#I think the most impressive thing about this week so far is that I haven’t had to draw vash’s coat once

[khytal]

and there was only one bed (oh my god there was only one bed)

extra:

[reidspharb]

The Moment I Knew

*Part two

Summary: Spencer misses your 25th birthday and that’s when you realize your relationship can’t be fixed.

Word count: 800 or something idk ICBA shes a short one

Warnings: angst, Reid is a shitty boyfriend in this one

Note: hi this was written at 3 am and I’m new to writing so if this sucks sorry anyways but I got this idea from Taylor Swifts song by the Same name and I thought I would write it so yeah enjoy

Sure, you were so happy all your friends were there and everyone was having a good time… but you couldn’t help but think about Spence.

It was 10 pm, the party started at 8 and he still wasn’t there like he promised. You couldn’t help but think about him coming through the door right now, gifts in hand as he did on your last birthday with that baby I’m right here smile.

You knew he couldn’t be here, and you knew how much he valued his work, but, he wasn’t even on a case far away… he was here, in Virginia, and he couldn’t even call to wish you a happy birthday.

Your eyes were locked on the door most of the time as you socialized. People asked about him, about your relationship, and the most you could give them was a sad smile and a dishonest word about how great everything was going.

“So how have you been,” your friend Sarah said as she laughed and took a sip of her drink “I mean I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!”

you plastered on the brightest fake smile you could and mustered up an answer just normal enough to get you by.

“I've been okay, you know, with work and everything.”

All you could think about was him, how he said he would be there. He told you- no he promised you weeks in advance that he would be here. But he’s not.

You felt stupid, standing there all dolled up in your tight black dress and red lipstick. You thought maybe if you dressed up nice he would make sure to be there, but then again, there you were with no one to impress.

You knew it was hopeless, there you were on your birthday staring at the door and watching the clock tick as everyone around you danced and laughed. You looked around the room, trying to spot him in the crowd but who were you fooling, you knew he wasn’t there.

As you listened to your loved ones sing happy birthday around you, you could only hear his voice in your memory. When you blew out those candles your only wish was for him to be there with you. You should’ve been so happy, but he was the one thing missing.

Then it was 1 am, and you were barely tipsy. you already had a nervous stomach, you knew drinking would only make it worse. By now you were sick of everyone being around you, you just wanted to be alone. You stumbled to the bathroom over some discarded red cups and locked yourself in there, tears burning at your eyes when you saw yourself in the mirror.

You did your makeup the way he liked it too so that if you sent pictures he really wouldn’t miss it, such a naive thing to think you told yourself. You heard a knock on your door and there were your two best friends, Tegan and Oliver, mixed with the emotions of seeing them staring at you with so much pity in their eyes and Spencer being away made you break down.

Tegan held you as you sobbed, mascara dripping down your cheeks with every tear.

“He said- he said he would be here…”

“I'm so sorry, love bug, I wish I could grab him and rip him into pieces. You deserve so much better.” Said Oliver, holding your cold hands.

You felt so embarrassed, sitting there in front of your friends crying about some stupid boy. But he was the one who meant the most to you and he wasn’t there.

The next morning you woke up on your couch, head pounding. Your apartment was trashed, there were plastic cups scattered all over the room. As you stepped over them to get ready for the day, you felt a sharp pain in your chest as you heard Spencer’s familiar ringtone playing from your phone.

“Hey doll, it’s me” he sighed on the other line of the phone.

“Hi, Spencer.” You mumbled. You knew it would hurt to say his whole name instead of the nickname you’d been calling him since the day you met him.

“I'm so sorry I didn’t make it babe I was caught up in paperwork and I lost tra-“ you interrupted his rambling, you didn’t care anymore.

“It’s fine. I’ll talk to you later Spencer.” You hissed into the phone before hitting the red button on the screen and setting your phone back down on the counter.

That was the moment you knew.

That was the moment you knew that this would never work out.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day 16

Day Fifteen | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Seventeen

Pairing: Indiana Jones x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked

Warnings: Role reversal; period-typical attitudes toward sex; vaginal sex; riding unsafe sex; creampie

He starts to turn up to your classes midway through October. You’ve seen his picture in the paper, heard the conspiratorial whispers of the enamored co-eds across campus, but you’ve never met the man. 

You notice him right off the bat—it’s impossible not to. If it hadn’t been for the way most of the female students were twisting in their seats to get a look at him, his countenance would’ve given him away. He was dressed far more professionally than your students, and watching you far more closely than any of them were as well. The afternoon sun glinted off of his glasses as he tracked your movement, from walking into the lecture hall, to setting down your briefcase as you greeted your students.

-- 

You’ve nearly forgotten him by the lecture’s end, as your students pack up their things and file out. You focus on getting your scattered notes and attendance sheets together, certain that Jones will trail out with the rest of them. You feel someone watching you as you tuck your notes and attendance into a folder. You glance up, expecting one of your students, but finding him standing there instead. 

“Dr. Jones,” You greet, turning your attention back to your bag. “Is there something that I can help you with?” 

“Brody told me that he’d hired someone else in the history department, but I haven’t had the time to come and get acquainted.” 

“Well, that probably had something to do with your recent excursion to Guatemala.” 

He chuckles softly. “I see my reputation precedes me.” 

“It certainly does.” 

“I just wanted to stop by, say hello…Get a look at the professor that’s been poaching my students.” 

“They probably wouldn’t be so easy to poach if you turned up to more than a third of your lectures during a given semester.” 

You close your satchel, lifting the strap onto your shoulder and straightening up. He searches your face, eyes narrowing slightly behind his frames. 

“Are you headed back to your office?” He asked. “I’d be happy to walk you.”

“Home, actually. I’m done for the day.” 

“Could I drive you?” 

“That’s quite alright, I drove myself here this morning.” 

Jones nods slowly, gaze sweeping curiously over you. 

“Perhaps I could drop by one of your lectures again.” 

“What for?” 

“Fun. I enjoyed it.” 

“Well, I’m glad to hear it. Maybe I could teach you a thing or two about a thing or two.” 

Jones’ lips curled with a smile as he nodded. 

“We’ll see about that.” 

--  

“What was that crack about me missing classes?” 

You throw a surly glare over your shoulder at Indiana as he grins up at you. This was not the plan. 

After a week, Dr. Jones had made it a point to visit at least one of your classes. After a month, you were planning a lecture series together over dinners and drinks. After two months, Jones had managed to talk you into taking a little weekend trip with him—for the sake of the lecture series, of course.

“I'll go on one condition,” You’d warned, pointing firmly at him. 

“I’m listening.” 

“I need to be back by noon on Monday at the latest. I have a lecture at three and I despise missing classes.” 

“...I will do my best.”

“Jones.” 

“Cross my heart, honey.” 

He’d raised his hand and crossed his heart, then raised his right hand and gestured, “Scout’s honor.” 

You’d wanted to be grated by all of it—the smile, the crossing of his heart, his scout’s honor, the way he’d called you honey. But you’d gone into the weekend with a curious new feeling. You didn’t think that Indiana really wanted to get together for lecture notes, you thought that he wanted to, well…

Well, you’d gotten the impression that Indiana may be interested in you—romantically. It was rare that a man like that asked you to drinks just to talk about the legacy of Alexander the Great, or insisted on walking you to your door afterward. 

A weekend away had seemed perfectly in order to kick off the far-less-than-professional side of your relationship. You’d packed your cutest clothes—you'd been excited.

And now rather than snuggling up, you’re following an artifact fencer into a cave in the middle of the Grand Canyon at 3pm on a Monday, dirtying your second favorite outfit, and fighting the urge to sock the grinning fool squarely in the jaw.

“Stifle it, Jones.” 

-- 

You throw the door to your hotel room open, stomping irritatedly inside and reaching back to shove the door shut again. You don’t hear it close, but you do hear the thud of Indiana’s feet behind you. 

“What’s the matter with you?” He asks, shutting the door behind himself. 

“You promised, Jones. Crossed your damn heart, if you even have one.” 

“Wouldya quit pouting? We did a good thing,” Jones argues. “So you missed a class, so what?” 

“It’s the principle of the thing!” You argue, whirling around on him. He’s stunningly close, his brows raised as he watches you. You scowl as he grins amusedly. 

“Why did you invite me out here, anyway, Jones?” You add. Something flickers in his gaze just enough for you to seize on. 

“For the lecture series,” He insists. “Obviously.” 

“Obviously?” You narrow your eyes, stepping toe-to-toe with him. “That’s all?” 

“Why else would I have invited you?” 

“For something like this, perhaps?” You reach out, grasping his cheeks and draw him in. He flails a bit for balance as your lips crash together. He steadies himself as he rests his hands on your hips, sighing softly against them as he uses his grasp to pull you closer. You let him steer you back toward the bed, but before he can push you down, you turn and give Indiana a push. He bounces back onto the mattresses, eyes wide as he peers up at you, his kiss-plumped lips parted in surprise. You smile, straddling his lap as he propped himself up on his elbows. 

“What do you think you’re doing, huh?” He asks, sliding his hands over your thighs. 

“You’ve been giving me orders all afternoon, Jones. It’s time to let me steer.” 

-- 

You watched Indiana’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly. He’d hardly taken his eyes off of you as you’d undressed, hardly been able to keep still as you’d climbed onto his lap. Now, his eyelids lowered as you slowly rolled your hips, sliding down onto his cock. 

“C’mon,” He groans. 

“Shut up.” 

“You wanted to steer, but don't know how to drive.”

“We don’t need to floor it. Besides,” You give your hips a little swivel. “I’ve already got the key in the ignition.” 

Indiana growls low in his chest, his head falling back against the pillows as you cast him a wicked grin. You brace your hands on either side of his head, bowing down over him. 

“You’re really not used to this, are you?” You murmurs.

“Don’t get a big head, honey. I’m so used to this it’d make a Parisian courtesan blush.” 

“Not this,” You chuckled, tightening up around him, and grinning as he grips your hips more tightly. “I meant not being in charge.” 

Indiana glares up at you with muted wrath, a deep breath drawing in through his nose. You giggle, leaning back and giving a showy bite to your lip as your hips meet Indiana’s. 

“You aren’t,” You insist as you set a punishingly slow pace. “It’s driving you crazy. Look at that little tick jumping in your jaw.” 

Indiana’s hands raise to grasp your breasts, but you catch hold of his hands, intertwining your fingers and using your full force to pin them up over his head. His arms flex as he presses up against your grip, and you know that Indiana could easily throw you over. You brush your lips against his, then dip closer for a deeper kiss as you begin to grind your hips unhurriedly. Indiana’s lips part beneath yours, his tongue swiping out to brush and tease against yours.

He loses himself in your kisses, letting his straining muscles go slack against the mattress as you screw your hips down against his.  You finally draw back from the kiss, shivering as Indiana leans up, swiping his tongue against your peaked nipple. You sigh, pressing your hips back against his and arching your back to push your breasts into his face. He turns his head, nuzzling the valley of breasts before sucking your other breast between his lips. You reach down, playing with your tingling clit and brushing against the slick base of Indiana’s shaft. 

Your pace begins to falter as your attention is torn between the press of Indiana’s cock and the practiced swipe of your fingers against your own flesh. You gasp softly as the familiar sensation of your orgasm begins sneaking up on you. You let go of Indiana’s other hand and push yourself up, resting your hand on his chest as you pick up your pace. You look down at Indiana and find him watching you closely as you use him for your own pleasure. You curl your fingers, nails digging into Indiana’s chest. He groans, grasping your hips and using the grip to take control of the pace. 

You don’t bother to stop him. You just tip your head back and thumb one of your nipples, cursing as you finally cum. Indiana pushes himself up against you, his chest pressed against yours. His arm hooks around your waist, pulling you closer. You can hear the grunts and groans beneath his breath, feel the harsh pants as he grows closer and closer beneath you. Indiana draws you down on top of him again, using his grip on your hips to fuck you through your orgasm. You watch his eyes roll back into his head, his groan choked out as he fills you. your cunt still twitching around him. You sigh softly, snuggling against Indiana’s chest as he calms. You smile as Indiana’s arms curl around your back, keeping you close. 

“...Tell you what,” He mumbles after a moment. “You’re not such a bad driver.” 

You chuckle, rolling off of Indiana and onto your back. 

“I’m flattered.” 

You gaze up at the ceiling as you feel Indiana roll onto your side, watching you closely. He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

“How long can I convince you to stay here?” He murmurs.

“In bed?” 

“In Arizona.”

You scoff, turning to look at indiana. 

“You’re kidding.” 

“I’m not.” 

“I’ve got classes tomorrow, Jones.”

“Skip ‘em.” 

You roll your eyes, looking up at the ceiling again. 

“Ridiculous.” 

Indiana reaches out, stroking gently along your arm. 

“You really give a damn,” He comments. His voice is soft, almost stunned. 

“Making fun of me?” 

“No,” Indiana insists. “Hell, I like it.”

"Maybe I could teach you a thing or two about it."

"Giving a damn?"

"Mhm. Teach you how to keep your promises, next."

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[wayfayrr]

for some reason i've had another idea for a request LODGED in my damn brain ever since i wore my platforms the other week: [they are comfy to me, and the heel isn't very high, just the platform adds like- 4inches lol] someone who has tall ass shoes, and nobody notices until they take em off or something and suddenly they're shorter it sounds bad, cause why would someone be wearing platforms, but i swear i can run in em. [took some trial and error though....] also its just really goofy.

No because I'm just as stubborn with platforms the thing that gets you is stairs. I'm not entirely sure if I've mentioned it on here, but I'm a firm believer that Hylians are short. Time is seen as tall because as far as Hylians go? He is Twilight is seen as monsterously tall. Which mixes into your other ask as well - seeing as Time is fairly average height when compared to humans with Twi being tall even to humans (he grew up with humans so he adapted just a lil he's got a much higher milk tolerance sfvgf) but only Twi really knows this seeing as he grew up in ordon with humans and honestly? Means he has a reason to reach out to the reader in the first place, explaining most of the differences he noticed growing up between him and the rest of the villagers It's not the most but really at that point it's helpful to know anything. and it gets him closer to you which is what he really cares about honestly I write the chain as yandere's most of the time really, but this scenario where he's reader's best hope and they naturally get closer to him? I could see it happening really it's because he can't have a repeat of midna someone from another world stealing his heart and leaving him forever ha nope

As for platforms? that'll be fun to explain to them >:) this turned out a little bit more Twi centric than I meant for it to be but it was so fun to write and flowed so naturally !! <33 [masterlist]

“[Name]? We’re about to have breakfast, you’ll probably want to come get some before we leave the inn. Time’s saying that we’re going to be walking a lot today”

“Hm? Yeah I’m coming wild.”

His eyes looked as if they were about to fall out of his head when I opened the door. Is there something off about my appearance? I’ve just woken up I guess so maybe I just look a bit dishevelled, but after travelling with them this long? Would that really be enough to set them off like this?

“You’re shorter! Are you alright? Twi said humans are way different compared to Hylians but I didn’t assume he meant you shrink sometimes! Come on we need to go show them to know if you’re gonna be okay.”

“Wait no wild I-”

There isn’t even time for me to argue my own point with how fast they’re pulling me over to the others, his strength is impressive even for hylians I’ve been told and that isn’t something I’ll argue with. But what is he on about me ‘shrinking’? I haven’t changed height at all… He’s never seen me without my platforms. That’d do it.

“TWILIGHT! [NAME] SHRANK. IS THAT SOMETHING HUMANS CAN DO? ARE THEY GOING TO BE ALRIGHT?”

“Wild really I’m going to be fine. If you’ll just let me explai-”

“YOU CAN SHRINK? Why didn’t you tell us [name]?”

