretch his legs , Y/n lifting her head up to watch him. "I think you guys will be amazing no matter the song. I'll make a sign that says 'I Heart Löded Diper' & scream at the top of my lungs when you guys are up."

Rodrick chuckled & began fiddling with the bracelets he wore. "Oh god ." He said. Y/n gave him a sly smile & jumped out of bed . Though he swore to kill anyone who hugged him, he only allowed her to do so . She didn't know it but she was his safety net & he felt as if he could count on Y/n no matter what.

"Do you wanna spend the night ?"

"Can I ? Do your pa-"

"They're out of town . They've been out of town for the past three weeks . Beats being alone in the house to be honest." She said. Y/n bent over to open the lowest drawer on her dresser , revealing to Rodrick all the clothes she had neatly folded for him from every time he spent the night.

As she was distracted, Rodrick couldn't help but stare at her ass ; he turned a beet red when she caught him staring but refused to say anything as she thought he was staring at something else. " You can help yourself to the 'Rodrick' drawer I keep for you. "

"Stalker much?"

"Fine by me, I'll more than gladly toss all your clothes you've left in MY room . More room for my actual clothes ." She batted her eye lashes in an egotistic fashion. Rodrick threw his arms in defeat - giving an obvious eye-roll - before pulling out his plaid pajamas & a random black shirt that once may have been a band tee but the words were barely visible.

She watched him fix up a little bed area on the side of her bed , though they had shared the bed multiple times, he felt comfortable sleeping on the floor . It was Rodrick after all, he could sleep anywhere regardless of the situation. "You know you could always just share the bed with me." She said . He shrugged & laid himself on the padded flooring, regretting it instantaneously & jumping in bed with Y/n .

The clock read 3:25 A.M. Rodrick had laid in bed for the past five hours , unable to fall asleep. Y/n laid next to him, dozing away. He sighed & got out of bed . Normally he could fall asleep within the moment his head hit the pillow , but the continuous flashbacks of the argument kept him up.

He walked over to the window , cracking it open halfway & sparked up his blunt. He leaned over the window sill & looked out into the early morning darkness. Y/n stirred in her sleep before slowly moving around . At times he thought about running away in the early hours of the day , but the thought of Y/n kept him from doing so. He couldn't imagine his life without her not by his side .

•

"Rodrick , I have had just enough of this little 'my bands gonna make it.' talk. It's not gonna happen. I want you to get your shit together & use your head for something good." Rodrick scowled & stared at his destroyed drum sets. Frank pushed past him & walked down the stairs. "I have let this charade go on far too long."

Rodrick tightened his fist before pursuing after his father. "Get my shit together, really ? How about you get your shit together." He yelled.

"For over a year now , mom has been the only one providing for us. Day in & day out. What do you do ? You just sit on your ass all day playing with your stupid military toys."

Frank was face to face with his eldest son . Susan only watching from across the room. "Greg has started selling his video games in order to try to help out because we're barely scraping by ."

"Rodrick, sweetie , I think that's enough. Frank , come on honey , just sit down for dinner with us." Susan pleaded. The younger boys only sat watching their eldest sibling & father going back & forth.

Frank scowled. "Listen here , I am your father. You respect me as such. " Rodrick glared at Frank & scuffed. "Well you're doing a shitty job at it ."

Everything happened to fast . Susan watched in horror as Frank back handed Rodrick , causing him to stumble back . "Rodrick !" Greg jumped out of his chair .

"Take Manny & go upstairs please." Susan muttered to Greg as she stood up & walked towards the fighting boys. Rodrick grabbed his father by the collar . " I SAID ENOUGH." Susan shouted.

Only it was a little late, Frank had managed to push Susan off himself & Rodrick . The grown woman was now on the floor . Rodrick watched at the scene in front of him & could only glare at Frank as he disappeared towards the set of stairs.

He helped his mother off the floor. "I'm sorry , mom." She gently squeezed his hand & hugged him. "It's fine sweetheart. Just go check on-" Her sentence was interrupted due to the commotion that was coming from Rodrick's room. They both ran & to their horror found his room completely destroyed.

His band posters were all ripped into pieces. His drums that had been destroyed were now in pieces, damaged beyond repair. His drumsticks were snapped in half . His bed sheets were now sprawled all over the floor right alongside his bed. His dresser had been tipped over & a majority of his clothes had been torn to shreds.

"I bought you all of this . Since I'm doing such a terrible job at being a dad , buy yourself all over your shit from scratch." He crossed his arms & stood in the middle of the room. Susan had her hand over her mouth , too stunned to speak.

"Go to hell." Rodrick muttered to Frank as he ran down the stairs . His mother kept calling after him saying that everything could be resolved but he continued ignoring her & made his way out the front door.

•

"Rodrick ?" He spun around to find the girl climbing out of bed & making her way towards him. He chuckled at the sight of her messy hair. "Sorry I didn't mean to wake you up." She shrugged & reached for the lit blunt.

Y/n took a hit & sighed , the smoke releasing as she did so. "Couldn't sleep ?" She said . He shook his head. "Not really. I just had been tossing & turning. So I thought it was the perfect timing for a smoke." He took back the joint & took a hit as well , burning it out before storing it away.

"Can I ask you something ?"

"Yeah of course Rodrick."

"Do you think that in a different universe we have better families ? As in we don't get shitty lives ?" She stayed quiet & began shutting the window.

