#down by the river thames

[halukturgutmenguc]

Remains of the day...!

©all rights reserved / htm.studios/2024/211

[clemencetaught]

long hair!patrick?..... ✨long hair!patrick✨

[famousinuniverse]

London, United Kingdom: London is the capital and largest city of both England and the United Kingdom, with a population of around 8.8 million, and its metropolitan area is the largest in Western Europe. It stands on the River Thames in south-east England at the head of a 50-mile estuary down to the North Sea and has been a major settlement for nearly two millennia. The City of London, its ancient core and financial centre, was founded by the Romans as Londinium and retains its medieval boundaries. Wikipedia

[blueiscoool]

1,100-Year-Old Viking Sword Found in UK River

A corroded sword pulled from an English river by a magnet fisher is a Viking weapon dating to between A.D. 850 and 975, experts have confirmed.

Trevor Penny was searching for lost and discarded objects in the River Cherwell in Oxfordshire in November 2023 when he made the discovery. The magnet fisher had been down on his luck that day and only pulled scaffolding poles from the water, he said in a message on Facebook. When Penny lugged out the sword, he didn't immediately recognize what it was.

"I was on the side of the bridge and shouted to a friend on the other side of the bridge, 'What is this?'" Penny, who is a member of the Thame Magnet Fishing Facebook group, recalled in the message. "He came running over shouting, 'It looks like a sword!'"

Penny immediately uploaded images of the sword to Google to try to identify it. "Whatever photo angle I tried was coming up with Viking sword," Penny said. The magnet fisher then contacted the Oxfordshire county liaison officer responsible for recording archaeological finds made by the public, and took the sword to be examined by experts.

The sword, only provisionally dated until now, has been authenticated as Viking and estimated to date as far back as 1,200 years ago.

The weapon dates to a period when the Vikings, who were originally pagans from Scandinavia, traveled to the British Isles to plunder, conquer and trade with the ruling Saxons. The Vikings set foot on British soil in the eighth century, having raided a monastery on Lindisfarne, an island off Britain's northeast coast, in 793. Similar raids in Britain occurred for several centuries and escalated after 835, when larger Viking fleets started arriving and fighting royal armies. British kings gradually reconquered territory seized by the Vikings throughout the 10th century and unified what was a patchwork of kingdoms into a new realm called Englalond.

Viking incursions and periods of rule continued until the 11th century, but the Viking Age ended following the Battle of Stamford Bridge in 1066, with the defeat of the king of Norway, Harald III Sigurdsson, by the Saxons.

The newly discovered Viking sword is in the care of Oxford museum services and may eventually be put on display, the Oxford Mail reported.

"The officer said it was archaeologically rare to find whole swords and treasure of historical importance still intact," Penny told the regional newspaper last week. "There was a little dispute with the landowner and the rivers trust who don't permit magnet fishing. The latter sent a legal document saying they wouldn't take action on the condition that the sword was passed to a museum, which I had done."

By Sascha Pare.

[fairyhaos]

Ꮺ cold ice, cinnamon smiles // lee seokmin

dokyeom x gn!reader, 1.6k words

tags: 1800s britain au, christmas au, ice skating, fluff, meet cute, strangers to lovers, seokmin is the 3 c's: cute and clumsy and chivalrous

warnings: none

notes: merry christmas everyone ^_^

summary: winter is a harsh time of the year, cold and merciless, but what happens when you meet a boy who has a smile warm enough to melt the coldest of ice?

When the weather gets cold enough, sometimes the river Thames will freeze over.

It’s utterly delightful, because it allows you to take out your skates, dress up as warm as possible, and spend several hours on the ice that had once been the river, breathing in the bitingly cold air and sighing in content.

This year, it's right on Christmas Eve, so it means there's the gentle, warm scent of cinnamon and nutmeg wafting through the air from the Christmas fairs set up along the river, as people skate over the recently-frozen surface, spending some time before their cherished holiday out on the ice.

There’s the chatter of children as they slide delightedly over the ice, the laughter of teenagers as they slip into each other, even the fond chuckles of adults as they help each other stay upright.

Your parents are out on the river somewhere, too, skating hand in hand, in their own world away from the shrieks and laughs of the public. 

It’s sweet.

Closing your eyes, you tilt your head back, gliding effortlessly across the river, cheeks stinging with cold but your mind feeling blessedly content when—

“Oh, do watch out!”

Your eyes fly open just in time to see a flurry of brown wool collide with you, and your hands shoot out almost instantly, staggering back a little to catch the person who had barrelled into you.

The stranger yelps, stumbling into your hold, and it’s a good thing that you’re a decently good skater because otherwise this person would have sent you both flying across the ice.

“Sorry, sorry, oh good Lord, I’m sorry,” the person apologises profusely, leaning out of your arms as soon as he gains his balance, brushing his hair out of his face with a finger, eyes wide and earnest and apologetic. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to just slam into you like that.”

You smile, ready to brush away his apologies, because really this could happen to anyone, but as you look properly at the stranger, your breath hitches in your throat.

Dark, soft hair falling into big, gentle eyes. Warm twinkles in his irises and winter-ruddy flushes of red on his cheeks that make him look like some sort of delicately crafted doll, and when he smiles shyly, it's like a ray of white gold light spilling over the grey landscape of winter.

This man is beautiful.

And he’s still apologising, over and over, and he’s brushing down the sleeves of your coat, checking that you’re okay, and you want to laugh a little because goodness, it seemed that this stranger was cute and beautiful.

“No, no, don’t worry about it,” you say, resting a hand on his arm to stay his fretful movements, smiling. “It’s okay, I’m completely fine.”

The man pauses, looking at you with worried eyes. “Are you sure?” he says. “You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?”

He goes back to patting you down again, and if it were any other man, you’d feel outraged at how he’s touching you so easily like this, but his hands are nothing but a gentle pressure over your arms, your shoulders, and the concern emanating from his touch.

“I’m okay, truly,” you say, laughing a little. “I’m strong,” you add, when he looks at you disbelievingly. “My mother has been teaching me to skate since I was little girl. We have a lake in our estate, you see, and in the winter, it always freezes over.”

His eyes widen at your words. “E—estate? Are you—oh, dear, which Lord is your father?”

He looks panicked, eyes widening even further and face falling in fear that he’s damaged the precious child of some haughty and terrifying aristocrat, and it’s so painfully adorable to you that you laugh again, shaking your head.

“No, no, nothing like that. My family and I are just… reasonably well-off,” you say. He still looks like he doesn’t believe you, though, so you stick a hand out. “I’m Y/N. Just plain old me, no fancy titles or anything. I promise.”

The man looks down at your hand, and then up at your face again, and something about your faintly smiling expression must convince him you’re telling the truth, because he grasps your hand firmly, eyes shining.

He doesn’t shake your hand, however, and adjusts his grip to delicately hold your fingers, bending down, making your eyes widen.

Gently, his lips brush against your knuckles, and he looks up at you with golden eyes. “Lee Seokmin,” he introduces, voice soft. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Heart in your throat, you can hardly take your eyes off of him as he smiles, a warm curling of his lips, warmer than the warmest cinnamon scent, glowing in the dim English winter light. Speechless, you watch as he straightens, still holding your hand, and he opens his mouth to say something before suddenly his eyes widen, and he tips backwards, a startled cry leaving his mouth.

Almost in slow motion, you feel yourself tug forward too, and the entire world falls to a hush as you collide into his chest, falling, falling, falling to land right on Seokmin as his back hits the cold ice of the Thames.

Seokmin blinks up at you, and his hair is a feathery soft mess around his head, the white ice giving him an almost angelic glow, and when his lips part around a soft “oh” you can’t help your gaze unintentionally flicking down towards the soft pink of his mouth.

And then everything hits you at once—especially the fact that you’re lying on top of him, in public—and you hurry to scramble off, cheeks flushing with more than just the cold.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, face heating up horribly fast, “I—Are you okay?” You hold out a hand to him, and after a moment of rapid blinking, Seokmin takes it, shakily getting to his feet with the help of your steady hands.

He really is rather wobbly on his skates. You wonder why he’s out here in the first place.

“No, goodness, I’m the one that’s sorry,” Seokmin says, and his cheeks are red too, redder than they were before the fall. “I’m so sorry for pulling you down with me.” He rubs at his cheeks, the action bashful and adorable as you worriedly brush ice flecks from his coat. “I really am rather terrible at skating.”

He looks down, embarrassed, looking rather like a dejected puppy, and you resist the urge to lean over and ruffle his hair.

Instead, you just hum, looking him up and down to avoid lingering to long on at the small pout forming on his face, lest you suddenly lose all self-control and try to kiss it away.

“I could teach you?” you offer. “Because luckily for you, I am rather good at skating myself.”

It’s honestly rather adorable how quickly he perks up at that, beaming. “Really? Oh, are you sure?”

You laugh at his eagerness, nodding. “Of course. We can’t have you colliding into any other people here, can we?”

Seokmin flushes, but his irises are shimmering awfully mesmerisingly, and as he smiles at you, you can’t help but do anything but smile widely back.

You’re about to say something when there’s a shout of your name in the distance, and you look behind you to see two familiar figures, waving and calling for you to come over to them. 

“Y/N, dear, it’s getting late! We ought to go home now,” your mother calls, and your heart sinks.

Seokmin seems to hear them shout too, because he chuckles a little regretfully, face falling, and he looks so sad that your heart squeezes painfully. “I suppose you need to leave,” he says. “It’s a shame I won’t be able to have my much-needed skating lesson from you.”

You turn back to Seokmin. “Wait, Seokmin—”

Before you can say anything, he grasps your hand gently, his fingers unusually warm despite the freezing temperatures that you’re currently standing in. And then he leans down (carefully, this time) and kisses your knuckles again, feather light.

“I hope to see you around, Y/N,” he says, and begins to shuffle away.

He doesn’t get far before you glide over and grab his collar insistently, almost making him fall over yet again.

He doesn’t, though, because you’re holding tightly, bringing his face close to yours.

“Meet me again,” you say, almost pleading. “Will you—will you please come here again tomorrow? I know that it’s Christmas Day tomorrow, and you’ll be spending time with your family but do you think you could? I… want to see you again.”

Seokmin’s eyes widen, and his face is so close that you can see the way his eyelashes flutter slightly, warmth spreading across his cheeks.

“Besides,” you add, flushing yourself, “I still need to teach you how to not fall for anyone else.”

It makes Seokmin laugh, a bright, ringing sound that makes you feel oddly giddy, and his face is crinkling into the most beautiful smile as he nods, still laughing.

“Of course,” he says, that gorgeous smile lighting up his entire face. “Of course, I’ll meet you here. You can teach me to fall for you only.”