Now winds come over - great. I’ll have to count on Twi’s glare being enough to give me time to speak. 

“Wild what are you on about humans can’t - oh. You did shrink. How did that happen?”

Bingo. Now I can hopefully clear this mess up somewhat.

“I didn’t shrink. I’m just not wearing my platforms. They add to my height when I wear them, I didn’t realise this was the first time Wild’s seen me without them. Their worry was pretty cute though.”

“So you didn’t shrink..? Can I try them on?”

“Nah wind, not only are they my only pair of shoes but I think you’d break your neck if you tried to walk in them.”

He really does look kind of like a cat when he pouts, you’d assume he’s just had a lemon slice shoved in his mouth rather than being told no for his own safety. It’s nice to see that despite having to become a hero at such a young age he still acts his age.

“Then how do you wear them? You’ve been walking them for so long without issue?”

“They’re your only shoes?”

“Yeah they are Twi, there’s no issue either wild. They’re comfortable to wear and I’m used to them anyway”

Twi looks as if he’s gearing up for a lecture if the look on his face is anything to go by, the very same one that’s a warning for wild when he’s done something questionable. A short sigh, a shake of his head and it quickly softens up into some sort of lovestruck expression.

“Darlin’ It isn’t that that I’m worried ‘bout. It’s not a good idea to only be travelling with a single pair, what if they get damaged or lost? I’ve got a spare set that should fit you, you can have them.”

“You don’t have to go that for me twi, I’m sure theres somewhere here I could just buy a pair.”

“It really ain’t an issue. It’ll save you breaking in a new pair so it’s for the best really.”

There’s more to what he’s saying I can feel it, but I can’t bring it up around the others like this so answers will have to wait. 

“You don’t wanna eat while you’re, only wearing a pair of socks you? Let’s go and get them for you quickly.”

His hand is so much softer than Wild’s and his touch is more tender and is that? Oh, he’s blushing, there really is something more to this isn’t there; does he like me or something? The walk to his room in the inn isn’t long, shorter than the one to my own. 

“Give me a second darlin’ and I’ll get you them.”

 “Of course, I’m not gonna get mad at you for taking too long to get me a gift. Seriously though, thanks for this link.”

If I thought he was red before he’s downright glowing now, his face from the tips of his ears to the lowest part of his neck that I can see have gone crimson red. Matching how his rummaging through his bag has gotten ever so more frantic, his patience for finding the said boots for me gone like ashes in the wind. Then before I know it a pair of leather boots are being thrust into my arms by someone who can only really be described as a blushy mess at the moment. It’s cute. He’s cute.

“They’re wonderful thank you again Twi, really.”

“You can ah - You can call me link when we’re alone together like this darlin’.”

“If you want me to then link. I’ll just put these on then we can go join the others, hopefully, they’ve saved us some food.”

These are so soft, are they lined with something? They have to be right? It feels like some kind of fur, they should be nice to walk in so I can save my platforms some wear. It makes a lot of sense to try to keep my belongings from home safe, just to have some memories to look back on. 

“Hey link, mind me asking what they’re lined with?”

“Wolf fur darlin’”

“Is it your fur?”

How is it possible he’s gotten even more red? Answers my question though. Why would he give me something lined with his own fur?

“I - That doesn’t bother you does it?”

[irulaan]

HOW FAR IT CAN BEND | REGULUS BLACK

— the way he loves was tainted since he was a child. it didn’t help that he always, subconsciously, desired everything his older brother could put a hand on.

nav | regulus’ mlist

✧ PAIRING. regulus black x fem!reader

✧ WORD COUNT. 1.8k

✧ WARNINGS. low self esteem. mm slightly sirius black x reader. english isn’t my first language

You have been around them for a while, you knew them but never had a word with any of  the four boys. Lily Evans, a fierce girl, whose personality and intelligence was paired with ginger hair and bright viridian eyes, had a few words with you, at a potion class. And her  good nature ignored the fact you were usually linked to a pure blood fanatic, Regulus Black. 

On said occasion, her words kept slipping through her mouth—she was surprised by your kindness and the way you’ve carried a light conversation about the day’s topic, since she expected you to be a complete asshole. She believed you could be a good friend, a good partner at class—as your intellect matched her own. Over the following weeks, she kept looking for you to start banal conversations, about classes, about anything. It was about time to meet her friends.

Three of them had a study meeting with Lily Evans, and they adored the girl, they won’t say no. “I think she’s Regulus' girlfriend?” James has said, when yours and Lily's blooming friendship became a topic. 

Sirius snorted, “Pff, that spineless idiot could never have a girlfriend. Haven’t I told you he's as cold as my progenitors? The only way he’s getting to that point is if they arrange something” He was unusually so bittersweet about his brother’s affairs. Since he stopped caring a long time ago. 

James smiled at his behavior, laid his books down on the table. And sat across Sirius and Remus. “We just saw them” 

“Maybe she pity him?” He earned a round of laughs. Remus had shocked his head, covering his eyes with a large hard at Sirius’ nonsense. 

“Yeah, most likely” James mocked him.

Remus eyes’ caught his ginger friend arm in arm with her new friend, you. “Speaking of the devil…” He said, warning his friends. 

They liked you in a beat. Sirius' first impression was that you were a complete opposite to his younger brother. You laughed at their lighthearted jokes and had a focused expression while they explained some of their pranks. It was nice and refreshing to have you around, it wasn’t always, but it was often enough to have a sense of proximity. A belief and a feeling you were a friend to all of them. Your first impression of Sirius was meh—nothing less, nothing more than you expected. He had the most charming personality, an ounce of his attention was enough to make you feel like a radiant sun—a fake one tho. You knew his ways with girls, how they would fall to his feet with a smirk and a mischievous grin. Your confused feelings constantly met a wall when you saw his interactions with a potential love interest, even if it’d last a few weeks—days even. 

Regulus Black had collected the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend on a sunny, fresh spring morning — just a month before summer holidays. It was a question you have been expecting since you realized your romantic feelings for him, months ago. It was easy since he let you into his softe, most vulnerable side. Where you learned about his terrors and insecurities. Where you learned his need for reassurance —that you like him, that you love him— has its roots in his abused childhood, where his parents deprived him of pure and sincere affection, only praising him when he did things Walburga and Orion thought were correct. His way of understanding of love was tainted by his emotional baggage—it was something you thought you could work on together.

Four Gryffindor boys saw you both hand in hand, kissing in public. You didn’t see them, as your eyes could only lay on the boy staring lovingly at you. You were both in love. That love you crave and envy when you’re young and wild, a love seemingly pure and sincere at the surface, one that couldn’t be marred by anything or anyone, but one that was cursed by the first shared glance. You'd have to scavenge a bit to find its rotting foundations. That day Lily Evans and her kind self gave you a cold shoulder unmatched by the concern and guilt in her eyes. They boys didn’t acknowledge your presence. It lasted—and continued for a week, until you couldn’t bear with it.

You were glad you found the group hanging in the common room. Your presence was noticed at first by James, who tried to escape when his eyes met yours, Lily held his hand, keeping  him in his place.

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” Sirius received a whiplash when he turned when he heard your voice. Now, all of them stared at you. “Like if i made a mistake i would want to apologize, but i don’t know what i did” Your distressed tone and how your voice broke were enough to make the older Black brother feel a pang of guilt. Like a stab at his heart by his own hand. Because it doesn’t matter how hurt he was when he saw you and Regulus’ holding hands—it didn’t matter because now he had hurt you, by isolating you from them, your friends. Thinking you did something wrong. 

The sand-like haired boy shared a quick look with Sirius, as saying you, and only you can fix this. It was his responsibility. “It’s okay, i’ll explain to her” He had said and the rest of them flew out of the room in a blink. 

Now alone, he had focused on your red rimmed eyes, on how you bite the insides of your mouth. “I’m sorry”

You let out a humorless laugh, “What does that mean?”

His breath faltered, “I shouldn’t have done this—I was angry I guess” You nodded, confused. “I don’t know how to say this, huh” 

To catch Sirius Black struggling to find some words was a spectacle—nor of you enjoying it. It fueled your anxiety and desires to run back to Regulus’ soft gaze, the one he gave you when you told him you were going to fix whatever you’ve done. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe you should have let the time work it out for you. 

“Sirius, you’re scaring me, please,” You tilted your head, getting close to him. It destroyed him—your fucking worried eyes. 

“I liked you, and you ran to my brother’s arms!” His tone was harsh, and he crossed his arms in his chest when you shot him a confused look. Like a spoiled child, who wants something he can’t have.

“So you decided to not talk to me again, without saying anything?” He couldn’t utter a word, he felt dizzy, even. He couldn’t understand how he was in that situation. “You know, I liked you too, for a while, but I knew if I told you, you’d have broken my heart. That’s who you are” 

He breathed in, appearing trapped. “It was different with you!”

“How—how was it different? —No, you know what, save it. I didn’t deserve any  this” You pointed furiously your index finger in his direction. 

He bit his lip. He would rather see you angry than put up with your understanding side. He hurted you, and maybe he didn’t deserve to be forgiven, for now. “Sorry, it's not gonna happen again. Don’t know what else I can do” 

So he didn’t do anything.

Summer came over, distancing you from them. You tried to close the wound, because they never apologized, and Sirius did a terrible job at it. But it didn’t matter anymore, because  you probably won’t see them again. They graduated and you’ve heard James and Lily were trying to have a baby—feeling the need to leave something behind. You were afraid to reach for them, to send a letter congratulating them, to know what they’d do now. You missed Lily and developed a hate for Regulus’ older brother and his poor emotion management. A feel that grew everyday like an undergrowth, one you watered with self doubt.

“I knew he liked you,” Regulus’ had confessed some time after. “He stared at you as if you were a piece of meat. Another girl he can ruin and then left” 

You wouldn’t have suspected anything if his eyes wouldn’t give him away  — he felt guilty.

Your breath wavered at the realization, and Regulus knew. “You’re cruel, I’ve been in love with you for months and you only asked me to be your girlfriend because you saw Sirius as a threat?” Your voice was delicate, slow but unsteady, as your own insecurities jeopardize your calm.

Regulus had shook his head rapidly, with a mind ridden by guilt. “I felt the same, I was just scare you didn’t want me that way—He just made me realize I had so save you” 

You snorted. “Pff, Save me?” 

His head gave up, hanging low, avoiding your eyes. “I’m sorry I was wrong, please don’t be angry at me” He begged in a low tone, barely audible. But it was sincere and ras.

“I’m not—“

“—Nor disappointed” You smiled. It was real Regulus. It was Regulus’ realizing his decayed stability. And you had promised you'd go through this. 

Warm hands greeted his cold, sharp cheeks. Held his head and mind—quite literally. “I’m not, Reggie,” It was heaven, as your thumbs traced his cheekbones. “I’m just sad, you needed — you waited until someone gave me attention to act. You wouldn’t have said anything…” In such a short time your self deprecating ruminations had leaked through your conscious mind. But you won’t unfold your heart in this situation. 

His head lingered near your shoulder, craving more of your touch, but so afraid to ask for more than he thought he deserved. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry, can you forgive me?” He kept apologizing, not raising his voice. 

You push his head up. You hadn’t expected to find tears at the edge of his silver eyes. “You’re forgiven, just don’t do that again, please” Like a caged animal set free, his arms snaked around your torso, flushing you against him. But it wasn’t enough—he craved more. 

Shoving his nose into your shoulder, Regulus had tried to remember your scent. To have it forever stuck in his mind. “I’ll try. I’ll do anything” A short silence filled your ears. “Do—do you still love me?” He muffled against the upper side of your left collarbone. 

You placed a short, tender kiss on his cheek. “I love you, Reggie” A promise, it was a promise. All you could do was give, give everything to him.

Foundations putrid and all, when pieces fell, they’d remain together glued by the sweet but dangerous desire of being needed and to need each other. Glued by three-word promises. 

COMMENTS, LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED i will literally give you forehead kisses if you support me <3

[literaila]

you really should’ve known 

tasm!peter x fem!reader 

summary: in which spider-man finds a million different ways to annoy you. he’s very thorough. 

series masterlist. 

warnings: its. banter. (and maybe a slight sense of yearning) 

a/n: give me love (and by that i mean, please let me know what you thought) 

*

"are you serious?" 

contrary to your former impression, spider-man is very light on his feet. 

especially when he's tip-toeing across your roof. 

"being rebellious again?" he asks you, a bit sardonic, taking a seat on one of the boxes just a couple of feet away from you. and also completely intruding on your personal space. 

"are you serious?" you repeat. 

see, the roof is yours. you claimed it with the chair you brought up and the wasted tears on the side of the ledge. 

and the homework thrown across the concrete. 

he tilts his head, eyes comically wide as always. "not usually." 

you glare at him. he peers closer like he's trying to look inside your soul. 

to get a view of all the tar and rot. which, as he can probably see, there's a lot of. 

especially tonight, when you're in the most pleasant of moods. 

you glare even harder. "i don't know what you're talking about." 

"you know," he says, ignoring that. "i actually took the liberty of making sure you weren't going to kill yourself by being up here." 

he's looking up at the sky--maybe just to avoid your disdainful eyes. it gives you a moment to stare. 

"how sweet of you." 

if you look closely enough you can see his throat contract as he swallows. 

"just looking out for you," he looks back at you. if the sound of his voice means anything, then he's smirking at you. and still. 

"what does 'looking out for me' entail?" you cross your arms. pretend that it isn't twenty-seven degrees. "so far we've got stealing my book, and stalking me."

that the goosebumps are just a coincidence. 

spider-man points towards the door. mostly to mock you. "how do you get through?" he asks, ignoring you. "there's a code." 

"maybe i know it."

he crosses his arms. 

you smile, very innocent. "maybe i set the code." 

spider-man coughs. looks away for a moment. and then gestures a hand to you, telling you to continue. 

you sigh. "a friend taught me." 

the reminder feels like a punch to the gut. like walking to the edge of the building and looking down only to find that there's no solid ground in sight. 

you must be walking on clouds. 

he shifts. "a friend taught you?" 

"uh-huh." 

he stares for a moment. the two of you listen to people banging on the ceiling. or maybe it's just the sound of your heart, high on adrenaline. 

and finally, he leans back. "...i can't tell if you're lying or not." 

"not." 

he laughs. "so how do you do it?" 

"snuck into the janitor's office. found a list of codes to the building." 

he thinks for a moment. 

you watch his hands tap at his thigh, arrogant. 

"well, that's definitely breaking the law." 

you frown. "i don't think there's a law about breaking into offices." 

"there's a law about trespassing." 

"i live here." 

spider-man sighs. "breaking the code of conduct, then." 

"how will i ever atone for my strict rule-breaking?" you blink at him, eyes wide. "surely, it can't be as bad as beating people to a pulp every day." 

he scoffs. "i just tie people to things." 

"rephrase. i've seen the news."

"hang people from things." 

you tap a finger to your chin. "would you like to elaborate on that, spider-man?" 

he pretends to think with you. "not really." 

you frown. cross your arms. very offended. 

by his laughter and his showing up and the fact that you're still sitting here when you'd been planning--all week--to yell at him whenever you got the chance.

when you'd been planning to crack the surface of his skin and steal your book back from his organs. 

unfortunately, your throat is sore today. and you haven't been sleeping enough to commit murder. 

he laughs at you again. "what? are you taking notes?" 

you nod, very serious. "i've already looked up the closest news station to here." 

 "'spider-man torments young girl on her roof'" he almost sounds gleeful. "that's not too bad." 

you laugh. "i was actually just going to mention the john green hatred, but if you want me to say more..." 

