#dedicated to you and i think you can tell bc i stalked your page for headcanons of them and included as many as i could

[elysianymph]

signed, sealed, (not) delivered

A collection of letters exchanged between Dorcas Meadowes and Marlene Mckinnon between 1975 and 1981.

dedicated to @lesbianmckinnonn

ZANDRA HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVE <33 i wish you the best and hope you have a great day. i'm so glad i met you, you're so talented and i love talking to you about our silly little headcanons and screaming about the angst we write. sorry for giving you angst on your birthday (i'm not) but that's my brand and this idea came to me one night so i had to. hope you like it <33 (sorry if i make you cry)

The first letter — or rather piece of parchment that they wrote on together — was exchanged during a particularly boring Defence Against The Dark Arts class in their fifth year. Even Dorcas couldn't help letting her mind drift elsewhere as the professor talked, her manicured nails tapping against the wooden desk, counting down the seconds until the unbearably boring class would be dismissed.

Until a piece of parchment had landed right in front of her. She looked down at the offending object like it would turn to ashes from her gaze alone. The last thing she needed was a detention for passing notes.

She looked up, hoping to see who had thrown it at her, and she immediately made eye-contact with a pair of smug hazel eyes that belonged to none other than Marlene Mckinnon, her rival on and off the quidditch pitch. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she glared at Mckinnon who wore a grin on her face, a dimple appearing on her left cheek from how hard she was smiling.

‘Open it,’ she mouthed to Dorcas, sending her a wink. Dorcas felt her cheeks heating up — in anger and annoyance, obviously — but her curiosity took over and she opened up the parchment carefully, bracing herself like it would explode in her hands.

‘Meadowes, are you going to grace us with your presence at the Gryffindor Tower this Friday?’ was scribbled on the parchment in Mckinnon’s messy handwriting. Dorcas’ eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

‘Why are you so interested? Hoping for something?’ She wrote and threw the note back to Mckninnon’s desk, making sure the professor’s back was turned so he wouldn't catch her.

Dorcas watched Mckinnon from the corner of her eyes as she quickly wrote down her reply, pausing before scribbling something else on the note. She threw it back to Dorcas discreetly.

‘Don't flatter yourself, Meadowes. I’ve just heard you’re good company when you’re high and trust me, there will be plenty of weed. My friends made sure of it.’

Dorcas rolled her eyes, taking a peek behind her to see the aforementioned friends sitting in the back of the class, trying to keep their laughter in at some ridiculous joke.

‘And by your friends I suppose you mean the four imbeciles sitting in the back poking each other in their asses with their quills?’

Mckinnon choked back a laugh as she read Dorcas’ reply and Dorcas had to force her head to turn away so she wouldn't continue to watch as Marlene laughed, mesmerised by how her eyes turned to crescent moons.

‘They’re having more fun than we are, you have to admit.’

‘I would be having more fun if you would stop sending me these notes.’ Dorcas threw the note back, not bothering to even look at Mckinnon.

‘I wouldn't have to if you answered my question.’

Ah, so Mckinnon wasn't going to let it go. Dorcas finally writes the question that had been going through her head the entire conversation onto the parchment. ‘Why are you even asking? It’s not like you're going to spend time with me.’

Mckinnon actually pouted when she opened the note. With a crease between her brows she threw it back at Dorcas.

‘How will you know if you don't show up?’

Dorcas stared at the note for a moment, perplexed and at a loss for words. What was she supposed to say to that? She turned to look at Mckinnon — hoping to read from her expression whether or not this was some big joke — only to see her biting at her lower lip, watching Dorcas intently. When she realised Dorcas was looking she perked up, eyes wide as she mouthed ‘please.’

Dorcas turned back to the letter and let out a sigh, her anxiety leaving her body along with the air as she made an impulsive decision. She wrote down her reply and threw the note to Marlene, not giving herself a chance to overthink it. ‘I’m expecting the weed to be free.’

Mckinnon threw the letter back to her with a playful wink. ‘I’ve got it all sorted out for you, don't worry your pretty head about it.’

Dorcas gave her one last look, the ghost of a smile on her lips. She rested her head against the palm of her hand and the rest of the class seemed to pass by in a blur, her thoughts occupied by the girl in red as she absentmindedly played with the crumpled parchment.

The second (first?) letters they exchanged were over the summer break right after their fifth year. Surprisingly, all that was needed to bring two rivals together was a bunch of weed and Firewhiskey. Dorcas and Marlene had bonded quickly after that night, fights on the quidditch pitch quickly turning into playful teasing in the halls. Marlene had even snuck into her dorm one night, a pack of cigarettes in hand and a soft smile on her face as she asked for some company. Dorcas was grateful that the cover of the night had hidden her flushed face from Marlene’s view.

Which is exactly why Dorcas was stuck in this predicament because Marlene had left her jumper in Dorcas’ dorm and Dorcas — instead of immediately returning it like a normal person — kept it under her bed and wore it every chance she got like some sort of creep. She had held onto it until the last days of the school year when she was packing her bags and reconsidering what she would do with it. Ultimately, she didn't have the guts to approach Marlene and give it to her. So now she was sitting in her room at home, writing a letter that she would attach to the jumper she should've returned months ago.

‘Dear Marlene,

I hope your summer is going well. Everything seems easier now that the threat of our OWLs isn't ahead or at least in my mind it does.

While unpacking at home I found a jumper that definitely wasn't mine and after asking my roommates none of them told me they had lost a jumper while at Hogwarts. I came to the conclusion it must be yours since you were the only other person who I had brought into my dorm. You probably forgot it that night you snuck in.

I’m really sorry it took this long for me to realise but even the nights are too hot this time of year to wear jumpers, so I hope you didn't miss it too much.

From Dorcas.’

Despite second-guessing her choices and being unable to sleep one entire night, Dorcas didn't regret the letter after she had received a reply from Marlene in only two days — along with a pack of homemade cookies.

‘Dear Cas,

I knew I hadn't left that shirt at home! I couldn't for the life of me find it in my dorm room and I was scared I had lost it. Glad to know it was in good hands! Must’ve spilled some perfume on it though, smells just like you :) Not that I mind, you smell really nice.

I hope you’re having fun! I was wondering if you wanted to meet up over the summer sometime? Just the two of us, out in the town or maybe at a pool or something? We could even go to Hogsmeade if you want.

My mum encouraged me to send a gift back since you were so kind as to mail the shirt back to me, so I baked some cookies for you! I’m still new to it but these are my favorite to make so I hope they’re good enough for your tastes.

Can't wait to see you again!

Love, Marlene.’

The simple exchange had left Dorcas a giddy, smiling mess for days, impatiently waiting for the days to pass by so she would see Marlene’s face again, maybe wearing the jumper Dorcas had stolen.

By the time the summer holidays after sixth year had started, Dorcas had lost count of the letters she and Marlene had sent each other. That summer however, unlike the last, was radio silent until the last week of August. This time when a letter assigned to Dorcas arrived and she had recognized the Mckinnon family owl her stomach hadn't filled with butterflies, rather a sickness she could feel rising to her throat. The sickness had built up until Dorcas couldn't handle it anymore and she had finally, finally torn open the envelope that had sat on her bedside table for three days.

‘Dorcas,

sorry if you end up needing to use a decoding charm on this letter but I can't seem to stop my hands from shaking as I write. I’ve written this letter a million times and thrown it into the trash every time, which is why it took me a month to send this in the first place. I’m wearing my Gryffindor robes at the moment, channelling my inner bravery. It’s not working.

I’m sorry for kissing you on the train.

Well, I’m not, actually. I liked it, your lips are really soft, just like I imagined. I’d been dreaming about doing it for so long, I just wished I had done it in a better way. I didn't mean to run away after either. Not my proudest moment, I’ll admit.

I just wanted to let you know how I really felt before we all finally grew up and I was forced to deal with the reality of our world. All of my friends are talking about the war and the preparations, Sirius is losing his mind and Lily is determined to join the fight. James is right behind her and his boys will follow blindly. But all I’ve been able to think about is how I want to kiss you and hold you in my arms, run away with your hand in mine to some place no one will ever recognize us.

I know it’s wrong — not how I feel about you because a love as pure as this could never be evil like the people who can't understand it try to make us think — but the way I’m disregarding every other thing in favour of you. I can’t help it when all that I dream of is your eyes looking into mine and that pretty smile on your face, lighting up the room. Funny to think that even the dead aren't guaranteed to feel heaven but I already have, in your presence.

I’m sorry for being a coward and not saying this to your face, sorry for not giving you the love confession you deserved. Romantic candles and sunsets on the beach but I was never the type to follow the rules, was I?

Hope you like the blueberry muffins I sent you. I know blueberries are your favourite (they might be my favourite too now that they remind me of the taste of your lips).

Yours, Marlene.’

Dorcas hadn't dignified that letter with a reply, instead letting the bravery so unlike her green robes wash over her as she ran to hug Marlene at the train station, pressing their lips together and feeling the fireworks explode between them as the world melted away.

A crumpled piece of parchment was in her pocket, a simple ‘I love you too’ written on it in case her words failed her. But by the time she had pulled away from the kiss and seen Marlene’s teary eyes and wide smile, she felt like no words were needed when her actions had done the job.

After that, the years had passed by in a blur. The world had changed and Dorcas could feel it crumbling beneath her feet and threatening to swallow her too but she hadn't paid it any mind, too focused on holding her love in her arms.

Marlene.

Marlene with her pretty smile and soft lips, always a cigarette between them — a bad habit she couldn't seem to break. Marlene with her hazel eyes that pulled Dorcas into a forest she dared not to escape from. Marlene, beautiful and alive Marlene, whose arms would always be Dorcas’ home.

There was no need for fear when Marlene would press a kiss to her lips and wish her good luck on her next mission with the Order, a playful promise of making her favourite meal by the time she returned. As if Marlene wouldn't be far away on a mission by the time Dorcas was back. The reality didn't matter, not when they would always come back to each other, alive and in one piece.

At least until Dorcas had received another letter from Marlene. Despite the circumstances, she couldn't help the smile that had crossed her lips when she opened it, feeling like she was once again 16 and hopelessly in love. Only one of those things had changed.

‘Dear Cassie,

sorry for sending this on such a short notice but I had to tell you I won't be waiting for you at home when you return. Don't blame Dumbledoor this time, blame my mum. My brother is back from abroad along with his family and mum is insisting we have a family reunion in the middle of a war.

I can't even blame her when things are getting so rough. I hate to think about it but it may be the last time I see my family all together. I’m sure you’ll understand why I’m inclined to visit even when it’s so risky.

I assure you I’ll be fine like I always am. You take care of yourself, can't have you sitting in St. Mungo’s during our anniversary.

See you soon, love, miss you terribly.

Yours, Marlene.’

Dorcas held onto the letter like a lifeline only a week later, wearing black robes wet from rain as she watched her love be lowered into the cold ground undeserving of embracing her. Her salty tears had smudged the sacred ink which had immortalised Marlene’s last, hopeful words.

“I think it's strange…” Lupin began to speak as he walked up to her. Dorcas remained unflinching, staring straight at Marlene’s casket and hoping, praying for a miracle that would confirm this was all a dream. She would wake up in Marlene’s warm arms, safe and sound. Instead, Remus’ next words only served to twist the knife further in Dorcas’ chest: “That the Death Eaters just so happened to attack the one night that Marlene was there.”

“What are you insinuating, Lupin?” Dorcas asked, not in the mood for his vagueness.

“There are only a few close people Marlene would've told she was leaving to see her family,” Remus continued, “and we know there is a traitor among our ranks. I’m afraid Marlene may have just told the wrong person the wrong thing.”

Dorcas’ eyebrows furrowed and she looked up at Lupin, who was turning his head away, inviting her to follow his suspicions.