It makes you blush, but when Seokmin leans in, tilting his head and pressing a brief kiss to your cheek, it has you blushing even harder than you even thought possible, eyes widening as the pressure is there and then gone, replaced with Seokmin’s bright eyes and his bright smile and his bright voice, gradually moving further away.

“Tomorrow,” he promises as he begins to shuffle away again. “I’ll meet you here tomorrow.”

You watch him go, giving him a shy wave, before finally he disappears amongst the crowd of people. Heart beating unusually fast, you turn to go as well, and the ruddiness of your cheeks is not just from the cold.

Giddy, you think of Seokmin’s lips on your cheek and your knuckles, of his fingers holding yours.

It makes you smile. Looks like you have a Christmas date.

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @evasaysstuff @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @sakufilms @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @amxlia-stars @raevyng @isabellah29

[pookietv]

online embarrassment (part two!) | arthurtv

a dedication to @casualvanilla into bullying me to write a part two :3

being curious about arthur and his seemingly strange occupation choice, in your eyes at least, of commentating 90 day fiance, you decided that you may as well watch a little of the show, seeing if you could see what made it so interesting.

especially since you and him had been talking much more frequently, playing a couple of games of chess together most evenings, over discord calls and instagram messages

and your curiosity had definitely been quashed once you had watched as much as you could stomach of insanely dysfunctional relationships, exploitation and men going for women far too young for them.

so, with your newfound knowledge, you decided to text arthur again.

youruser: why is literally every couple on 90 day fiance either insanely malfunctioning or borderline exploitative

arthurtv: ah, i see you have exposed yourself to the world of discovery+

arthurtv: and in all honesty, that is kind of the grim premise of the show, a kind of strangely twisted curiosity makes us all watch them fall apart

youruser: grim is definitely the word for it

arthurtv: so are you doing anything tonight?

youruser: unfortunately, i have little plans that don't involve reading so many academic journals until my eyeballs fall out :(

arthurtv: i never even asked you what you study?

youruser: oh, i study politics with a focus on international law right now :)

arthurtv: no way! i studied law when i was at uni

youruser: when was that, fifteen years ago?

arthurtv: ha ha very funny i am twenty eight

arthurtv: ps, you're almost as dedicated to your uni work as you are to your outrageous bishop sacrifices

youruser: anyway, are you doing anything tonight?

arthurtv: going round to some of my friends house cause he's forcing us to rewatch the lord of the rings series

arthurtv: though that is fair enough because i have forced him to watch harry potter so many times

youruser: i've never even seen harry potter

arthurtv: WHAT

youruser: oopsie

youruser: just never got round to it

arthurtv: you need to watch it!!!!

youruser: it just doesn't seem like my kind of thing!

arthurtv: we can't be friends anymore smh

youruser: that sounds great! blocking you rn

arthurtv: shut up you

arthurtv: anyway, i had an idea, if you're down

youruser: and what would that idea be

arthurtv: i think we should meet up and play actual chess on an actual chessboard (and maybe drink a few bevs)

youruser: well, i mean, i don't even know if i should be meeting you, after all you are the Insane Chess Killer Man >:)

youruser: and if i didn't know any better, sounds like you're describing a date

arthurtv: hm that's a good point, i was looking for a new victim

youruser: are you referencing the insane chess killing or the date as the victim?

arthurtv: you can't see me but i am rolling my eyes so hard right now

youruser: okay, a truce on the serial killer jokes

arthurtv: thank god. what about tomorrow night?

youruser: drunk chess and a takeaway sounds good to me

youruser: the classiest first date

so that was that, he had texted you his address and to come round at seven so he could, in his words, destroy you in chess.

after a long day at uni and a slight worry, though you didn't know why, about meeting him, you started to get ready to go to his house.

since you were just going to his house, you settled on some flared leggings and a soft blue jumper, tying your hair into a somewhat tamed ponytail before looking in the mirror, making sure your light makeup hadn't smudged too much after a day of back to back lectures and discussion groups.

he didn't live too far from you, surprisingly, just a couple tube stops away, so you decided to walk, about twenty five minutes to his apartment, in a block of flats facing the river thames, and as you arrived at the building and pressed the button in the elevator for his floor, slightly picking at your nails with nerves.

what if it was insanely awkward in person? or what if he is a weird catfish looking for victims on chess websites? that seemed insane, right?

but your mind was working overtime as the buttons lit up and the elevator door opened, and you tried to unfurrow your eyebrows and look for his door number, finding it towards the end of the hall.

you waited a moment before knocking, bringing your hand up and timidly rapping it against the dark wood of the door.

when it swung open, and you saw that he was indeed who he said he was, or at least who he was on his instagram pictures, you smiled a little in relief.

"arthur! hi, it's nice to meet you, well, in person, you know..." you giggled a slight bit quietly as he gave you a friendly hug.

"you too! didn't know if i was just being catfished or something," he joked a little awkwardly back.

"me a catfish? i figured you would be a catfish, what would i even be catfishing you for?" you joked back, and he shrugged.

"i don't know, i don't get many pretty girls randomly texting me cause we played chess together so i wasn't sure," he said a little embarrassed, and your cheeks went slightly pink when he called you pretty.

"well, who knew that the insane chess killer had a hidden talent for flattery," i laughed slightly as he welcomed me in, shutting the door behind me.

he rolled his eyes jokingly, "hey, based on the way you insulted me with no remorse during chess games i was expecting you to be terrifying, so you can't blame me for being surprised at how easy you are on the eyes," he grinned a little, and it was your turn to roll your eyes in return.

"anyway, come in, honestly just make yourself at home... unless you're worried about losing to me on my own turf," he joked.

"i mean, i'm kind of impressed by your 'turf'," you giggled, "it's nice for a guy that exploits reality tv for views," you teased and he laughed a little as he led you to his living room, a chessboard set up on his coffee table, pillows on either side on the floor to sit on.

"hey, low blow," he mockingly warned, "i'd watch it otherwise i'll conveniently lose your queen piece," he said before quickly standing to go to his kitchen, "i have southern comfort and lemonade, if that's okay with you? it's kind of my weird speciality drink," he smiled.

"well, i suppose i'll have to try the arthurtv special then," i nodded in return, and after a few moments, he returned with two glasses, placing them at either side of the table as he sat himself down on the side of the board playing black pieces.

"so we're going straight for the intellectual torture of chess?" you grinned as you sat opposite him, "the girls must find it so charming when you sit straight at the chess board on a date, hm?" you teased in retaliation.

"oh shut up you, and prepare to lose, again," he smiled as you moved your first piece, "at least my view will be nice when i crush you,"

as the game progressed, there was joking smack-talk thrown between you and arthur, neither of you focusing too much on the game but more on the subtle flirting between each move.

"that rook sacrifice was not your best work," he laughed, but you raised your eyebrow at him as you moved another piece,

"or maybe i was setting a trap that you didn't see, hm, mr. television?"

as he captured one of your pieces in return, his fingers gently brushed against yours and you grinned, before swatting his hand jokingly, "hey, focus on the game!" you giggled out as he laughed in return and nodded.

about half way through the game, the focus had shifted slightly from both being heartset on winning to enjoying one another's company, nattering on about arthur's job and your degree.

at one particular point, you stopped, looking down at the board, tongue slightly poking out of your mouth in concentration as your brain worked as quickly as it could, trying to analyse the best move.

"what're you thinking?" he asked as he shuffled slightly closer, and you could smell his cologne, a kind of vanilla and cedarwood scent as you tried your best to ignore it.

"i'm trying to strategise, unlike some of us who rely on distracting the other to win," you teased slightly, and you could hear him chuckle a little.

"i'm plenty distracted myself, hard not to be when you look cute like that when you concentrate so hard."

you paused a little at the flirting, trying not to let your cheeks flush bright red, "stop trying to put me off my game, arthur," you playfully smiled.

once a couple more moves had been played, arthur missed what was seemingly an obvious capture he could have made, which would have put you at a disadvantage, and once you quickly realised and made sure your piece was defended, you tilted your head a little - arthur didn't often make mistakes like that.

"i completely missed that, fuck sake!" he mumbled to himself with a small smile on his face.

after a while longer of playing, and a few moves you didn't think arthur would normally make, you had him in checkmate, a grin on your face.

"looks like we're gonna have to have a rematch at some point," he looked at the board and shrugged his shoulders a little.

you narrowed your eyes at him a little with a small smile, "did you throw the game so we could have a rematch?"

"i think i may use the lawyer lingo here and announce that i refuse to answer on the basis that i may implicate myself," he laughed a little to himself.

[ch0k3herwithaseaview]

@jegulus-microfic | march 16 arrange | words: 1094

hiii i don’t have much to say about this one really. it exists so you can enjoy it:3

Sirius lit another cigarette, still thinking about what he could do to make his brother and best friend stop pining after each other. He knew them his whole life—he basically raised Regulus and let James and his parents raise him. He knew them both inside and out, could see how one looked at the other, how they talked with each other, and how they cared for each other. He’s heard rants from them both about how they felt. And still, he couldn’t come up with anything.

When he lit up his fourth cigarette, the door behind him opened. Remus stood there, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Honey, what are you doing? It’s almost three in the morning; come to bed,” his fiancé croaked in a sleepy voice.

Sirius sighed at that, propping his head on his knees. “I don’t know what to do with Reggie and James.”

“What about them?” Remus asked, walking closer and taking one cigarette for himself.

“You know, I want to help them get together, but I don’t know how I should do it. They would be so great together, Moony,” he groaned, throwing his head back.

Remus stood there, smoking, looking as if he were contemplating something. After a minute, he said, “We should arrange a date for them.”

Sirius sat up straighter and looked at his partner with a bright smile and hopeful eyes.

***

On Friday evening, James found himself in front of his mirror, getting ready for dinner with Remus and Sirius to celebrate their engagement. They chose this fancy Italian restaurant on a rooftop at Thames. It was too posh for James’ liking, but they served the most delicious pumpkin ravioli he ever ate, so he didn’t complain.

He put on a deep maroon shirt and black dress trousers, completing the outfit with a black trench coat, and went out. He lived just a few blocks away, so he took a walk there.

As he got to the restaurant, James approached the hostess and gave her the name from the reservation. She led him to a small table at the back, next to the window with a view of the river.

“Can I bring you something to drink, sir?” the woman asked with a polite smile.

“A bottle of white wine, please,” James replied, smiling back.

Regulus arrived shortly after him. He looked like a god with his perfectly curled black hair, wearing striped black suit trousers and a matching vest with a white high-collar shirt underneath. James felt his mouth water at the sight, but he tried to remain calm.

When the younger man approached their table, James stood up, smiling widely.

“Hi, Little Star,” he greeted cheerfully, and noticed Regulus’ cheeks turning a pretty pink colour.