"no, no. that's okay. you're busy enough." 

you look away from him, down to the homework in your lap. 

it should've been done almost two hours ago. 

spider-man clears his throat. "so your friend taught you how to break into offices?" 

you smile. pretend that there isn't a secret hidden in your chest--something that not even spider-man should know. "he taught me how to pick a lock." 

spider-man freezes, his head tilting slowly to the side. 

you can't tell if he's looking at you or not. 

and then, with a very subtle clearing of his throat, he says: "maybe i should call the police." 

you scowl even though you'd really like to laugh. 

"i mean, you're clearly a danger to society." 

"yup. i like to steal things." 

"and read terrible books." 

your cheek twitches. "he just wanted to be sure that i could get into his house." 

spider-man waits a moment, contemplating. "why didn't he just leave you a key?" 

"'y/n, do you know how dangerous that is?'" you say, in a poor imitation of peter's voice. "'if i ever find a key underneath your welcome mat i swear--'"

"y/n?" his voice is soft. interrupting. 

you pause. feel something twitch in the back of your throat. 

there's a flashing red sign. a tell-tale to turn away. 

you look up, not really caring. still, the embarrassment inches its way further up your throat. "what?" you ask, swallowing. 

you still don't know why he's here. 

but spider-man shakes his head. like he's just remembered something. like he's changed his mind. like he's not going to answer the questions swimming through your head. 

"that's your name?" he's staring at you. "y/n?" 

oops. 

your eyes widen, tiny little voice in your head scolding you. "um, yeah." 

you try and smile at him--feeling nice today. especially now that he actually can call the police on you. "what's yours?" 

spider-man scoffs, jumping off the box and rocking on his heels. 

"that's classified." 

"are you in the witness protection program?" you ask him, completely serious. 

"yes." 

you avert your eyes. "sorry. didn't mean to pry." you definitely aren't using your peripheral vision to watch his reaction. "actually, you probably shouldn't be talking to me." 

spider-man tilts his head but says nothing. 

"you know, since i'm a criminal and all." 

it earns you a laugh. "i'm also a criminal. just another thing we have in common." 

"you're keeping track?" you cross your arms, leaning back to observe him. 

to watch him until he disintegrates right in front of your eyes. 

but he nods, looking very solid. "it's not like there's a lot of differences." 

"you're spider-man. i'm a girl on a roof." 

he gestures around him. "both of us are on a roof." 

"you're spider-man, i'm doing homework." 

"i do homework." 

you scoff. "i'm sorry," you say, eyes squinted at him. the sun has begun to set. "did you just imply that you're still in school?" 

he tilts his head. "what's wrong with that?" 

"nothing," you nod your head, looking away from him. "you know, besides the fact that you're 52." 

spider-man crosses his arms. 

you smack your forehead. "oh wait. i meant 62." 

"that's just offensive." 

you blink. "i didn't mean to offend an elderly man. i would never." you cross your heart. 

you've begun to enjoy the irritated sneers coming from his mouth. 

"not that i believe you," he snides, "but you still haven't." 

"that's right. we're supposed to say 'old' now." 

"i--" he looks away. arms still crossed. up at the sky. maybe contemplating leaving. maybe that was your entire goal. to irritate irritating pests on your roof. should've got some bug spray. spider-man is still shaking his head. "what even--" 

"it's kind of impressive that spider-man is 75 years old." 

he pauses a moment. places a hand under his chin. "you know, you're actually getting closer." 

"oh good." 

and then you look away from him for just a moment. just a second to look up. 

to consider the reality of this situation. in which, there is none. 

in which spider-man maybe isn't annoying you completely. 

you don't doubt that you're low on quality conversation--not that this counts in the slightest--since you lost your boyfriend. 

your best friend. 

since he's started ignoring you in the halls and skipping whatever classes he has with you. 

since you decided that his lying, his avoidance, and apathy were too much. were just not enough. 

it's all fine. 

if you choose to be irritated at anything--and you really don't. you feel absolutely nothing--it's spider-man. 

with his ridiculously long limbs and stupid laughter and hypocrisy. 

you frown at him. 

"what?" he asks, a teasing tone of voice. "did you just remember how rude you've been to me?" 

"where's my book?" you lose any tone of voice. 

his head tilts. "what book?" 

"the book you stole from me." 

"oh. probably making a teenage girl very happy." he nods, very composed. "and i didn't really steal it--" 

"what do you mean? what girl?" 

if you took a moment to reflect, you might understand why he backs away a couple of inches. 

"woah," he whistles. "you alright?" 

you scowl. "i've got a thief on my roof." 

"i mean, that's just a bit of a stretch, isn't it?" 

"john, richard, dicky, whatever your name is, i don't appreciate being tormented--" 

he puts a hand on his chest. mock-gasps. "tormented? i wouldn't--" 

"and i'm very tired tonight. i've got homework--which i'm sure you remember from a decade ago." 

"hah." 

"so," you continue, looking away from him. "will you please give me my book? i've been waiting a week." 

a spare hand goes to his neck. spider-man sighs. "i wasn't kidding about the girl..." 

"what." 

"look," and all of a sudden he's pleading with you, hands clasped together. "she was really scared. like, crying. her phone died, lost her parents. all of that. and so, because i'm nice--" 

you start to protest but he shushes you. 

"because i'm nice," he reiterates. "i sat and talked with her for a while. waited until her parents got back." 

"and you just happened to drop my book while you were doing that?" 

"it was in my hands--because as you can tell, i don't have any pockets. and she saw it. apparently, she'd been wanting to read it for a while, and i figured that you wouldn't miss it--" 

you throw your head back and groan. 

"hey, look. don't you feel good knowing that there's a girl somewhere in new york full of joy because she has your book?" 

"no." 

he points a finger at you. "and, don't you feel good knowing that you'll never have to experience the torture of reading it?" 

"pretty sure i'm experiencing it right now." 

he scoffs. waves a hand like you're being ridiculous. 

like he hasn't distracted you for twenty minutes and stolen your book and given it away and tried to justify it-- 

"you'll get over it. i'll bring you a better book." 

and, at that point, you stand up. 

you push your chair back. grab a paper off of the ground--only one because you really don't want to get any closer to him than you have to. 

and then you turn around. away from him. 

"was that a yes?" 

"i'm leaving. go home, richard." 

spider-man's voice is much more relaxing from fifteen feet away. "you know that's not actually my name, right?" 

you wave at him, not bothering to look back. 

punch the code into the keypad. 

"i'll bring the book next time." 

the door opens. you look back, glaring at him. "there's not going to be a next time." 

"i'm sure you thought that last time too." 

he sounds like he's smiling and it only makes you want to crack the little white eyeballs on his face and swallow them. just to get his reaction. 

super-strength or webby hands be damned. 

"goodbye, spider-man. tell the next girl you torture that i'm sorry." 

and then you open the door a little bit wider, stepping through. 

"i'm guessing you didn't give the coffee shop a try--" 

the rest of his sentence is drowned out by the sound of the door slamming. 

*

you would like to be clear that this has absolutely nothing to do with spider-man. 

he is merely a mosquito on your hand, dying because you chose to flex your fingers at just the right time. it itches anyway. 

you would like to shove your fingers into a door until they're broken, just so that you don't have to walk through this one. 

you would like to turn around and fall straight into the center of the earth. 

unfortunately, those things are widely frowned upon. 

so instead you smile at that person holding open the door for you--the person who looks a little bit confused because you've definitely been standing there for more than five seconds. you mutter a polite "thank you" and step through the door. 

approximately five feet in and you've decided that you hate coffee shops. 

there was a time when you liked them, you're sure, but under the influence of stupid ideas and despairing loneliness--it's just loud. 

it smells a little bit too much like coffee beans. a little bit too much like a room filled with deodorant. 

it feels like walking in alone. 

like trying to forget the past six weeks. 

like failing, because what else have you been doing lately? 

you walk up to the counter, order something off the menu--that you definitely do not understand--and go to sit in the corner with the bugs. 

because apparently, those are the closest things you can get to friends. 

you collapse on the table. bang your head until you've entered an alternate universe. 

or, until your name is called. it's basically the same thing. 

when you return to the corner, it's with half-lidded eyes. with feelings that you can barely comprehend, and ideas that aren't comprehensible. to anyone. including yourself. 

you miss peter. 

immediately, with a groan that earns you some looks, you shove that thought out of your mind. you hope it gets a concussion, thanks. 

and then you rest your head on the table. 

this was a stupid idea. 

*

"hey," someone shakes your shoulder. 

your head pounds--maybe because the only thing you've had to eat today was a couple of sips of coffee--as you look up. 

cheek indented from the table, you rub at your eyes. you blink until the vision clears. 

and there stands the last person you want to see. 

"why are you here?" you croak out, voice sore and annoyed and every possible thing that can send him the message of your disdain. 

the exhaustion hasn't faded. there's a sword at the tip of your chest. 

"public shop. they don't actually close it for people trying to nap..." he looks around. "but maybe they should." 

of course, the only person who would ever be as irritating enough to wake you up from a nap in a perfectly public coffee shop surrounded by a lot of people who could steal anything out of your pockets would be spider-man. 

and maybe the nicest. but you don't think long or hard enough to consider that. 

"what do you want?" 

"to make sure you're not dead." 

you scowl. then widen your eyes for him, very comically. "see? not dead." 

"you know dead people's eyes are usually open, right?" 

so then you close them. laying back down on the table. "i'm fine." 

"you're in a coffee shop." 

"is that illegal too?" you mutter against the table. 

"no. but i'm assuming that you got the idea from a very intelligent, very handsome--" 

"--idiot?" 

"okay, no." he sits down across from you. you bury your nose into the table, wanting to block any inch of him out of your mind. "and you should probably sit up." 

"because you want to watch as you irritate me?" 

"because you don't know the last time these tables were cleaned." 

you lean up. blinking down at the table. "oh." 

spider-man laughs. "yeah," he says, moving your cup over so he can see it. "oh." 

"are you going to steal my coffee too?" 

"i'm wearing a mask." 

"you superheroes haven't developed straws to go through them?" 

spider-man leans back. "usually i just take it off." 

you smile. "okay," you lean a little bit closer to him, chin on your hand, adoringly. "go ahead."

spider-man looks around, very distracted. he says nothing. 

you sigh. "fine. bad design." 

you scratch at your hand. think about walking out the door, about stepping on his feet and spilling your coffee all over him. 

all very amusing. all very impolite. 

spider-man looks back at you. "are you offering to sew me a new one?" 

you look down. away from him. up to the very edge of the ceiling, stained with something that you hope is coffee. "i'm offering to give you my coffee in exchange for your departure."

he laughs. 

you stare. 

"you really think i want that? it's basically bleach," he pushes it back towards you. "plus, i already ordered." 

you raise a brow. "how'd you pay?" 

"i'm a superhero. i get drinks for free." he says this like it's an answer. 

you stare. 

"cash, obviously." 

you laugh. 

you look away from him, for just a split second, to notice the people staring at you. 

what seems like hundreds of people. 

all looking. all pointing. 

your eyes widen. you shrink a little bit in your seat. "okay, i think you should actually go." 

"but this is your first coffee outing." 

he must be pouting. 

"aren't you 'on the clock?'" you make air quotes. use a hand to cover your face. 

"can't save people who don't need saving," he shrugs like this is typical for him. like there aren't a bunch of people wondering why he's sitting with you. 

"i don't need saving," you say, "so you can go." 

he laughs. crosses his arms. "i disagree." 

"well, i don't. these people are about to tackle me just to get to you." 

"what people?" his voice is a little bit harder, he's quick to scan the area, looking for any potential threats. 

to you or him, you aren't sure. 

"oh." 

"oh," you repeat, nervous. "so, i mean this with all of the kindness in my heart, richard--" 

"liar." 

"please leave. it was loud before you got here." 

you feel the tip of your chest deflate, your lungs following. you feel his eyes on you, and you still feel stupid for coming here in the first place. 

of course, spider-man gets his coffee on tuesdays. 

"i'll go," he promises, "if you promise not to fall asleep again." 

"the table is comfortable." 

"you're a hazard." 

"to other people?" 

"to yourself." 

you scowl at him. "it's a public place. i'm perfectly safe." 

"guess i'll stay with you then," he shrugs. "keep you entertained." 

"okay, fine. i won't fall asleep again. actually, i'm leaving too. but you go first." 

he crosses his arms. "you're leaving." 

"whatever this was meant to help, it didn't." 

"probably because you fell asleep." 

"richard." 

he laughs--probably at the nickname but maybe at you. "alright, alright," he raises his hands in defense. "i'll go." 

you exhale. pleased with yourself. spider-man stands up, pushes his chair in. he's still looking at you. 

"but you have to promise first." 

"i'm not promising you anything." 

he sits back down. 

"okay, i promise," you say quickly. the crowd has gotten just a little bit closer. 

he laughs again. "see you soon, y/n." 

"no you won't--" you start to say. 

but he's already gone. 

and so is the exhaustion. 

*

my masterlist here. 

part four. 

tags:  @moonlarking-blog​ @v1ci0us​ @preciousbabypeter​ @alexxavicry​ @directioner5life​ @random_writer1021 @bachiracore @spidermoony @doexoeyes @horror-eye @uwiuwi​ 

[cowpokeomens]

Pas de Trois: Part One

Pairing: Reader x Noah, eventual Reader x Nicholas

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: None! (Yet)

I was just thinking, like: Swans, right? But Noah and Nicholas. No beta we die like Odette and Siegfried!

It was as cold in the beginning as it was in the end.

You could pretend all you wanted- that the embrace of a not-quite lover could warm you enough to stay alive. But you both knew better by now. 

It starts the way it ends: at a pond. 

You need a breather from your mother and her love schemes. Something about a party at the Van der Whatever’s condo on the east side, the unwed men rumored to be in attendance.

All those years of safeguarding your virginity like a crown jewel, only to be whored out to the first eligible bachelor the second you turned 23 and expressed no interest in marriage. 

You roll your eyes at the thought of it; the idea of preserving your chastity whilst being surrounded by the scum of the earth in Bottega stilettos. It feels like you rub elbows with literal vampires most days: creatures that linger in the shadows, waiting to drain you of whatever they needed from you in that moment. 

At least Bela Lugosi never asked you about why you decided against Yale after your father’s hefty (and unrequested) donation. 

The air is crisp, biting at your cheeks as you walk. You wander into a familiar park near your apartment, the street lamps illuminating the freshly fallen snow in a gentle glow. All around you, trees creak and groan in the wind, as if they, too, were ready for spring again. It isn’t so secluded that you felt any real danger, but it was far enough away from the sounds of traffic to give your mind space to wander.

Faintly, you hear the sounds of people milling about on the street. There’s a theatre up the road- they’ve been hosting a ballet company performing The Nutcracker for the last month or so. Looking through the gaps in the bushes, you can spot a few people dressed in rich velvets and fur coats taking photos under the gleam of marquee lights. You haven’t gone to see The Nutcracker for years now. Your mother stopped taking you when you confessed that you did not have the talent- nor endurance- to be a real ballerina, the same time that she unenrolled you from dance classes altogether.

Humming Tchaikovsky's Pas de Deux to yourself, you meander through the park until you come upon a pond. A treasure in your heart, it’s a spot you come to often to clear your head- though this is your first nighttime foray. 

Longer than it was wide, the pond was not the most impressive in the city by a longshot. Most people didn’t even know of its existence, save the few dog-walkers who came through in the mid-morning and late afternoon. It was familiar, though, having been situated here as far back as your memory could recall. 

Winter crept over the small body of water in sheets of ice at the outer perimeter. If the temperature continued to drop (it would) the entire thing would be frozen solid by next week. As it was, the ice at the edges looked thick enough to hold up an entire person.