"I think we do ." Y/n walked back to her bed , reprising her spot from earlier. "I hope we do . Sometimes I feel like i'm going insane from living like this." Rodrick sighed in relief. He knew that no one would understand him like she did .

Now high & sleepy , he headed back to bed . "Goodnight Y/n."

" 'Night Rodrick."

[noforkingclue]

The Body in the Library Chapter 2 (Sherlock Holmes x reader)

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

You folded your arms and crossed one leg over the other as Lestrade gave you a tired look.

“Are you serious?” he asked

“What do you think?” you asked, “I find a body in my library-“

“Having two book cases in your living room does not mean it’s a library.” Interrupted Sherlock

“And a body which was clearly murdered in the same manner as one of my best sellers,” you continued, ignoring what Sherlock had said, “what was I meant to do?”

“Call the police and not him.” Lestrade said

“Well I did,” you said, rolling your eyes, “and if you were a bit quicker you might’ve been my top suspect Greg.”

“But you called Sherlock first.” Lestrade said, exasperated

“He didn’t pick up,” you replied curtly, “John did.”

Sherlock scoffed as he continued to pace about your kitchen. You glared at him out of the corner of you eye before sighing and resting your elbow on the table.

“Ok,” you said, “look, I know Sheer Luck didn’t kill that person. I was just pulling your leg! However, that doesn’t explain why there’s a body in my lib- living room. Am I being targeted?”

“Unlikely.” Said Sherlock

You turned around in your seat and glared at him. Sherlock’s back was facing you and you snapped,

“What makes you think that? There’s a dead body in my house, killed in the same manner as one of my best sellers.”

“One of your best sellers.” Muttered Sherlock under his breath

“How is that someone not targeting me!”

“The person murdered was clearly the target,” Sherlock pulled out his phone and started texting, “not you. You were just a convenient place to dump the body. If you will insist on not having suitable alarms then these things will happen.”

“Convenient?”

You stood up and Lestrade sighed and left the kitchen. He was getting a headache from listening to you and Sherlock argue. John, who was lurking outside the kitchen, looked up.

“So,” John said, “how exactly do those two know each other?”

Lestrade opened his mouth to answer but a shout cut him off. He sighed and nodded towards the outside. When they were both outside, he lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.

“That,” he said eventually, “is something they neither of them really talk about.”

“They’ve fucked,” Anderson said, “almost certain they have.”

“Really,” John didn’t sound so sure, “neither of them seem to like each enough for that.”

“You can’t really blame her for hating him though,” said Anderson, “although you’ve got to question her intelligence if she did sleep with him.”

“Who slept with who?”

You asked them as you joined the group outside. You folded your arms as you leant against the wall and said,

“I left Holmes in there. If I spent another minute in there alone with him there would’ve been another body. At least if I did kill him it would be in my kitchen and that’s tiled. A lot easier to mop up blood from tiles instead of hardwood.”

“I thought poison was more your taste.”

You looked over your shoulder and glared at Sherlock who just raised his eyebrows in response.

“I’m sorry I don’t have any arsenic at hand,” you said dryly, “Rest assured that if I did I would certainly use it. Also, I am glad to know you are aware of which methods I usually go to in my books. Are you a secret fan?”

“You mostly use strychnine.” Sherlock said

“You counted how many methods of murder I used.”

“I was merely curious how many times you reused a plot.”

“Reusing a murder weapon is not reusing a plot. Would you say that Agatha Christie reused plots?”

“Unlike you, she had some element of talent.”

“Now listen here-“

“We should probably leave,” Lestrade said to John, “they’re going to be like this for a while.”

“Is it always like this between them?” asked John

“No. Usually it’s a lot worse.”

[splashgal]

Bridgerton Recap- 1x1 : 'Diamond Of The First Water'

Welcome to my first ever recap on this platform. My writing style tends to be pretty snarky and inappropriate about everything, so if that's not your vibe, this is not the place for you. I'm a huge fan of discussion, so chime in on anything. Only move forward at this point if you've watched at least the first season, because here there be spoilers...

We open straight out of the gate with a lovely voice over from my idol and splasdad’s first major crush, Dame Julie Andrews. Over sweeping crane shots of people milling about it their technicolor finery, Julie tells us it’s Grosvenor Square, 1813. I assume she offered to deliver this line similar to those in ‘Hamilton’, but was told she couldn’t steal all of the thunder in the first thirty seconds of the show.

The camera immediately zooms in on the front door of the Featherington home (Blue! Are they already foreshadowing?) and to the drawing room where Portia and her daughters are all lined up in what would come to be seen as their most unassuming outfits ever worn. Before we are even properly introduced to any of them by name, Julie is calling the girls ‘sorrowful sows’ and their mother ‘tasteless’. True, but dang Pen. Prudence is getting squeezed into her corset at her mother’s behest, being told she ‘could squeeze her waist into the size of an orange and a half’ when she was her age. Weird unit of measurement, but okay.

Then we zip over to the Bridgerton door (Green! Now I’m not sure about the color thing I guess) and into their immense hall. If this is a set, it is magnificent. If this is a real house, it is magnificent. We pan across the paintings of the older siblings (screw Greg and Hy I guess) that one day Luke Thompson will try to sneak out under his coat. Eloise is already irritated and Colin and Benedict fight adorably over who Daphne likes better (it’s Colin). Eloise yells. Benedict seems exasperated, Colin seems entertained. Francesca seems like a different person.