“Hello, James. Where are the two idiots?” he asked, sitting down.

"They should be here soon," James replied, looking at his watch. Sirius told him that he and Remus would arrive around 8:30, so technically they had another fifteen minutes.

They didn’t get a chance to say anything else when a waiter came to them with a big wine selection.

“You choose,” James told Regulus. “I don’t know shit about these things.”

Reg just smiled and picked the one called Vernus Recioto di Soave—something sweet, he said. The man serving them poured some into their glasses, waiting for approval, then left the bottle at the table and walked away, giving them time to choose something from the menu.

“I’m taking the pumpkin ravioli. Periodt” James said as soon as he got the small book. Regulus looked at him, smirking. “What?” The older man asked, amused.

"Nothing,” Reg said, still smirking. “Why don’t you try something else? I could choose for you.”

“Oh?” James laughed a little. “Should I pick something for you, then? It would be fair, don’t you think?” In response, Regulus chuckled and nodded, mumbling a quiet okay.

They sat there for another twenty minutes when James’ phone rang: Sirius.

“Hello, darling” came from the other end of the line.

“Hi, Pads. Where are you?” James asked, giggling.

“Yeah, about that,” his friend started, dragging out the first word. “We’re not coming.” James’ eyes went wide at that.

“What do you mean?” he asked, a bit stunned.

“We are not going to the restaurant. But don’t worry, we still pay for dinner,” Sirius added quickly. “Have fun with Reggie, byeee,” and then the call ended. This motherfucker, James should kill him.

He threw the phone back at the table, exhaling loudly.

“What?” Regulus asked, confused.

James cleared his throat and answered, “Well, they’re not coming, but they’ll still pay.” Reg’s eyebrows shoot up in shock, but quickly his face turns into something mischievous.

“So we shall take advantage of my brother’s card,” he said, winking at James.

When their waiter came back, they ordered the meals they picked for each other, one beef carpaccio, the other beetroot, another bottle of wine for later, and a cheeseboard as a starter.

They drank wine, talked about what was going on in their lives, about dumb people they had to work with, and joked about their past. As the dishes arrived, they were already halfway through the second bottle, so another has been ordered.

When they were done with the main courses, the waiter suggested a dessert, so they ordered all seven there were.

“Can you charge someone by their card information?" Regulus asked when the waiter brought them the bill. The man just nodded in response, writing down the numbers Regulus gave him. They left a generous tip and went out of the restaurant.

James put his arm around Regulus’ shoulders, pulling him closer as they went down the river in the general direction of James' flat. Everything seemed funny to them at this point, so when they got to the apartment building, both of them were practically crawling on the pavement. After a few more minutes of laughter, they gathered themselves enough to look at each other with wide grins.

“It’s late, and it’s too dangerous to walk this far,” James said when Regulus suggested he should go home. “You can stay at mine, though,” he added, feigning nonchalance. The other’s eyes sparkled at the statement.

“Can I really?” he asked flirtatiously.

James laughed breathlessly and shook his head in response. Taking Regulus’ hand, he led them both to the second floor, to his flat.

When Sirius came to visit James the next morning and saw his best friend and brother cuddling on the bed, all he could think was that his mission had been accomplished.

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Wildflower

What should Ghost give during Valentine's Day to Jade when she's an actual florist who sees flowers literally every day?

Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x Charlotte “Jade” Le Jardin (OC) Word Count : ~ 6.4k words Warning : Full on fluff-fest, a slight angst, and the good o'l cursings.

Title and story inspired by the song 'Wildflower' by Clay Finnesand and 'La Vie en Rose' by Louis Armstrong.

February 14th. 

Fucking Valentine’s day - a day full of love, they said. 

He never really celebrated or cared about any of those kinds of days where people commemorate shit like love. For him, it's just like any other day. He woke up today and did his workout before he went on jogging.

However, that day is different as he saw countless red and pink decorations in every store in his apartment neighbourhood, offering Valentine's day discount for couples. He swore he saw more couples walking down the street than usual, that he even saw a man propose to his girlfriend when he was jogging. 

Looking at them, Ghost remembered,

He already confessed to Jade during the New Years. 

Yep. He did.

Across the London Eye, when the fireworks painted the infinite black, the chimes of Big Ben rang throughout the Thames River, he said it to her, 

‘I think I’m falling in love with you.’

Only to disappoint her again by saying, ‘But I don’t think I’m ready yet.’

Had he been a coward for not being ready to commit yet? Jade was a shining light in his life. She knew of his struggles, and she treated him with kindness and fondness no woman ever did to him. All his life he never thought to fall in love with someone, yet here he was. 

He wanted to be in a relationship with her. Fuck, he wanted to. But she deserved the world. She deserved certainty and stability while his job was nothing but that. He could get deployed out of the blue anytime – die anytime. He had a lot of things to sort out first.

He saw tears in her green eyes despite the smile. She only hugged him in response, saying, 

‘I love you, so I’ll stay right here.’ Jade muttered shakily while pressing her body to his in a tight hug, her fingers grasping the back of Ghost’s jacket. 

‘When you’re ready, I’ll be here.’

‘Let’s be friends, yeah?’ She had added, to which he answered with a smile. “Yeah. We'll always be friends.”

That was New Years. 

It'd been two months since then. Ghost and Jade had been texting each other regularly all the while continuing their lives. They met occasionally for a food tour as Ghost was a food enthusiast. Their chat was full of ‘Let’s try the new Korean BBQ around the street’, ‘You ever tried a fried ice cream?’, ‘There’s a new movie about a lady becoming a superhero across multiple universes’, and more casual stuff like those. Meanwhile Jade would take him to physical activities such as take him to a zoo, hiking, and even go to arcades. 

Johnny had been such a tease on it. He’d been bothering Ghost the whole time in the base as the Lieutenant looked at his phone and typing away on it more frequently than ever. ‘Yer’ lookin’ very happy these days, Sir.’ , ‘How’s Jade doin’?’, ‘Another ‘meet-up’ with Jade?’, 

‘Yer’ so full of rubbish. That’s called a date.’ Soap had said. 

'Shut your gob. We’re just friends, Johnny.’

‘Friends who go on dates together.’

Soap ran away before Ghost could smack the shit out of him. 

But was it really? Ghost and Jade frequently walk together, as friends, Eating at places together, as friends. Watch movies together, as friends. 

But seeing that one guy propose to his girlfriend lit up a spark in him.

That's when Ghost texted her for a meet-up somewhere, Jade replied back with,

‘I would LOVE to if it's not the busiest time of the year T_T and every Valentines we'd open from early morning to midnight, so I'm really sorry. We have all our employees working, but it doesn't seem to make any difference.’

He forgot that Valentine’s day is literally the most important day for a florist. Fucking idiot.

Ghost sighed as he looked up from his phone, right in front of the Le Jardin floristry. He wore a black hoodie and a face mask, the black face paint absent from around his eyes as he was on leave, a rare occurrence from his line of work. Inside the garden was an organised chaos, to say the least. Ghost saw at least 6 customers inside the garden, around 4 employees going around the shop to accompany them. Even as one person went out after buying a flower, two people would enter the shop to replace them. The place was positively crowded.

He looked far and wide for Jade inside among the sea of people, until a woman with ginger hair came out of a room with a big rose bouquet, giving it to a man in an expensive suit that was tailored to perfection for his figure. The man paid for the humongous flowers and left the shop with a nervous face, meanwhile Jade instantly attended to another customer. He could tell that she's a leader based on how she commanded her employees with such confidence and authority, yet still had that kindness and gentleness in her way of talking. Her legs brought her around the shop with utmost speed and precision, not a single step was wasted on her feet.

He could only smile proudly beneath the mask. 

For about 15 minutes he observed the shop, until a truck pulled up in front of an alleyway right beside the floristry. Didn't have to wait long to understand that the vehicle was meant to pick up flower decorations for a wedding as an old man came out from the alleyway (presumably connected to the backdoor of the shop) brought out a very big, white bouquet in his arms, which size was so big it concealed his head - surely he couldn't see where he was stepping. Ghost noticed that he was struggling to lift the giant decoration onto the truck, his knees looked like it was about to tumble, until his prediction turned into reality.

The old man's knees failed him, and the big white flower decoration would turn into a mess on the ground, if not for Ghost, who quickly leaped in and held the flowers from falling. Ghost huffed in relief that he jumped just in time. 

The man leaned to the side of the decoration to see who had just saved him, and saw a big, tall man dressed in a black hoodie and jeans, whose face was concealed by another black face mask.

Regardless, the elder smiled wide, "Oh good heavens! Thank you so much for the assist! My knees aren't as strong as they used to." The old man said as they both put the white decorations into the truck box. "Ah~ being young is so much easier innit?"

Ghost only nodded, avoiding eye contact to hide his identity. Why'd he help him? probably just from reflex, but then again, how could he just leave an old man stumbling to his fall?

"I'm really sorry for the trouble. I wish I could repay you." The old man's expression was so kind it's almost blinding. He wasn't that short or frail for a man with entirely white hair, probably a 5'9". Judging by his quite muscular arms from his rolled sleeves, he could tell that he's not weak, his knees just betrayed him at a bad time. 

Ghost didn't say anything to the man as he was about to walk away to avoid more interaction, before a familiar feminine voice called.

"Papa! Are you okay!? I saw you trip!"

Both men turned their attention to the shop, where a woman with braided red hair and dark blue apron was talking from the main doorway. 

"Don't worry, Lottie Dear. I got it, but only thanks to this young lad right here." He gestured to Ghost, where he stood right on the elder's left. "If not for him, we'd have to replace all the flowers." 

Fuck.

The old man is her father. 

It's Mister Le Jardin. 

Her green eyes caught the sight of a man whose built and sense of fashion she would recognize from a mile away. "Wait... Ghost??" Jade exclaimed, her face filled with surprise, "What are you doin' here??" 

The SAS lieutenant looked up to her with a tinge of panic on his concealed face, while Mr. Le Jardin observed him up and down. "Oh? You know him?" 

Jade nodded slowly, still shocked, "Yes... he's uh… he's a friend from work." 

He never intended to be noticed by Jade, afraid of disturbing her work, let alone meet her father out of all people. 

The father noticed that word. 'From work'. 

"Really now? What's your name, young man?" Mr. Le Jardin asked, his voice went higher in delight. 

He lowered his head to bow a little, before answering, "Simon... Sir."

"Ah. Nice to meet you, Simon! I'm Eli, owner of Le Jardin along with my wife Gracie – she's inside dealing with the clients." He introduced himself with a handshake, which Ghost reluctantly accepted. 

"Sir! Where're the rest of the flowers?!" The truck driver shouted as he got off his vehicle, prompting Eli to walk to the back door through the alleyway, leaving Ghost and Jade at the front of the shop, her face still painted with shock. A lady walked in front of Jade to enter the shop, so she made some way for her and approached Ghost. 