She followed Remus’ gaze, landing on Sirius’ hunched over form. She had to do a double take, to make sure she hadn't already gone crazy with grief but there was no mistaking who Remus was looking at. When she looked back up at Remus he only gave her a nod, confirming her thoughts.

But it couldn't be.

No.

Dorcas’ eyes trailed down to Sirius’ hands and there it was — the red and gold friendship bracelet Marlene had made back in 6th year for Sirius’ birthday. The two star charms still dangle from the worn out threads, shining against his pale skin. It was all the confirmation Dorcas needed that Sirius was innocent, as if the tears streaming down his face weren't enough.

She wasn't sure what had possessed Remus, if the war had really made all of them so distrustful, if perhaps she and Marlene had only been shielded away from it because of their love for each other. In that moment Dorcas dared to think death a mercy, for at least her and Marlene trusted each other until the end. At least she had lost Marlene instantly instead of watching her drift away and turn into an unrecognisable shadow of the version she had fallen in love with.

“Remus…” She looked up at him, tears that she thought she had bleed dry threatening to fall again. She spoke again, unsure of who she was convincing, herself or Remus: “You don't actually think that.”

She watched Remus shake his head, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I’m just telling you to be wary,” he said and walked off, leaving Dorcas alone with her thoughts.

One thing was for sure, she wasn't going to stop until every one of those wretched bastards was dead.

Dorcas’ body was found in early August of next year, surrounded by the corpses of Death Eaters she had dragged to death alongside her. One final act of revenge. She was buried alongside Marlene by request of her family, with two unused wedding bands on a chain around her neck and her final letter in her pocket — two declarations of a love that wasn't allowed to bloom.

‘My dearest, Marlene,

I love you, my star.

I know how much you loved to hear it when I would press a kiss to your lips and smile, whispering the same words into your soft skin. I hope the words reached you all the same when I whispered them at your grave with my lips pressed against cold marble.

Forgive me for not writing to you sooner, I’m sure you’ll understand why. Every time I tried to pick up a quill to write, the only thing that would stain the parchment were my tears. I had no words for such a long time, nothing to say, to express my grief when it seemed like everything was gone and everyone had moved on without me, without you.

The distant look in your hazel eyes still haunts me but I’m afraid I can't remember what your smile looked like. Your laugh still rings in my ears when I wake up but I can no longer remember the sound of your voice. The fragments are there and I’m still desperately clinging onto how your tongue used to curl around my name, how you would stretch the last syllable when you wanted to tease me.

I can still feel your hand ghosting against mine, your cold breath against the nape of my neck as I cook your favourite meal in our kitchen. I still make enough for two and bring out your favourite plates, although I’m not sure why. I hope you don't mind that I’ve been using your cherry perfume, that expensive one Peter bought you for your birthday last year, I know it was your favourite. I’ve used up almost all of it by now, even though I used as little as I could every day, but I can't help myself to find comfort in every small thing that reminds me of you. I’ve been wearing your clothes recently, the old ones that still smell like you and your cherry body wash, though overpowered by the smell of smoke that still clings to them. Your old quidditch jumper is very comfortable, if a little small, I’m not sure why I stopped stealing it from you.

You had looked beautiful even that day, as they lowered you into the cold ground and I watched my own life be buried alongside you. Ever since then, the world has been cold and grey, the same as your tombstone. I hope you didn't mind my constant company those first few weeks but I couldn't bring myself to leave you alone, I could barely restrain myself from digging my fingers into the dirt and wrapping my arms around your cold bones and carrying them back home. I think they would offer more comfort and warmth than this cruel world has this year. I think my love should be enough to wake you up from your slumber.

The heavens are not merciful enough to agree.

I’m writing this to say goodbye one last time for I never got the chance to before and I hadn't mustered up the courage earlier. I’m going into this mission knowing it will be my last, knowing that all that will remain of me is my lifeless body if I am lucky enough. I had expressed my fear of dying to you when we were younger, eyes brighter and lungs full, but now I find myself strangely numb to the knowledge that I’m inviting death to my door. I had been afraid then to die without living the life we had planned together, to die without letting you know how deeply my love for you lives inside me, engraved into my bones. Now that my biggest fears have come true, I find that the fear has left me — perhaps just another thing I left buried alongside you.

My hands are stained red from the revenge I’ve tried to take but I know you will welcome me with open arms. Your friends — and what little I have left of mine — have tried to comfort me, to help me but they can't understand how I feel without you. They do not know that without you I am nothing, not when I had spent half a decade planning my life with you. I love you so much that even in your absence you are all I can think about, the words and touches I did not get the chance to share, the plans I did not get to fulfil because of my cowardice. I cannot imagine loving anyone the way I’ve loved you in your life and continue to after your death. You, dead, are so much better than anyone alive.

I cannot avenge you because even if I killed every single one of them, their souls wouldn't be enough to make up for the loss of yours. At the same time I cannot move on, not when you stand in the way of my life and when I dare not push you away, you are so far out of my reach already. There is no other choice for me but to join you. So this may not be a goodbye after all, perhaps just a notice that I’ll be with you soon if the heavens decide to bring us together again.

Please forgive me for not mailing this last letter, I don't know your new address.

Yours, in life and in death, Dorcas.’

Somewhere, far away in time and place, brown eyes meet hazel and Dorcas’ heart beats once more with no other purpose than to love.

[ca1e70-deactivated]

a list of my entirely way too niche headcanons ive actually implemented for everyones imagination:

name options ive used and refuse to retire: david elizabeth strider (sometimes i dont feel like being a douche to others and saying thats not his name), harley davidson strider, and david james strider for the sake of simplicity

im not gonna tell yall the like. oc exes ive given him bc thatll take eighteen years. 

i dont rlly have an explanation on the ghost thing besides the fact he just can? ive occasionally pulled from family ghost stories and experiences bc i somehow got landed with family members who lived in a haunted house for a decade and enjoy scaring me with all the stories (including the time my cousin literally died on the kitchen floor from a bronchial spasm and one of the friends that was over asked my aunt later what was up with the old man she saw in the corner of the room that night - my cousin is fine btw shes just a huge bitch and a third grade teacher and i dont like her)

whether or not hes done drugs is based on absolutely nothing besides how im feeling in that moment. either hes the designated driver and sober friend forever or he got fired from his job after doing a line at work during graveyard with some random customers theres no inbetween (this absolutely happened @ waho. if dave works at waho hes a mess of a person and thats on the diner itself.)

ok look i hc dave w/schizophrenia besides when i was 14 i had a hyperfixation with learning about it and then at 16 was prescribed a medication and had side effects so wack my therapist genuinely thought 14 yr old me was onto something and its a weird way to cope with the idea that lady put in my head that i might “develop it in my twenties” which i turn 20 this year and i havent been able to stop obsessing and panicking over the prospect so PLEASE dont come in my inbox calling me ableist im not out here all harley quinn in suicide squad with the voices ok hes medicated, he goes to therapy, the hard fast delusion that lil cal was nearly sentient and informed bro of every single thing dave did no matter how asinine it was is no longer a debilitatingly affecting him ANYWAYS

i actually use the chicken/egg farming family pretty often just because its hilarious to me to give dave like. an actual mom and dad. hes literally an uncle to like three different kids he just never visits because they make fun of his skinny jeans and he hates one of his (incredibly bare-bones ocs all of them) brothers who threatened to bash his head in with a little league bat after dave broke his star wars lego set apart on accident (but not rlly) so their parents were like “why dont you stay with your brother in the big city for a lil while champ” and then they just never picked him back up? and thats on favoritism 

the other one is that his name is actually david reed and hes the middle child of a family of three who literally live the standard golden retriever white middle class life only they went to disney land or something equally as dumb one year when dave was like 6 and he wandered off so bro literally just went “huh free game” because frankly he was an idiot who thought maybe i should take this kid home because its real dangerous in parking lots and then it was too late to NOT have it seem like a kidnapping and thats why daves never had a summer job, seen his birth certificate, or gone to school. but vaguely remembers what kindergarten was like and having a pet dog and calling someone mom as a kid. 

im not making a bullet point about his sex life headcanons just use your imagination and acknowledge the fact bro essentially worked within the sex industry and i enjoy putting dave through trauma as a catharsis 

i stopped doing this one usually but if he did go to school hes been in percussion since fifth grade and played the drums in his high schools jazz band as well as various edgy teenager garage bands he likes to pretend dont have a youtube presence and that hes absolutely never been shirtless in front of plenty of his classmates because he wore a hoodie to a show like an idiot. idk occasionally ill put him in an actual band he doesnt hate but keeps separate from his lil turntechGodhead internet persona (which i will ALSO touch upon in a sec) until they wind up getting looped into a tour with some bigger named band that has a show in *insert beta kid here*’s city and hes gotta come clean solely so he can visit his online friend. sorry derseasterous thats the one time weve ever run into each other and i made him have a crush on one of his bandmates i was in my anti-daverose phase where i made dave a hoe and also didnt want to admit i still loved the ship all these years later 

i hate it so much but you know the whole vr loli trap voice shit that was popular a while ago? hes fucking baller at it for some reason. he did it as a joke while talking to bro and they both about shat their pants. if im feeling real ambitious, hes got a separate soundcloud solely dedicated to doing dumbass rap covers or making his own but in the voice under the pseudonym elizabeth “beth” davids that he will never admit is his. well, he will, but hes gonna be really fucking embarrassed about it. irony or not.

talking abt seperate soundclouds and stuff ive always had it where turntechGodhead was his like. essentially internet fucking persona facade shit he used because we all had that phase where we wanted memorable urls and stuff but also didnt want to totally ignore the nagging fear of people finding you in real life, until it turned into real life ppl finding you on the internet. so he also has basically an adjacent set of social media under the same name but its just a boring username i havent decided on so everyone he knows irl doesnt mix up with what hes made for himself as TG and the people he knows as TG dont know what highschool he goes to. (this occasionally comes with the territory of ppl on parp being pissed that daves “lying” or “hiding things” from his friends as if he was doing it out of spite instead of just keeping embarrassing tagged photos and videos from football games or when he ate shit at the skatepark from fucking with his “rap career”)

every once in a while i get on a kick where hes just german. like, i just replace houston texas with hamburg germany and have him apply to a university in whatever state is applicable for whoever im chatting with and it goes from there? sometimes he moved when he was little and went through the whole visa thing, sometimes he didnt go through the visa thing, sometimes hes a dual citizen because of family and shit, its all dependent on what suits the situation best. 

one that ive been fucking with for a while but hardly break out (until recently with like 5 roses in the span of one day hell yeah) is that he has a neighbor at the end of the hall who is like a thousand year old witch lady that hes basically adopted as his mother figure in lieu of not having one and shes totally cool with it, especially bc when she kicks the bucket she fully plans on giving dave all her occult stuff so her figure-skating coach and realtor daughter doesnt sell it at a garage sale and lets it all go to waste. she also once brought rose up by name in a conversation without any prompting of her existence which dave didnt realize for days, and then one time cryptically stopped and stared at an empty space in the wall, went “she has potential, you know.” then looked at him sitting on her kitchen counter with a smile “lots of it” and hes thought about that weekly ever since. (it is important to note one of the occult items he leaves her is literally her own personal book of shadows shes been filling out for decades its like a 600 page leatherbound book dave has no idea what its used for but the sheer amount of homemade spells and etc in it is like. gonna murder rose the second this chick gets her hands on it i promise you.)

theres the standard strife shit? im not rlly gonna get into those theyre all basically cookie cutter bullshit. its just standard bro and dave abuse talk. i like to inclulde the whole 24hr live cam up in the apartment that definitely watches dave in every room besides his own and the bathroom, but that quickly delves into the prospect of middle-aged men stalking him online and basically sexually harassing him in his own god damn home by talking about how they can see him just trying to take his shoes off in the living room after getting home and frankly? its not one of my best takes! but once you throw it into the headcanon bin, its there forever. 