This will be the first of many references I make to Colin’s hair, which has a fascinating journey even in this episode. Here, it is flat, but also not? It doesn’t ever look like this again. I can’t tell what is happening honestly.

It should also be noted here that everyone so far looks gorgeous and like they’re about fourteen years old.

Front doors open simultaneously and everyone comes down the stairs. Eloise and Pen wave at each other cutely and we get one shot where Colin might be looking at Pen before we focus in on Violet and Daphne coming down the stairs. Why are the moms so overly-tulled here? Both Violet and Portia look like loofahs.

Anyway, here’s Daphne, she’s perfectly Keira Knightly-adjacent.

Mama Bridgerton asks Ben where his brother, ‘Lord Bridgerton’ is, and he says he doesn’t know. Liar.

And here we get the introduction to Anthony, whose lovely bum is out. He’s on a tight schedule. Poor Sienna is going to have bark burn.

Y’all, I’ve just realized I’ve written over 400 words and we are three minutes into the episode. I might need to pick this up a bit.

Anthony shows up at the presentation and takes Daphne’s hand to enter the palace as Julie explains the dog and pony show we are about to witness. All three Featherington girls come out together, even though the dude announcing them seems kinda over it. These actresses all have such great chemistry together. They’re instantly funny and cute. Penelope in general is just adorable in this sequence. She nervously looks over at the Bridgertons. Eloise is horrified and Anthony is…turned on? To whom is he giving the once over? Penthony fans rise up I guess?

Prudence is clearly the favorite, as she is the one who gets the honor of passing out to little interest from the Queen, and then Perfect Daphne is striding in with her giant feather and her tiny little fringe curls. She gets a kiss on the forehead and Julie gives us a warning and we are onto the theme song, which should never get skipped ever.

When we come back, we are finally told that Julie Andrews is Lady Whistledown, and she’s already dropping words like ‘bitch’ and ‘canine’. We see Lady Danbury in her first of many tiny WizardPimp top hats, and then over to the Bridgerton girls all talking about the presentation, with Eloise correctly explaining that the other hundred and ninety-nine girls who didn’t get forehead kisses are going to hate Daphne now. Daphne mentions the perfect love of Edmund and Violet. El talks about Lady Whistledown, they discuss the alphabetical naming of the kids (helpful in my opinion as well as Violet’s, but Pen disagrees I guess). Daphne is named a ‘Diamond of the First Water.’ Penelope gaslit everyone into believing that means something. Way to go, Pen.

Across the street, Portia is pissed and points the finger at Violet being the Gossip Girl. Cressida’s mom is there and points out that if Daphne gets off the market fast, maybe someone else will have a fighting chance at snagging one of these poncy, top-hatted dweebs in Mayfair. Here we get the first instance of Penelope being told to stop reading or she’ll start getting ideas and thinking (Gaston Portia, you are positively primeval).

Oh, a distant cousin is on her way? That should have no consequences at all. Penelope wants to sit out the season and her sisters call her fat. They’re just jealous of her magnificent rack I think. Wait, I just noticed there’s a harp player in the corner. What on earth is happening here? Anyway, this cousin was on a farm, she probably will be wearing a potato sack.

No, of course she’s beautiful.

Here comes Simon in his Sherlock Holmes coat and his carefully cultivated facial hair. He’s cravat-less, so we know he’s a whore. He gallops in to Lady Danbury’s estate, who greets him with condolences on his father, who he clearly hated. She’s hosting a ball and warns him every lady will be trying to put it on him. He tells her he can’t, because dead dad pass, and she shuts him down pretty thoroughly.

Across town, Sienna lip syncs for a couple moments before she and Anthony start fucking in her dressing room. You guys- the amount of Jonathan Bailey nudity in just the first fifteen minutes of this show is so distracting. I can’t type with one hand. He can’t stay, he has to take Daphne to the ball. Wait, is this all the same day as the presentation? Can he not keep it in his pants for more than a couple hours (spoiler alert: he cannot)? He has no self-awareness, so he talks about guarding his sister’s virtue (blech) and then tells Sienna he will always protect her. Except from STDS, one would assume.

We are at the ball, y’all! They are painting the floor and polishing the crystal and they got Ari on the sound system. Julie tells us about the cattle auction we are about to witness, before warning us there is nothing worse than spinsterhood. Talk of watercolors, piano, gardening- we will get to the flaming batons later, one would assume.

We see the Featherington girls all standing together, Pen’s attention is completely on Colin, whose hair must have grown 3x in size since his first scene. Maybe it’s full of secrets. Pen's face is rather heart-breaking here, she has that kind of ‘despondent longing’. Either that or it’s indigestion. Or she just realized she has a thorax strapped to her breasts. Anyway, Colin is cute a clueless and loves dancing. Thankfully, this isn’t like that town in ‘Footloose’.

Lord Ambrose approaches Daphne, Anthony cockblocks aggressively. Anyone with those sideburns should not be quite so judgey, one would think. He walks the room with his sister, talking shit about all the dudes (eccentric, bastard, etc). The best men in the room are her brothers. Easy Anthony, this isn’t ‘Game of Thrones’. Colin, apropos nothing at all, mentions he’s going to Greece, which Daphne finds interesting. Before she can actually be the one human to show interest in him ever, Lady Danbury arrives and the boys attempt to scatter before being called out. She’s wearing a tiara. She’s flawless. She should get a forehead kiss. She correctly clocks Anthony being a hindrance rather than a help to Daphne and wanders off to presumably hit people with her cane.