"Hey Ghost." The red-head started, happiness filling her voice. 

"Hey." 

"So… What brings you here?" She surely knew that he wasn't there just because he 'happened to be in the area', so he deleted that reply in his mind. 

"I wanted to see you."

Jade's eyes widened, surprised at his straight-forward answer. "Oh." 

"Your old man lost his balance loading this decoration into the truck, so I helped him." 

"Oh." Still with the same answer, Jade couldn't tell him how fast her heartbeat was, as her father just came in contact with Ghost, the man she fell in love with.

He looked inside the shop, observing the clients and employees walking around. "Busy day innit?"

"Yeah, it is. To be honest we've been busy since the last 3 days. Had to pick up tons of fresh flowers from our fields back in Norfolk, then arrange them for this day. Today's the busiest day, so it's an all-hands-on-deck situation. Also a big wedding is coming up tonight, and we have to transport these humongous flowers to a hotel ballroom for decorations. Biiig money. This is the third truck." Jade explained as her father and the truck driver walked out with two exact copies of the same white flower decor, lifting them up into the truck before immediately running back in. Third truck? The client must've had too much money on their wallets.

Seeing the scene that's happening in front of him, Ghost took a deep breath and blew it out. 

"Seems like your Da can use an extra pair of arms and younger knees." His deep voice suggested, making Jade's eyebrow rise. 

"Oh? Are you willing to help us out?" 

A nod was all she needed as a confirmation. "Got nothin' else to do or to be."

A wide grin fell on her lips as she grabbed Ghost's right hand and pulled him into the alleyway and to the back door of the shop, where a vast storage room was packed full of flower decorations similar to the ones that were being lifted to the truck. There were only flowers where the eye could see, save for the door that led to the front shop. There were huge boxes and boxes of flowers that had big 'Ian & Gia 14/02's written on them.

Ghost turned to the woman beside her. "Big money, eh?"

"Suuuuper big. Businessman and a big shot pianist. Wanted all the jasmines of blue white and red, and we gotta lift them all to the truck." She explained smiling to him, "Think you're up for this?"

"Won't even break a sweat." Ghost began stepping into the storage room, lifting three big boxes at once in his arms. Jade was left impressed by his show of strength as he ran to the truck at an impressive speed, before coming back and picking up more boxes like a machine, his hoodie still up and his mask still on. 

Jade scoffed at his feat, as her father came to pat her shoulder from behind, "A soldier huh?"

"...Yeah."

"It's basically written on his whole figure and posture. Is he any special in his regiment?"

The daughter could only let out a light laugh, "Very, very much so."

"Get out of here." His father looked at her in disbelief, "SAS?" 

"Yep. One of the strongest, and I'm not even exaggerating." 

His loud laugh filled the alleyway as Ghost ran back and forth lifting the flower boxes without a second wasted and tiredness showing. Jade smiled before heading into the shop to aid her mother and her co-workers with the regular customers. 

------

“Chacha, the pink wrapping paper and white 2.5 is out! We need more from the storage, please!” shouted Fiona, her co-worker and best friend of southeast asian descent, who mainly works in the front counter, preparing the flowers right in front of the visitors (which worked as an added value to attract more people). Her wrapping skills were second to none in the shop, even to Gracie, Jade’s mother, who sat right beside her counting the incoming revenues and accepting orders by call. 

“One minute!” Jade shouted back from the studio room, which was right behind the wall of the main display room while her hands also swiftly moved to arrange roses inside a heart-shaped box. The order had come in pretty fast; she had to make three of them at a time, and now she had to go up to the second floor to get the items Fiona requested. 

“Let me get it.” A deep voice came from behind her, making Jade flinch and look back to the source of the voice, where Ghost stood. 

“A-Are you done with the loading?” Jade asked him with a start, as it was not even 20 minutes since he started to help her father lift all the flowers inside the truck. 

“Just finished. Truck left just now with your dad to arrange the decorations in the ballroom.” 

“Oh.” Jade leaned back to take a glimpse of the back storage room, and true to his words, it was empty. “Wow.”

“Where are these… pink wrappings and the ‘white 2.5’s’?” Asked Ghost with a tone of confusion in his words. Jade could only giggle as she never thought she’d hear the word ‘pink’ out of his mouth. 

“Okay, so go to the second floor. On your 3, duck down and the pink wrapping is on the 3rd shelf from the bottom - take 4 rolls of ‘em. ‘White 2.5’s’ means the white-coloured satin ribbon with a 2.5 centimetres width. Don’t mistake them for the rest as there are the .5, 1.2, 4, and 5 centimetres as well. From the shelf go to your left and there should be a high rack and you can find the thingy there. Take two rolls. Don’t forget to close the door before you go down.” 

Ghost stood in silence as he processed the information.

Before Jade could ask him if he remembered all that, he answered: “Affirmative.” 

The man walked to the side stairs and stepped over 2 stairs, disappearing from her sight to the upper floor. Jade scoffed at the sight before going back to her handiwork. When else can you command an SAS officer like this?

----------

“Chachaaa~ Where're the pink wrappings and white 2.5s?! I need ‘em no–” Fiona noticed the new pink wrappings and white ribbons on the table as she worked. That was fast. 

She then looked up, expecting to find her red-headed best friend who was shorter than her, only to find a big, tall man dressed in a black hoodie and a face mask instead, who exudes danger in the way he stands. Fiona, Gracie, and the clients looked him up and down with mouths agape, as they never saw this giant man around, ever. The scene looked too damn comical for his liking.

“...Is this correct?” Ghost started with a voice lower than the depths of hell, which surprised the whole room. Fuck. Being looked at by people was the one thing he wanted to avoid, but here he was.

“Lottie dear, Who’s this?” the old lady beside Fiona asked Jade with a quite high volume, who was still inside the studio arranging the heart-shaped roses.

Judging by the nickname and those braids in her gray hair similar to Jade's, this lady could only be Gracie, her mother. 

Mrs. Le Jardin. 

“H-He’s a friend from work! I called him up here to lend a hand!” Jade shouted back from the studio. Even with the answer, all the people were still staring at him, especially Jade’s mum, and it felt like having ten laser sights aiming at him.

He swore he saw a smirk from Gracie.

So before he attracted more attention, Ghost repeated, “Is this correct?” 

“Y—yeah.” Fiona answered nervously, meanwhile her mother was still eyeballing him like she found a leprechaun. Upon hearing that confirmation, Ghost left the items in the counters and fast-walked back to the studio where Jade was, disappearing from sight. 

-----------

“Chacha, are you serious? ‘A friend from work’?” Fiona asked her best friend as she threw a piece of french fries into her mouth. The Le Jardin floristry was currently having a lunch break, and most of the employees went out to get their own meals, while the two stayed inside to talk about the man who was currently sweeping the floor of the studio alone, silently.

Fiona stared at his back from where they were eating at a counter, chewing at her fries. “Are you saying that you have a friend built like that with a voice like that working as a volunteer in the orphanage dealing with kids???”

“Nooo no no, that’s not it–!” That was where Jade messed up. She forgot that neither her best friend, nor any one of their employees know that the Le Jardins used to be MI6 black agents, except the fact that Jade was adopted. They both started to become friends when Fiona applied for the job 3 years ago, right when Jade just retired from MI6. All that she knew was the fact that Jade only had two jobs: Floristry on weekdays and in the orphanage for weekends. She never mentioned the other work that she did for the last two decades of her life. “I didn’t mean from work, I mean I met him when I was at work.” 

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.” 

“When and how did you meet him? Heck what is his name?” Shit. She needed to make up stories about him at this point. But what?! Jade hated lying. Sure it’s super easy to manipulate people by changing reality, but she didn’t want to lie to her best friend! Fiona’s the one who’s been helping her adjust to the life of being a florist and a normal life for the last three years (after saying that she’d been living abroad). 

However, how can Jade just say, ‘oh so actually I was an MI6 agent. Both of your bosses were too, actually. Not only agents – we were black agents who were trained since we were not old enough to make our own decisions to do the illegal stuff! I retired three years ago and that's when I met you, but they called me back again, and that’s when I met that guy who happened to be an officer of one the most elite task forces in the world!' 

That’s just absurd!

How did she meet him? How did she meet him?! 

"Ja– I mean Midg– I mean Lottie, where do I put these–"

The two women turned their heads to Ghost, who came out of the studio with the broom and dustpan in his hands. Looking at the two women's expression, he knew he fucked up. He didn't know what to call her outside of work. Her call sign 'Jade' was directly tied to her work as an MI6 and he couldn't know for sure if Fiona knew about that name. 'Midget' was the name he called her regularly, but he thought it was too harsh in front of her best friend, while 'Lottie' was…

"Why did you call her that?" Fiona asked him while chewing her fries, suspicion painting het face, while Jade sucked her lips and widened her eyes in shock.

Fuck. He thought right. It's a pet name used exclusively by her parents. 

"Wait. No way." She turned to Jade and Ghost back and forth before standing up abruptly, startling Jade, meanwhile Ghost stood calmly, still holding the cleaning tools in his hands.

"Chacha… is he your secret boyfriend?!?" 

That sentence shocked both of them as Jade quickly denied in panic, "No! No, he's not!! Just– sit down will you?" 

"That name is exclusively used by the bosses, ya know." She started walking towards Ghost slowly. 

Jade followed her from behind, trying to hold her friend back. "Fiona, he isn't! I swear!"

"No, seriously. How did you meet her? When?" She started closing in on Ghost excitedly, looking up at him. "What’s your name, by the way?"

“Simon.” Ghost answered deadpanly, as the last question was literally the only question he can answer casually. As long as he didn’t give out his last name, it’d be fine. “Name’s Simon.” 

"Ooooooh so he's the reason why you've been going out a lot after closin' up! You've been on dates!!" 

"NO!! We haven't–" 

"Yes."

Ghost's deep voice interrupted the two girls' argument, making them look at the man. 

"We've been on dates." 

Jade's face turned as red as her hair, and her heart beat so fast and so hard she swore Fiona and Ghost could hear it. Why was he suddenly doing this??? All the while, Fiona's jaw dropped to the floor, eyes glaring at her best friend in shock. 

Jade glanced at Ghost, but that damned hoodie and face mask did not help her at all. "I KNEW IT!!! I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU'VE BEEN DATING BEHIND MY BACK??? I mean– I am happy for you, Chacha, but WHY ARE YOU HIDING IT FROM ME???" Fiona excitingly chimed to her best friend, grabbing Jade's shoulders before shaking them like she's a ragdoll. 