he actually really does do something with his photography but not enough to warrant anything exciting, but he has his own branding for it and regularly takes pictures of his friends or anything else he thinks is moderately interesting enough to take pictures of, but those are just thrown into shoeboxes under his bed in favor of posting genuine shots because he wants to keep his image intact and blurry photos of jade smiling in the tree they climbed up together while bec paws at the base of it while whining isnt exactly something he wants the whole world to see.

i also pretty often but him into either paleontology OR i put him down as trying to become a mortician because he thinks handing roadkill once he graduated from museum giftshop specimens to doing his own taxidermy on the side has prepared him enough to perform an occasional autopsy and start embalming real human corpses. (sometimes i put my own desires in and make them his bc i have to project at some point and put him through the same EMT course i dropped out of bc it was one semester and he already has pretty decent first aid skills, but he definitely didnt expect it to be as fucking wild at times as it is, but whats he gonna do? get a job back at waffle house? the company hes working for just offered to pay like half his associates in paramedicine tuition and hes already got all his pre-recs done when he started for paleo. at least its a stable job and hes got the ability to be compassionate in the moment) 

im running out of things that ive done to the poor kid. OH 

hes not a virgin he had a girlfriend all four years of high school (shes also one of his optional and designated exes plz keep up) and their relationship ends in one of two ways: she dies in a car accident a week before their high school graduation, or she stops talking to him entirely a week after their high school graduation until a couple years later she gets into (guess what) a car accident with her current wife/girlfriend and dies which leaves behind their daughter. who just so happens to also be daves daughter. her name is hannah and i love her like my own but no one ever likes her and thats on the conditioning of dirk. does dave end up taking her in? yes. shes awesome and the first time he takes her to the park to like run off some fucking steam she disappears for two minutes and dave is moderately terrified until she comes back holding a dead baby squirrel and thats the moment he realizes huh maybe things really do be genetic.

ok at the bottom of the list im gonna add the couple of times hes been a camboy which usually coincides with the live apartment cam thing and the amount of people in his dms calling him hot or whatever, but typically its more of a started the day he turned 18 and basically dipped around 20 in favor of showing up randomly with no warning to complain about a video game dick in hand because it gives him an outlet that wont annoy his friends bc this is the fifteenth time hes had a lot to say this week about a certain boss battle and also the comments fuel his ego and daddy issues.

the last one wasnt the bottom but literally unless its explicitly proven otherwise every time anyone rps with me there is the underlying fact dave strider was a goalie on his high school lacrosse teams all four years and (shocker another one) definitely had the hots for one of his teammates like major hots like first gay experience hots. like it was painfully obvious that teammate also liked him back hots. like one night at a team sleepover one of the other guys was like can yall just makeout and get it over with were fucking tired and dave really had the balls to be offended and ask what the fuck they were talking about while literally sitting halfway in the mans lap bc for some reason they had to share the same chair. 

he is also guilty until proven innocent of being the worlds biggest loner outside of that sports team and even though hes literally a jock he still opts to eat his lunch alone in the hallway or something like that and has a tendency to leave girls on read, but bc hes got an in with the rest of the jocks hes basically drug around to plenty of parties and since hes conventionally attractive enough and popular in the aloof way that he is, hes got plenty of tagged insta posts and twitter directs and snapchat streaks going. 

THESE WERE ALL NO GAME AND DONT INVOLVE SHIPS BC I LIKE TO KEEP MY OPTIONS OPEN AND THEYRE LITERALLY ALL BASED OFF RPS IVE DONE I HOPE YALL JUDGE ME ACCORDINGLY

[sarinataylor]

Rushing to ask about your French philosophy AU SO FAST spill the tea or rather it being French spill the coffee and house red

oh thank GOD

right ok first off read this

so. roger has just moved into a new flat. for context he is a FRAZZLED masters student. it’s first semester and he’s ta-ing like. three classes as well? he wants to DIE. he’s doing a masters in philosophy because.... of course he is, he knows, he hates himself too. but he fucking fell in love with philosophy in undergrad and his supervisor has been grooming him since his first year and now. here he is. seriously considering a phd. 

anyway so sometimes? sometimes philosophy just makes More Sense when you’re tripping okay, it just does. if you take notes? sometimes u wake up the next morning and realise you have New Insights that haven’t already been dissected to pieces

(his undergrad thesis was 1000000% written high like. almost all of it. he got a first. by a large margin. he’s still salty that the same technique doesn’t work with biology but whatever)

ANYWAY so he’s just chillin. tripping. and then he starts to get a lil para because this is a New Enclosed Space so he’s like right shit fuck i gotta leave im gonna go to the park all is good

anyway as he leaves his neighbour is letting himself into his flat and said neighbour (john) is like “oh, hi! i’m john. you must be the new move in!”

(john is working on social interaction with his therapist at the moment. she told him that he has to introduce himself to people and that waiting for people to introduce themselves while he gives off big Do Not Fuck With Me vibes is not conducive to the creating of lasting relationships. he’s trying.)

and roger who is tripping balls responds in french, because of course he does

and john? sweet john is like. oh oh i’m sorry i don’t speak french

so roger mumbles something vaguely french sounding under his breath and makes a run for it

and anyway he hangs out at the park, writes some insightful notes about philosophy in his notes on his phone and then heads back home where OF COURSE john is leaving his apartment again and greets him with a shy ‘bonjour’ to which roger replies with ‘au revoire’ and locks himself back into his apartment because he’s a high idiot

anyway the next morning roger is like. oh fuck. im a moron. 

and he has two options. firstly: he can come clean to his nice seeming neighbour, laugh off that no he’s actually not french he was just... off his nut. or secondly: he can pretend to be french 

and roger is a fucking idiot because he decides to go with the second option. it’s not as if he’s going to be running into this guy often, after all! they’re neighbours not roommates

except. john has been told by his therapist to be more outgoing. and instead of, idk, joining a club or a sportsteam to meet new people he has decided that the french guy next door is the Perfect Candidate. he is a) not going to understand half the shit john says and b) hot as fuck

so. john signs up for french classes. because, of course he does.

and he keeps???? running into roger???? and it’s fine at first because roger knows a bit of french? like he can read it passably but he can’t converse in it. his supervisor has been trying to get him to learn french for YEARS and he’s been refusing but he knows enough/can bullshit enough for the first couple of months but then he realises, to his horror, that john seems..... to be? getting better at french. he’s clearly actually learning french

and so roger. has to learn french. it’s been three months, it’s much too late for him to. come clean now, especially now that he has the world’s biggest fucking crush on this dude like. this is clearly the only option

(his tutor is dominique. she is living for the drama.)

and so the next like. 8 months? are just the two of them. learning french. john is learning french to converse with roger who is learning french at a slightly faster pace so that john doesnt realise he doesn’t know french while also pretending to slowly learn english to keep up the facade 

it all unravels almost a year to the day it began

john enrolls in an intro to philosophy class? as an elective? and who happens to be leading his tutorial class but roger?

(”roger” is, of course, pronounced fucking horrifically because roger just..... said his name with a fucking awful french accent that first time he said hi to john in the hallway and it stuck. he couldnt undo it. it’s..... it’s so bad.)

and roger, seeing john walk in, is like. oh fuck. like. again he has two options? he can a) just. out himself and speak in english or b) teach the entire class, of english speaking students, in french

he chooses the latter. 

he gets about five minutes in until a student he’s had in the past asks why the fuck he’s speaking french in a class about greek classical philosophy

john is clearly starting to catch on so roger has to give up the ghost

“and THAT is why you should all learn french. the french philosophical school is really so important--”

john just straight up opens his laptop, unenrolls, and walks out because... he feels like an idiot? this guy has clearly just been taking the piss out of him this whole time, probably laughing it up with his friends about how stupid he is. and it’s worse for the amount of effort john put in, like. it’s horrible and unfair, and he can’t believe that he ever thought someone like that would ever be interested in him in the first place, even just as a friend. he’s so stupid

and roger is freaking out because fuck fuck fuck fuck he really fucking likes john and he’s an idiot 

(john’s therapist is mostly just confused at this point like. it seems unlikely that someone would have put in the time and effort to prank him in this elaborate manner but john’s like NOPE THIS IS PROOF THAT EVERYONE HATES ME ON SIGHT I CAN NEVER INTERACT WITH ANYONE AGAIN)

and so. john avoids the HELL out of roger who after a couple of weeks of trying to catch him just. gives up? bc yeah, he wouldn’t wanna talk to him either he’s clearly a weirdo. he doesn’t wanna be a stalking weirdo too.

anyway one day john opens his door to find some random (freddie) passed out on roger’s doorstep? bc roger went out the night before, as did freddie, but they did not coordinate their nights out and as such have ended up closer to one another’s apartments and decided to crash with one another except. neither is home. 

and freddie wakes up when john opens his door, sees him, and screeches

and john’s like. ok im gonna go goodbye

but freddie is like!!!!! oh my god oh my god you’re john

and john puts two and two together (strange man at roger’s doorstep? probably knows roger) and is like fuck. ok like yeah y’all had ur laughs i’m an idiot lets move on now i have to go

and freddie is???? you’re an idiot???? roger learned french because he had a crush on you and didn’t know how to tell you he wasn’t french after he got so high he started speaking a language he doesn’t know

and john’s like right yeah whatever

but freddie is!!!!! you’re a legend. an actual Legend you don’t even know. everyone knows about you, they’re going to freak when they find out i met you!!!! roger wouldn’t let anyone around for a year in case we gave him away!!!!! i can’t believe this oh my god, will you take a selfie with me??? like we all stalked you on fb obviously but it’s not the same as meeting u in person y’know??

and john is like. uh. no i dont know. ive never stalked anyone on facebook which has freddie like yeah. obviously. if you had you’d have rumbled roger much earlier 

and john’s like ok thanks for the reminder im an idiot. didn’t need it, but thanks

but freddie’s like dude i just think so highly of you??? i mean you just thought the blonde hottie across the hall was french and went for it y’know????? i’ve never learnt another language for a dick appointment but i appreciate craftsmanship when i see it and believe me when i say you, sir, are a god amongst men

can i shake your hand?

(brian, confused at the pub the week after the first incident: okay but. you know greek? why didn’t you just..... speak greek?roger: I DON’T KNOW BRIAN I WAS OFF MY FUCKING NUT OKAY?)

and anyway

roger’s thesis actually ends up being on 19th century french philosophy because. he knows french now

his dedication page reads[in english] to my supervisor, who i would not learn french for[in french] and john, for who i did not have to learn french for, but did anyway

[moonprincess92]

Tell me what you eat and I will tell you who you are

the food travel au 

3 ½ month film schedule. 31 countries. 24 episodes.

2 people who might just fall in love along the way. 

(read on AO3) 

Chapter 1: London  Author: @moonprincess92nz 

It’s her first fucking day and she’s late.

“SHIT, SHIT, SHIT–” Jyn dodges through suitcases, around security guards and even leaps right over an empty bench at one point as she races throughout Heathrow Airport. She practically slams right through a holidaying family and nearly bowls into a couple of kids with giant backpacks on their backs, but nothing slows her down because if there is anything worse she can do than being goddamn late on her first day, she can’t think of it. Her rep is bad enough, she needs this job –

ARRIVALS, the sign blares. 

Her poor battered suitcase screeching to a halt next to her, Jyn stops to stare around at the hordes of people pouring out of the arrivals gate. The production crew is flying in mostly from USA, she thinks she is one of maybe three people who are from the UK. They told her to meet at the airport, and she checks the email on her phone for the billionth time before scanning the crowd once more.

Finally, she catches a familiar face.