And then Colin turns and sees (sigh) Marina.

So has an insta-semi I guess and then Portia talks some shit about her. As if her fabulous hair isn’t enough to want to marry her. Colin and his Rock-A-Doodle mane join her Ring Around The Rosey dance and apparently just the fact that he’s there is enough to make everyone else want her. He was literally just dancing with another girl two minutes ago, but I guess she is not desirable anymore. I didn’t see her hair, so that could be the case. Thank you, next indeed.

There’s a shot of Benedict and Lady Danbury and I decide I ship it waaay too fast.

And then Simon, in his red velvet jacket and still no cravat (what a hussy) has joined the party. Portia spots him immediately and tries to hurry Pip and Pru over to him, even though he’s not on the trading cards they’re carrying around with them (?). He gets swarmed and looks less than psyched about it.

Daphne escapes Anthony for the lemonade table. She’s immediately accosted by Mr. Collins Peter Pettigrew Nigel Berbrooke, who is a creepy creep toward her. She leaves, and he tries to follow her when she literally runs into Simon. She does that thing girls have to learn to do where they pretend they know someone to save themselves from getting molested, but Simon is too focused on how hot he is to cotton on. They bicker a bit before Anthony sniffs his sister out and greets Simon excitedly. This is the happiest we have seen Anthony all episode. He refers to him as The Duke of Hastings and talks about their time at Oxford, which I assume entailed sticking their dicks into the mouths of dead pigs.

Anthony convinces Daphne to leave in order to play hard to get, even though Violet seems pretty pissed about it.

The next morning, she excitedly waits for suitors. Anthony shows up and sits next to his sister as Maroon 5 kicks up on the soundtrack. Over at Featherington House, we have a million dudes showing up for Marina, which seems to tickle Pen quite a bit. A guy with a mustache is daring to talk to Daphne, which Ant cannot handle. Dude, just pee on her and get it over with already, you weirdo. Someone brought Marina a puppy(DO NOT EVER gift someone a puppy unless they are aware it is coming!).

Julie Andrews is throwing shade at Daphne and the Queen.

The Featherington girls are getting facials while Portia, disguised as Big Bird, gets mad at Marina’s instep. She seems like she’d be a lot of fun at parties, huh? Back over at Bridger-Home, Daphne is trying to get her brother off her nuts for two minutes. However, he’s already RSVPed to the next shindig, as well as everything through June. El tries to talk about Lady Whistledown, but Daphne snaps at her. Footman John (my favorite footman!) comes in and announces Berbrooke has come to smarm at them. Hyacinth seems psyched to see him, everyone else- not so much. El tries to stay, but Violet boots her. Nigel points out he didn’t know Daphne was so desperate.

El has made it over to Feather- House, where we have ourselves a real sausage fest. Some dude dressed like Willy Wonka is reciting poetry. Colin has got puffed sleeves, like he’s Anne of Green Gables. He watches Pen play with the dog Marina has already forgotten about. Portia encourages all the men to at least acknowledge her loin fruit on their way out. Colin makes a beeline right for Penelope, where they share a cute exchange about Byron (Byron references for this episode: 2) and then he calls her ‘Pen’, which is both highly adorkable and highly arousing.

Daphne and Anthony are arguing on horseback- how classy. She points out that women are raised just to be wives, which is true and total bullshit at the same time.

Meanwhile, Julie is lusting over Simon in voiceover when she should be lusting after a cigarette-smoking Lady Danbury. She’s a boss. Simon and Anthony are at the club, getting drunk in the middle of the day like they’re NASCAR dads. They both argue over getting hitched, with Anthony essentially saying he will rely on his younger brothers to sire heirs for him (?). I think that’s…not how that works.

Julie is still talking about Marina. Again. Some more. On retrospect, it’s really obvious who she is, isn’t it? Anyway, Penelope is on the floor with the puppy, like she’s a toddler. We get our first sign of Varley, aka Mrs. Gollum. She and Portia stand in the hallway, dressed as the Batman villians they are. Varley suggests sending Marina off to live on a farm, and I’m assuming she doesn’t mean it in the same way you do for dogs, but what do I know? Portia nixes the idea because of Her Idiot Husband. He watches Marina creepily over the top of his newspaper.

Violet is once again dressed as if no one at JoAnn’s Fabric talked her out of those three extra yards of purple tulle like they should have. She’s chastising Daphne for not paying enough attention to Wormtail.

They are at the opera now, and Violet’s outfit is much better. She looks smokin’ hot. The Queen negs Daph and then Danbury welcomes them to her box (dirty!). Ladies Bridgerton and Danbury loudly gossip throughout Sienna’s performance and drop info about Simon’s childhood, his mother, and then turn to meddling. Mostly involving pie. They laugh maniacally for some reason.

Marina is pulling her bed apart like she’s checking to see if Frederick or Kurt left something hiding in there for her. Oh no, wait. That’s not it.