"Wait– Fiona I can explain–"

"Okay! Explain then! Tell me everything! And don't you dare try to hide anything from me." That's right. She deserved to know. Fiona had been with her for the past three years. She's her first best friend ever. Jade knew she could trust her.

Jade relented with a big sigh and glanced at Ghost with a questioning look. He caught her cue before he himself took a deep breath. "As long as she can keep her mouth shut."

Fiona turned to Ghost, "Wh-what? What is this about?"

"Fiona. My dear best friend. My very beautiful friend that I trust. I love you, so, so much, so I will tell you the truth." Jade started before Ghost cut her again. 

"Jade where do I put the broom and the dustpan."

"Owh just put it on the side there yeah. Thanks."

"Who's Jade?"

—------------

"Okay. So let me get this straight." Fiona clapped her hands together in front of Ghost and Jade, who were sitting on the chairs behind the counter together while Fiona was standing up. Jade sat like she was being interrogated, while Ghost folded his arms in front of his chest.

"You, Chacha, had been working as an MI6 black agent for the last twenty years, since you were a wee kid, and then retired three years ago." Jade nodded.

"But two years ago, they called you back to this city called… Verdansk, and that's where you meet… Simon." She gestured to Ghost, who nodded.

"You only met briefly, until last October, you got called back from retirement again, and that's when you met him for the second time. But this one was special, as you guys started to develop feelings for each other, am I right?" Both of them nodded. 

"GOD this sounds like a Wattpad type of shite!!" Fiona grasped her hair from frustration, "And you're an MI6 BLACK AGENT??? REALLY???"

"Was. Papa and Mama were, too, actually." 

"Oh my Dear Lord in Heavens. THE BOSSES WERE BLACK AGENTS TOO?????" Jade nodded again. Clearly she didn't have any single clue of the burden that came with the words 'MI6', 'agent', especially with the added word 'black' in front of it.

"And you, Simon. So you're a soldier. Which one are you from? Navy? Is it the Royal Artillery? Or is it Life Guards like James Blunt?" Fiona asked with her very limited military knowledge. 

"You promised to keep your mouth shut so keep your promise." That voice came out harsher than he intended it to be, prompting Fiona to be taken aback.

"SAS."

The black-haired woman gasped so hard, covering her mouth in shock. "...like Bear Grylls?"

Jade couldn't help the giggle, as Ghost was utterly flabbergasted at her reaction as that was the first thing that came to her mind from the revelation. "...Yeah. Like Bear Grylls. And no I don't know him."

"Wow. Okay. So why the face mask? Does this have anything to do with secrecy and stuff?" Fiona asked him again as Ghost still had the hoodie up and face mask. She hadn't seen his face at all. "Am I not allowed to see his face? Wait Chacha you have seen his face right?"

"Of course I have! What do you mean by that!?" Jade countered, clearly overwhelmed by the barrage of questions. "Ghost. it's up to you."

Ghost huffed, lifting up one hand to the upper hem of his face mask. Fiona observed as Ghost pulled down the mask for a good 3 seconds, catching a glimpse of his strong jaw, his light brown stubble, the faint scars on his face, before putting the face mask back into place again. "Happy now?"

"Oh. Wow. Okay. I am happy." Fiona confirmed with start, turning to look at Jade again, "Chacha you hit a jackpot on this one – so you guys are a couple, right?"

The man and woman looked at each other for a long time, Jade bit her lower lip as her expression fell. Ghost could only close his eyes in regret. 

"Wait, no way you guys aren't a thing already. Whaaaatttt?" Fiona expressed her confusion because, for the last two months, Jade had started to buy more makeup and clothes, and the sudden interest in her looks had made Fiona suspicious. She really thought her best friend was dating a man secretly, but now that he's right here, both of them could not say that they're in a relationship?

"Look, Fiona… it's complicated, okay? We're just taking things slow right now. Our… jobs have their own risks, and we're just trying to enjoy things as they are now." Jade tried to explain with a bit of a sad tone to her voice. 

"So… you guys are friends, who happen to go on dates occasionally?" Fuckin' hell. Ghost thought. How could she say the exact same thing as Soap? Was it really weird? For two friends to just go together doing whatever they liked? 

After both of them nodded for the hundredth time that day, Fiona sighed in acceptance. "Chacha, Luv, I might not understand what you guys are going through right now, but Simon," she turned to Ghost, who lifted his head to see her clearly. "You better not make her cry." 

The man glanced to his side, where Jade silently sat on the chair. He knew she'd already hurt her feelings by saying he wasn't ready for a relationship yet, but if he wanted to be honest with himself, was ‘scared’ and ‘afraid’ the right word for it? As Soap and Fiona said, they’re literally doing what couples do. 

He’s just afraid to put a name on it. 

“I’ll try.” 

—------------

Jade had texted him earlier that during Valentine’s, Le Jardin’s floristry would open until midnight. Ghost wondered why as it had been a while since the employees had gone home, including Fiona (who told her that they were going to have a long chat on the phone) who had to go home and have dinner with her family. The sun had long drowned, replaced by the moon that accompanied the cold winter of London. Warm lights from the shops and a few street lights were the only thing lighting up the streets - one of them coming from the floristry. 

The sales peaked around 6 PM to 9 PM when people finished their work to be with their loved ones. Ghost had absolutely no skills in flower arranging or wrapping, so he did all he could to help the other employees to pick tools or items from high shelves, and even change the lightbulb when one of them died. Ghost didn’t mind it one bit as he found simple domestic things like this relaxing compared to what he did in the military - full of pressure, stress, and blood. 

Meanwhile, the utmost form of stress in Le Jardin’s (at least what he saw today), was a customer who kept changing the flowers that he wanted, and then lashing out at Fiona when his bouquet wasn’t tied the way he wanted to. Ghost almost wanted to step in, drag him out of the store, and throw him out to the streets, but Jade stepped in and calmly asked the customer for references, dealing with the situation one at a time, and finally, the man stomped out. Ghost knew that there were more variety of problems in retail, but at least he got to experience one today. To be honest that was probably the least angry person in London. 

That was 3 hours ago. Now, there’s only the Le Jardins and Ghost; the father had come home at around 4 PM after finishing the decorations. He took a photo of the ballroom and showed it to his family and Ghost, who was quite amazed at the old man’s sense of composition and aesthetic. 

The four of them were all in the front room, Gracie counting the revenues, Jade tidying up the display flowers, Eli wiping the windows, and Ghost sweeping the floors (again). The clock showed 00.23, the shop was empty, and even the cafe opposite them was already closed. As Ghost finished his chore, he put the cleaning tools to the side before approaching Jade.

“Are you not closin’? It’s past midnight.” He muttered to her, who was tidying up the edelweiss display. 

Jade smiled, “We usually extend about an hour.” 

“Why?” 

“You’ll see.”

Just as he was about to question it, the phone rang besides Gracie, who picked up the call immediately,

“Le Jardin Floristry. Yes, we are still open. You might be our last client, Sir. We do have tulips available. What colour? Red and pink, got it. The bouquet will be here when you arrive. Yes. We’ll be here, Sir, don’t worry. Thank you!” After confirming the order, Gracie smiled towards Ghost as she put the phone back. “That’s why, Simon Dear.”

About twenty minutes later, a man entered the shop in a hurry, dressed in a dirty fire brigade jacket. He clearly just finished his work and then drove to the floristry immediately after he extinguished whatever fire broke out somewhere. The moustached man approached the counter, where Jade had his order ready. “I’m here for my tulips?” He muttered, clearly tired from the way he panted. 

“Here it is, Sir. That’ll be 18 pounds.” 

“Thank you so much. You guys were the only shop open at this time. I’m forever grateful. I already told my wife and children that I’ll be late, but I truly felt bad.” He pulled out his wallet before putting a 20-pound note on the counter. 

“A pleasure for us, Sir. Have a good night!” Gracie chimed as he took the tulips in his hands, exited the shop and finally drove off. With that, Eli flipped the ‘Open’ tag to the ‘Closed’ tag.

“Delightful! Now.” Mr. Le Jardin put his hands on his hips, “Let’s have dinner.” Once Ghost heard that, he immediately planned his escape from the floristry like he needed to escape an enemy’s vicinity. 

“Simon Dear, you’re joining us, aren’t you?” But after hearing the gentle yet commanding tone coming out of Gracie, he decided against it, as what he heard in his ear was, ‘We’re going to have a conversation about you and my daughter’. 

—-------

“So, Simon Dear.” Gracie's voice startled Ghost as he was cutting the carrots for the chicken soup they're making, all the while Gracie was stirring the ladle on the pot. His hood was still up on his head, but he's taken off his mask to smell the chicken broth in front of him. He figured that if there's a civilian he'd let see his face, it's an ex-MI6 whose daughter he loved.

It was only the two of them in the kitchen on the third floor as Eli and his daughter were still tidying up the first floor. “Are you Lottie’s boyfriend?” 

Fuck. There’s the question. “No, Ma’am." He replied slowly, "Not yet."

Ghost expected a questioning look followed by a 'why', but instead she gave him a light nod. “She’s very fond of you, I think you should know."  That one caught Ghost's attention, briefly slowing down his slices. Did Jade talk to her mother about him?

"The way she talks about you, I know how deeply she really cared for you. She saw her future with no man, at all, until she met you. Had to do with 'understanding one another' she said." Gracie put in more black pepper into the pot.

“May I know, what stopped you from committing to her?”

More questions to answer, but this one, he didn't know how to answer. 

“...I don’t know, Ma'am."

Not long, Gracie muttered with a tone he almost forgot. Motherly. “...Are you afraid?”

And that's when he found himself so vulnerable, so open. And the weird thing was, he only felt like this when he's with Jade. He thought Gracie's her adoptive mother, but this magical familial trait where people could instantly open up to them was almost scary. 

Was it a yes? No, he's not afraid. He just thought that if they started dating, she might be wasting her time with him. Well, he's afraid that all this love that he's feeling and all these moments with be for naught if he's just dead after a deployment gone wrong. He can't promise anything to her. Ghost knew how serious Jade was about a relationship. She wanted a long-lasting one.

Ghost didn't mutter a word out of his mouth. Only continuing his work. He could feel her gaze on him, but he still chose to stay silent.

He expected judgement, but what came was a light smile. “You remind me of Eli and me, back when we were still with MI6."

"He was afraid of the life we’ll lead. Constantly running, followed by death everywhere we go. Stability and domesticity was a dream impossible to achieve.” As Ghost listened and wondered how the fuck did she read his mind, he lifted the cutting board and poured the cube-cut carrot into the pot. 

“However, I can tell him anything, he can tell me anything.” Gracie continued, looking up at him. Her gaze was as soft as Jade's, grey eyes softly gazing into his soul. “Eli had his own problems, I had my own, but what mattered was the fact that we both tried to be better, for my own sake, and for his sake.”