You fight back the melancholy this brings you, knowing the incoming freeze would take with it the many creatures that inhabit the pond. The ducks have long since left, flying somewhere further south, somewhere warmer. The fish have been awfully quiet the last few weeks as well, settling in for their winter rest. That really just left the-

Ah, You think, sounding hushed even in your head. There you are. 

They glide in silently, slicing through the water like moonlight. Long, graceful necks with great plumes puffing up behind them, the swans are pure magic in the stillness of the night. They make a triangle in the water, with four smaller fowl following the swan at the crest of the formation. Its dark eyes meet yours for a moment, and you feel so utterly vulnerable under its gaze that you look away, suddenly very interested in your shoes.

Must you be intimidated by everything? You sigh to yourself internally. Seriously, a fucking bird?

You felt silly as you built the courage to finally look back up, but the bevy had disappeared. Craning your neck around, you were halfway to considering searching for them on foot when a branch cracked behind you. 

Whirling around, your eyes scanned the tree line, pulling the mace on your keychain out with shaking hands. The neighborhood was safe, sure, but you weren’t stupid. A girl alone in a park well after the sun had set? Yeah, you’d seen the crime shows- no thanks. 

“Hello?” You call, your voice wobbling despite your best efforts. 

Another crack.

Your mace was up in an instant, poised and ready to fire. You are not a damsel in distress, you are certainly not going to be a statistic. As your heart pounded in your throat, a figure came into view. 

“Ew, there’s bird shit everywhere- Woah!” The stranger stumbled backwards, hands up in the air as he saw you. “Oh my god, please don’t tase me-“ 

“It’s not a taser.” Was, for some reason, your first response. Then, “Who are you? What are you doing lurking around in the dark?” 

His eyes went wide. “It’s a public park! I’m going for a walk!” 

Your eyes narrow, the hand wielding the mace never moving. “A walk? At 9:45 at night?”

Impossibly, his eyes grew wider. They were dark- familiar in a way you couldn’t fully place in your panicked state. The snow reflects off of them, reminiscent of starlight. “You are also in the park at 9:45? And you’re armed?”

Well, that was certainly a valid observation. You take two deep breaths, then lower the mace, though not pocketing it entirely. You spend a moment observing his appearance. 

He was tall- tall enough to be threatening, if he wanted to. Slim build, dark eyes, like you’d noted before. His hair was parted down the middle, brushing against the top of his cheekbones softly. He’s handsome, you think. Not the overly-manicured handsome you were accustomed to, though. He reminded you of the first dandelions in the spring; The delight you feel at seeing a living thing burst forth from the frozen ground, uncaring of if it's a weed or not. 

A huge sweater encompassed him, something light in color and soft-looking. The sleeves poked out of the arm holes of his jacket in a strange way, as if it took a great deal of work to stuff them in there in the first place. A hat topped it all off, giant pom-pom bobbing at you in a way that was far from menacing. 

“That’s a weird hat to wear while you creep on people in the park.” You quip, cocking an eyebrow at him. 

His mouth drops open in shock. “My grandmother made me this, fuck you very much. And it’s winter! Of course I’m wearing a hat. Are you always this bad with logic and reason?”

“So you don’t deny creeping?” You ignored his question. 

The face he gives you would have been comical under different circumstances. “Wha- Okay, look, I’m sorry for encroaching on your turf- even if that turf is city property-“ he mumbles the last bit to himself- “But I’m not like, a serial-killer-murderer. Pinky promise.”

He looks so earnest, it reminds you of a little kid. He is holding out a single pinky to you, a safe distance away. 

You eye him warily for a second, then sigh, taking a few steps forward to interlock your pinky with his. He beams at you, smile as bright as the snow that began to silently fall around the two of you. 

You introduce yourself, shifting on your feet in a way that feels awkward and uncomfortable, like you were suddenly too aware of your body’s movements. 

“I’m Noah.” He offers warmly, cheeks and nose tinged a rosy pink from the winter air. The longer you look at him, the less intimidated you feel. He was still large- but in the way that the inflatable noodle-people outside of used car dealerships were large. He didn’t flail, necessarily, though. His movements seemed fluid, controlled. Where you were rigid from years of posturing amongst socialites, he was naturally elegant, as at ease under your gaze as the swans in the pond earlier. 

Soft, your mind supplies. He looks soft.  

His voice is gentle when he speaks again. “So, what brought you to the park in the middle of a blizzard?”

You try to resist the grin that creeps across your face; you fail miserably. “If you think this is a blizzard, you’re in for a shock come February.” 

“Do you defer every question someone asks you, or am I just special?” His dark eyes are trained on you, head cocked to the side curiously. It wasn’t an attack- his expression was too open to be on the offense. He was genuinely waiting for your answer. 

“I needed to get away from my mother.” You answer honestly, shrugging, though not meeting his gaze. 

You can feel his eyes on you, though, searching for more. “You got into an argument?” 

Shaking your head, you cast your eyes back to the pond, hoping to get another glimpse of the swans. “Not an argument. We have the same discussion every week, knowing fully well that we’ll disagree and end up screaming at each other.”

You have not felt… seen, like this, ever. You aren’t an adamant rule-follower, but you’re far from a rebel, too, allowing you to safely pass through life unnoticed. Even your mother only really seemed to remember you after your older sister had been married off to some fishing industry tycoon. To have a stranger see through your facade was unnerving. 

“Disagreeing and screaming sounds like an argument to me.” He pushes, to which you hum noncommittally. Sensing your apprehension, he follows your line of sight to the pond instead. “The ducks left weeks ago.”

“I’m not looking for the ducks.” You answer shortly, perhaps a bit too harsh. 

“Oh?” Is his only response.

It’s obvious he wants you to continue. This was a safer topic than your mother, so you yield to his piqued interest. “I like watching the swans. They were here earlier, but I think you scared them off.” Your eyes slide over to him slyly.

He scoffs, looking insulted. “The swans probably left because they were scared you’d mace them.”

You whirl on him, poking a finger into his chest. “The swans don’t lurk in the bushes at the park like a weirdo.” 

His expression is unimpressed, but there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “No one was lurking. Besides,” He grabs the finger directed at him gently, guiding it down to your side. “You don’t make a good damsel in distress. Anyone trying to steal you would just bring you back when they figured out how mean you are.”

“I’ve been nothing but cordial.” You sniff, brows furrowing at him. 

His smirk is a little overwhelming. “If this is you on your “Nice” setting, I’d hate to see you pissed off.” 

“Stop pushing your luck, then.” You respond dryly. He throws his head back to laugh, and the sound makes you feel warmer in your coat. 

You turn back to the pond, giving up on seeing the swans again tonight. You probably need to head home, anyways- you were expected at this stupid party, and suffering through it would be better than dealing with your mother’s nagging if you were absent. You let out a soft sigh, resigned to your fate. 

“I should go.” You say to no one in particular. 

You feel Noah’s eyes on you again. “Hey, don’t let me run you off. I can go if I’m bothering you-”

You shake your head, body turning to face him before you realize you’re moving. “No, it’s not you- really.” You offer what you hope is a kind smile. “I’m expected somewhere. My mother will be horribly cross with me if I’m not there.”

He’s giving you an understanding smile, eyes crinkling up at the edges. “Sounds like a real rager. Will I, uh-” He glances down at his shoes, kicking at the snow before continuing, “Will I get to see you again?”

The question genuinely startles you. You assumed your demeanor (and mace) would be off-putting enough for him to be quite happy not speaking to you from this moment forward, but he… wanted to see you again? 

“I mean,” You stammer, unable to find your words, “I’ll be around. At the park. If you’re also around.”

When he looks up, his face is alight. “Okay, yeah. I’ll also be around. Near the swans.”

A grin sneaks its way onto your face, unbeknownst to you. “Yeah, near the swans.” You avert your gaze, needing to look anywhere but at his hopeful expression. “See ya, Noah.”

He calls out a goodbye, but you’ve already scurried past him, the heels of your boots clicking rapidly against the sidewalk as you make your escape. You don’t dare glance back. 

Your home is a few minutes away, shorter than usual given the fact that you’re practically jogging through the winter night. By the time you’ve shut your front door behind you, you’re out of breath, chest rising and falling heavily. 

Your mother appears from the kitchen, her usual expression of passive annoyance plastered on her face. She calls your name, as if she needs to get your attention when you’re the only two people in the room. “Where have you been? It’s been snowing for half an hour, you’re going to catch a cold. And your boots are covered in mud- for heaven’s sake, really, we need to leave soon. Why are you grinning like that?” 

You don’t register the smile on your face, still panting. Schooling your features into neutrality, you mutter out a quick, “I’m going to change clothes, be down in a sec.”

She’s ranting about punctuality and manners, but you barely hear it as you run up the stairs, grin overcoming your features once more as you think about dark eyes and soft smiles.

[galacticbuddysimblr]

Part 1: The Timeline of The Sims

Welcome to the first entry of The Sims Mysteries! I’ve been wanting to give my take of the story of The Sims for a while, and to start a conversation with other Simmers about what their theories are for the countless lore debates that are out there. First though, here’s some context:

There’s a Sims movie in production! Margot Robbie’s production company, LuckyChap, has started work on one, which we heard about last week. I’m super excited! However it turns out, I’ve always wanted to see a live action Sims movie, and I personally have high hopes for it. So far we know the movie is not going to be largely based on the game lore, but now’s as good a time as any to give my two cents on the various inconsistencies in The Sims canon.

As with Barbie, I can imagine the movie will deviate somewhat from what the fans consider canon and will not actually focus on lore at all, but on the simulation aspect of The Sims just as how Barbie focused on the dissonance between the real world and Barbieland. Today, I’m going to start with the topic I feel most strongly about: the timeline order of The Sims. If you take away one thing from this post, let it be that the story of The Sims does not take place in alternate universes or timelines. Take a look under the cut to read my explanation!

When The Sims 4 came out, the alternate universe theory was used as the main explanation for inconsistencies in the lore, specifically regarding sims’ ages. For some reason, this explanation was set in stone as canon without question. A lot of the confusion surrounding the timeline arose due to the assumption that The Sims 4 would take place after The Sims 2; at that point the latest established point on the timeline. Also, there seems to be a figure that’s cited often whenever simmers refer to the timeline; that there are two 25 year time jumps between The Sims 3, The Sims, and The Sims 2. I haven’t been able to find a source for this fact, though. If you know where it’s from, please send a link my way! I presume that it’s not as canonical as it’s considered to be, and in any case it’s a very rigid timescale which is incompatible with the stories of most if not all sims.

I want to recognize the fact that I think The Sims 4 has started taking its lore more seriously. The story of Robert Crumplebottom turned Roberto Crinkletop shown in a promotional video for Horse Ranch is exactly the kind of small scale but significant lore that I personally love! It truly gave me an impression that the developers care about the stories of our favourite sims. Just because The Sims 4 base game is not a neat addition to the canon we all know and love, that does not mean we should resort to the alternate universe explanation. Personally, I see alternate universe explanations of lore as lazy and messy world building, at least if a story doesn’t start out with a theme of alternate universes in the first place. It just seems like a sign that the developers or writers between different entries in a franchise were not in sync with each other or didn’t care enough about the story as long as the same characters were used. In any case, it’s more challenging, and in my opinion more interesting, to put together a unified story from a franchise that is on the brink of being explained away as a multiverse.

In a sentence, since the developers didn’t give us a clean slice of lore, it’s up to us simmers to put the story together. As you may know, this is the current most popular theory of the chronological order between the mainline Sims games based on lore:

The Sims 3

The Sims

The Sims 2

(The Sims 4 outside of the timeline, in an alternate universe)

Here is what I think the timeline should be:

The Sims 3

The Sims

The Sims 4

The Sims 2

The Sims 5?

So yes, all Sims games (including all spin-offs) are in the same canon and timeline in my eyes. The confusion comes from multiple inconsistencies introduced in The Sims 4, but as I said the main factor is the age of sims.

Originally, the main reason I was going to give for the inconsistencies in age was the Elixir of Life. We know that the Elixir of Life is an item in The Sims 2 which has the ability to prolong a Sim’s life in their current life stage, thought to be invented by Mortimer Goth. When it comes to aging inconsistencies, I think this makes for a much more elegant resolution than branching off a whole alternate universe. Anti-aging potions might not seem like a good solution for realism-oriented simmers, but at the end of the day something like an Elixir of Life is exactly in tune with the unique magical realism of The Sims.

All that considered, though, when looking at some of the staple households which appear in multiple games, there actually isn’t any aging conflict. That is, in the chronological order of games that I propose, the age of said sims progresses linearly. The issue might arise when trying to define the exact number of years passing between The Sims games, however considering that there could be different lengths of time between different entries in the franchise, it should be relatively straightforward to figure out when comparing sims’ ages against each other.

To convince you that the multiverse explanation of The Sims canon is unnecessary, I’m going to address the main reasons given in the ‘Alternate universe’ article on The Sims Wiki. Thank you to the person or people who wrote it by the way! Insofar as explaining the alternate universe it makes sense but I’m just using it as a jumping off point to explain my perspective. In the below table, the first two columns contain the conflicts in quotation marks as they appear on The Sims Wiki, while the third leftmost column is the reasons I have for the differences in the lore:

My main wish for the lore of Project Rene, or the current development of The Sims 5, is for it to be set after The Sims 2. This way, we start a new entry in the franchise with a clean slate and no confusion about the timeline. A big mistake The Sims 4 made is being afraid to show how life has gone by for our favorite sims, which just made confusion in the storyline. In fact, SimGuru Sarah said herself that it was the most flexible way to keep the most recognizable sims in the newest game. However, this made the story of The Sims 4, at least in the base game, seem stagnant. Let some of our favorite senior sims die from old age! Let our younger sims grow up and start families! Let Bella Goth grow old!

At the end of the day, we don’t need to rehash Bella’s, or anyone else’s, young adult life with new places and people, and it would be much more interesting to see how she is as an older woman, while her family matures and grows. That is, if Bella is in The Sims 5 at all! Thank you for taking the time to read my thoughts! If you have any comments please message me or reply to this post—I’d love to start a discussion! For upcoming posts, here are some ideas I want to tackle (see the table for the mention of the topics below):

(1) The Timespan of The Sims

Have the games given us enough clues about the lengths of time that pass between the games? Can we use this to figure out the exact ages of sims or vice versa?

(2) Too Many Malcolms

With enough Malcolm Landgraabs to go around, how can we tell who’s who? Which Malcolms are the same person, and which are relatives?

(3) The Disappearance of Bella Goth

The age old debate: what happened to our Bella after that fateful night in Pleasantview? How much do we really know?

(4) The Nighat Caliente vs Katrina Caliente Conflict

Both moms to our favorite sisters, Dina and Nina, but who is the real deal? Are they both?

(5) Agnes and Mrs. Crumplebottom

You’d be forgiven for mistaking the two, so how do we know they’re different? Is there a larger lineage of prude Crumplebottoms?

(6) MySims or OurSims?

With some of our favorite adorable MySims bridging the gap to the mainline franchise, how can we abridge their stories? What problems came up in their move to The Sims?

The Setting of The Sims

Do The Sims games take place in SimNation, or across the world on an alternate Earth? How does this Earth differ from ours?

The Teleportation of Don Lothario

When the time came for Don to reap the consequences for his streak of heartbreak, what did the women he scorned decide to do with him? How did Don end up in Riverview?

The Time Travel of Alexander Goth

One Alexander Goth is credited for writing A Murder in Pleasantview, but how did he write the book when his parents were still children? Did young Alex try to save his mom by trying to undo what was already done?