He isn’t so much familiar because she knows him, but rather because she may or may not have binge-watched Cassian Andor videos on YouTube for about eight hours the previous night. Thing is, Jyn honestly wouldn’t call herself a foodie. She knows how to scramble eggs and burn chicken nuggets, but that is about the extent of her cooking skills. Half the time she doesn’t know how she even ended up getting this job, but there she was balls deep in some popular Mexican cooking show because apparently, his face wasn’t so bad to look at. It was only when her roommate barged unceremoniously into her room at four in the morning to ask, “Don’t you have to be at the airport by like, 7am?” when she figured that she might have a bit of a problem.

(“Shut up, Bodhi,” she threw back at him).

Operating on as little sleep as she is, seeing Cassian Andor in person kind of makes her ovaries feel like exploding.

SHIT.

Luckily, before she says something and makes herself look ridiculous, it appears that someone notices her. She hastily says her name, and she’s pulled into the sea of formal introductions by who is apparently their production manager, Mon Mothma. Jyn has never been good at this part. Sometimes, she thinks that she chose the wrong profession entirely – she should be working in a lab or office, somewhere with as little human interaction as possible – but rather unfortunately, she’s chosen a profession where it’s impossible to get by without kissing arse and playing nice with others.

She’s learned over the years how to put on a polite mingling face, but Jesus, it takes it out of her.

“Hi! I’m Luke, the social media manager!” a bright-eyed blonde says.

“Wedge Antilles,” their sound engineer introduces. “Looking forward to working with you!”

“… Kes Dameron. Sorry, I haven’t had coffee yet,” It turns out their head of security is about as sociable as she is this early in the morning.

Honestly, she’s doing fine until suddenly she’s face to face with Cassian Andor and that’s about when it strikes her what she’s really gone and gotten herself into. She’s standing in front of an honest-to-god celebrity, here. She’s never worked on something on this large a scale in her life! It doesn’t help that there’s really something about his jawline as well, but either way she is a professional, goddamn it. She holds out her hand and says,

“Jyn.”

Cassian quirks an eyebrow.

“Is that… your favourite drink, or…?” he asks in confusion.

“What? Oh, bugger,” Jyn curses as he tentatively shakes her hand. “I don’t mean gin, I mean – it’s my name, Jyn with a J – and a y – apparently my parents hated me as a child,” She tops it off with a slightly awkward laugh.

God, she is bad at this.  

“Oh. If it helps, I often get called Caspian whenever I go to Starbucks?” Cassian offers.

“Well, that was your first mistake going to Starbucks.”

“What’s wrong with Starbucks?”

“Talk about commercialisation!” Jyn points out. “Whatever happened to supporting your local businesses?”

Incredibly, he laughs. “I’m sorry, you’re the new camera operator, right?”

“Right, right – I was offered the job a little last minute.”

“Of course – Kay unfortunately got sick – that was the guy who was originally hired.”

“Ah, I see,” Jyn tries to lean casually on her suitcase. “I wasn’t given any details, just a contract and a place to meet – sucks to be him, amiright?”

Cassian frowns. “He’s my best friend.”

Jyn blinks. Of fucking course he was his best friend.

She just gestures vaguely behind her somewhere. “I’m gonna…” she says, weakly. He smiles politely back.

If it was at all appropriate for the setting she would be SCREAMING.

“… so all in all,” Jyn eventually says through Skype later that night. “within the first minute of us meeting, I convince him I’m an alcoholic, criticise him for going to bollocking Starbucks and also somehow manage to insult his best friend!”

Little Bodhi through the screen shakes his head. “Oh my god, Jyn…”

Oh my god, Jyn sounds about right. She snuggles down into the hotel bedsheets and is at least thankful that she’s on a production that can afford actual stars underneath their accommodation. The last time she had a job, she was put up in a student hostel, and she’s pretty sure she’s still washing fleas out of her hair to this day. Most of day one was dedicated to production meetings with only a few establishing shots being filmed that evening. After hours of listening to Mon Mothma drone on and on (3 ½ month film schedule, tight deadline, 31 countries, 24 episodes, etc., etc.) Jyn was thankfully able to clear her head down by the Thames. With only her and the essential crew, she was finally able to breathe as she captured her city by sunset.

She honestly doesn’t know what this job is really going to entail. The travelling she is relatively familiar with thanks to her job, but even then she technically hasn’t been out of the country since she was 16, and she mostly tries to forget her time with Saw anyway. She might not have had a family for a long time, but she’s at home here in London as much as she’s ever been. It’s the only place she’s ever felt truly safe, felt like she has ground beneath her feet and she’s a little (a lot) terrified to actually leave it.

But hell, bills need to be paid and a T.V. show needs to be filmed.

“What am I doing, Bodhi?” Jyn mutters underneath the blankets.

“I believe it’s called ‘flirting’,” Bodhi smirks back in their flat on the other side of the city. “and, if I might add, you’re not doing it very well.”

“Fuck you, mate.”

“Just calling it like it is.”

“Seriously,” Jyn stresses, then. “what am I doing here? I’m working on a travelling food show and I barely know how to cook!”

“You’re the camera operator, not the bloody caterer,” Bodhi says, exasperatedly. “I’m fairly certain you don’t need to know.”

“But–”

“Jyn, listen,” Bodhi cuts her off. “Lord knows I’d prefer to just wrap you up and bring you back home, but honey, you gotta stick with this, ok? No more flaking! You think you don’t fit in, fine – fake it until you do. Go get bloody lost in Germany or finally learn how to make pasta or something, I don’t care, just get out and do it, because we both know you’re not really living here.”

“I’m living!”

“You’re existing,” Bodhi sighed. “and I know your life has had its fucked up moments. I know. It sucks. But it’s time, Jyn.”

She snorts. “You know, when I called you it wasn’t for another therapy session. How much do I owe you this time?”

Her best friend rolls his eyes. “A lifetime of free pancakes.”

“You know I can’t make pancakes.”

“Lifetime supply of Jammy Dodgers, then.”

“That, I can do,” Jyn points at the screen.

Bodhi laughs, only it quickly turns into a violent yawn. “BLIMEY, I’m tired.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take the hint,” Jyn smirks. “but, um, before you actually do go – on a scale of 1 to 10, exactly HOW bad was the flirting?”

“Minus 5,” Bodhi deadpans. “Don’t insult his friends next time.”

“Yeah,” Jyn grimaces. “I’ll do that.”

He grins. “Love you, Jyn.”

“Yeah. Love you, too.”

tellmewhatyoueatofficial check out that view! #tellmewhatyoueat #london #tower bridge #filming #cinematogropher #travel #sunsetwiththecrew #bts @jynserso

bodhitherook JYN BABE U MANAGED TO MAKE IT ONTO THE OFFICIAL INSTA ACCT  

bodhitherook also how the fuck are u not wearing a jacket

tellmewhatyoueatofficial @bodhitherook i confess we might have asked her to take her jacket off for the #aesthetic

bodhitherook WHO RUNS THIS ACCOUNT JYN BC CLEARLY THESE PEOPLE ARE TRYIN TO KILL U IT’S OCTOBER

jynserso pfffft sun was out, was a solid 15 degrees that’s basically sunbathing weather

jynserso but still calling you out @walkstheskies his name is Luke Skywalker go stalk him 

Jyn manages to corner Luke Skywalker in the hotel hallway.

“WHY ME,” she despairs. Her phone is open on the show’s official Instagram page, and it’s pretty clear what she’s talking about, although she quickly adds, “and before you say anything, I KNOW signing the contract means technically I consented to my image being used on multiple forms of social media, but still–”

Luke just shrugs happily.  

“I belong behind a camera, not in front of it,” she protests.

“Hey,” Luke counters. “you look beautiful in that shot! Also, I should be the one complaining, after you sicced your best friend on me.”

“Oh good, Bodhi did his job then,” Jyn says. She steps out of the way hastily as several of their fellow crew members run down the hall between rooms, someone cheering something about shots in the background.

“He’s sent me about a dozen messages insisting that I look after you and treat you right,” he laughs. “Nice guy!”

Jyn just smirks slightly before eyeing down the hallway once more. It’s been two days, and their insane shooting schedule is already starting to hit them all. Quite frankly, none of them have any business still being awake at this time, but it was a long day and apparently they are all still so hyped that trying to sleep with the racket they’re making would be fruitless anyway.

“We should get out!” someone calls enthusiastically from one of the open rooms, and Jyn turns to see their lighting director’s face beaming when she notices her. Shara Bey dashes over and clings hold of her shoulder. “Hey! Where should we go?”

“What’re you looking at me for?” Jyn asks in bewilderment.

“Well, you’re the local girl,” Shara points out.

Jyn stares at the over-tired, wired and enthusiastic faces all staring back at her. They’ve all spilled out of their rooms, nodding and asking and between this and the Instagram post, Jyn isn’t sure she’s been on the receiving end of this much attention in her life. There’s a reason she stays behind the camera! She glances at Luke, although the man just shrugs at her in response.

“I’ve never been to London! Where do we get good food around here?” he asks.

Shit.

“Uhhhh... I know a place that sells killer fish and chips?”

“It’s an adventure and it’s happening - c’mon, guys!” Shara leads the way. 

She ends up bringing them to The Cantina, of all places.

A fun fact to rattle off is that there are literally thousands of pubs throughout London, and somehow she always ends up here. Her and Bodhi almost haunt the place at this point. It’s objectively not the most popular in London nor even relatively famous, but in Jyn’s opinion it captures the very heart of British pub culture (you know, getting shit-faced and yelling about football). It’s kind of what the entire show they’re filming is supposed to be about, so… yeah, here they are. The place is always dark and a little shady, the music always slightly too loud and the lights slightly too piercing, but Jyn feels almost relaxed here.

“I moved back to London when I was 16,” she explains as they approach. Shara Bey has already filmed several snapchat videos of herself by this point and now seems to be flirting with the security guy. Most of their group is hanging onto her every word and she adds, “We’d come here on the weekends with our fake I.D.s and get hammered.”

“My kinda party,” Luke grins.

They all pile inside The Cantina, Jyn dutifully avoiding Cassian’s eyes. Honestly, she had no idea that he was even coming - did famous T.V. presenters even do that? - but someone called out to him just as they were walking out of the hotel doors to go catch a train and he dashed out to join them. After embarrassing herself so spectacularly, she figures the only way to handle tonight is the true British way: ignore all emotions and pretend everything is fine.

She notices a gap at the bar and she manages to quickly order two shots as everyone piles into the pub. She thought she had avoided all scrutiny as her colleagues get caught up in which drinks to order, but apparently nothing gets past the social media manager. Luke gives her a look of bemusement from over his shoulder and Jyn bites at him,

“What?”

“Steady on,” he says.

“Shut up,” Jyn accuses.

“You know, if you want to talk to him all you have to do is open your mouth and start saying words,” Luke says, slyly.

Jyn glares. “What d’you know? You know nothing.”

“I know that look! Trust me, I get it. I’m a huge fan too.”

Jyn finally meets his knowing gaze.

“You also watch three seasons in eight hours?”

“Without subtitles!” Luke nods. “My Spanish got a LOT better.”

“Stalk on Instagram?”

“I’m a social media manager,” Luke scoffs. “Raise me something actually valuable.”

“Imagine marrying someday?”

Luke laughs. “Jyn, we all know that he’s out of both our leagues, but with you… ehhhhh, there’s potential.”

“I’m sorry, EHHHHH?”

“I also said potential!”

Jyn was going to offer one of the shots to Luke, but with that statement, she keeps them both for herself. It’s true, she’s been filming this man for the last two days and she still technically hasn’t had any kind of one-on-one conversation with him that isn’t to do with camera angles. Besides the disastrous first attempt, that is. She isn’t even sure what’s stopping her at this point. It’s not like she’s kidding herself that something is going to happen – they’re on a schedule, they’re going to be travelling in a tight knit group for months without space to get away, and who even looks at her like that anymore? – so it’s not even the fact that he’s hot that makes her like this.