“He was my best friend, and I was his. It was a leap of faith to be together.” She said as her palm tapped his shoulder firmly.

“I’m saying this as her mother. If you love her, then go all in. She deserves all of you.”

---

Dinner was eventful, to say the least. The Le Jardins, plus Ghost, ate their dinner together in their house on the third floor. Chicken and vegetable soup accompanied by warm cups of tea was enough to fill their stomachs. Ghost, of course, had to take his hood down and took off his face mask to eat with the three of them.

It felt odd. 

When was the last time he had a family dinner like this? Eating a delicious meal without having to find a place where there's no other people? A place where he could freely show his face to others, the warmth of a family? 

It didn't take long for Eli to finish his meal, as he stood up and put on 'La Vie en Rose' by Louis Armstrong on the classic gramophone. Gracie scoffed loudly, stood up, and took Eli's hand in hers. 

"Heeeere we go." Jade rolled her eyes, seeming like she had to watch this for the thousandth time.

As Louis Armstrong started to sing, the two old couple put out an amazing slow dancing show in front of Ghost and Jade. Seeing them so unashamedly happy, and the fact that both of their eyes only stared at each other with so much love, Ghost unconsciously smiled.

And when he turned to look at Jade, there was she, two hands holding her phone horizontally, taking a video of her parents, grinning ear to ear while her eyes gleamed with joy.

It's such a warm scene to witness. 

He only hoped it was him and her in place of Eli and Gracie.

—------------

The time showed 02.13. Ghost and Jade were standing in front of the shop, a long scarf wrapped around Ghost's neck as the cold was harsh that time of the day. Jade insisted that he wore them, or she said he would catch a cold. 

"Thank you, Ghost. For today. My dad had been having regular trouble with his knee, so thank you so so much." Jade started, cheeks blushing that was certainly not because of the February winter. 

"Well, I doubt that, considering how well he danced with your mum." Ghost replied, making Jade laugh. Her smile was a sight he'd never get tired of seeing. “Are you going anywhere tomorrow?” 

That question quite surprised her. “Well… Tomorrow my shift starts at 3 PM. So I'm free in the morning. Why?"

“I want to make do for today. We haven’t had a proper… date. Yet. I honestly had wanted to bring you flowers, but I remembered you're a florist. So I felt like a prat.”

Her face turned as red as tulips at that. “Honestly, you helping out in the shop was more romantic than anything you could ever give."

"Oh yeah?" 

"Yeah! So… what are you thinkin’ for tomorrow? What do you wanna do, Ghost?”

“What do you wanna do?” He asked back.

“Oh? W-well… Hmmm." Jade contemplated, pouting her lips, glancing at the moon high in the sky. "Ice skating. And then Korean barbecue after.”

“I-Ice skating?” Ghost stuttered, not expecting that answer. 

“Yeah. What, you afraid you’re gonna fall?”

“I have no clue what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll hold you if you do.” 

He wanted to say something along the lines of 'fuck-off' or 'sod you'. But he deleted that reply before it came out of his mouth, instead saying, "Please do."

Jade grinned ear-to-ear at that response. She was anticipating a clap back from him, but it was such an unusually warm reply that she couldn't help the blush in her cheeks.

No matter how much she wanted him to stay close to her, he had to go, and Jade said her goodbye. "Thank you for today. See you tomorrow, Simon."

Still standing still, Ghost muttered, "It was fun."

She thought he was going to start walking away towards his apartment, but instead, a glimmer of light reflected on his brown irises, still gazing at hers with such hopeful and wistful eyes.

And before she knew it, Ghost leaned in closer to her face, and placed a soft peck on her cheek.

As he stood back, Jade saw that his face burnt red, seeming like what he just did took great courage and resolution. His face still so close to hers, Ghost left her speechless.

And before she could say anything, he said his last words to her that night,

"See you tomorrow, Lottie."

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

Hope you like it! (❁´◡`❁)

[failbettergames]

OHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!!

THE mames! THE NAMES!!! I'm a recent player (since last week) and I'm already down the rabbit hole.

My current investigation are the names and changes of pre-Fall London. What exactly did the Fall to the urban landscape and architecture? Both in physical reality and the psychogeography of the citizens. In the begging I was sooo confused because this is supposed to be London, right?? Then where are all the places?! I see the Big Ben tower but where is Webbminster Abbey? Or the Palace of Buckingham? Where is London??

But then I saw it.

First it was the Stolen River, obviously in the exact shape of ye ol' Thames. So IT WAS LONDON all along but I wasn't actually seeing it. Watchmakers Hill is Greenwich, of course! That explains the Observatory. And the dock is the Isle of dogs, being hugged by the river in the exact same position.

They broke down the City, rearranged its streets and buildings, twisting the maps and burning its memory. Here it is, London! The Big Smoke! The Square Mile! The gracious, the Fallen!

welcome to the trip, looks like we've got you

enjoy x

[halukturgutmenguc]

©all rights reserved / htm.studios/2023/436

Here now...!

[anonymous-dentist]

From the Doctor Who au I keep meaning to write:

-

Roier’s husband disappeared into the midst of the Time War just over 350 years ago.

Today, Cellbit wants to meet Jack the Ripper, so he and Roier are pushing their ways through the foggy, smelly London streets, and it’s fine. It’s just Jack the Ripper, it’s fine. It’s the British, it’s fine.

Roier can take care of himself. He’s a veteran! He’s one of the few Time Lords to actually have made it out of the war with more than one regeneration cycle to spare.

But Cellbit? He might have a very solid build and some very nice biceps, but he’s also kind of a nerd. He claims to be able to take care of himself in a fight, but Roier’s been the one saving him from all the aliens (and humans) he’s been pissing off, sooooo…

“We could have gone to the beach,” Roier grumbles.

“The beach is boring,” Cellbit huffs. “Jack the Ripper isn’t at the beach.”

“You don’t know that. Nobody knows who that guy is.”

“Not yet.”

Because that’s what they’re here: Cellbit- strange, beautiful Cellbit- has decided that he’s going to solve the mystery of who Jack the Ripper is even though, really, it doesn’t even matter.

(But what else is new?)

Roier rolls his eyes.

Once upon a time, his husband went by the title of ‘the Captain’. He was a police captain in one of Gallifrey’s smaller towns, and his sister worked by his side as the Detective.

Cellbit is a conspiracy theorist who throws bricks at police cars and criticizes serial killers not because they’re evil but because their “knife techniques” are “wrong”.

The irony is not lost on Roier, but he keeps his mouth shut.

Cellbit, despite having an entire time machine at his disposal now, wants to find Jack the Ripper, and he wants to kick him in the balls and throw him into the Thames and watch him drown.

Roier agrees. Fuck that guy.

“Fuck that guy,” Roier declares.

Cellbit nods in agreement. “Fuck him. He had so much potential.”

Roier blinks. “What?”

“Uh, I mean. He had so much potential… to get arrested and die in jail?”

Uh-huh, sure.

Roier rolls his eyes. “I think they still do public executions here, actually.”

“What, don’t you know? Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of alien super genius?”

Cellbit’s smile is sharp as a knife. (He’s soooo proud of himself. Dumbass.)

He elbows Roier in the side.

Roier elbows him back. “Not everybody can be an ‘alien super genius’. Some of us are just guys who slept through Earth Class in school.”

Cellbit shoots him a look, his smile and eyes softening disgustingly.

“Don’t sell yourself short, man,” he says. “You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

He goes quiet for a second before quickly adding on: “Especially compared to us humans!”

He coughs into his fist and looks to the side, his cheeks red from embarrassment.

Oh, Cellbit…

Roier elbows Cellbit again. “Hey, be nice to humans! They can be smart as hell sometimes!”

“Yeah, sometimes,” Cellbit says, still turned away. “We can be really dumb sometimes, though. Like, with cars. And TikTok.”

“Fuck you, I love TikTok!”

“You would.”

Mildly outraged and somewhat offended, Roier gasps, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, just that you look like a TikTok guy.”

“What happened to calling me a genius?”

Cellbit bites back a laugh, not answering. Asshole.

Pouting only a little, Roier crosses his arms and kicks a pebble and tries not to step in a river of alcohol and mud going down the side of the street. Ewwwww….

Once upon a time, Roier used to go on trips with his Captain all the time. They’d hop into the Captain’s TARDIS and set the destination to random and go on at least a dozen dates a week. They’d hold hands walking down the streets, and they would kiss quite literally whenever possible.

Cellbit doesn’t hold Roier’s hand. Their fingers brush, but that’s it.

(Roier misses him so bad…)

Roier’s wedding ring feels so cold. He can only imagine how freezing the chain necklace around Cellbit’s neck is.

But they keep walking, and they keep talking, and Roier can almost pretend it’s the same as it was before the war. He wasn’t on the last of his set of 12 lives, his husband wasn’t… a fucking idiot.

Cellbit trips over a loose paving stone and almost falls, but Roier catches him by the arm and pulls him back upright- their first real physical contact since Roier picked Cellbit up for that first trip away from Earth.

Just for a second, Cellbit looks like he’s going to break. His eyes water, and his mouth thins, and his lip threatens to start wobbling pathetically.

But he pulls himself together, and he pulls his arm away.

“Thank you,” he quietly says.

He holds his body close to himself and looks anywhere but at Roier.

Roier sighs, but he smiles, anyway. Of course he does. He’s Cellbit, how could Roier not smile at him?

(This, at least, has stayed the same.)

___

If you liked this little excerpt, please reblog and comment/ask/Whatever! It really does mean a lot to me, and it lets me know that people want to read more!!

[phoenixinthefiles]

Genuine

I apologize it took me almost 2 months to write bcus I hate discussing feelings that much Warnings: v self indulgent like this some self-discovery type stuff

@vhstown (also lmk if you wanna be tagged or something)

Your book slipped from your lap as you laughed and failed to catch your breath.

Hobie, the source of your amusement, started at you stale faced. Unfortunately for him, this only made you laugh harder.

“Wait,” you gasped out, still trying to catch your breath.

He continued to sideye you as he spoke, “Yeah it’s hilarious, nearly drowned in the Thames, but as long as you’re amused.”

You managed to contain your giggles enough to get your breathing under control and you leaned on his shoulder looking up at him with your best innocent look.

“I’m so happy you didn’t die, darling,” you said, trying your best to copy his accent.

He rolled his eyes at your antics but you could see the small smile he was failing to hide.

You grinned mischievously and he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Hobie Brown, punk extraordinaire, trips into the River Thames mid performance; sounds like a headline. Oh wait…it is one.”

You cackled at your joke, but stopped when he pushed you and you nearly fell into a candle.

“Hobart Brown! I could’ve burned myself.”

“Thought you would’ve laughed it off since you find near-death experiences amusing.”