The Identity of Lolita Goth

Who was the mysterious bachelorette buried in the graveyard of Goth Manor? Was there an unspoken affair between her and Gunther?

[epicspheal]

So I finally did the whole “gym leader inspection” last night to see where the fandom is getting their “Evil Geeta” vibes from. And while the jury is still out on her until the DLC the bad blood between Geeta and the leaders isn’t striking me immediately as proof that she’s evil. Let’s start with the whole “Most of the gym leaders are anxious about the inspection” thing. Speaking as someone who has had a full time job, performance reviews are always a little nerve-wracking no matter what type of boss you may have. There is always room for improvement, let alone there’s always a chance you’re going to be told you need to do more. Not really sure how other leagues are ran but I could guarantee you that gym leaders from Kanto to Galar would also feel the same level of anxiety about a performance review and it honestly shouldn’t be used as proof that Geeta is evil. Rather proof that performance reviews suck and anxiety inducing. Now let’s go into some of the individual reactions. Brassius quite frankly really didn’t seem to care. He was more concerned about his new inspiration for art than the inspection. If anything being a gym leader is more of a side-gig to his art career. Neither did Iono as she’s far more concerned about her streams and viewer numbers moreso than the inspection itself. In fact she seemed very impressed that Geeta trusted the player to do the inspection Kofu probably takes this the best because he’s a restaurant owner. He understands that at times people judging him may be harsh and to not take it personally. This is an important skill that you have to learn as an adult in the working world and it’s easier said than done especially if you’re sensitive. I’m quite sensitive myself and it’s taken me a lot to get even to half of where Kofu is in regards to criticism especially if it’s not given tactfully in my opinion. Him saying Geeta is harsh doesn’t necessarily imply he thinks she’s bad at all. And I think if anything he welcomes any harshness because it helps him improve. Again, that’s a skill that’s hard to develop and hard to conceptualize if you haven’t been put in a position where you’ve been dealt harsh criticism. It certainly sucks to be on the receiving end and yes tactful delivery is still key but you can’t always expect “room for improvement” talks to always be delivered gently. Then there’s Katy who is bored of being the first gym leader and being told to go soft on Geeta. Honestly Geeta telling her to be softer on her opponents isn’t a bad thing. Gym leaders are supposed to be tests, not nigh-insurmountable obstacles. While going too soft on people isn’t great, crushing new trainers off the bat isn’t helpful either as you can indeed squander potential talent doing that. Something Geeta recognizes. Katy here is in her feelings but it is understandable. No one likes losing, and with her being a bug type specialist there is probably the added sting of feeling like she’s conforming to the stereotype that Bug types are week. However, Geeta isn’t in the wrong for what she said. Rather it’s up to Katy to do something about it if she’s so discontent from being the first gym leader. She can up her challenge a bit, going soft doesn’t mean being a cakewalk. Or if this really bothers her, get better at being a trainer so she can become a leader that’s recommended to be faced later on despite being so close to Mesagoza. And to her credit, Katy does at least recognize that after the battle with the intent of battling at a higher level. Whether that means not being as soft on newer trainers or just trying to make sure she gets a higher rank we’re not sure, but she has the maturity to not really blame Then you have Tulip who says she’s not Geeta’s biggest fan because she dislikes how bewitching Geeta’s aura is compared to her own. Now some people may have latched on to the bewitching as proof that she’s evil but when you look at the definition of bewitching it means “enchanting or delightful” or in other words “so beautiful or attractive that you cannot think of anything else”. This actually kind of implies Tulip might be a bit jealous of Geeta and how she carries herself rather Geeta being malicious. She compares Geeta’s aura to her own and calls it similarly bewitching implying that both of them have an enchanting way about them. And often when two people of similar vibes meet they may end up clashing. I think the whole ESP gym test makes people perhaps read a bit more into the bewitching thing because Tulip may have psychic powers we don’t know and so maybe she knows something we don’t. And it very well may be shown in the DLC that Tulip’s words were foreshadowing. But the bewitching line to me at least at the moment, strikes me more as a “I’m a bit envious of the chairwoman” over “the chairwoman is evil” Then you have Ryme who is rather blatantly insulted that Geeta sends the player to do the inspection rather than herself. She even states that she had been looking forward to proving the strength of ghost-types to her and felt a bit robbed. Now again this really isn’t a “Geeta is evil” type thing. Sure it probably would’ve been nicer to have Geeta mention that she was sending someone else as a courtesy. But I think Ryme’s feelings of being insulted come from a place of insecurity. She’s only been the leader for a year and a half and she does enjoy the job. Again like I said earlier, performance reviews will make any employee nervous but especially newer ones who haven’t been on the job all that long. So I can definitely see why Ryme was upset as she probably felt like this was a snub and as someone who has been a new employee I can sympathize with her feelings. But it doesn’t make Geeta bad that this happen. The only bad thing Geeta did was just not tell everyone she was sending someone else. Next is Grusha who during the inspection talks about being worried that he’ll lose his job and the only other thing he has talent for. Again much like Ryme is this is definitely coming more from insecurity on the part of Grusha over Geeta being a bad boss. Like Ryme it also comes from an understandable place. He suffered a great loss in losing his ability to snowboard and knowing that his gym leader position is a job that can be lost as well is certainly anxiety inducing. Especially for someone like himself who tends to wrap their identity in their talents. I don’t even think he actually dislikes Geeta he’s just terrified of potentially of not doing well enough to stay in his position. Again that’s something extremely relatable but not necessarily a mark on Geeta herself. Finally there is Larry who has the most outright grievances towards Geeta. Him having outright grievances doesn’t mean she’s evil though. A lot of people have grievances with their bosses and it could be that their boss is bad, it could be they themselves are the bad ones, or maybe neither are bad and they just don’t mesh. And honestly even though they clearly have beef Geeta does tell him to stop doing overtime. She may not be the world’s best boss but her telling him to chill on the overtime does count for something when there are plenty of bosses who will happily let you work overtime, even unpaid overtime. And also yes, she does ask him to use a different type when battling as an Elite Four member but honestly that’s not a bad boss thing. One it makes sense that if you’re going to use someone as both a gym leader and elite four member (who are generally all type specialists) to switch things up to keep challengers on their toes. After all the Champion’s Test is an assessment. And as Larry himself states, he understands why she asked him to switch things up. He realizes that he misses a lot of growth by just staying in one lane with one type and he’ll become stronger as a trainer if he takes different approaches. Yeah he still doesn’t like her but he’s mature enough as an adult to realize when she’s making good points and that’s important although again a tough point to get to. Because it’s often really hard to hear good points from someone you’re not the biggest fan of. So honestly if anything Geeta and the gym leader’s relationship really resembles real life workplaces. Not everyone is buddy-buddy. People get anxiety when performance reviews or big meetings are called. People have insecurities that tend to get poked in certain situations. It doesn’t necessarily mean any one person is good or bad.

[cvrnelians]

unfollowed - chapter three

Kendall has been building up the courage to talk to you for a while now. When he finds your Twitter account, he sees this as the perfect opportunity to get to know you anonymously, without any preconceived notions.

He didn’t mean for it to go this far. He’s planning on telling you the truth eventually, he really is! One day. When it’s the right time.

Ideally, before you figure out he’s not Greg.

chapter one // chapter two

Loathe as you were to admit it, talking with Kendall felt kind of like a tennis match. Either that or a solid game of ping pong. Awkward as he was, conversations with your new internet friend flowed surprisingly well. He was just so funny. Unintentionally funny at times, but funny all the same. 

Hey, have you ever been to Dundee?

You had woken up to a message from Kendall nearly every day since you first started communicating. That just so happened to be this morning’s message.  

As in Dundee, Scotland?

You know where it is???? I wasn’t expecting you to know where it is. 

Honestly no. I had to look it up. I’m not proud of that.

Wait, are you saying you think I’m stupid? 

NO! No. Absolutely not. Not at all. You’re veeery smart. Very smart.

And I don’t speak to women like that, like ever. Not cool.

“Ohhhhh, okay,” you laughed to yourself, leaning back into your pillows and turning on the tv. You sighed as the image of Roman Roy smugly talking to (or rather, talking at) a group of reporters flashed onto the screen. Kendall Roy stood next to him, floating around like a storm cloud. Skulking. Nothing out of the ordinary there.

Kendall practically had to shove his brother into the car to get him to stop talking. He looked like he had hit his limit with whatever Roman had been up to that day. It was actually kind of comical, just how fed up he looked. At that moment, you almost liked him.

Almost.

“No more news,” you mumbled to yourself, switching to another streaming platform. You shifted your focus from the annoying men on tv to the annoying man in your phone. 

I didn’t mean to imply that. It’s just that whenever I mention it, no one seems to know where it is. But I’d say it’s safe to assume you haven’t been to Dundee. 

No, Kendall. No, I have not. 

Aw, would you look at that? We’re on a first name basis now 🙂🎉 

You smiled at your phone like an idiot. 

I think we’re far past that, but don’t let it get to your head. 

By the way, you have no room to talk when it comes to making assumptions about people. Just fyi. 

I thought you said you didn’t talk to women like that. 

I DON’T!!! 

I’m not even being rude!!!

God, you’re such a smartass.

You enjoyed talking to him. You really did.

That was the thing, though. You were talking, but you weren’t really talking. It was all virtual. You had known this man for several weeks now, but still had yet to hear his voice or see his face. Twitter was the one and only platform you used to communicate. You didn’t even have his phone number.  

But hey, I was wondering…

Would you like to maybe go someday?

Not sure, I don’t know much about it. I’d have to look into it.

Wait, do you mean with YOU?

Unless you know some other handsome guy who could show you around Dundee. 

Um, what?

It was just so absurd. Maybe he was being hyperbolic? He had to have been. Or maybe he was just trying to show off how worldly he was. Kendall had a tendency to do that. He could be so flippant about things that were unattainable for the average person—traveling all around the world, buying the most expensive headphones known to man. You got the impression that he was either very well-off or at least trying to appear that way.

What do you think?

Ummmmmm…I’ve known you for approximately 12 minutes now.

Ummmmmm…You’ve known me for a number of weeks now, actually. 

I’m just saying. It’s nice. I think you might like it. 

Ummmmmm...I can’t tell if you’re joking or if I’m going to have to block you. 

He responded within seconds.

NO. DON’T. I was just kidding. 

You got up to shower and brush your teeth, leaving your phone on the nightstand. When you got back, you were amused to find that he had double texted you. Or multi-texted, rather…if that was even a word. Either or, he was backpedaling big time.

KIDDING! 

Sort of. Mostly!! 

I was only partially serious. 

I can leave you alone if you want me to.    

Omg, it’s fine. Geez lol. Calm down over there. We can do a rain check on Dundee. Y’know, for when we actually know what the other person looks like. 

You’re curious about that, aren’t you? You’ve mentioned it a couple of times now.

That you had. Kendall had been very cagey about showing you a photo of himself. He attributed this to being insecure about his appearance. You had tried to reassure him that you didn’t care how he looked, but he would always come back with a “if you don't care, why are you asking to see what I look like in the first place???”

When you said that you didn’t really care what he looked like, it wasn’t that you weren’t curious about how he looked at all. What you didn’t care about was whether he was attractive to you or not. It wasn’t like you were using Twitter as a dating app. Besides, you could barely call him a friend. He was more of a friendly acquaintance than anything. You barely knew who he was, what his life was like.

The extent of which you knew about Kendall’s life:

He worked “in the corporate sector,” whatever that meant.

He traveled a lot for work.

He was big on trends—fashion, music, and otherwise.

He didn’t like to talk about his family.

He seemed to really like talking to you.

I don’t really have any other internet friends. It’s just odd. We’ve been talking for weeks but we’ve never even actually spoken to one another. 

Aren’t you curious, too?

Uh oh. I didn’t think people your age still spoke to each other anymore. 

You were suddenly hit with a reminder that Kendall was quite a bit older than you, at least a decade or more. In the back of your mind, you were suspicious of his motivations—mostly, his maturity level. You were a fully grown adult, but you were surprised that you even connected with him in the first place. He always seemed to know just what to say, just the right questions to ask. Sometimes he would suggest that you make certain plans that you had already made. It was like he had taken a peek inside your diary, or that long lost planner of yours.

Your planner. Oh, how you missed it. 

You had been searching high and low for that thing for weeks now. It had been so oddly satisfying, scribbling important dates and times onto those pages. You were a visual learner. Writing things down that you needed to know helped you recall the details easier. The book sometimes got annoying to haul around with you, but you just couldn’t catch onto an electronic calendar.

You didn’t hate it or anything. You just liked to doodle. 

It helped to purge some anxious energy. And lately, you really could’ve used an outlet to purge some anxious energy. 

You were starting to give up hope that it would ever be found. You would probably just have to buy a new one.

Uh oh. I forgot that you’re ancient compared to me.

OUCH.

Rude. 

Only kidding, Kenny. 40 isn’t old at all (are you 40?). You started the joke, though, so I felt like I had to follow through with it.

Kenny? I’m Kenny to you now?

My best friend calls me that.

Well, he’s got competition now, I guess. 

I’ll have to tell him that. I’m gonna tell him that. Do you care if I tell him that?

You chuckled.

You didn’t answer my question, though. How old are you, exactly? You only gave me a general estimate. You never give me an actual answer when I ask.

You could see the little text bubble indicating that he was typing. It popped up, then disappeared; popped up, then disappeared. This went on for several minutes.

Please tell me you’re not actually like sixty or something. Have you been lying to me about your age?

Would you stop talking to me if I told you I was 40?

Um, no? Why would I do that? You already told me you were in your late thirties, early forties.

It’s just a pretty big age gap, is all.

So what? It’s not like we’re getting married or something. 

We’re friends.

There was another long pause in between messages.

Yeah. Friends.

I’d like to give you my number, if you ever want to talk.

*Actually* talk, like you said.

I think I’d like that.

“Yeah,” you mumbled to yourself. “I think I would, too.”

Around forty five minutes later, you called. 

His voice was deeper than you thought it would be.

It wasn't in a bad way.

📱

“Oh my god. Hold on. Is that Kendall Roy next to you?” you asked, your voice rising an octave. “You met him? You met him? Is that why you’re always talking about him like he’s god’s gift to humanity?”

There were many times throughout Kendall’s life in which he felt a pit in his stomach, but he had never felt quite like this. 

This was just…weird.

“Um,” Kendall stammered, nearly dropping his phone. “Well, I uh—”

He had gone back and forth about it many times, whether or not to reveal his identity to you. He knew he would have to bite the bullet at some point, but he had not prepared for this. Texting you a photo of himself with Greg looming in the background was probably not his best idea.

He figured you would catch onto who he was once you saw the photo. It shouldn’t have been that hard to piece together, given all the things you’d talked about. He had brought up the Roys with you multiple times now. And well...fuck. His name was Kendall.

He wanted to tell you the truth. He really did. He just wasn’t sure how to broach the subject, or if this was even the right way to do it. Stalling was certainly a viable option. He could always send you the photo, pretend it was a joke, and ask you to wait a little longer before he showed you who he was. He seriously considered it.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” you exclaimed. “Wow. Kenny, either you are very, very tall or he is very, very short. Or maybe both? You’re absolutely towering over him in this photo.”

Ouch.

“You don’t look 40, though. It’s kind of creepy. Not that you look bad or anything! You look…nice.”

You were rambling. Nervous. Why were you nervous?

And then, he got it.

Awkward as he was, Greg was actually kind of photogenic. Kendall could tell by your tone that you were pleasantly surprised; at this, he was instantly annoyed. He thought he looked nice in that photo. Not Greg.