She’s just never done anything on this kind of scale before. These people all have established careers, been featured on Ellen, have followers on Twitter… this is the first time Jyn’s worked on a project where the director isn’t some uni student filming a sex scene in their parent’s garage. Bloody hell, what could she even say to him?

“Ok, look,” Luke sighs next to her. “exactly how many shots is this going to take? Because I will literally buy them all if it will get your ass over there.”

“I don’t know,” she says honestly. “but at least one more.”

tellmewhatyoueatofficial rumour has it that somewhere round here you can get some killer #fishnchips! @theofficialcantina #tellmewhatyoueat #bts #london #camden town #camden market #london pub #the cantina #filming #cinematogropher #travel  

Her ass inevitably did not end up over there.

“Ok, we’re going for the casual ‘we’ve just stumbled upon this place’ feel,” Their director, Draven, is running backwards somewhere behind her, trying to keep up with the action as Cassian walks down the street. She’s aiming for the vision of him being in amongst the crowd, just one with London, which is kinda contradicted by the fact that they have blocked off one side of the entire stretch of street outside the restaurant they’re currently featuring and their security guy is letting through a controlled amount of people to walk through their shot. Still, she gets to watch Cassian stroll down the footpath with his hands in his pockets, contently gazing around the streets, so she’s probably got the good end of the deal, here. Voiceovers will be added in later, so literally all he has to do is walk and smile as Draven yells out direction.

“Ok! You reach Rebel Rebel,” he calls out. Cassian pretends that his eye is caught by the actually previously chosen restaurant, glancing up at it. She zooms in on his face.

Yes. Definitely has the best deal, here.

“CUT,” Draven yells. “Perfect, we’ll shoot it once more, then head on in.”

They take a break before moving into the restaurant to do more filming and she listens to Draven rave to their producer about how big they’re expecting their audience to be for this particular episode. She probably doesn’t try hard enough to hide her scoff, but she’s exhausted from being up until 2am that morning and still too pissed off at herself to care. Despite all of Luke’s encouragement, she still hadn’t managed to get herself over to the table where Cassian had been sitting. She had an opening and alcohol, and yet…

“Look, I’ve worked on this show before and I’m yelling you,” Luke nodded at Cassian last night. “He’s a good guy! He’s worth getting to know.”

She was sure he was. It was just getting to the point of knowing him that worried her. She glances bitterly up at Rebel Rebel. Honestly, of all fucking places in London, they just had to choose the most cliché.

“Why do you not like this place?”

She whirls around in a slight panic, heart practically leaping into her throat. Cassian’s watching her curiously, water bottle in hand and please Jyn, please remember what proper words are.

“Who – who says I don’t like it?”

“That expression on your face,” Cassian points out.

She’s almost impressed that he noticed. “Is filming going to be this forced the entire time?”

For a moment she isn’t sure if he’s going to give her a real or diplomatic answer. She supposes his job’s on the line, but just as that thought occurs he admits, “A lot of things are pre-shot filming this kind of show. It’s like reality T.V., we pretend it was all filmed on the spot when actually we planned the entire thing. But the food and the reactions, that’s going to be real. You can’t fake taste.”

“What if you don’t like something? Are we allowed to include that?”

“Usually depends on who I’m allowed to piss off,” he mentions.

“Well, I dunno who chose Rebel, Rebel, but this place sucks,” If he can figure it out from the look on her face, then there’s no point denying it. Jyn points out the restaurant that is technically one of London’s top places to eat. Recommended on Trip Advisor, stars and celebrities were known to dine there and even Jamie Oliver did a special there once, but as far as Jyn is concerned the entire place was overrated.

“How do you know that?”

“Like I couldn’t possibly know great food,” She winces a little at the tone. Blimey, she needs to work on not sounding so defensive.

“Show me,” Cassian suddenly challenges. “After filming today, take me to the good food.”

He can’t be serious. Surely he isn’t? They have a schedule, they have deadlines, they can’t just go bloody rogue! Yes, fine, she does have somewhere in mind. She might consider wine and a can of tinned soup a decent meal, but that doesn’t mean she can’t recognise great food when she sees it. The memories suddenly hit her, of meat sizzling, of swinging on vinyl chairs and knives clinking against plates. She remembers being allowed to stand on a stool behind the counter to take customer’s money and running through the kitchens trying not to get caught by the chefs. Whenever she hears classical music she’s taken back and they’re literally only around the corner, but…

It’s a stupid idea.

She shrugs. “I think Draven’s gonna burst a blood vessel if we don’t get back to it.” 

JUST TAKE HIM TO THE FUCKING RESTAURANT JYN DO IT DOOOOOO IIIIITTTTTTT

FKJDJFKJDFJKFJKDF KILL ME Also are u still harassing luke to be nice to me bc honestly bodhi

Im just lookin out for mah gurl Also turns out he’s kinda funny so But not the point, just take him Jyn seriously

But it’s such a personal place and we barely know each other

Don’t make it about you then. Just say u know a place that’s better, bring ur camera and film the magic. Oooooh, get baze to make his special, that shit is GOOD Plus this way you’ll get to know each other eeeyyyyy

I’m going to regret this

No u wont 

It eats at her, until eventually Bodhi manages to make her snap. Damn it, it will not leave her alone and apparently, her way of asking people out these days is just turning up at their hotel room door and demanding them to come with her, since the moment Cassian answers her slightly too hard knock on his door she blurts out,

“Get your coat on, we’re going somewhere.”

Cassian blinks slightly, but seems entirely non-phased as he ducks to the side to grab a jacket and follows her out the door. “Where are we going?”

“To the good food.”

It’s a bit far to walk and she’s still not used to the T.V. glamour of being able to take taxis everywhere, so she drags him out into the cool, drizzly evening and onto the tube. Taking the Piccadilly Line into Covent Garden, the night is fresh and just starting to buzz when they climb up into the street. She wasn’t going to get her camera out until they reached Lahmu, but the side street they cut down is strung up with multi-coloured lanterns and his face is honestly too good to not try and capture.

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure if we’re even allowed to do this,” Jyn admits, as she points out the way. “Like, filming outside of scheduled shooting. Have I just violated my contract or something?”

“Depends if Draven likes what he sees,” Cassian answers her.

“I’ll delete it later, then,” Jyn says, walking sideways as she filmed and hoping that nothing got in her way lest she accidentally go flying. “No one has to know a thing. And if you talk, I’ll kill you.”

He laughs a little into the camera. “I’m starting to think I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“But anyway, welcome to Covent Garden again,” she makes a deal out of saying, ensuring that she can still see his face through her lens. He pauses under a lamp post and thankfully, no one seems to recognise them in the dark and without the addition of an entire film crew. To someone else, they could literally be any random YouTube vloggers or something. “Naturally, this damn show only brings you to the touristy side of London, but there are some admittedly great places to eat in this area. Not fucking Rebel, Rebel though, I mean shit that’s actually edible.”

“We might want to edit that last part out.”

“Yeah, post can handle that,” She would wave a hand if she had one to spare. “Tell me, superstar Cassian Andor, how are you enjoying London so far?”

He smiles a little against the backdrop of lit restaurants. “It’s cold.”

“Of course it’s cold, it’s fucking England.”

“But it’s exciting,” he adds. “There’s so much history here, buildings that have been around for hundreds of years… it’s great to see.”

“You’re supposed to say you love the food, stop going off script.”

“Sorry – I love the food.”

“Good,” she says. “because if you don’t love where we’re going, then I’ll buy the next round of drinks.”

“Where exactly ARE we going?”

She points across the street and she films him turning and seeing the lit up sign of Lahmu. Owned for the last fifteen years by Baze and Chirrut Malbus-Îmwe, it’s known for its wildly eccentric yet still somehow delicious menu. Jyn leads Cassian there, waving to the matire’d on their way in and asking if Baze is around.

“You’re a regular?” Cassian asks.

“Kind of,” Jyn hedges. “it’s weird to explain.”

She doesn’t rest until they find Baze in the kitchen, the co-owner and chef shaking Cassian’s hand vigorously like any person who was vaguely familiar with food would. Jyn keeps the camera rolling the entire time until finally, he tries Baze’s famous Secret Special and the unearthly sounds that come out of his mouth Jyn deems a little too inappropriate for their G-rated show.

“This is fucking amazing,” he practically moans.

“I’m glad,” Baze says warmly as Jyn hastily cuts the recording.

“And you seriously won’t tell me what kind of meat this is?”

“Of course not, that’s the secret part.”

“It’s not going to have me arrested, right?”

“No. Well… I don’t think so, at least.”

Cassian just shrugs. “Good enough for me.”

Carefully working on packing the camera away in the bag she has strung around her neck, Cassian continues to enthusiastically shovel whatever mystery meat it is into his mouth. Over by the kitchen bench, Baze leans in and squeezes her shoulder.

“So can I expect to actually get on T.V. here, or not?” he asks in undertone.

“Probably not,” she admits.

“Ah, well. It was a nice idea while it lasted,” Baze sighs, gruffly.

“You guys are still doing well, right?” Jyn asks, casually.

“Stop worrying. We’re fine,” Baze shoots her a look. “Exposure never hurts, however.”

“Just let Cassian tweet about this place,” Jyn points out. “You’ll have people coming in hordes.”

Cassian cuts in to scoff, “I’m not THAT popular.”

“When you have a follower count with 5 digits or more, you’re considered popular, mate.”

Cassian protests, but honestly they’re mostly silent after that as he apparently just savours the flavours Jyn knows have to be hitting his tongue. She realises at one point that she’s closed her eyes and she hastily snaps them open because Jesus, Jyn, get a grip, she can listen to the boiling soup and scraping of pots without looking weird about it. It’s only when Baze moves away to carry on directing his kitchen, however, when she finally says,

“Look. I think we got off on the wrong foot when we first met,” she says. “I swear I usually know how to talk to people normally. I’m a big fan?”

Thankfully, he laughs and she lets out a slow breath of relief. “I’m honoured.”

“No really,” Jyn points out. “I don’t even speak Spanish, and I watched all three seasons of your last show.”

“That’s dedication.”

“Sorry again.”

“Hey,” he shakes his head. “It’s fine – I’m a big fan of yours too.”

“Piss off,” Jyn says before she even stops to think whether that might offend him or not. “I film obscure niche documentaries and indie films that lose money rather than make money, there’s no way you like any of that shit.”

“No really, I looked you up when we knew you were coming,” Cassian points out. “Or, ok, Kay sort of insisted that we look you up, he was feeling a bit territorial. But we watched a little of that one documentary you did on the abandoned insane asylum?”

“Oh god,” Jyn shivers. “that place was creepy as all fuckin’ hell. I had nightmares for weeks.”

“But the camera work was beautiful! Wait, exactly how creepy?”

“I’m pretty sure that one of the film crew got possessed.”

“You’re not serious?”

And it’s weird, but he finishes his Secret Special and she tells the quite frankly terrifying story of when one of her crew members had gone a little nutty and claimed that they were having visions of dead people and it kind of… goes well. Her heart is still pounding, but they’re finally talking. It at least makes her feel a little more grounded, a little more like she actually fits into this project that until this point made her feel like she was just floundering under water. This isn’t another weird documentary about haunted buildings, this is something that will eventually air on prime time British television…  

“So how did you end up as a T.V. presenter, of all things?” Jyn asks once his plate is scraped clean.

“I started in regular journalism. Believe it or not, but I’m not the best cook.”

“Shut the hell up,” Jyn insists.

“No really,” Cassian says, earnestly. “I can appreciate good food, but I still cannot make anything like my mother can.”

“Well, I burn toast so together, we’ve got this show covered.”

“Thank God, I was starting to worry.”