You snickered and shook your head, “You are so dramatic.”

“Nah, you’re just heartless.”

“Don’t you know how to swim?” you asked.

He glared at you instead of responding.

You gasped, “you don’t?”

He scoffed, “‘Course I do, but I was fifteen and pissed out my mind.”

“So you flailed around like little girl? sounds like a serious lack of survival instincts to me.”

He lunged for you and you reared back, putting your hands up in surrender.

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry I’ll leave you alone.”

He narrowed his eyes at you but he sat back down.

You smirked and muttered, “for now.”

His head jerked back to you and you gave him another innocent look.

He just shook his head at you again.

You watched him for a moment before remembering what you were doing before you nearly laughed yourself to death.

You had rambled to Hobie a week ago about wanting to make a reading nook where you could sit with a blanket and read your favorite books.

After you complained about being bored earlier in the day, he invited you to hang out on his boat and the two of you spent about two hours finding all of his books and making a fort.

It was cramped, and the height of the stacked books made you slightly claustrophobic, but it was still cozy. And it’s not like you hated being close to Hobie.

The candles were his idea, even though you told him it was a fire hazard.

You found your book you dropped, and dusted it off before finding your spot to pick up where you left off.

You found your focus shifting from the book to the conversation you two just had.

Everyone has been embarrassed at least once in their life, It shouldn’t have surprised you like it did.

Hobie was human, humans get embarrassed.

But still…

“Can’t read your mind.”

Hobie’s voice interrupted your thoughts and he turned towards you.

“Hm?” You asked.

“You got a question. Can tell by the way the your looking,” He tilted his head and gave you a lazy smirk. “It’s easier to tell when people with smaller brains are gearing up for a question, their brain can’t really contain it.”

You roll your eyes. You did have a question, but the reason he knew that wasn’t because your brain is small.

Not everyone can be genius.

“Ok. Why are you living in a boat if you had such a mortifying experience with water? I mean personally, I wouldn’t-

You’re cut off by your own laughter as you leap up and dodge him as he lunges for you again.

You’re fast as you dart away, but his legs are longer and he’s much more agile. You almost knocked a candle over trying to get up.

Should’ve ignored his suggestion for those.

He catches up to when you run into the door leading out to deck, bumping your hip harshly into the frame.

He saves you before you can faceplant into the many plants and flowerpots he has cluttering the deck.

You groan as you try to catch your breath, trying in vain to rub out the sting in your hip.

Hobie doesn’t aid in your efforts at all. He digs his long fingers into your ribs as you laughed breathlessly and tried to dodge his fingers.

He doesn’t let up when you trip over your own feet trying to back away from him.

He smoothly slows down your fall, somehow managing to keep a good grip on you even though his fingers are constantly moving and you’re squirming like hell. Stupid guitarist hands.

Speaking of, the rhythm he’s strumming into your ribs is akin to the song he was playing earlier…

“Ok,” you gasp, “I give up I’m sorry!”

He doesn’t let up at all.

“Nahh, it’s a bit late for that, where’s all that energy from before huh?”

“It’s gone” you grit out, still tying, in vain, to squirm away.

“Hobie pleaseee,” you beg. Well it was more of a wheeze.

He continues spidering his fingers up and down your ribcage, pretending to give thought to your plea. “Don’t know if I can do that love, still haven’t heard a good apology.”

You whine and squirm a little more but eventually give in.

“Ok, ok I'll apologize," you gasp out and he leans back, finally.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sure the performance was amazing and the dive just amplified it. Y’know the unpredictable nature of punks and that?”

He snorts and stands to his feet, pulling you up to stand in front of him.

“Your apology was still rubbish, but you recovered in the end.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned into his chest, still panting like a dog.

He wraps his arms around you pulling you even closer, softie.

You finally regain control of your lungs and took a deep breath inhaling the scent of leather and scented smoke wafting off of Hobie, you probably smelled the same considering the candles.

He rested his chin on the top of your head and you knew he was probably still waiting on you to ask your question from earlier.

“I was surprised that you got embarrassed.” You muttered out, feeling a bit stupid as you did so.

He pulled back slightly and gave you a confused look. You sighed and pulled back further turning to lean against the very short railing wrapping around the deck. Yet another hazard, if he wasn’t careful he might fall off this boat.

“I know it’s kinda dumb, but I was surprised. I mean embarrassment kinda requires you to care what people think and you being you…” You trailed off.

He nodded and tilted his head back and forth a few times before responding, “I don’t care what they think, but feelings don’t really respond to logic.”

"No they certainly don't," you mumble.

You can't really describe the tightening in your chest and the pressure in your brain, and you don't really want to.

Unfortunately for you...

Hobie knocks his knuckles against your forehead, wordlessly communicating exactly what he emans.

You roll eyes and take another deep breath before you respond.

"You wear everything on your sleeve; everything about you screams-genuine. And sure you've got a lot of other things going on but you don't...hide. I just don't understand it I guess. Not everybody does that and-

"I don't hold a grudge against you for it."

You're not surprised at the interruption, more at the fact that he read you so well.

You grimace and look away to gather yourself before you speak again.

"I-I know that but sometimes I worry."

He hums and pulls your hands into his, fidgeting with the ring he made that rests on your middle finger.

You're grateful for the distraction and direct your eyes down to your connected hands as you continue.

"I don't wanna say the wrong thing, and you not even be able to get what I mean because I can't...show it."

You shrug and let your hands fall out of his, subconsciously closing yourself off while you try to breathe through the straining in your sternum.

He places his hands on your shoulder and gently rubs his hands up and down your arms. It's not that you need to be warmed up, but the action calms you down and breathing becomes much easier.

You look up at him and he gives you that stupid smirk of his.

The one that made you fall in love with him.

"I've known you for a while now doll; you think you're closed off and cold, but you're not. You're a lil' emotionally stunted-"

You roll your eyes, while his twinkle.

"But I don't fault you for it. What's the point in being the same anyway, weren't made for it y'know? You're plenty expressive; I can see it in your eyes, in your body language, in that little lip twist you do when you're trying to be nice."

He brings you closer to him, one hand resting at the small of your back, the other one the railing behind you.

"You've let me in, I'm not going anywhere."

You give him a small smile and he matches it before tilting your chin up and leaning down to give you a kiss.

You return it and your smile widens when you pull away.

It drops in the very next second when you hear thud from inside the boat and the distinct sound of fire scorching paper.

Your eyes widen and you push away from to run back inside.

You bump your hip on the door frame again but you ignore the pain and scramble to put out the fire that's singed your book.

Luckily, you caught it before it could really spread and only the corner of the book is burnt.

Hobie snorts from the doorway and you turn to glare at him.

"Well I've got a idea of what you're feeling now."

You huff and shake your head, " I told you it was a fire hazard."

He shrugs, "It was pretty. 'Sides you've got quick reflexes; you caught it in time."

You smirk and toss the book to the ground, better to not have anything in your hands when you run.

"Yeah I do, they're really quick. I definitely wouldn't have have tripped off a boat and forgot I knew how to swim."

As soon as you finish your sentence you take off, and damn him for being a giant because he's right on your heels.

i did it 😭😭😭✊🏾

[shitsndgiggs]

Marc guiu and the reader exploring London☺️

HOME IS WITH YOU - MARC GUIU

Exploring London with Marc

Marc Guiu x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The sun was shining brightly over London, casting a golden glow on the city. Marc and I had been looking forward to this day for weeks.

It was rare for him to get a full day off from his training with Chelsea, and we had decided to spend it exploring our new home.

“¡Mira, cariño!” Marc pointed excitedly as we emerged from the underground station.

The towering presence of Big Ben greeted us, its iconic clock face gleaming in the sunlight.

“It’s even more impressive in person,” I said, slipping my hand into his. “Where to first?”

Marc grinned, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Let’s walk along the Thames. We can see the London Eye and maybe take a boat tour.”

As we strolled along the river, the city’s energy surrounded us. Street performers played music, and artists showcased their work.

Marc stopped to watch a group of dancers, his competitive spirit lighting up his face.

“Think you can dance better than them, futbolista?” I teased.

He laughed, shaking his head. “I think I’ll stick to football. But maybe you can show me some moves later, mi amor.”

We continued our walk, eventually reaching the London Eye. Marc’s eyes widened as he looked up at the massive Ferris wheel. “Do you want to go up? The view must be incredible from the top.”

I nodded eagerly. “Definitely. Let’s do it.”

As the capsule slowly ascended, the city unfolded beneath us, a patchwork of historic buildings and modern architecture.

Marc wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close.

“Look over there,” he said, pointing to the distant silhouette of Tower Bridge. “It’s like something out of a storybook.”

“It’s beautiful,” I agreed, leaning into him. “Thank you for today, Marc. It’s perfect.”

He kissed the top of my head. “Anything for you, princesa.”

After the ride, we wandered through the streets, exploring little shops. We came across a charming bookshop, and Marc insisted we go inside.

As we browsed the shelves, Marc picked up a book and began reading the blurb out loud, his spanish accent thick. “This book is about... how do you say... a detective?”

I giggled, nudging him playfully. “Your accent is so cute when you speak English.”

He raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye. “Oh, really? And yours is much better, is it?”

I laughed, trying to sound offended. “Of course it is! I have the perfect British accent.”

Marc chuckled, shaking his head. “Let’s hear it, then.”

Clearing my throat dramatically, I put on my best British accent. “Good day, sir. Would you care for some tea and crumpets?”

Marc burst out laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s terrible! You sound like a bad movie character.”

I pouted, crossing my arms. “Fine, but at least I’m trying.”

He grinned, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “And I love you for it. Even if your accent is terrible.”

We spent the rest of the day exploring the city, visiting museums, parks, and more iconic landmarks.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the city, we made our way to the last stop of our day—Tower Bridge.

Standing hand in hand, we watched as the lights flickered on, illuminating the bridge in a soft, golden light.

“It’s magical,” I whispered, leaning my head on his shoulder.

Marc nodded, his gaze fixed on the shimmering water below. “It really is. I’m so glad we moved here, even if it’s just for a while. Exploring London with you has made it feel like home.”

I turned to look at him, my heart swelling with love. “Home is wherever we are together.”

He smiled, leaning down to kiss me softly. “Te quiero, mi vida.”

“Te quiero más,” I replied, my voice full of affection.

[blueiscoool]

Remnants of a Legendary Typeface Have Been Rescued From the Thames River

Doves Type was thrown into the water a century ago, following a dispute between its creators.

The depths of the river Thames in London hold many unexpected stories, gleaned from the recovery of prehistoric tools, Roman pottery, medieval jewelry, and much more besides. Yet the tale of the lost (and since recovered) Doves typeface is surely one of the most peculiar.