What, you liked guys like Greg? Greg?

“What kind of skincare routine are you doing?” you asked. "This is wild."

In the next ten seconds, Kendall did something he never thought he would do. 

“Um…yeah. I uh…I get that all the time. I don’t use anything special. It’s just...genetics.” 

Oh, fuck me.

[aylacavebear]

Stockroom Antics - Chapter 1

Maria had changed jobs numerous times over the last five years, more to keep herself safe than anything else. Her mother had told her she was a fairy but she thought it was just her mom being weird. Honestly, though, she had no other way of explaining what had happened to her that stormy day before she'd gone into a coma for two weeks.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 1747

Pairing eventually Dean Winchester x OC

Warnings: Angst (mild)

A/N: This one's written a little differently than my last one. Let me know what you think. It's the first time I've tried this type of writing. Chapters will alternate viewpoints as well. I also looked into an actual area so this one could feel more realistic.

----------------------------------------- Stockroom Antics Chapter 1

You’d think being something supernatural you’d prefer to stay away from people, and live more of a solitary sort of life, but no. You like people, love laughter, and having a job with amazing coworkers brings you a sense of peace and happiness in your life.

One of your best friends at work is Sarah. She’s adorable, fun, and goofy, and you both make each other laugh all day at work while you unbox the truck shipment and get things on the hummers and into the bluebins, to get put out later.

She knows what you are, sort of. Although, not even you yet know the actual name of what you are. You haven’t found anyone you can really trust outside your immediate family to tell the whole truth to. Hell, you don’t need to scare anyone. Most people have no clue what’s really out there and you like keeping it that way. You’ve researched to find a name for what you are but so far, there isn’t a single thing that has your abilities/powers description. 

As you’re out on the floor, getting out one of the hummers with the kitchen items on it, your mind wanders back. When did it start, you think to yourself, absentmindedly. Four years, five now. You’re not sure anymore. Technically you’re in your early forties but ever since it happened, you feel like you’re in your mid to late twenties again. It also seemed as though aging had practically stopped. Most things a forty-year-old body would go through, you haven’t been experiencing. Just the opposite, you truly feel as though you’ve been getting physically younger.

“Excuse me, do you work here?” A woman asks, pulling you from your thoughts, as she can’t see the nametag hanging around your neck with how you’re standing.

You turn to her with a friendly smile, “Yup, how can I help you?”

“I’m just looking for a pan I can cover the top of my stove with,” the woman attempted to explain.

Neither you nor the woman knew the exact name of that particular thing, but glancing down, you notice a rather large cookie sheet on the shelf on the endcap of the aisle you’re stocking, “This might work,” you tell her, picking it up.

The woman is impressed, looking it over, “How much is it?” she asks.

You flip it over and find the tag, “Nine dollars,” you let her know, “Not bad. This is really nice.”

“What about that price? Fifteen?” the woman asks.

“Oh, that is the price you’d find it for at another store. Our price is always on the bottom of the tag,” you reassure her.

The woman is very happy, letting you know that if it doesn’t work to cover her stove, she’ll be making cookies. Of course, this is when your lighthearted side comes out, “I’m here Monday through Friday, always in the afternoons,” you tell her, playfully.

She finds you adorable, smiling at your playfulness and the two of you spend almost three full minutes talking about cookies before she thanks you for your help. You know it will bring your times down that you have to run the hummer in, but to you, seeing a customer smiling and enjoying their visit to the store is what brings you the most joy at work.

You smile happily to yourself as the woman goes on about her shopping trip and you get back to running your hummer of kitchen items. It’s while you’re putting out some of the food that the mess of the section bothers you again. This is one thing you’re not responsible for, straightening the shelves up to make them look nice. You frown a bit, seeing that there is nowhere to put out the box of bagged oats. Checking around, and not seeing anyone nearby, you just think that there is room on the shelf, that it looks a little neater, and it happens in less than the blink of an eye. 

What you didn’t notice was that you were being watched. A man, in his mid-thirties was standing near the women’s clothing racks, just watching you. He was fairly average, with short brown hair, and brown eyes, only about an inch taller than you, wearing jeans, a blue t-shirt, a hoodie, and sneakers. 

You finished the kitchen hummer and then grabbed a toy one, making sure to write down your times on the sheet in the stockroom. The toy hummers were a little different. They had toys, pets, and craft supplies. Being a kid at heart, as well as loving anything stationary, you loved running these hummers. As you were putting out some of the dog toys, you heard the sound of one of the bluebins heading in your direction. It was like the hummers but those bluebins were for women's, men's, and children's items specifically.

Sarah was soon standing at the end of the pet aisle, phone up and recording, a playful smile on her lips, “Aaaannd, you’re fired,” she tried to say seriously.

You pretend to look upset and sad, then toss your arms up with playfulness, “Party at my house!”

The two of you laugh as she saves the video, only to post it online later, your Stockroom Antics tag included. The man who had been watching you earlier continues to do so. Every aisle seems to be a bit of a mess today, so again, you think about it looking a little nicer. Only a little though, you don’t need to draw unwanted attention to yourself from your boss if they watch the cameras.

Ten minutes before your shift ends, Sarah comes back up to you, “Code 99 me?” she asks, and you smirk.

“Oh, so if I don’t, that means you’re stuck here,” you chuckle.

“Not cool,” she replies, playfully, “Should I go find someone else?” she raises an eyebrow.

“Na, I’ll let you out,” you laugh a little. 

The two of you walk to the front of the store, in front of the doors so that you’re both on camera. Sarah opens her bag, and you peek in, “Looks good. See you tomorrow?” you tell her.

“Yup. See ya,” she replies before leaving.

You smile a bit and head to the stockroom. There’s always some cleanup that needs to be done and you enjoy doing those little things that there never seems to be time for others to do. The man continues to watch you, and you still haven’t noticed him, not really anyway. You’d seen him, yes, but to you, he’s just another customer.

The backroom isn’t bad, not today. The girl is working on tagging the shoes with the alarms while a couple of other girls are in the clothing pods tagging clothes and getting them on racks to go out either later on or the following morning. You get some sweeping done, straighten up the bluebins and hummers, then bid them all farewell for the evening. Just as you reach the register to clock out, your ‘end of shift’ alarm goes off.

“Thank you phone,” you say out loud, pulling it out of your back pocket, and then turn it off. Smiling and shaking your head a little.

“See you guys tomorrow,” you tell the two cashiers as you punch out. 

They smile and say goodbye as you head for the door. Since you don’t carry a purse, there’s no need to have a code 99 before you leave. The air is a little crisp, it being the beginning of January in Southern Arizona and you put the hood of your hoodie over your head. It’s been a cold few weeks, although this week has been the worst with the rain. For three days now the low in the mornings has been in the upper twenties and the days barely over fifty. That’s cold for where you live but it happens every so many years.

As you’re walking toward your truck, which you love with all your heart, the man from earlier is following you still. The chill doesn’t seem to be bothering him at all. For now, you believe he’s still just a customer, not paying him much attention. The wind blows just right, from behind you, and all you can smell is sulfur, and a chill runs down your back. You take a deep breath though, calming your nerves. You should have known that picking a job across the street from where you had previously worked wasn’t the best of ideas.

You stayed calm as you walked to your truck. She was quite the beast of a truck. A 91’ F350 XLT Lariat, crew cab, long bed, with a two-inch lift, 1500 lb leaf springs, and 4-wheel drive. You hadn’t saved up enough to have her fixed up like you wanted but you loved her dearly. As you rounded the hood, the man pushed you against your truck, right in front of the tire.

“Found you,” he said in a low, pleased tone, smiling devilishly, “The boss is gonna be pleased.”

Without thinking you put your hand on his chest and the black smoke of the demon's soul began expelling out of his mouth, toward the ground. This wasn’t the first time you’d had to deal with demons and you knew it wouldn’t be the last. The demon looked at you through the man’s eyes, almost in terror but more in shock at what you were doing. He apparently didn’t get the memo of what had happened to the last demon that had gotten too close to you. A smirk crossed your lips as the demon's soul left the man’s body, went into the ground, back to hell where it belonged. 

With the demon now gone, the man was unconscious. You sighed before carefully dragging him over to the closest tree in the parking lot, which you had parked near, and propped him against it. At least he was still alive. Most demons rode whoever they possessed hard, usually killing them in the process. He’ll wake later, you told yourself before heading home.

That night you thought long and hard about whether or not to go back to work the following day. You knew the demon would tell his boss, whom you’d never met, just heard about. That’s when you sat up a little straighter on your couch, a determination in your eyes.

“I’m not letting demons run me out of a job I love,” you said confidently.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 2

A/N: If you'd like to be tagged in this one, and future chapters, leave me a comment and let me know. :)

Link to the series Master List

[ryuichirou]

Replies

A couple of replies about our sketches from yesterday, a couple of follow-ups and some stuff about Papa and Mama Leech today~

Anonymous asked:

Thank you for your contributions to the Toddallace fandom!!!

No problem, Anon! Thank you so much for enjoying our Toddallace stuff.

Anonymous asked:

Screaming and crying and on my knees and absolutely losING MY DAMN MIND-

Freminet is my favorite Genshin character and he is so underrated! Seeing him in your beautiful art style has blessed my entire MONTH and I am eternally grateful!

Thank you for the wonderful sketch 🙏 I will now proceed to be insane over it for the next week

You are very welcome, Anon!! I am so happy you liked the sketch! <3

Freminet is cute, his freckles really look good on his face.

irregardlessly-tish asked:

Have you guys ever read/watch Higurashi or Umineko no naku koro ni? Not a lot of cute boys to ship, (especially in Higurashi) but I get the impression that the dark themes in both of them may be things you find enjoyable lol They are both of my favorite mangas I've read besides SnK

We haven’t yet, but we really want to! My knowledge of both of these titles is pretty vague outside of some of the most well-known things, but I am pretty sure we will enjoy it a lot. Thank you for recommending it to us!

I don’t know when we’ll have the opportunity to dive into it, but whenever we do, I’ll absolutely have some sketches to show. I can already feel it…

Anonymous asked:

Wait I think I know which webtoon anon is talking about

The Guy Upstairs by Hanza

I don't like Hanza bc she's an anti but she kinda got stuck with the short end of the stick with the whole situation

The shippers for the main pairing started harassing Hanza and that's why she decided to end the webtoon early

(related to our replies from yesterday)

Oh, I see.

Regardless of an author’s views, it is always unfortunate when they have to finish their story abruptly because of the pressure of the readers. One would think that they would appreciate it enough not to bully the author, but unfortunately, a lot of times people are very demanding and emotional.

Anonymous asked:

I like Idia’s underwear. 😏

Jade loves it too <3

Anonymous asked:

jade move over that's my job.

Oh you can take a break and relax, Jade will gladly do the hard work for you ^^

Anonymous asked:

MOVE, IDIA MOM SAID ITS MY TURN WITH JADE

If Idia wasn’t butt-naked, he would’ve ran away and left the entire Jade for you, Anon…

Anonymous asked:

every day is a good day when I get to see Jade x Idia YEAHHH

Sooo, are they doing anything spicy~? 👀

Thank you, Anon!! <3 I’m glad you liked it!

They’re about to~

Anonymous asked:

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙹𝙰𝙳𝙴 𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝙸𝚂 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙼𝙴 𝙶𝙾 𝙵𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙻

𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙼 𝙴𝚈𝙴𝚂 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚂𝙼𝚄𝙶 𝙰𝚂𝚂 𝙵𝙰𝙲𝙴

𝙶𝙾𝚃 𝙼𝙴 𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙱𝙱𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙰𝚁𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝙼𝚈 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙰𝙸𝙽𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃

The way I started counting syllables to check if this was a haiku….

I am very happy you liked it so much, Anon!! <3

Anonymous asked:

Holy fuck ill keep saying it over and over but EEL ABS

Swimmer abs! Meaty boys!

Anonymous asked:

So, I saw a post and I wonder if you've seen it or thoughts of it but a eric/crewel/trein threesome (i think his name was Eric but its vil's dad)

No thoughts so far. We keep getting asked about Eric and Trein (and Crewel I guess), but I don’t even know how or why they would interact. We haven’t watched the event yet, so maybe I just don’t know some crucial piece of information, but… Eric seems like too big of a celebrity to stumble upon these two all of a sudden? And Trein doesn’t sleep around as well, he is a very tough one to crack…

Not completely impossible, I just don’t feel it for now. Maybe I’ll have an epiphany at some point in the future!

Anonymous asked:

NEED to know more about your leech parents!!! do they sleep in the same fish bed? did they even want kids, was it just for traditional family points? she doesnt cook, do the rest of them keep it a secret too? hgrgrhrhrhhhhhh FISHFISHFISHFISHFISHFISHFISHFIFSHFISH

im willing to vote they have a cuck chair (? ...merfolk dont sit tho..)

lol Anon!! I am very happy that you got intrigued by these two; I really like thinking about them too to be honest lol so I guess I better share my thoughts before we get more canon lore about them (god forbid, I wouldn’t want that at all! *reverse psychology*)

Alright, so to answer your questions…

To be honest, I don’t think they sleep in the same bed, mostly because both of them are too damn long and take up too much space to share a bed lol They used to sleep together when they just got married, but quickly decided that it’s just too bothersome.

Moray eels aren’t super social and don’t have the “mate for life” mentality, so their family façade is kind of fake. It also makes them dangerous, because one moray eel is already trouble, but two? Who also have a family? This is one of the things that make them so dangerous. So yeah, I wouldn’t say that Papa and Mama Leech love each other romantically, but they have mutually beneficial relationship, and to them this is probably even better than love. They are also probably aren’t intimate with each other anymore… they are with other people though, when they feel like it~

So yeah, to answer your question about a cuck chair lol Sure, why not, but I feel like with these two it’d be more like one of them is obliterating some poor merman while the other watches it just for the sake of enjoying the show. And some additional intimidation/humiliation 😔

When it comes to family, both of them really wanted kids, but not due to any wholesome reasons: Papa Leech wanted to keep his business going strong even after he’s gone, and he would rather choke on a puffer fish than entrust it to anyone other than his own copies lol And Mama Leech really enjoys the drama of being a mother and a wife. She is a bit of a narcissist, and both of them are kind of sociopathic?? But they love their kids in their own ways.

The fact that Mama Leech doesn’t cook is the biggest secret in the world lol The tweels usually play along, especially Jade, but Floyd is more likely to just roll his eyes whenever she is talking to someone about cooking dinner for her sons. I would say that they have a cook, but actually I feel like the majority of things that they eat are raw…

Anonymous asked:

I wonder if you see the time we ask these at... hmmm

Moving aside NOT A REQUEST DONT GET IT CONFUSED BTW

Female!Jade, in Bayonetta 1 or 2's outfit...

We do~ We don’t check it though, so if you’re worried for some reason, don’t be lol

You’re making this woman way too powerful, please have mercy… she is already tall and scary…

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

So, I weirdly haven’t written enough about this on this blog so far, given what a big thing it is for me – I’m going to the fucking UK this summer. For real this time. For real. Here is a post about it.

I first posted on this blog about wanting to go to the UK in early 2021, I think. I remember making posts about how maybe once the vaccines were finally released, and I was all vaccinated, travel would be safe, and I could go for a little while before I start my college courses again. That didn’t happen for quite a few reasons.

I spent much of 2021 planning a hypothetical trip, knowing it probably couldn’t really happen, because obviously things like this don’t really happen, but I needed something to fantasize about in the depths of lockdown. It’s odd that a global pandemic made me interested in international travel for the first time. Pre-COVID, my life was so full of a single sport that I didn’t really have time to think about anything else as a hobby. I was on the road most weekends, but that road was the 401, driving off to the same few cities anywhere from two to twelve hours away, to sleep in a cheap hotel or on someone’s gym floor and then shout at teenagers at day and immediately drive home. Every once in a while we’d go to a tournament in the States, which counted as exciting international travel. The idea of actually seeing places that are not in or near the border with my country just hadn’t occurred to me.