What is the timeline of this show? Now we are at dinner across the street, where Anthony is suggesting that Gossip Girl lives in Bloomsbury (spoiler?), and then Colin suggests it’s a man. El takes that very well. Original Recipe Fran thinks it’s Danbury. Hyacinth suggests Lady Featherington, which they all laugh at. Simon points out how weird it is to let Hyacinth and Gregory eat with the other humans and not at a card table in the basement, like kids are supposed to. There’s a back and forth about Colin boxing (huh?) and then Daphne and Simon are bicker/flirting again. He’s in another Hugh Hefner red velvet jacket with an open neck again. Violet mentions pie and it perks Simon right up. Maybe she’s his soulmate.

Anthony and Violet are arguing about Saphne, with Anthony acting like a giant gaping asshole. When he mentions duty, she brings up his mistress, and his brothers carrying on the family line again. Stop thinking with Benedict’s penis, everyone! It’s weird. She asks him if he is actually the man of the house.

We cut to him as he breaks up with Sienna. She is rightfully pretty bitter about it. He did promise to protect her quite recently. What is with these Bridgerton boys and being like this?

And we are at Vauxhall! I didn’t notice before that they seem to be travelling by boat, like they’re going to Hogwarts. Colin finds Pen right away (‘Pen’ count: 2 ‘Colin’ count: 1). They are both so flipping adorable here. Her hair and her pink dress and his tall, tall pompadour and blue jacket. She didn’t think he would be there. He’s sorry to disappoint. He asks about Marina and Pen stiffens up and says she’s home sick. Instead, Her Idiot Father brought her. It’s why she’s allowed to wear something that doesn’t look like rainbow sherbet. When she says it, he looks her up and down and smiles, but doesn’t say anything.

But before their moment can go anywhere, Nellie Olson Cressida Cowper saunters over with her exceedingly normal hair and dress. She’s coming in hot on Colin, using her phone sex voice. Pen gives her lip (dirty), and then Cressida spills her drink on Pen’s lovely pink dress. To his credit, Colin immediately realizes what is happening and shuts Cressida down and reaches for Penelope. The way her head whips around when he says he’s dancing with her is very cute. They make for the dance floor and they jig and it’s adorable.

A group of women surround the Duke (who still has an open collar, has he no decency??) and say he looks just like his father (false).

Mrs. Varley is doing the laundry and looks at Marina’s sheets. These ladies are all better at math than I am for sure. She goes to find Portia.

Back at the swinging party, Anthony and his sideburns show up to give an elevator pitch on Lord Berbrooke. He found her someone to marry her. Give him a cookie! She is pissed.

But not as pissed as Lady Featherington, who is confronting Marina on her irregular menstrual cycle. They argue until Portia hauls off and slaps her charge across the face.

Wormtail finds Daphne in a garden, where he gets very rapey very quickly. Daphne knocks him out cold as Simon is coming to her rescue. She starts worrying. They both talk about how much they hate Lady Whistledown, then he suggests a solution.

There is a lovely (purposeful) shot of Penelope as they come back to the party to a voice over of their plan to pretend to be into each other. They take to the dance floor as everyone watches them in awe. Good thing they’re not in love. They dance among the sparklers. It's gorgeous.

With that, Dame Julie signs off.

What do you guys think of this episode? How about the season in general?

[youcouldmakealife]

LBTE: Jared (158-160)

In which there are meetings.

If you'd like to follow along, the series page is here.

158. Under Advisement

Sit down, it’s actually a good thing I have a chance to talk to you guys without PR breathing down my neck.”

“Um,” Jared says. Private meetings with GMs are not historically his favourite thing, even if Foster’s always been cool before. “Should we — maybe we should wait for everyone?”

“No, no,” Foster says. “Sit.”

Brian Foster: PR’s worst nightmare.

“Ownership’s explicitly told me you’re not currently tradeable assets — I didn’t need to be told that, by the way, I just want you to know that the first thing they said to me. Well, actually not the first thing, the first thing was — never mind, I’m rambling, I do that. It’s an annoying habit.”

“It’s not annoying,” Jared says, which gets him a grateful look from Bryce as well as Foster. “I think PR would have been pretty cool with that speech, honestly.”

“Are you kidding?” Foster says. “It’d be all ‘you can’t identify who asked for advice, Brian!’ ‘you can’t tell them about a private conversation with the owner, Brian!’ Though probably that’s more HR. Who are also going to be at the meeting, by the way. It’s an all hands kind of meeting. We probably should have booked a conference room. Not that we need to book, it’s — never mind.”

PR’s worst nightmare. Also there are three people in this room and maybe one functioning brain to mouth filter between them.

“Of course they do,” Foster says, then frowns at him. “I told you to as well. Anyway don’t tell them I told you that stuff. I shouldn’t have. That’s — I know the rambling is annoying. I’m trying to get better about it.”

I am very fond of this man.

“I couldn’t figure out how to book the conference rooms,” Foster says. “The system kept locking me out.”

“You’re the GM, Brian,” Dwyer says. “You delegate that. Stay here, I’ll find us a conference room.”

Everyone suddenly arrives, then they scatter, off on the hunt for a room big enough to hold everyone, then on the hunt for someone who has keys to the room, then calling Summers and Greg to let them know things will be delayed. Foster was right — everyone calls him Brian, and there are a lot of exasperated ‘Brian’s being said, while Bryce and Jared sit in Foster’s office, forgotten for the moment.

Very, very fond of this disaster GM.