A little over a century ago, the printer T.J. Cobden-Sanderson took it upon himself to surreptitiously dump every piece of this carefully honed metal letterpress type into the river. It was an act of retribution against his business partner, Emery Walker, whom he believed was attempting to swindle him.

The pair had conceived this idiosyncratic Arts and Crafts typeface when they founded the Doves Press in the London’s Hammersmith neighborhood, in 1900. They worked with draftsman Percy Tiffin and master punch-cutter Edward Prince to faithfully recall the Renaissance clarity of 15th-century Venetian fonts, designed by the revolutionary master typographer Nicolas Jensen.

With its extra-wide capital letters, diamond shaped punctuation and unique off-kilter dots on the letter “i,” Doves Type became the press’s hallmark, surpassing fussier typographic attempts by their friend and sometime collaborator, William Morris.

The letterforms only existed as a unique 16pt edition, meaning that when Cobden-Sanderson decided to “bequeath” every single piece of molded lead to the Thames, he effectively destroyed any prospect of the typeface ever being printed again. That might well have been the case, were it not for several individuals and a particularly tenacious graphic designer.

Robert Green first became fascinated with Doves Type in the mid-2000s, scouring printed editions and online facsimiles, to try and faithfully redraw and digitize every line. In 2013, he released the first downloadable version on typespec, but remained dissatisfied. In October 2014, he decided to take to the river to see if he could find any of the original pieces.

Using historical accounts and Cobden-Sanderson’s diaries, he pinpointed the exact spot where the printer had offloaded his wares, from a shadowy spot on Hammersmith bridge. “I’d only been down there 20 minutes and I found three pieces,” he said. “So, I got in touch with the Port of London Authority and they came down to search in a meticulous spiral.” The team of scuba divers used the rather low-tech tools of a bucket and a sieve to sift through the riverbed.

Green managed to recover a total of 151 sorts (the name for individual pieces of type) out of a possible 500,000. “It’s a tiny fraction, but when I was down by the river on my own, for one second it all felt very cosmic,” he said. “It was like Cobden-Sanderson had dropped the type from the bridge and straight into my hands. Time just collapsed.”

The finds have enabled him to further develop his digitized version and has also connected him with official mudlarks (people who search riverbanks for lost treasures, with special permits issued) who have uncovered even more of the type.

Jason Sandy, an architect, author and member of the Society of Thames Mudlarks, found 12 pieces, which he has donated to Emery Walker’s House at 7 Hammersmith Terrace. This private museum was once home to both business partners, and retains its stunning domestic Arts and Crafts interior.

Much like Green, Sandy was captivated by the Doves Type story, and mounted an exhibition at the house that displays hundreds of these salvaged pieces, including those discovered by Green, as well as mudlarks Lucasz Orlinski and Angus McArthur. The show was supplemented by a whole host of Sandy’s other finds, including jewelry and tools. An extant copy of the Doves English Bible is also on display.

“It is not that unusual to find pieces of type in the river,” Sandy said. “Particularly around Fleet Street, where newspaper typesetters would throw pieces in the water when they couldn’t be bothered to put them back in their cases. But this is a legendary story and we mudlarks love a good challenge.” The community is naturally secretive about exactly where and how things are found. For example, Orlinski has worked under the cover of night with a head torch, to search for treasures at his own mysterious spot on the riverbank.

For Sandy, the thrill comes from the discovery of both rare and everyday artifacts, which can lead to an entirely new line of inquiry: “The Thames is very democratic. It gives you a clear picture of what people have been wearing or using over thousands of years. And it’s not carefully curated by a museum. The river gives up these objects randomly, and you experience these amazing stories of ordinary Londoners. It creates a very tangible connection to the past. Every object leads you down a rabbit hole.”

By Holly Black.

[ladyjaneasherr]

Young Jane photographed in 1962 with a wonderful background of the big ben and the River Thames. Scan from eBay auction listing. 🌸

What it’s like to love a beatle!

One of the luckiest girls in England, America or anywhere else, for that matter, is pretty@Jane

Asher who has been going out with the handsomest Beatle, Paul McCartney.

An English lass with a smile as big as her heart, Jane was drawn to Paul from the start. Why? Because “he’s sensitive and deep.” He is probably the hardest Beatle to get to know, but that makes knowing him even more worthwhile.

And what are some of his special qualities? He’s considerate and warm. He wants Jane to have a good time when they’re together, and he shows it. Though he’s no prude, he has a great deal of respect for Jane. He’d never dream of doing anything even the slightest bit rude or vulgar in her presence.

There’s just no nonsense about him. Even though he’s got the world at his feet, he’s stayed as down to earth as he ever was. But sometimes he does like to tease Jane by putting on a “high falutin’ “ English accent.

And he wants Jane to like him for himself. When they go out, he makes sure it’s just a twosome.

No fans to disturb their quiet evenings together, not even another Beatle around who might tease the “lovey” couple.

Paul’s no show-oft, but he does like to sing for blue-eyed Jane, and her favorite is I Want To Hold Your Hand, natch! The two of them can be sitting quietly talking; then suddenly Paul is just so glad to be with her and to be alive that he bursts into song. Is he attentive? Yeah, Yeah!

Paul likes nothing better than to send flowers to his girl.

And when he heard her favorite kind of candy was chocolate and marsh-mallow, he sent her a ten-pound box. He often calls just to tell her he’s thinking of her, and once she woke in the middle of the night to find him standing beneath her window, guitar and all, singing a seranade!

But the excitement of knowing,and being with, Paul, whom Jane considers the best Beatle of them all, has not gone to her head. She wants to get to really know Paul, to spend time with him and let him get to know her.

Is she jealous of Paul's fans?

Nope! Jane considers it an honor to Paul that so many girls all over the world think he’s the most. What’s like to love a beatle? Jane thinks it’s super!

[siswritesyanderes]

OMGGG YANDERE BRIDGERTON PLEASE

Okay, brainstorm.

I'm torn between wanting the characters to be ruthless in the non-violent social sense that leaves their opponents destitute, or leaning fully into "They're rich enough to get away with murder."

So, I'm thinking the Bridgertons are just ALL yanderes. It's just a family thing; just yanderes all the way down. They banter about it. Violet and (the dad; I forgot his name) were yanderes for each other, and their children are all amazed at how well their mother survived losing him so suddenly.

In their childhood, the Bridgertons are all platonic yanderes. (When they do have childhood crushes, they don't usually feel yandere towards those; they're just cute little childhood crushes.) With their friends, they tend to be highly protective, or clingy, or jealous. Any one of them will kill for their family without a second thought and bury the body on their own land. Maybe someone hurts little Eloise's feelings, Daphne tells their older brothers, and Anthony, Benedict, and Colin sink a body in the river that night. Or rather, Anthony and Colin do, while Benedict preserves their alibi.

(At this moment I'm going to write about the canon relationships of those of them who have those. I'm open to asks about what specifically you're looking for.)

Daphne is yandere for Simon. She has modeled herself to be the perfect diamond, and Simon, as much as he tries to be, cannot make himself harder than a diamond. In fact, he is moldable, and fragile, and she adores him. Simon is not a yandere and also doesn't really get that Daphne is a yandere. He hasn't been romantic like this with anyone before, so he doesn't know what a normal level of possessiveness is. He's been taught that women need to be wary of him, not vice versa. Her genuine innocence to matters of the flesh shields her from a lot of scrutiny. How can someone who has never touched herself be thought guilty of taking undue license with a man? How could someone with such wide, naive eyes be thought guilty of manipulating anyone? At every step, she guides him into the palms of her hands, and she loves how he succumbs.

If she ever had her eyes on someone other than Simon, in keeping with my fondness for poly yanderes, most likely she would first verify that Simon likes the person, too. It's not beyond her capabilities to guilt him for liking someone else and leverage that to get him to go along with whatever her plan is to pursue this unconventional relationship. But I think she would pick a gentler way to convince him, and only resort to shaming him if he resists the gentle approach. Maybe the one they both love can be hired as a "nanny" or "tutor" for their children, and they can enjoy their intimate company in the comfort of their own home. That could work even if the person marries someone else, and anyway, who's to say the unfortunate rival won't trip on a slick road or drunkenly fall into the Thames?

Anthony thought he felt that Bridgerton obsession for Siena; he pursued her relentlessly on the basis of what he believed he was supposed to feel. When that didn't pan out and he still felt basically like his normal self, he decided that he must not be like the rest of his family. And good! Because he didn't want to fall in love anyway.

Then he met Kate, and suddenly his ruthless self is unleashed in full. She was the sun in the morning, the air he breathed, and he needed as many hooks in her as possible to make sure she didn't go anywhere. When she seemed to distrust and resent him, he courted Edwina. Now Kate had to be around him. But as he wormed his way closer to her, she planned to leave for India as soon as Edwina was married. That couldn't be allowed. Every step he took was contrived to erase the possibility of Kate leaving him. Honestly, we could say that he deliberately caused her to fall off her horse, if we wanted to. Kate does recognize that he feels and behaves abnormally toward her, but once she comes to terms with being romantic with him in the first place, she's able to handle his yandere side pretty easily.

If he ever had his eyes on someone other than Kate, he might kidnap them in secret. Again, he just needs them not to leave. Kate finds out, because she's on top of everything always. She isn't really yandere, but she already manages his obsession with her on a daily basis. Now, she manages his obsession with the new person, the ethics of kidnapping, and the need to contain the scandal of what he's done, by basically helping him to craft a plausible narrative around what happened. (Maybe they found you in the woods, having gotten lost and ill, and were keeping you in their home until you were well enough. You're still not allowed to see anyone; who would question the Bridgertons? Kate makes sure you're comfortable and reins in Anthony where necessary. He worships her for being so understanding of his needs.)

I haven't seen season 3 yet and so I don't have a full handle on Colin right now.

Benedict will gladly pine forever. He has a kind of romantic enjoyment of the sensation of yearning, so he could paint his love and watch his love and tease his love forever. But, given the expectations of the society they live in, his love might be obligated to marry someone. He will very amicably ruin anyone his love courts. Scandals everywhere. Without the slightest dip in his wistful smile, he will set everything into place to have his rivals socially destroyed, in the ton, and when his love is left with no one else to court, then he will appear with all the love in his heart. If the person is looking for a husband, then he's their last chance. If they're looking for a wife, then Benedict will cleverly contrive it so that they read as best friends, artistic partners, whatever else. Maybe his love has found themself to be inexplicably cut off from any money and resources they once had. The crucial thing is that he will never have to vie for attention. He only has to introduce himself, and they will concede to his love willingly. And then he'll unload his deluge of paintings and sculptures and poems onto them. He might do this with Madame Delacroix.

Also, maybe Penelope's a yandere? Just separately. Idk, she has too much subtle power to ignore.