She laughs. Fucking laughs. But he’s laughing too, so she hopes it’s ok and he asks her then, “How did you get into camera work?”

“The professional answer is that I have always appreciated the entire filmography of whoever happens to be employing me at the time,” Jyn says. “The real answer is that I was running out of time to pick an elective at uni and I chose this random media studies paper on a whim.”

“So we pretty much started in the same place.”

“I guess, yeah,” It’s hard to imagine herself having literally anything in common with the celebrity, but what the hell does she know in the end? They’re quiet for a moment, Cassian moving to wash his own plate and Jyn pretending that she isn’t watching. It’s only when he’s finished and everything is put away when he turns back to her and says, 

“So what’s the story?”

“Sorry?”

“The story,” he reiterates and Jyn’s chest thuds painfully. “about why this place. Don’t try and tell me there isn’t a story.”

It’s true, there is one. And she honestly wasn’t sure whether she was going to say it when she first brought him in here, but there’s something that makes her want to say it now. She takes a deep breath and answers,

“My father used to own it.” 

He nods, but doesn’t say anything else. He waits, clearly willing to let her talk when she’s ready, and she eventually sighs in exasperation. “Fine, my father owned it and it’s how he met my mother,” she adds on. “I practically grew up here, but they died and it got sold when I was eight and it’s never felt exactly the same since. I guess I still try sometimes, though.”

It’s a very glossed over version of the story, but it will do for now. He nods in understanding before gesturing to her camera once more. “Do you mind?”

She frowns. “What do you want to film?”

“I have an idea – just roll with it?”

She humours him, once again pulling out the camera. She’s at least thankful that the kitchen lights are kind of perfect for filming as she sets it on top of an upturned saucepot in lieu of a tripod. She prompts, “What are you thinking?” and Cassian looks up right at her through the lens.

Blimey.

“We’re going to be taking Europe by storm, right?” he says, and she almost thinks his words aren’t even intended for the camera. “The idea is that we experience multiple cultures and different kinds of foods, but I love that there’s one thing that seems to be universal. No matter where you are in the world, food has this ability to connect things. We associate food with the places we come from, certain celebrations, smell with memories, a restaurant with home…” Her heart is definitely somewhere up around her throat and he smiles at her. “and that’s pretty awesome.”

tellmewhatyoueatofficial rumour has it if you order the #SecretSpecial you’ll become a changed person! #tellmewhatyoueat #restaurant #food #filming #locations #london #covent garden #bts @lahmurestaurant

k-lara7 omg I love this place!!!!

yavemiel @ pingou7 we are so going here next time you come visit me

bodhitherook I had no idea they were filming here @jynserso??????

doptimous Definitely would recommend @lahmurestaurant. The owners are so nice, you’re never waiting long and it’s honestly a great experience every time we go. 

In the end, Draven loves their side project so much that it turns into his idea.

They were all supposed to be on a flight to Cardiff at this point, but the network has apparently let them delay by twelve hours to allow them to shoot additional footage and anything that gets her favourite restaurant exposure is fine with Jyn. But despite their filming obviously fake candid shots outside the restaurant, Draven’s admitted that there’s a lot of charm in the real candid-ness of what they filmed the previous night and hopefully, a lot of their original footage will end up being used in the final cuts.

“I’m going to miss London!” Luke says cheerfully as they wait at the airport. Definitely not a big enough production for a private jet, they get a few looks waiting amongst everyone else but luckily at 4am not many people care all that much about the moderately famous food show host and crew. Jyn is attempting to sleep in her cold, plastic chair but it’s kind of hard when Luke won’t stop chatting.

“Do you ever stop?” she asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind,” she mutters. She gets up and leaves Luke to his cheerful trawling through Twitter and notices Cassian slumped down near the phone charging station. With his hoodie pulled over his eyes it’s difficult to tell if he’s awake or not, but he stirs when she sits down next to him.

“Naturally the network couldn’t wait for tomorrow and literally had to book us on the next flight to Cardiff,” she says. “Who the hell even flies to Cardiff at this time in the morning?”

“Right?” he smiles a little. Then, after pausing he adds, “Hey, um… I’m sorry if I stepped over a line or something before. When we were filming at Lahmu. I know you didn’t really intend on it being a part of the show and it got kinda personal so I just wanted to make sure you’re…”

“It’s ok,” Jyn says softly.

She isn’t sure what it is. It’s 4am in an airport, it’s one of those liminal spaces where time stops existing and only vacant expressions and stress endures. But she turns to glance over at him and he’s looking at her and shitballs, her stomach twists itself inside out.  She still doesn’t know what to expect from this entire project and she certainly doesn’t expect anything ever from him, but a part of her is really, really pissed off to know that they have to part ways at the end of all this.

But then again also, they have 30 more countries to go.

Finally, the announcer is declaring that their flight is beginning boarding. All around, tired people stand and yawn, stretching and picking up suitcases and rousing sleeping children. Cassian sighs before pushing back his hood and giving her a determined look.

“Let’s go to Wales,” he says.

“Let’s go to Wales,” Jyn agrees. 

---

[floralreddie]

Prompt au: reddie meets through richie trying to send bill a stupid meme on tumblr but accidentally sends it to eddie

Here you go, dude! And I totally might do a part 2 to this bc I loved writing it

Richie knows he’s fucking hilarious.

Like, he knows he’s hilarious.

Bill, Bev and Stan don’t see it that way, of course, but they’re fucking idiots because Richie knows he’s a God damn riot. He knows he’s sixteen and, yes, perhaps his humour is just a tad childish sometimes, but he’s got something that’s going to make Bill fucking die.

Because Richie has a new obsession.

And it’s memes.

(And Stan can literally fuck himself, because that fucking Kermit meme he sent him yesterday was hilarious. What does Stan know, anyway? His fucking username on Tumblr is Stan-The-Man and he runs a fucking nature blog, the dork).

(Richie’s is Trashmouth-Tozier69, because what the fuck else would it be?)

So, that evening he’s sitting at his computer and munching away on a tube of Pringles when he comes across a particularly funny meme that has him coughing up his food and kicking his legs onto his table as he drags his keyboard onto his lap.

Bill’s gonna fucking love this one, he thinks.

He clicks off his blog (it’s filled with bands like Led Zepplin and AC/DC and memes, and his Header is a picture of him and Bev at a Pride that was held twenty miles from Derry, because Bev and Richie like to refer to themselves as the Bi Brigade) and clicks on the jokes as fuck meme and presses the @ button to tag Bill in it.

That’s not before he sees that Bev (redhair-don’tcare) has posted a particularly pretty picture of that Mike dude (Richie has never spoken to him, but Bev thinks he’s cool as shit since they were partnered up in Chem a few weeks ago) who hangs around with chubby kid and the little pretty kid. He’s sitting on that graffiti covered brick wall near the Aladdin, and the sun is setting behind him and it’s a pretty lit picture, to be fair.

Richie throws it a like. He’s nice like that.

He types in Bill’s username (D-D-Denbrough), which is an all-together witty name because Bill has a fucking stutter and the dude has just stopped giving a shit and started owning it, of which Richie is just all about.

Then he taps reblog and cackles as loud as he wants, because his mom is passed out downstairs and his dad is probably off banging that woman Sharon that he works with, who Richie has seen him driving around town with more than once.

He glances at his smashed-up iPhone and pushes up his glasses, just waiting for the moment that Bill messages him, because that shit was funny and even Bill can’t deny that.

A minute passes.

The another.

And now Richie is kinda pissed because that meme was fucking funny, and he doesn’t give a fuck if memes are cringe as shit nowadays.

Then suddenly, both his iPhone and computer are making that annoying beeping sound that nearly gives him a heart attack, and he peers at his battered monitor and frowns through his thick lens glasses when he sees he has a message on Tumblr.

Why the fuck would Bill message him through there when he could just fucking text him? The only people who messaged him on there were people who complimented the guitar shit he posted when he could be bothered to record himself.

He blinks in surprise, though, when he sees that the message isn’t from Bill.It’s from someone with an icon depicting them sitting against a very pink sunset in a pastel pink jumper, their dark hair half blowing in the wind and their face hidden.

Their username, Richie finds, is doyouwannatalk-aboutthe80’s.

And he thinks he recognises this blog, because it pops up on his dash sometimes an it’s mostly reblogs of 80’s pop music that, whilst Richie prefers rock and punk, he can’t help but not-so-guiltily enjoy. He clicks on the message, dark eyebrows shooting up when he reads what the person has said.

Doyouwannatalk-aboutthe80’s: why the fuck did you just tag me one of those weird mr. krabz memes about asking your crush out and them saying yes?

Richie squints, realises what the fuck he’s done, and lets out a bark of laughter. He must have just clicked on the first thing that came up after he typed in D. Damn, and Bill would have found that shit funny…or gotten super pissed off that Richie was once again taking the piss out him and Stan basically being a fucking couple since Bill stuttered out a confession of his feelings to the curly headed boy.

He’s about to type out a short apology when his computer and phone beep again, drowning out the low sound of his Spotify playing Like A Rolling Stone by Bob Dylan.

Doyouwannatalk-aboutthe80’s: Wait, what the fuck? You’re Richie Tozier.

Richie blinks and kicks his socked feet onto the floor and bangs out a reply in a few seconds flat.

Trashmouth-Tozier69: do i no you dude?

He waits only a few seconds.

Doyouwannatalk-aboutthe80’s: You don’t really seem to pay attention to anything but making a dick out of yourself at school or annoying your friends, so probably not.

Richie laughs in surprise. So, it was someone he went to school with? Not uncommon, really, for those who had public blogs. Richie knew Bill would never admit it, but he was 100% sure the idiot had a fucking Lord of the Rings blog hidden away somewhere.

He hastily clicks on the blog and sees no sign of a name written in the bio, along with a pale pink background and a few dozen links to various music pages and a Spotify account. It’s a pretty blog, Richie has to admit, and the content is cute and funky and it’s definitely ran by a gay dude.

Trashmouth-Tozier69: ah. so u do no me

Doyouwannatalk-aboutthe80’s: I shouldn’t have said anything. You’ve got the biggest mouth ever and only my friends know I have a fucking blog dedicated to 80’s music. I take it that dumb meme wasn’t supposed to go to me?

Trashmouth-Tozier69: nope. but now i wanna keep talkin. u in my grade?

Doyouwannatalk-aboutthe80’s: Would it literally fucking kill you to type properly?

Trashmouth-Tozier96: ye

Doyouwannatalk-aboutthe80’s: You’re hilarious. Truly.

Trashmouth-Tozier96: u don’t need to tell me that

Doyouwannatalk-aboutthe80’s: Since when do you follow me? What the hell are the chances of that?

Richie goes about exploring the blog some more. Maybe he can pinpoint who the hell this kid is. The guys list of people he follows is small, and within a few minutes of scrolling through he finds a blog he recognises. It was the one Bev had tagged in that picture of Mike. smoothcriminal. After only one click, he finds that it is, indeed, Mike.

Hm.

Trashmouth-Tozier96: idk dude. i was probably high listening to weather girls or some shit and found ur blog. plus my friend bev likes that shit too

The dudes reply has Richie snorting into his closed fist.

Doyouwannatalk-aboutthe80’s: …You like the Weather Girls?

Trashmouth-Tozier96: i like a lot of stuff.

Trashmouth-Tozier96: hey do u no mike hanlon?

The pause is longer this time.

Doyouwannatalk-aboutthe80’s: Are you stalking my fucking blog to find out who I am? Not cool, dickweed.

Trashmouth-Tozier96: dickweed? nice

Doyouwannatalk-aboutthe80’s: You’d know about weedy dicks.

Richie gapes and giggles. He fucking giggles, because this guy is hilarious.

Trashmouth-Tozier96: ur insults are getting better. i gotta no who u are amigo.