“Babe—“ Jared says, then Foster’s coming in, saying, “Sorry to barge in!”, like they aren’t sitting in his office, then, “They found a conference room. I’m not allowed to organise meetings anymore. Did you guys want coffee? Shelley’s assistant is going on a coffee run.”

Every bit I write of Brian makes me smile. A little treat for me.

“Okay,” Foster says, then, retreats, mumbling something to himself that Jared can hear — he’s reciting Bryce’s drink order under his breath, presumably so he doesn’t forget it.

“Oh,” Foster says, bursting right back in. “You guys should probably come to the conference room, eh?”

He, like Greg, is doing his best.

So — small mercies, he guesses. They have supportive friends and teammates. His parents are giving him some distance because he asked for it, but they’re standing by. Bryce’s mom came with food and hugs. Their GM is behind them, as is their room, and they couldn’t have depended on that in Calgary or Edmonton. This could have happened earlier in their relationship, when Bryce was less comfortable with his sexuality and Jared had less faith in them as a unit. It really could have been so much worse.

Listing all sorts of possibilities that could have, but did not, occur in this narrative.

Do we need Dmitry as an annoying chaperone going forward Jared texts Stephen after Elaine heads out. He wonders after if that’s a confusing question, but then decides that Stephen pretends to be omniscient often enough that he can figure it out or be confused.

Gabe is much less annoying if you require a chaperone Stephen replies, which is comforting, and also true.

Yes but Jared doesn’t scowl the moment Gabe enters a room, so that will do nothing to mitigate Jared’s soppy face.

Also: confirmed, Stephen is omniscient. Or just very on Jared’s wavelength.

“What’s twitter saying about us now?”

“How should I know?” Bryce asks, but his guilty face gives him away and he knows it.

Someone must stop him.

“It’s not as bad as I figured it’d be,” Bryce says. “Like. I don’t know if I made it bigger in my own head all along, or if it’s like — it was that bad, the first few times players came out, and then time passed and it kept happening and people got used to it. I don’t know. There’s shit but it like — honestly people said worse shit about me when I got traded to the Canucks. By like, a lot.”

That’s weirdly unsurprising, and both depressing and encouraging at the same time. Like, sure, you can marry a dude, but playing for a divisional rival? That’s a bridge too far.

The conversation has significantly changed since Marc and Dan were outed (2010). There’s some extremely alarming backsliding happening, but all told, it would be a very different reaction than what Bryce witnessed as a teen.

Also seriously imagine if Leon Draisaitl joined the Flames or something. CHAOS. OUTRAGE!!

“And everyone’s talking about how hot you are,” Bryce says. “Which, like, obviously I agree.”

Jared rolls his eyes. “They are not,” he says.

They are. Incessantly.

And it’s kind of comforting to know that while Jared would get caught obsessing over all the worst tweets, Bryce is focusing on the ones that call Jared hot. Not the ones complimenting him — and if there are tweets about Jared being hot, there are probably twice as many about Bryce — but Jared.

There are not twice as many about Bryce.

“What’s that for?” Bryce asks when Jared kisses his temple, the crest of his cheekbone, his mouth as it curves up. He was clearly expecting that argument about cognitive bias, and he looks confused but pleased that he’s getting kissed instead.

“Nothing,” Jared says, and takes that golden opportunity, Bryce smiling, guard down, to confiscate his phone, because clearly Bryce needs to be saved from himself.

Bryce so touched he forgot about machinations.

159. Rehearsal

Bryce makes a noncommittal sound, and Jared breaks his own ‘don’t touch the driver’ rule, reaching out and squeezing Bryce’s thigh in a way he hopes is comforting and not like, grope-y. Not the time for grope-y. Kind of because of the general situation, but mostly because of the whole driving thing.

No groping in motor vehicles. This is not a lesson Jared needs to learn twice, unlike the shower lesson.

Jared wonders if they opted for a younger employee to make them feel less defensive, more related to. If there’s one department he can assume is always trying to spin something, it’s PR.

Yes.

Grace also does a lot of the social media stuff though, and they knew this wasn’t something they could handle exclusively via traditional media. So ‘relates to the youth’ but also ‘is the youth’. She’s in her late 20s, which they consider close enough. There are youth-ier employees, but nobody’s putting an intern in charge of this, even with supervision.

“Before we start discussing how the press conference is going to go, I want to hear from you guys, in your words, the answers to some of the questions you’re probably going to get,” Grace says. “And we can build on everything from there, okay?”

In other words: how much do I have to edit the words that will be coming out of your mouths?

Jared tries not to wince. He thinks he fails. Bryce glances over at Jared, and then gives a very tame, very redacted version of camp. Jared only sounds moderately dickish in it, which is impressive, really, because now that he’s no longer seventeen, he accepts that he was extremely dickish the entire time, and also extremely lucky that Bryce likes that about him for some reason.

I think this is the first time Jared admits, without caveats, that he was an asshole to Bryce at the camp. No ‘but he was a douche’ quickly following or the like, no defensive ‘he started it’, just ‘I was extremely dickish to Bryce’. Good work, Jared. (He’s still never telling Bryce he was right about that stretch, even though they both know he was)

“That’s how we met!” Bryce says.

“It sounds sketchy,” Jared says.

“It sounds so sketchy,” Grace confirms.

It was supposed to BE sketchy. Fucking Bryce, man.