Then the world ended, I fell deep into the Britcom rabbit hole, all that stuff. And in 2021, I got really into 1) memorizing how to label all the countries and major cities in the world, and all the counties or other regional areas in the UK and Ireland, on a blank map, because I’d learned that the larger world existed and I wanted to be clear about where it all is, and 2) going through places I’ve never been on Google Earth, usually while listening to audio comedy. I also took to looking up things to do in the UK on Trip Advisor, mapping the route on Google Maps and following it on Google Earth, knowing this was all for a hypothetical fantasy trip but still researching things like train fares and schedules because it was more fun if it felt like it could be real.

I’m fascinated by the idea of places that are Different From Here being actual real physical places where people could actually go. Which is especially weird in this case because I actually have been to the UK. I have a godmother there, whom I’ve met in person three times, twice when she’s come to Canada and once when for my sixteenth birthday she paid for my mother and I to go to England for a week. We stayed at her place in London, did all the tourist-y things, also spent a day in some spot in Somerset but I’m fuzzy on where or why, it was 2006. My clearest memory of the week is seeing Spamalot on St. Patrick’s Day and thinking it was the coolest thing ever. I’ve also got fairly clear memories of climbing stairs at St. Paul’s Cathedral, thinking Westminster Abbey was the most beautiful building I’d ever seen, and seeing some extremely cool stuff at the British Library including some original handwritten Beatles lyrics. And I remember the tube and being impressed that the cars really do have driver doors on the wrong side, that’s not just a thing they made up on Fawlty Towers.

Still, it was so long ago, and it was such a short time compared to the amount of time that I’ve spent watching Britian on TV, that it does feel a bit like Britain is a fictional place that exists on TV. Obviously I realize that’s a very ignorant North American thing for me to say, and in my defense I think I know a hell of a lot more about Britain than the average ignorant North American. I can label all the regions in England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales in under five minutes. But I’ve got to admit, on a visceral level, learning all that stuff does feel a bit like memorizing lore in a fantasy novel.

There is kind of an appeal in the idea that… okay, the last time I was this obsessed with something besides a sport in which I actually participated, I was a kid in the Harry Potter fandom. I was a kid who read a lot of books, and a lot of my favourites happened to be British fantasy or sci-fi novels (Harry Potter, CS Lewis, Tolkein, His Dark Materials, Douglas Adams), but Harry Potter was the one that took over my life from the ages of about ten to fourteen. You classic situation of – didn’t have friends in real life, all my social interaction came from Harry Potter message boards, a vast chunk of my free time dedicated to reading every passage of the books over and over and over and analyzing them and writing things about them and I made some friends on the internet who loved Luna Lovegood as much as I did. Then I got to high school and started wrestling and made some friends in real life and slowly moved away from online fandom, didn’t do anything except that for fifteen years, then the world ended, I came back and found a new online fandom that was also British but had less magic and more panel shows, then the author turned out to be a terrible person and ruined my childhood.

Anyway. The point is that I remember when I was a kid, obviously I spent ages fantasizing about being able to actually go to all those places in Harry Potter. But I couldn’t, because those are not real places. Well, my new foray into fandom also feels a bit like that – like this fictional thing I’ve got obsessed with that no one around me knows anything about but some people on the internet are into it. Except that this time, the place where all these things happen is actually a real place, and I can pay money to go there. This concept remains amazing to me.

So I mapped out the idea of this trip a couple of years ago, and for a long time, it stayed in a limbo between fantasy and genuine possibility. I did actually start working out budgets and putting money aside for it, but all the while thinking this won’t actually work. I was starting to do things post-lockdown again, the sense that we were all locked down so nothing is real so I may as well engaged in some escapism and plan some fantasy trips – that started to give way to regular life, and in regular life, I’m not a person who does shit like that. I can’t just fly across the ocean to see a fictional place. I still had it vaguely in my head that maybe someday I’d like to, but I stopped actively planning anything.

But at the same time, the whole concept of Britain was starting to feel a bit less fictional (I’m… I’m feeling the need to clarify, again, that this is just a sort of emotional automatic response to put “the place where Britcom happens” in the “fictional” category in my brain… I did not at any point genuinely think the United Kingdom was fictional… especially since I’ve been there before). I do remember the first time I got physical, tangible proof that the people in the fictional Britcom world are real, when Russell Howard came to my city in March 2022 (my then-girlfriend got us tickets because she knew I liked British comedians, she was excited about it so I didn’t tell her that actually I’m mad at him for the Jordan Peterson apologism so don’t want to go, it’s not something I’d have chosen myself but it was a thoughtful gift and to be fair an extremely fun night), and I could not get over the idea that the man from the fictional place was here in real life displacing air like he’s a real human being and actually all of it is physically real. Over the next few months I did an 8.5-hour drive to New York City to see Nish Kumar, and then two months later a 2-hour drive to see him do the same show in Montreal, because it was that fucking great a show. I also saw James Acaster in Montreal, and a club night with Dara O’Briain and Fern Brady and Phil Wang and Tom Allen and Sindhu Vee and every single one of them was an actual real person breathing the same air as me. Before the show I saw Dara O’Briain on the street and was so shocked that I hit my mother too hard to show her and she jumped and the commotion attracted his attention and I didn’t know what to do except stare at him like he was a zoo animal until he smiled awkwardly at me and went on his way.

Things like this did rather renew my interest in a trip, not just for the novelty of seeing a place that feels fictional, but for the more practical purposes of seeing my favourite comedians live. My interests within Britcom were starting to shift significantly toward stand-up, I got obsessed for a while with learning everything about the history of the Edinburgh Festival in the 21st Century, it seemed like another world, the time of the Chocolate Milk Gang and 24-hour shows from the early 00s, but then I watched videos on the internet that were filmed at the 2022 Edinburgh Festival and realized this place is actually real and still happening now and it is technically possible to go there.

After that, the concept rapidly became de-fictionalized in my mind when I sent someone a message on a comedy forum, in the hopes of finding a few comedy recordings that I heard existed, and by complete coincidence stumbled upon the best person I possibly could have. I’d thought worst case scenario is he doesn’t reply and I will be left to assume he saw my message and considered it horribly rude, great scenario is he has a few things I’m asking for, amazing best case scenario is maybe he has lots of stuff and is willing to share. As it happened, I got the best case scenario, plus far more than that. Specifically, a the coolest fucking person I could possibly have found, as a new friend, direct interaction that made all of this seem a hell of a lot less fictional very, very fast. He said things like “So are you ever going to come out here and actually see this stuff yourself”, and I said things like “Obviously I have plotted a route and looked up train fares but don’t be silly, that was just the stuff of lockdown-induced dreams.”

I quickly started planning things more seriously, but at the same time, the editing work I’d been doing started drying up, I had a bit of a financial crisis where I became concerned that I’d be unable to pay rent, and couldn’t save for a trip. I followed the 2023 Edinburgh Festival from afar, from NextUp streams and hearing stories about it from a friend who actually went there and sent me pictures, which was so fucking cool, and it was all so very very real.

I got a new job, this one much harder because it involves leaving the house all day for five days a week, but also it’s much more stable than the editing work I did for all of lockdowns, and I was able to start saving money in the second half of 2023. I learned that the place where I work shuts down for the last week of July, and the Monday of the following week is a holiday. So I put in a request for just four days off, the Tuesday-Friday, to create a two-week holiday. One week in London at the end of July, and one week in Edinburgh during the first week of the Edinburgh Festival.

The time off got approved (barely, I was told I can’t book any other vacation time in 2024, but I got it) in late 2023, and it was so exciting, and that’s the first time it started to feel even a little bit real. Then I booked an Air B&B for the week in Edinburgh, because it’s my understanding that accommodation availability and prices are a huge issue there and you want to book early. I think I did well, though. Found a place that’s not cheap but not unfeasibly expensive, I can have my own room and it’s a 50-minute walk or 10-minute bus from Edinburgh city centre. It was so exciting to book the place, put some money down, finally have something on the books for sure. Though I did triple check that it’s fully refundable if I cancel up until pretty much the day before, just in case something goes wrong.

I booked the flights over Christmas. They weren’t cheap, but I was able to afford them without destroying my ability to pay rent, because it turns out there is a reason why I put myself through human interaction for 8-10 hours five days a week. I did pay an extra fee to give myself the ability to pay another fee and cancel them, because still, it felt like I can’t be totally sure this will actually work. But that was a big commitment.

And that’s pretty well the main things sorted out. I still have to book a whole lot of train tickets, but I have the flights. I have the time off work. I have the Edinburgh accommodation. I have accommodation in London, because the absolute coolest person I could possibly come across on a comedy message board has a spare room, and is extremely kind and generous with his time and space, and I’ve said some pretty disparaging things about that message board before (based on some quite bad threads from like fifteen years ago, that I spent weeks reading in their entirety because, you know, autism), and I would like to take them all back.

Now they’ve announced the first bunch of acts at the 2024 Edinburgh Festival, and I’ve been going through picking out which ones look most interesting to me, and for maybe the first time, it’s finally feeling completely, entirely real. This is happening. For real this time. I am going through an Edinburgh Festival catalogue not just to take screenshots of the most interesting blurbs so I can save them in a folder and/or post them on my blog to say here’s an interesting piece of history. I am going through it to pick what shows I wish to see.

So here’s my plan, that I’m writing because I now feel confident that I think it’s actually going to happen. Obviously I have a spreadsheet with various tabs, and a KMZ file so I can open Google Earth with all the places I might potentially want to see already marked. I have been planning this trip for years. I have two weeks in the UK, and I don’t want to waste a single second. I want to make sure all that time spent planning comes to something, because as a fundamental part of my personality, I have always believed that there is a level of planning you can do to guarantee that everything goes right. This belief has been proven wrong time and time again, but I’ve never tried something with this much planning beforehand, so surely this time it’ll work. No taking a chance on some tourist attraction that might turn out to be shit, because I’ll have looked at it all on Google Earth beforehand and ranked things in order of how cool they look.

I have organized my spreadsheet into seven tabs: overview, plan by day, places to eat, things to see London, in Edinburgh, in Cambridge, and things to pack. I have organized each “things to see” tab into three sections: things I want to see for reasons related to general tourism, things I want to see for reasons related to comedy, and things I want to see for reasons related to Harry Potter. I apologize for the latter, and obviously I will not be doing anything that would give revenue to JK Rowling. But nothing JK Rowling can say in the 2020s will change my childhood, and I need to spend some amount of time indulging my childhood dreams of running around fancy buildings feeling like I’m in a magical British land.

London, tourism: pretty straightforward. Westminster Abbey and St. Paul’s Cathedral are on the list, because I remember how cool they were last time, and because for some reason when I stopped being Christian at age 16 I did not also get rid of my awe at fancy churches. I want to see Parliament and related areas, I want to try to get a picture of the Number 10 door as seen in Yes Minister. I want to see some bridges. Take a cable car across a river. Go look at Douglas Adams in Highgate Cemetery (I realize there are more famous people than Douglas Adams there, I’d like to see them too, but mainly Douglas Adams). Go see what The British Library has going on while I’m there. There are too many pubs on the list given the fact that I’m currently trying to stop drinking, I am going to cut some of those pubs off the list and I’m just trying to decide which ones, but I really love a good pub and the ones in London look so cool and even if I can’t have a pint I want to sit there in the atmosphere and have a burger or some shit.

Harry Potter tour of London is simple. Obviously I want to go look at King’s Cross Station, I did it when I was 16 and it was so fucking cool, I don’t care how stupid that is. Otherwise, I’ve looked up three different areas that were used in filming Diagon Alley, and according to Google Earth, seem like the do sort of look like Diagon Alley-like places. That’s what’s interesting to me. I’m not really interested in places where the movies just happened to be filmed (the movies were fine, I’ve seen them a couple of times each, but it was the books that I read until I had them nearly memorized), I want to see places that look like they could be where the books were actually set. And Goodwin’s Court appears to look like where Harry Potter could have actually been set. So I’ve made an appointment to go walk down a road.

For the comedy-related locations in London, there are a few venues I want to see. Ideally while something’s playing in them, but even if there’s nothing I’m interested in at the Soho Theatre while I’m there, I’d still want to go in and just see the building, after the all the shows I’ve seen and heard that were recorded there. Same with The Bill Murray. Battersea Arts Centre. I also wish to make a pilgrimage to the bit of Regent’s Park where Daniel Kitson’s done some of the most landmark nights of comedy in the last twenty years. Obviously I want to go stand outside the gates to the Taskmaster house and see just how close it is to that golf course. (There will also be a few hours of the itinerary where I might just leave some of the details blank, no need to get too much into what I want to see there, it’s in my spreadsheet as just “Crystal Palace”, and I will say that if you don’t want people to go look at a place where you used to live, don’t make your address the title of your theatre show – I need to stress again, just so we’re clear about what level of creepiness I’m talking about here, it is a former address, not anywhere that anyone significant lives now or has lived for the last fifteen years, it's just the subject of comedy stories that are now long in the past, as are various surrounding landmarks, it’s archaeology.)

Now, in Edinburgh I’ve put a lot fewer things on the itinerary, because I want to leave most of my time for going to see comedy shows. And going to see a couple of music shows, because that first wave of events they’ve announced includes a couple of traditional Scottish music things that I am so excited about, it’s going to be mostly comedy but I do want to do that as well. Celtic music, Harry Potter, British comedy – all the biggest special interests of my life besides the one where you beat people up, all easy to access at this festival (I mean, technically Edinburgh has something called wrestling too, but it’s best if I don’t hear anyone try to compare the Max + Ivan wrestling to the sport that I do).

I do want to climb Arthur’s Seat, because I’ve done it about a hundred times in Google Earth so I just have to do it in real life. When Mark Watson released his book last year, I got the signed and dedicated version and he said we can tell him about a problem we have for him to solve in the dedication. I said my problem is I’m going to London and Edinburgh next year and need advice on where to go, he said I should climb Scott’s Monument. Even though my levels of respect for Mark Watson have dropped significantly since that book actually came out, I am still going to climb Scott’s Monument because Mark Watson told me to.

Similarly, this extremely kind and cool person I know recently got the chance to get me an autographed copy of Tim Key’s new book (which I unfortunately won’t get until I go to London and pick it up in person, but it looks great), where he also asked Tim to give me some advice for my trip. Tim Key said to go to Mosque Kitchen, and Indian restaurant in Edinburgh, so I’m doing that. Oh, and while I’m in London I have to go to a place called Kebab Kid, because it’s Nish Kumar’s favourite shawarma place in England, which I know because I know a guy who could just walk up to Nish Kumar after one of his gigs and ask him what his favourite shawarma place is. Have I mentioned how fucking cool this is?

Anyway. That’s the extent of my interest in Edinburgh tourism, mainly. I mean, if I were going when the festival weren’t on, there would be plenty of other stuff I want to see. But I don’t want to take time away from festival events. I might do the castle. The castle’s probably cool. I definitely want to walk up that hill, as I’ve done many times on Google Earth, and look at the castle. Whether I pay to go inside will depend if there’s a hole in the comedy schedule, I guess.