Trashmouth-Tozier96: u no mike

Trashmouth-Tozier96: ur obviously gay or bi or some shit judging from ur blog and the fact u r totally a dude

Trashmouth-Tozier96: shit was that shitty to say

Trashmouth-Tozier96: i totally did not mean to like gender u or whatever

Doyouwannatalk-aboutthe80’s: No. Whilst I’m not exactly out to the whole school, most people pretty much assume I’m gay (a gay guy, thanks) from looking at me. Which is, yeah, pretty shitty of them.

Doyouwannatalk-aboutthe80’s: Now you’re going to fucking know who I am.

And then Richie blinks and grins a smile that stretches his whole face, because he fucking knows who this kid is. He knows the dark hair from the dude’s icon, and the pastel jumper he was wearing. Hell, the kid who he was talking to had been one Richie’s very short list of the guys he would actually hit in Derry.

Trashmouth-Tozier96: holy shit

Doyouwannatalk-aboutthe80’s: Here we go.

Trashmouth-Tozier96: ur eddie kaspbrak

Doyouwannatalk-aboutthe80’s: There we go.

Trashmouth-Tozier96: i always knew u were cute but wtf since when were u this funny dude

Richie leans back in his chair and smirks, because it’s a full two minutes before Eddie even replies. Suddenly, Richie is so aware of who he is talking to that his stomach twists and his eyes brighten. Eddie Kaspbrak. He had spoken to him only a handful of times. He hung around with Ben and Mike, but Bill insisted that the kid was okay and that they used to hang out a little when they were super young. It was well known in Derry that his mom was a fucking weirdo after his dad died.

Richie had only paid attention to the fact that Eddie was pretty as fuck and always wore oversized jumpers and shorts that showed off his legs, but other than that he was quiet as fuck.

Doyouwannatalk-aboutthe80’s: You’re a dick.

Richie grins.

Trashmouth-Tozier96: for sayin ur cute? thats me being nice!

Doyouwannatalk-aboutthe80’s: I know what you’re like, Tozier. And don’t go spreading that I run a fucking blog that has shit like the Weather Girls and Madonna on it, because Bowers already takes great joy in pointing out what a fucking girly-boy I am.

Richie narrows his gaze at that. Fucking Bowers.

Trashmouth-Tozier96: nothin wrong with being pretty as shit, eds. and fuck bowers. hey, u wanna come and sit with me and my friends tomorrow? we’re all pretty fuckin gay so u will fit right in, amigo

Trashmouth-Tozier96: mike and bev are pretty buddy lately so it won’t be awkward

He blinks in surprise at his own words. Why the fuck is he so desperate to have the quiet Eddie Kaspbrak sit with him, Stan, Bill and Bev? Maybe, he wonders, it was because he was starting to realise he’d judged the kid a little too quickly, because with the way Eddie was firing back comments, Richie half thinks he might have found his witty ol’ match.

Doyouwannatalk-aboutthe80’s: You serious?

Trashmouth-Tozier96: yh. why the fuck wouldn’t i be?

Doyouwannatalk-aboutthe80’s: Oh, my God. Literally why do you have to type like that? I know for a fact that you’re actually pretty fucking smart, Tozier.

Doyouwannatalk-aboutthe80’s: And don’t call me Ed’s.

Doyouwannatalk-aboutthe80’s: And yeah, okay. I’ll sit with you guys. Ben and Mike, too.

Trashmouth-Tozier96: sick dude. now can you level with me for a second

Doyouwannatalk-aboutthe80’s: What?

Trashmouth-Tozier96: did u honestly not find that meme funny at all

[dive-bombing-owls]

Heey~ Can I get an imagine of the paladins (+Allura and Matt pls) when their s/o is kind of sad on Christmas Eve bc they feel each Christmas it's not like the one of the past year. (Kind of 'Where are you Christmas? From the Grinch) Thx UvU

*shrugs on my faux fur shawl* i gotchu, boo

(i was writing this earlier and the page reloaded so i lost it all)

Shiro

● kind of relates to how you feel

● i mean he lost a year in space after all

● he makes some eggnog and you two cuddle by the fire together

● Christmas was the holiday Shiro missed most when he was a prisoner

● he felt he was never really a good gift-giver

● but the gift he gives you is handmade and made with all his love for you from the bottom of his heart

● both of the gifts you gave each other had deep meaning and hand crafted

● always believed in the “Christmas is family” saying

● he does his best to try and see you enjoying yourself

Lance

● he’s so shocked to learn you don’t like Christmas

● makes it his JOB to get you to enjoy it this year

● showers you in affection and nearly every Christmas traditions

● you think the boy is above mistletoe?

● you thought wrong

● he places it all over the castle

● *smooch* *smooch*

● lance loves the smooches

● does a perfect rendition of “All I Want For Christmas Is You” for you

● seeing him go to such great lengths all for you makes you feel special

● you two cuddling when him missing his family hits him hard

Keith

● you aren’t even sure if Keith likes Christmas

● if anyone knows how you feel

● it’s him

● he never really had much of a Christmas with family back on Earth

● but he treasures you dearly

● and he’s eagerly anticipating spending time with you and the team this Christmas

● but he doesn’t tell anyone that

● he isn’t quite sure how to make you feel better

● but he’s always asking if you’re doing okay

● and he’ll suggest training one-on-one to get the bad thoughts out of your mind

● he tries his best

Hunk

● feels bad when you tell him how you feel about Christmas

● he cares about you so much

● he wants you to have the best Christmas while he’s around

● cooks and cooks and cooks and cooks

● he tries to make copies of your favorite meals from back on Earth

● honestly just wants you to have a good time

● helps you make little trinkets to hang upon a makeshift Christmas tree

● you two dance together to soft Christmas music 

● he made and put up Christmas lights all around the castle and lit them up just for you

Pidge

● Honestly, they’re shocked

● “you don’t like Christmas??” 

● you kinda just shrug and explain it all

● Pidge then proceeds to go behind your back and plan a big, extravagant thing

● finds the nearest snowy planet to take you to

● builds a snowman

● and snow forts

● they launch an all out snowball fights with you

● afterwards you’re freezing and there’s hot cocoa waiting for you

● but not before Pidge shows you the Christmas tree

● or should I say

● Christmas Green Lion

● she’s got makeshift lights strewn all over and ornaments hung up the mechanical cat

● the hilarious sight makes you giggle and you press your noses together softly

Allura

● to be honest, she’s kinda frightened by the concept of Christmas

● “so,,, a stranger breaks into your homes after stalking you all year, and then gives you presents? Coal if you’ve been bad?” 

● “uhhh…” 

● but as much as she’s confused by it, she wants you to enjoy yourself

● asks the rest of the paladins about the holiday to best grasp the concept

● she goes to the trouble of getting a tree that looks almost exactly like a Christmas tree

● and she decorates it with trinkets from all the planets you’ve visited together

● her dedication to make you feel more at home overwhelms you

● “well.. as terrifying as this Chissmas-” 

● “Christmas” 

● “-right, Christmas, as terrifying as it is, I care about you, and I want you to be happy.” 

● “Awww, Allura!!” 

Matt

● honestly? 

● besides Lance, he’s the most shocked

● goes to great lengths to make this the BEST Christmas you’ve ever had

● he begs Allura and Coran to go to back to the space mall 

● he goes straight to the Earth store to try and find you a special gift

● in scrambling to find something perfect

● he found a stuffed teddy bear that seemed familiar to him

● until he remembered seeing it in photos you’ve showed him from when you were young

● when he gave it to you

● you were in awe to say the least

● lots of tiny pecks and kisses 

● “Did I do good?” 

● “Yes, you giant nerd.” 

[oxfordeliterp]

CONGRATULATIONS, JEN!

You have been accepted to play the role of CORDELIA MCQUEEN with the faceclaim of ALEXANDRA PARK. Please create your account and send it to the main in the next 24 hours. Another difficult decision that I had to sadly make between two applications with edge, that showed the same amount of potential and skill as well as two different sides of the same pale cheek, both leaving me open-mouthed. Yet, I believe that your dedication and your connection with Cordelia are one of a kind. It is remarkable how you can know and understand so much about a character you haven’t even played yet, and I want to thank you for your loyalty to the biography, as well as the creative input. What I have always loved about Cordelia is her transparency, even wearing opaque black, and you managed to show her fickleness and loneliness at once. Incredible work!

OUT OF CHARACTER INFORMATION

Name and pronouns: Jen, she/her

Age: I’m feeling 22

Time-zone: GMT

Activity level: I was working as a waitress, technically still do which is why my completion of this app has taken so long when I did 50 hours a week. But by the time this roleplay hits its acceptance date I’ll have worked my last shift and I’ll be going into an admin job which is set hours and in theory that should allow me enough time to get on around once a day. I feel like I’ve rambled but I felt like I needed to explain a little, sorry XD

Triggers:  removed for privacy

IN CHARACTER INFORMATION

Desired character: Cordelia McQueen. As you know, my interest was grabbed by Cordelia right away from the little snipet I saw of her in Victoria’s connection and my affection has only grown for her to incredible amounts having read her bio and stalked the tag you so kindly shared with us. I was going to wait until all the bios were released (a couple of others had my attention too, and while I know currently all the bios are out at the time I started working on this that wasn’t the case. I’m just slow as the perfectionist kicks in) but my heart is now fully set on Cordelia and I just hope I can do justice to this beautiful, sad girl. Upon my first reading of her bio, my heart broken for her several times throughout it as the depth of her sadness became clearer and clearer. She’s a girl from a fractured family who never quite fit in with her parent’s expectations completely that had the one person who accepted her as she was taken from her too. But she’s so much more than just that and every time I reread her bio I see something new and what writer doesn’t want to get the chance to play someone who is full of layers? Cordelia is a bit of a deviation from muses I usually play and I would be honoured if I could be the one to bring her to life, knowing that I’d be pushing myself and challenging myself and that on it’s own is enough for me to keep diving into her character and getting further under her skin. One of the biggest draws to her is how she fits into the group as an individual when she is so aloof and holds herself above everyone else. For me, one of the most rewarding things about her will be watching her interact with everyone else and seeing who brings out little nuances of emotion or even just something of an opinion when she does her best to remain silent or neutral. Of course, another aspect of this is where her loyalties will end up lying when it comes to the conflict between members of the Quarrel Club and the Riot Club and of course with the main arc of the roleplay and whether she thinks that Marc did it or not. I feel like there’s so many directions she could go in when she’s possibly the most neutral muse from all the bios I’ve read and one way or another it’ll be telling which side she picks- if she picks at all- and I would love to be the one exploring all of those posibilities.

Gender and pronouns of the character: Female, she/her

Changes: I think she’s completely perfect just the way she is.

Traits: Cordelia is above all extremely resilient despite having resigned herself to a life of feeling almost empty she refuses to give up completely on life. She’s aloof and difficult to get close to but if you ever manage to get past the distance she makes sure exists between her and the rest of the world, there’s still some softness there hidden in her tired soul. There’s a recognition that she’s different from everyone else, even her own family but she sticks to her guns and refuses to change, even though deep down I feel like she does crave affection- but more than that it’s acceptance that she wants from people. To just be enough for someone like she was for her uncle even if now she’s a little more hollow than she was then.

While so much of her mannerisms are just who she is, the decision to hold herself above everyone is a conscious one as much as it’s just the way she is. After losing the most important person to her I feel like she’s put walls up as much as she’s embraced the emotionless-ness that life created when it hollowed out everything she loved. She chooses to live in her own head because there’s a familiarness to it

Spending all her time in her own head is another of her coping mechanisms. It leaves her above the pressure of having to please people or at the mercy of worrying what they think about her and that is how she’s able to cope with all her sadness and the instability of her life when herself has been her only constant. It lets her go through life in her own way without letting herself and how she’s feeling depend on other people- she’s entirely at her own mercy at there’s a certain power in that that allows her to be assured enough to continue on the path she’s on.