“Great,” Grace says. It does not sound like she thinks it’s great, honestly.

“Jared was really mature for—“ Bryce starts, then quiets when Jared kicks his ankle before he makes things sound even sketchier.

NO, BRYCE.

“I’m not going to ask you to lie about how you met,” Grace says. “But I am going to ask you to not tell the truth, unless you want people to start talking about power differentials and the age of consent.”

“Not in Canada,” Jared says. “Age of consent is sixteen.”

Of note! Because of course Jared looked it up (there are also ‘Romeo and Juliet’ near in age exceptions that would encompass their relationship, because nobody wants that law getting used to harass a sixteen year old dating a fifteen year old.)

“It wasn’t sketchy,” Bryce tells her very earnestly. “I know it sounds sketchy, but it was like—“

Jared silently wills Bryce not to say ‘true love’.

“—true love,” Bryce says.

BRYCE. NO.

“Like, we’re married,” Bryce says. “We’re spending the rest of our lives together. It was like—“

Jared hopes ‘fate’ or ‘destiny’ isn’t leaving Bryce’s mouth next.

“—meant to be, y’know?” Bryce says. “Stop looking at me like that, J.”

“I’m not even looking at you,” Jared says. He is looking at the table, because he can’t bear to accidentally meet Grace’s eye while Bryce is saying these things.

Bryce is starting to warm up to this media business as he realises he can say things like ‘true love’ and ‘meant to be’ and nobody starts booing and face washing him.

“This is exactly the kind of dynamic we want. People tend to push back against the gross in love stuff when it seems manufactured, but it’s pretty clear it’s genuine. We can definitely run with this.”

This is a very kind way of calling Bryce gross.

“That’s not really Jared’s thing,” Bryce says.

“We could try?” Jared says weakly.

“No,” Bryce says. “That’s — that’s not J. We’re not like — we’re not coming out just to pretend to be people we’re not.”

Oh Bryce.

“Just because you’re stupidly romantic like, naturally, does not mean I can’t be just as gross as you if I want to be,” Jared says.

He doesn’t believe it even as he’s saying it, and neither does Bryce, judging by his face. Which is — fair. It’s fair. Nobody could compete with Bryce’s level of mushy, but Jared isn’t even in the running. Dmitry is mushier with Bryce in public than Jared is. And frankly Jared’s fine with that, but he can be mushy if he has to. He guesses.

“Doing this in public is also totally acceptable,” Grace says.

“Doing what?” Jared asks.

As Jared is feebly arguing he can be romantic, Bryce continues to have visible hearts in his eyes for his lying husband. It’s a great dynamic. Grace is excited about it. (she hasn’t seen them in front of cameras yet.)

They exchange contact information, making sure to CC Summers. Also Greg, though that’s more so he doesn’t feel left out. This is Summers’ show, and Jared thinks Greg knows it, and honestly doesn’t think he minds. Jared certainly doesn’t.

I cannot begin to express how relieved Greg is that this is Dave’s show.

“Absolutely no internet,” Grace tells them. “None. I mean, other than the email I’m going to send you, obviously.”

“Not even funny dog videos?” Bryce asks.

Bryce has to make sure after Dave’s ‘nobody but me and Greg’ somehow allowed him to take calls from his mom.

“Okay, fine, you can have funny animal videos,” Grace says. “But stay off all social media. Also anything to do with hockey.”

“Can I check the box scores, though?” Bryce asks. “It’s important to keep up with the rest of the league.”

Grace sighs. “Okay. You can have box scores and animal videos. And that’s it.”

“But—“ Bryce says.

Jared doesn’t see Bryce much in the context of ‘authority figures’ (loosely, in Grace’s case, but she is calling the shots), so beyond Bryce and Dave having a combative relationship, Jared misses part of the issue with Bryce in these situations is that he sometimes (often) pushes back just to push back. He’s gotten a lot better about it as he’s matured, but sometimes he can’t help himself.

“Everyone likes you best,” Bryce mutters as they’re walking to their car, but only after someone from security made sure no one was lurking in the underground parking lot hoping to ambush them for a picture or a scoop. Which is obviously such a fun thing Jared hopes will continue indefinitely.

“You’ve never checked the weather in your entire life,” Jared says.

“I could,” Bryce says. “Maybe I’m getting old and boring.”

“Knowing what it’s like out is not boring,” Jared says. “It’s preparation. Are you mimicking me right now?”

“No,” Bryce mutters, abruptly ceasing.

Jared elbows Bryce in the side, and Bryce hip checks him right into a pillar. Gently, but still: rude.

They don’t bicker much — it’s more Jared snarking at Bryce, but it’s fun when Bryce bites back. For me and for Jared.

160. Whirlwind

So Jared guesses they got engaged like, practically as soon as they got together. Like, boom, date three or something: engaged. Bryce moves fast in the storyline. Also in real life, but not that fast. Jared thinks Bryce in this storyline moves a little too fast, frankly. And it isn’t realistic that Jared in this storyline said yes that early in their relationship.

Nitpicking Grace’s storyline for OOC behaviour is peak Jared.

“Please,” Grace says, pinching her nose. “It was a whirlwind romance. Based on a friendship that grew out of shared interests and mutual respect and nobody being anybody else’s coach at the time.”

Jared would like to again point out that Bryce was a terrible couch who didn’t do anything but sulk, so it basically doesn’t count.