In the Edinburgh – Harry Potter section, I have a few things. Greyfriar’s Kirkyard, the graveyard with the story about the dog that’s probably bullshit (I mean, it happened, but I think someone was just feeding that dog) but the story about how it inspired Harry Potter character names that’s true. Go get a picture of Tom Riddle’s grave. I’ve marked a couple of streets and a couple of buildings that look particularly like they could be from Harry Potter, those are on the list of places to walk. There’s a Harry Potter store that I want to go in and look through the stuff because the interior seems really cool, but I promise I would never spend money in there.

And then Edinburgh – comedy will probably take care of itself. I want to see The Stand and The Gilded Balloon, as the sites of many of my favourite comedy events over the last twenty years. But I’m hoping I’ll end up in those places anyway to see shows, so no need to make a special trip. If not, though, I’m making a special trip. I have to see the stage where the cow got torn apart. I absolutely have to go see it in person.

There is also the Cambridge tab, because I have blocked off one of my London days to take a train to Cambridge and back. I have made a Google Earth document with about 20 of the most interesting-seeming colleges marked. Obviously I’m not going to see 20 colleges, I’m going to look at them all in Google Earth and then rank them by how cool they look and go see as many as I can in order. I have also, of course, marked down which ones let you take tours and at what times. The place I’m most excited to see is the Wren Library, which appears to be a library from Harry Potter or His Dark Materials or something. I want to see Trinity College because it’s the college on which Douglas Adams based the college in the first Dirk Gently book. A few of the colleges have chapels that look really pretty and are interesting to me because I have for some reason not lost my awe of pretty churches. And mainly, I just want to walk around the Cambridge University grounds looking at stuff.

Oh, and we’re leaving another day to take a train to Kent, where they have an archive of stand-up comedy materials that I wish to see. But I haven’t made a tab for that, because I just want to see some stuff in the University of Kent and then go back to London.

I am also hoping I can block out one day from the Edinburgh week to not book any shows, and just take trains around Scotland. I have always wanted to take trains around Scotland. I have always romanticized trains, I have always romanticized Scotland, taking a train through rural parts of Scotland will make me feel like I’m on the Hogwarts Express, it’s everything my over-romanticizing heart fantasized about when imagining this trip. I’ve checked, and while it would be an incredibly long day, it is possible to take a train from Edinburgh to Mallaig in the morning, have a couple of hours in Mallaig, and take another train back at night. This would take me, twice, through something that’s supposed to be one of the most beautiful train journeys in the world, from Glasgow to Mallaig. Mallaig is a tiny village on the West Coast of Scotland and it’s got a hiking trail and a pub and I just want to take a train across a country and walk around the trail and then sit in that pub and look at the ocean. I want that so badly. It’s been a rough couple of months, I find it hard to spend 8 to 10 hours a day interacting with other people, the thought that one day in early August I might spend one hour sitting in a pub in Mallaig looking at the ocean is really getting me the through the day at this point. There are a few pubs in Mallaig, but obviously I’ve picked out my favourite. I want to eat seafood. I love seafood. That’s not just a Mallaig thing, seafood is my favourite food and I always eat lots of it when I visit the East Coast of Canada because it’s better near the ocean. All of Britain is near the ocean, so I want to eat all their seafood.

Okay, that’s the plan. I was going to write about what I’m thinking in terms of actual shows to see, but I might let that turn into a different post. Right now, I’m just excited about the idea of posting this on the internet because it is real and I am actually going to do it and having this to look forward to is way too big a proportion of my motivation at this point in my life.

[hotcheetohatredwastaken]

currently how long are bdor and its prequel when combined wordcount wise

you brought up 200k and i am both terrified and intrigued. like thats impressive. i am in awe. i can barely put a sentence together much less that many

Okay let me give you a lay of the land. And before we begin, I just have to say that I am so, so sorry. I gave you such a wrong number.

BDOR Arc 1, as of its official word count right now, is 152,892 words. It’s completely written and ready to be published save chapters 15, 18, 20, 24 (12,000 word chapter that has to go 😱) ch 27-29, and then it’s pretty much smooth sailing (with a few minor edits in there and a few scenes to add) until ch 75-76, which need some tweaking, and then the final ch 78 needs a bit of an adjustment as well, and I may delete it completely. All of these chapters specifically mentioned above are in various stages of editing, but generally the story at this point is solid. The final chapter count will probably be 80-82, because there are a few beats that need to be hit that haven’t been, some characters to flesh out more, and lovely beta reader @needfantasticstories revealed some logic errors that I need to spin up some bullcrap to cover💀. I have 9,000 words of notes for things to change in pages, and about that amount of changes in google docs as well. So I’m estimating 160,000 words for the final product there, if not more.

Arc 2 is where it gets SO dicey. My word count in my final doc right now is 44,424. I have another 6,000 ish words of notes in pages to change/tweak scenes/general scene layouts. I have another 15,884 words that have been digitized but haven’t made it into the final document because they need editing. Add onto that about 30?? Pages handwritten that haven’t even made it that far. I usually get about 600-750 words per page, so let’s tally that up to a generous 45,000 since I write front and back. There is leeway of about 20,000 words in there too, because there’s a big chunk of time (heh) I am considering only hinting at happening, but I have written out in their near entirety.

The thing is, I’ve probably written about half of arc 2 with all of that.

So assuming I keep that 20,000 chunk, and assuming I double my word count as I think I will, the final tally here is nearly 110,000 already, which will probably grow to an estimated 200,000 if not more. I am working on cutting this down XD, so stay tuned. The main plot is generally solid, but there’s a LOT of little subplots I need to wrap up lol.

Prologue: this is a little side thing I meant to just be cute little scenes from Twi and Wild’s past and it got away from me. An official 28,424 words of this are written. I’d say I have another 15 handwritten pages (front and back counted, i should clarify) in various stages of editing, so let’s say a generous 11,250. The thing is, I have a LOT of ideas, and once I finalize arc 1 and arc 2, I’m going to have a lot of free time to dig into this while the other story comes out (I probably need to start updating multiple times a week if I want to get this story out before I turn 90 XD). So this number will most definitely grow, but for now it is an estimated 39,674.

Final estimated word count (if I did the math right and also didn’t underestimate my ability to purple prose), everypony?

396,174 words!!

Oh Lord I don’t think I’d realized before I tallied everything up that it was actually this long. I think this project has run away from me. I just wanted to play with my blorbos not write the next Ancient Greek Epic. What the heck. I need to go lie down.

Also just took 3,500 from the final count because I realized I had double counted a chapter sorry ignore that.

But yeah I am hoping to cut down arc 2, so maybe 350,000? That’s being optimistic in my ability to not be longwinded though.

[ltwharfy]

Rewatching "I Love You, Man" and Overthinking Rudy's Iconic Halloween Costume

One night this week, when I was feeling particularly tired after work, I noticed that the 2009 movie “I Love You, Man” starring Paul Rudd, Rashida Jones, and Jason Segel, had just started on one of the commercial-free movie channels, so I decided to watch it. I had seen it a long time ago and thought it was pretty entertaining (I pretty much always find all three of the movie’s leads entertaining in anything, so…_). But I’m pretty sure I hadn’t seen it since “Nightmare on Ocean Avenue Street” came out, and certainly not since I became a person who writes “Bob’s Burgers’ fanfic and posts stuff about the show on this silly website. So, some thoughts on “I Love You, Man” specifically as the source of Rudy’s iconic Halloween costume:

-Man, this movie is R-rated! I had looked that up a while back, and it amused me because Louise also makes reference to R or TV-MA rated stuff (No Country for Old Men, Pan’s Labyrinth, Game of Thrones, just off the top of my head). But, I couldn’t exactly remember why it was Rated R, and if that rating made sense. Rewatching it reminded me that there is a lot of sex-related dialogue in the movie. It could not be cut out or toned down that much. It is actually pretty central to the plot (I’m not going to go into details, since I don’t want to put a content warning on this post, or spoil a 14 year old movie for anyone). It’s not a movie I would feel okay about watching with a  9 year-old that I was responsible for.

-So, did Rudy actually see the movie? There are definitely other times on the show where it is pretty clear the kids haven’t actually seen the more adult entertainment they make reference to (“what’s Caligua?”) It’s quite possible that Rudy may have just been familiar with Paul Rudd from more age appropriate fare (Ant-Man or something) and seen the poster for “I Love You, Man” somewhere and thought Rudd’s outfit looked cool (I mean, it’s a sweater and jeans, but this is Rudy we’re talking about).

-But I think it’s more fun to imagine he actually saw the movie. It’s implied that Rudy has a number of older cousins (we meet Mandy, and he wants her to tell the others about his attempt to sled backwards) so I can imagine him seeing the movie at a family thing with a bunch of his older cousins and just being so excited to watch a grown-up movie with the older kids that he thinks it’s the best thing ever despite a ton of the jokes going completely over his head. (There are a lot of movies I saw with my older sister as a kid then when I revisited them as an adult I realized I had completely missed some pretty racy stuff in them.)

-Also, I then imagine Rudy later innocently asking one of his parents about some term he heard in the movie that he didn’t understand, which leads to the older cousins getting in trouble for letting him see it.

-There are definitely parts of the movie I could see Rudy understanding enjoying. The first conversation between Rudd and Segel’s characters is Segel pointing out how another guy is clearly holding in a fart because he is trying to impress a woman he just started dating. This seems to very much be on the level of humor of most of the Bob’s Burgers kids.

-And it’s pretty easy to see Rudy enjoying Paul Rudd’s character in the movie, because it’s basically just Paul Rudd playing a nice kind of dorky guy in a pretty typically Paul Ruddy manner. His character is into fencing, which I can easily see Rudy thinking is a pretty cool hobby. (I can totally see Rudy and Louise trying fencing when they get older).

-Rudd’s character also plays the bass, and there is a running gag of him saying “I slap the bass” in a bad attempt at a Jamaican accent. I can see Rudy enjoying this and repeating the line to the point of annoying people (“You don’t even play the bass, Rudy, you play the drums!”) I may be projecting because that’s certainly what I would’ve done as a kid.

-If you managed to read this far without knowing the plot of the movie, Rudd and Jones’ characters get engaged and it is pointed out to them that Rudd has always been a “girlfriend guy” who doesn’t really have close male friends. It’s kind of interesting to think about that in the context of Rudy, since it seems pretty clear that Louise is his best friend, and I find it interesting to think about who Rudy’s best male friend is. I have this headcanon that it’s Jeremy just because he is at Rudy’s birthday and his appearance seems kind of random if he’s not actually good friends with Rudy. (It’s easy to see Harley going to that party because she’s super friendly and seems up for anything, and Rudy could’ve gotten to know the Pesto twins through Louise, but why is Jeremy there?!)

-That said, the male characters Rudy has the most friendly interaction with on-screen are probably Zeke and Gene (or as I like to think of them, the World’s Best Future Brothers-in-Law). Of course, Rudy is a minor character who is only in 10% or so of the episodes and we basically only see him when he’s with the Belcher kids. It’s possible he has a really meaningful friendship with Hogarth Haber that is never seen or referred to on-camera.

-So, be on the lookout for my Roudise “I Love You, Man” AU Fic, coming soon! (That’s probably not actually going to be a thing. Honestly, I think I’ve explored this joke as far as I can. Well beyond the point of reason, in fact.)

-I had forgotten what a fun cast “I Love You, Man” has! In addition to Rudd, other “Bob’s Burgers” guest stars in the movie include Aziz Ansari, Andy Samberg, Rob Huebel, Nick Kroll, and Joe Lo Truglio.

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 26 - In Irons

This one is…a little boring, in my opinion, but hey, it’s the third to the last piece I’m writing for this event and I’m just thankful I haven’t completely burned out, only slowed down! Also if you like exhaustion this may not be boring to you at all lol

Taglist: @darthsutrich , @a-series-of-whumpy-events , @ladydani101 , @thingsthatgowhumpinthenight , @annablogsposts

Masterlist

No. 26: “Sometimes I get so tired; I don’t even know myself.” | Working To Exhaustion | “You look awful.”

Contains: lady whump, forced labor, brief and not completely serious sui ideation

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It’s been almost two days since Adelaide last slept. Captain Payne had her on night watch last night, for the second time this week. All the men on board take turns staying up, and it never seems to faze them. She sees them running about the ship the next day as always, shimmying up masts and across ropes like they’re well rested. 

Maybe that makes her pathetic, or dramatic. But as much as she hates the way they look down their noses at her weakness, she is weaker than they are. Before being brought onto this ship, her days were filled with embroidery and supervising the household staff and receiving callers and occasionally going out for a horse ride. 

Now, she spends her time on her hands and knees, scrubbing the deck until her knees are bruised and her back aches. She pulls ropes with muscles that are barely starting to develop and stay constantly sore, and with hands that used to be delicate and pale but are now reddened and covered in blisters. She shoves heavy crates around to make room for more of the Captain’s loot. 

And when she’s done with all of that, if she’s lucky, she’s sent to the galley to chop and stir and tend the coals. Otherwise, it’s back to even more scrubbing.

She can keep up with all of the work most days. But she’s absolutely exhausted at night, collapsing into her hammock and falling asleep almost instantly. That means that, to her, having to stay up all night for watch duty is one of the worst things she can be assigned. It sets her back on all of her tasks the next day, which just causes the Captain to pile even more on her. Her weary, sluggish work a couple of days ago is what prompted him to assign her to night watch again after just one night of sleep, she’s sure of it. 

There are just a few more hours left now until she can sleep, though. He won’t make her stay up two nights in a row. She thinks she might just throw herself off the side of the ship if he did. He’s already had her scrubbing for most of the day, a sure sign of his displeasure with her, so hopefully that will be enough to appease him until tomorrow.

Adelaide puts all of her focus into the rope that she’s coiling. It’s heavy with sea water, and her arms protest each time she lifts it. The salt bites into the blisters that had burst open earlier in the day. But she has to get finished. She can’t be slow, doesn’t need to give the Captain any more excuses to punish her. 

“You look awful.”

Turning her head wearily toward Marshall, she scowls. “That’s no way to speak to a lady.”

The corners of his mouth twitch a little as if he might actually smile. “Sorry. You do look exhausted, though.”

“I am,” she sighs, returning her attention to her work. “But it’s not much longer until I can turn in. I’ll be fine.”

He watches her in silence for a moment. “You know, it’s impressive, what you’re doing here.”

“Coiling rope?”

“No, working on this ship. I know it’s far from what you’re accustomed to, but you’ve jumped in and done what needs to be done. I’ve seen gentlemen of your class fail miserably and eventually get tossed overboard. I don’t believe any of us ever expected you to fare so much better.”

She doesn’t know what to do with that compliment. Succeeding at working on a pirate ship, at surviving a tyrant of a captain, is not something she ever wanted to accomplish, not something she feels proud of. But she appreciates it, nonetheless. Most probably haven’t even noticed how hard she’s working, and certainly don’t care.

“Thank you. I’m only trying to survive.”

“I know you are. But the fact that you have is what’s impressive.” He clears his throat. “When you’re done there, Captain wants you in the galley.”

Adelaide just nods, finishing the last of the rope. Cooking is the easiest task she has, despite how hot it can get. “I’ll go there now.”

She takes two unsteady steps, feet heavy like her boots are filled with lead, and feels the need to reach out for the railing to support herself. Unfortunately, she doesn’t quite reach far enough. Her balance is thrown off, and she stumbles, dizzy and lacking the strength to right herself. 

Just before she falls gracelessly onto the deck, though, Marshall catches her by her arm. “Whoa. Do you need me to walk with you to the galley?”

Frowning, she shakes her head adamantly and pulls her arm away politely but firmly. “No, thank you. I don’t need the Captain seeing me as weaker than he already does. I’m only tired. I told you, I’ll be fine.”

Marshall takes a step back and nods. “Very well. Take care of yourself, Miss Gray.”