While she may come across as cold and uncaring, it’s really more of a neutrality that causes her to be so disinterested in people. Cordelia very makes a firm decision about anyone and on those rare occasions that she does it’s never something that she would vocalise. She’s someone who would always leave you guessing about herself, happy to hear you talk her ear off about yourself if it meant that she never had to admit anything personal about herself.

Extras: Having thought long and hard about it and trawled through the Oxford courses page, I finally settled on the first course that jumped out at me for Cordelia and that was Fine Art. I feel as though she has the same creative talent as her uncle, even if she is slightly less vocal about it and it’s something she tends to keep to herself when it makes people point out similarities and differences between them. It’s the one form of expression that she allows herself now that she’s stopped dancing. I’ve gone into her feelings about it a little more in her para sample but I feel like it’s the degree that makes the most sense for her.

Anything else I’ve managed to put together for her you’ll be able to find here which there is currently more than one page of and I’ll maybe add to as I think of more (also number one reason why this app took me so long bc I am a perfectionist when it comes to graphics)

PARA SAMPLE

I ended up doing two because I couldn’t get the two of them to flow into each other smoothly although it could be argued that one happens in the afternoon and the other in the evening.

Her nose crinkles slightly in an uncharacteristic show of emotion as her eyes trail over the canvas in front of her with nothing but criticism and disappointment echoing faintly in their depths. The image that she’d seen so clearly in her mind had yet to transfer itself into a physical copy and there was a faint sense of frustration building that despite her brushstrokes being as precise and delicate as her dancing had been, they had yet to accomplish what she wanted from them. With a smooth movement she’s placing her paintbrush down to take a step back from what she’s trying to create to see if that gives her a better perspective of where she was going wrong.

The critical glint in her eyes doesn’t fade and once again she becomes her own worst nightmare as she tortures herself some more with memories of her uncle and the vivid designs his deft fingers used to leave on paper. It came so naturally to him and there hadn’t been a day spent with him that she hadn’t been transfixed by watching him work. The designs had been her favourite but seeing them come to life was almost as enchanting when she’d always envied how he could bring them to life with an ease that she never seemed to manage.

Logically she could acknowledge that it was never totally easy for him when all artists seemed to struggle with their work at one time or another but her mind never failed to drive a wedge between her and the family member she’d always classed herself as closest to at times like these. More often than not comparisons drawn were favourable but this time, as with everytime that she painted, it only made her want to give up for the day when there seemed little point torturing herself over it.

So Cordelia washed her hands and removed her apron, with it removing all flashes of colour from her form. It’s too telling, she’d decided in her first year, to leave paint smudges all over her clothes and skin when she’d always preferred to give so little about herself away. There was no chance of anyone finding her lack or damaged that way or discovering the depth of the sadness that had made its home in her bones long ago and was as much a part of her as her lips or hands. It was unshakable and by now it was the one constant in her life that she was quite convinced that without its weight she’d feel too unbalanced to cope.

Satisfied that she’s scrubbed enough of the paint flecks from herself, she paints her lips back on with a flash of red before switching her comfortable flats for the red-soled high heels that complete the look she knows that she’s known for on the campus. Thankfully it all came naturally to her, an innate knack for picking the very best for herself and piecing an outfit together to not only get the best out of her features but the clothes themselves.. Though she can’t help but supposed that even if she weren’t able to carry the look she favoured so well, she’d still be just as hollow inside for it not to mean a thing to her.

More solemness rests in her eyes than usual as she takes in her surroundings, flute of champagne balanced gracefully between delicate fingers. A sigh is hiding behind her lips, weariness for the evening that was before her already creeping in before she reminds herself that it was her choice to attend and put herself in that position. There was no hostility felt towards the others that surrounded her, just a marked difference that had followed her through life. It was something she’d found a resigned acceptance in, not being able to bring herself to care enough to make any changes to the way she was in order to fit into the group that surrounded her more smoothly.

Instead she stood on the fringes of the party, fulfilling the role of the perfect lady that she had started to embody, shoulders gracefully back and posture that held the type of perfection only a dancer could achieve. With a measured but fluid move of her arm Cordelia raises her glass to take a sip of the sparkling drink in her hand knowing that the bubbles in it won’t have any success in making her lighter when she’s so happy staying in the shadows.

Still, it isn’t her intention to wile the evening away lurking in the corner sipping champagne like some sad loner when she knew plenty of other attendees at the little gathering. It was all just a question of who would handle her company the best out of all those in the room. While she could manage to get on well enough with the likes of Windsor, Arkwright, Armstrong and Bellefonte when she wanted to - her poker face was without match after all- she wasn’t quite fancying the energy it would take to interact with one of them. Casting her eyes around once again they inevitably found the form of her stepbrother, as always never far from that pretty, polished Hastings.

A familiar spark that shatters all her shadows and brings back memories of that one lapse that she’d allowed them. That brush of lips against her that she’d retreated from as quickly as her thoughts came back to her because those few heartbeats of contact had made her feel more than all her countless one night stands with nameless men had. He was wholly too enticing and intoxicating, a danger to the uneven equilibrium she clung to and called sanity. With him, what was now her world was in jeopardy and no matter how what was left of her heart sung and cried out for him, Cordelia had never quite managed to let herself surrender to what was between them when it meant entirely too much risk.

So she decides against her stepbrother, choosing to leave him with his pretty, perfect little blonde girlfriend while trying her best to ignore that faint echoing pang of envy, and adjust her course towards the Zerilli siblings, having always found them somewhat refreshing in a social group that had the potential to be confining if you didn’t know how to play your part right.

[sunxking]

yikes do u have any advice for someone who's new to tumblr rping?? i'm asking u bc u seem super nice & i really love ur blog /w\

O U T   O F   S U N L I G H T

Hello There! Thank you so much for you kind words! And may I be one of the first to welcome you to the Roleplay Community on Tumblr, as well as ( more specifically?) to the Comicbook Fandom! I’ve been exactly where you are now, my friend, as a veteran of RP from other sites and venues, newly branching into this hot little mecca of writing known as Tumblr!

                                               I think you’re really going to like it here. :) 

Tumblr is an expansive universe where the possibilities are limitless, both within and beyond the fandom your character might originally hail from. It is the birthplace of some truly wonderful things, like SuperWhoLock, Batfamily Shenanigans, and Redemption from Marvel’s Civil War 2 trash. On here, all those usual rules that controlled the way you wrote your character in an RP Community or chat room no longer exist, granting you freedom to interpret them any way you wish (or multiple ways in multiple settings!). Many fandom, like the DC Comics Fandom, are populated by passionate and friendly writers who want to interact with others that feel just as strongly about the universe as they do!

But, and I’m sure you’ve heard this, RPing on Tumblr is not for the faint of heart. All those things that make this place a source of creativity and inspiration also allow for some serious issues. The site itself can be a challenge, not really designed for intuitive, flowing RP threads. The atmosphere of a fandom, usually so positive, is also constantly changing in nature, and populated heavily by free variables (i.e. people), so that there are no comfort zones for anyone involved.

On one hand, this will make you a better writer, a more conscientious interpreter of character motives, and a much stronger RPer overall. On the other hand…. well, even the best fandoms have their fair share of abuse, and no one is immune to having their feelings hurt.

Knowing all this, me and my fellow roleplayers still come online to write our hearts out everyday, because we love to write and Tumblr is hands-down one of the most prolific places for Roleplay on the internet. And I’ll tell you this, lovely anon, hard as it is, tumblr RP is also a breeding ground for wonderful and meaningful friendships that will last far longer than even the strongest OTP. That’s why I’m so pleased to heard that you are willing to give Tumblr RP a try, even if you don’t feel totally certain about how to start.

As for me, I look forward to seeing you in the this fandom community (or perhaps another!) and possibly interacting with you in the future. Thank you so much for trusting me enough with your question. I’m certainly not an expert on being a successful roleplayer (some days I make a potato look like a better talent than me!), but I hope I can offer a few small pointers that might help you get started on your way to RP glory.

First of all, regardless of whatever fandom has caught your fancy, I suggest you research the atmosphere of the RP community here on Tumblr. Use the search feature to scope out RP tags for the fandom, spot promos for characters, and stalk any RP communities currently seeking applications on the site.  All this information will give you a feel for the type of RP experience you’ll have while in that fandom., and may influence your decision to take up a certain character.

If you have a personal tumblr blog, but you want to RP a character in a fandom, then I highly recommend you make another (completely separate) tumblr blog. Sideblogs are nice, but they don’t work well when you’re following others and want to interact via asks, replies etc. Things can get very confusing, very fast, especially in the activity feed!

Many people swear by their ‘About’ pages, and that’s a good thing. Once you’ve created your character blog and start reaching out to others, most RPers on tumblr will bee-line for your ‘About’ or ‘Rules’ page as soon as they see you’ve followed them. This is a courtesy so they can know how to best approach your character and what the important details should be known when RPing with you. So, to hedge your bets in a good way, always make an About Page and include all vital details about your character on it!

Also, keep in mind, there is no wrong way to write an About Page. You can check other RPers’ blogs for examples, but just write it however most makes sense to you. As long as it gives the reader an understanding of your vision with your character, that’s what matters.

Sometimes when you’re starting out, especially if you’re playing an OC or a lesser known Canon character, you’re going to have to be the brave one that reaches out to others and asks for threads. Just posting opens and following other blogs might not get you the responses you hope for, and I don’t want that to discourage you. Don’t be afraid to (respectfully) go after the RPer you’re interested in writing with, I guarantee they’re all super nice people and they will respond favorably to your interest in them!

Depending on the type of person you are, I would recommend possibly getting an instant messenger account for your RP blogs. I know that Tumblr messenger exists, but many RPers prefer to limit access to who can message them via that interface. The most popular instant messenger choices on tumblr are Skype, Kik, and Discord. This is certainly Not a requirement, and please don’t feel pressured to get an account if you are not comfortable with talking to strangers via instant messenger. But, if you love to spazz out over your fandom, and you love to share plot ideas and headcanons, then you will find a great many fast friends in the RP fandoms on tumblr. So many writers (me included!) love to share their inspiration in this quick way, and translate it to writing on the site!

Learn the fine art of tagging posts. Tags are just about the only thing we Tumblr RPers have as a search filter on this website, and some of us follow certain tags religiously. And I don’t just mean our tumblr url, I mean anything we feel is relevant to our character. For example, I track the tags: #sunxking, #apollo, #midnighterandapollo, #midnighter, #TheAuthority, etc. I also generously tag anything I post so that I can easily find it again on my blog, or provide navigation links to it for others to find. (such as #openstarter for all my Apollo RP opens). Additionally, I feel it’s important to be careful in tagging for triggering posts. I always tag with the keyword of the triggering content, and append the triggering keyword with either ‘ts’ (for tumblr savior) or ‘tw’ for “trigger warning.” Keep in mind that if you’re tagging an original post (not a reblog) that only the first five tags are picked up by the tumblr search engine. 

Stay open minded. And I don’t just mean in regards to crossovers and alternate universes. There will be RPers that you will meet that may interpret a well-known character in a way that seems entirely contradictory to how you envision them. And you may like it… or you may not. But sometimes thinking outside of the box produces great rewards, and you never know what innovative idea might spring out of a crack conversation. Regardless, always follow the rule of thumb: Respect others and lead with kindness.

Hopefully these initial pointers will help you hit the ground running with an RP blog on tumblr! There are other things people focus on, like the right theme, or text formatting… but that stuff doesn’t really matter to me. Personally, as long as your writing content reflects your dedication to your character, I am interested in reading it!

Again, Welcome to this amazing place, and I wish you all the success and fun with your character. 

Best of Luck!

– Red