“You come here, wringing your hands about best business practices,” Foster says. “When a decade ago both Riley and Lapointe went to the Habs as a package deal. Did you forget about that or are you just coming here with a bullshit line of reasoning so you can pretend you’re not being homophobic as you’re asking homophobic questions? You don’t get to have it both ways. You don’t get to say their sexuality has nothing to do with this and then turn right around and ask me if I knew about their sexuality when I signed them. That’s not how this works.”

Brian Foster’s entire press conference was some of the most fun I’ve ever had writing a scene. Pure Id.

Grace finds a tweet with a longer clip, in which Foster manages to insult three media organisations, mock homophobic fans, swear at least half a dozen times, and reiterate the organisation’s support for Bryce and Jared. He also takes a question about the power play.

Love me a man who can multitask.

“I think you should probably give in and start calling him Brian?” Bryce says, looking over at Jared. Bryce caved to his demands the third time Foster explicitly told him to, but Jared wasn’t planning on it: it felt too weird. But he may have to revise that decision.

“He does keep asking me to,” Jared says.

Jared figures angry monologue defending him and Bryce earns first name basis.

He’s sure there’s already going to be ‘wow, Marcus is slumming with a middle sixer’ shit.

“Literally nobody is going to be saying that,” Bryce tells him. “Like. At all.”

Babe you’re the arm candy.

“Bryce!” Jared says.

Bryce very busily looks at literally everything but Jared.

“Stop going online!” Jared says.

He can’t help it!

“I mean, not by Joe from Kamloops who’s decided he can’t support the Canucks anymore, no,” Jared says. “And definitely not Jim from Red Deer who doesn’t give a shit about the Canucks, but has come to say he’s pretty positive your shoulder injury is proof that being gay is morally wrong, actually.”

No offence to Joes and Jims. Full offence to Kamloops and Red Deer.

And Dmitry will probably beat them up, judging by the text he sent Jared assuring him that he will beat them up, along with approximately seventeen emojis Jared didn’t bother trying to parse.

Look: emojis transcend language. A fist is a fist is a fist.

“Okay, then quit reading the opinions of people who are so miserable that the idea of two people in love with each other makes them furious,” Jared says. “It’s pathetic. They’re pathetic.”

Jared was at a very tender, vulnerable age when he saw some of the blowback of the OG coming out controversy. It didn’t make things easier for him as he started to come to terms with his sexuality, and it did not make Jared like people any more than he was originally inclined to.

“They’re planning on like, rainbow flags,” Bryce says. “Canucks fans. They’re coordinating it online. They’re planning on bringing rainbow flags. And supportive signs and stuff. Some have taken pictures. They’re — they’re really nice.”

It isn't all bad though.

“There aren’t any bad ones,” Gabe says, nudging Jared’s shoulder. “If that’s why you’re keeping your head down.”

“I wasn’t doing it on purpose,” Jared says.

This warm up scene is dialogue and action heavy because Jared’s trying really hard not to feel anything right now, starting with keeping his eyes on the ice so he can't see the crowd.

“There’s one behind the net that says LJBTQ,” Gabe says. “The JB is in a heart. I thought it was kind of clever, but you just know someone on the internet is going to say it’s bi erasure. Which, as a bi dude, I completely agree there’s bi erasure in the community, but — oh, that one says PB&J and peanut butter and jelly are holding hands. It’s adorable. I have no idea what the P could be, though. Maybe Pacific? That’d work, I guess, but—

The P stands for ‘we can’t make a PB&J pun without the P’, for the record. Sometimes it’s not that deep.

“Gabe,” Jared says.

“Okay, okay,” Gabe says, putting his hands up, and skates over to where Dmitry’s doing the ridiculous motions he calls stretches.

Jared looks up, but the lights are bright and his eyes are blurry and all he can see is a wash of colour, so he blinks and blinks and goes to find another puck to try to get in the back of the net.

God Gabe can’t you see Jared is trying not to feel emotions?

“If anyone says shit to you,“ Dmitry says. “Tell me. I will fight them.”

“I know,” Jared says.

“Even if they say ‘hello’ or ‘good evening’,” Dmitry says. “I will fight them.”

“Kind of sounds like you just want an excuse to fight someone,” Jared says.

Well. Yes. But also — got your back.

But something breaks through during a TV timeout, has him looking up at the Jumbotron, because the applause and cheers are louder than a kiss cam or dance cam or celebrity lookalike. The camera’s on Bryce in the press box, looking a little stunned. After a moment Leo elbows him, grinning, and Bryce raises a hand to wave at the crowd in acknowledgement, the sound intensifying in response. The Canucks all bang their sticks against the boards, and Jared is late to join them, eyes caught on Bryce’s face.

And Jared knows this is a home game. He knows it isn’t going to be anything like this in other arenas, knows other teams’ fans won’t be this supportive, that opponents are going to use this against them, that there are always going to be people that think less of Bryce, of both of them, simply because they love each other. He knows that.

But Jared also knows Bryce is looking bashful but smiling, a mixture of happiness and bone deep relief on his face, and in this moment, that’s the only thing in the entire world that matters.

The moment that Bryce gets everything he never even dreamed of hoping for. That he gets everything he never thought he could have.

This is the original ending, before one last arc decided to jump onto the back. I also consider it the end of the climax — it’s all denouement from here.