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tata-is-the-name · 2 years ago

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7th Dimension (Chapter 7.8)

7TH DIMENSION MASTERLIST (ALL CHAPTERS)

PREVIOUSLY ON CHAPTER 7.7

7TH DIMENSION WATTPAD VERSION LINK (I am entirely ahead on this site now. 7th Dimension on Wattpad has now accumulated more than 10 chapters. There are minimal scenes back in the previous chapters which has been altered there, so sorry about to those who only read my updates through Tumblr because there might be some differences in Satoru's characteristics which has been changed on Wattpad already, yet y'all are bound to read the altercations in further chapters. Heehee.)

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜

Characters: Gojo Satoru x Small!Naive!Fem!Foreign!Reader | THIS IS A MULTI-CHAPTER FIC. THIS IS AN X READER FANFIC WHO HAS BEEN BROUGHT TO THE DIMENSION OF JUJUTSU KAISEN | (Trust me, you'll live. I hope?)

Summary: (Part 9) Mind Training with Gojo Satoru had been beneficial to the both of you. You were given a mission to bake him sweets and in return of earning a 10/10 rating from the Great Teacher Gojo would result for a Shopping Spree treat from the Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer alive. Additional Summary for this chapter: From your transference of your world to Satoru's have been actually forecasted by an undisclosed diviner that obscured his prophesies in the dark. Nonetheless, what was meant to be envisioned for you had all been a trifling matter because he had seen nothing but a nullity of a future set out as you walk upon Satoru's dimension. Except for the fact that Fukumoto Daichi knew you also were an erudite when it came to the happenings that was set forth for the Jujutsu Society in the near future.

Warnings: Fukumoto Daichi is not a character from Jujutsu Kaisen along with Sasaki Hibito as well. They're both OG characters created by me. | Satoru's still being Satoru. Other than the menace being a menace, none. Just a lil' bit suggestive somehow because Satoru's sexy as heck---*rolls on the ground*

7th Dimension Taglist: @dailystsg (Send me an ask or message if you want to be added or removed, bb's!)

A/N: FEEDBACKS HELP A LOT FOR A WRITER. REBLOGS, RESPECTFUL MESSAGES SENT THRU ASKS AND COMMENTS MAKE MY HEART TINGLE AND SQUEAL, ISTG. 💙 I DO APPRECIATE THEM ALL. I sincerely apologize how long chapter 7 is. There's another part which is 7.9 but don't worry because it'll be the last part before chapter 8. Thankies! Heehee.

SORRY IF THERE ARE LOTS OF TYPOS AND GRAMMAR ERRORS WITH EVERY CHAPTER I WRITE. I ain't a professional writer! I'm just a potato-hoe! LMAO.

Words: 5.4k+

Disclaimer: PNG's or pictures used in edits, also those posted are not mine especially the GIF's. (I dunno how to make GIF's 😭 Tell me if the GIF's are yours so I could probably tag/credit you, bb's!) I only own the plot of 7th Dimension. But, not Jujutsu Kaisen's storyline and the characters themselves. OG characters are created by me and will be stated during my brief author's notes. I apologize for the typos or grammatical errors by the way! English isn't my first language so I'm so sorry in advance! Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be for the sake of the story.

YOU'VE PATIENTLY WAITED FOR THE TRAIN ON THE SIDE. Another ice-lolly on hand that Satoru has promised to invest you in. His own strawberry popsicle guzzled within seconds. As expected from an unusual man who had a terrible, gnarly sweet-tooth. There wasn't much people that bordered. The veiled excitement balling upon your soles, making you senselessly wriggle those toes of yours inside your shoes, playing along your weight with the heels of your feet as it appeared like a child eager to be taken to the first destination of her field trip.

Bzzt. Bzzt. Satoru could feel his phone vibrate inside his pockets. The default ring tone of his cellphone pealing out loud, over and over again.

He never cared to put it on silent. Unmoved by how it look as though he was definitely needed to be somewhere.

Gojo was doing it on purpose. Ignoring the call, that is. In no circumstance did he bother to answer again as he knew it was either Yaga ranting and raving for his irresponsibleness or Ijichi being chided for his faults that has been put to the assistant director's blame.

"You're not answering that?" your tone seemed mirthful than ever, bringing the stuff toy below your chin while the other held onto the wooden stick. The cold dessert you were clutching onto was now polished off to the ends; the piece of wood aimed directly at Satoru's phone that was kept inside the pocket of his jeans.

You've held a palm out to him, signaling for him to wait as your feet skipped through the cemented grounds, throwing the garbage inside the proper recycling bin. Even though, Satoru did not appear to be looking. He basically was keeping track of where you walked upon.

Filled with vim. Your feet having the springs as you've pranced back, being all smiles and giggly. He'd given you his regard and another of his toothy grins, intentionally ignoring your question.

"You should at least hide your excitement, Tiny-Chan."

The train was fast enough for you to emit a sound of excitement; a faint squeal that went straight passed out of your mouth, heedless that you've ought to say it out loud. The train speaker declared its standard procedures in their native language, stating upon which station they were currently in---where both you and Satoru are located in.

You've taken short, overjoyed leaps through the entryway, snapping your head from left to right once situated inside and saw how there weren't a lot of people aside from a college looking student who had thick, square eyeglasses that sat on the farthest end of the train over the boundary where another hatch were interloping and connecting with the other door, a periphery of the area.

This stranger had his head leaning along the window behind him. He'd audibly sighed his frustration out underneath his breath. Mind elsewhere, currently in a pensive state as he was burdened over complications that has happened with his work and towards subsidiary affairs.

Activities which can be considered as a religion he worshipped. A lone divinity adulated by a faction of individuals they've devoted their lives for, depending on their own scriptures or gospels delivered by a deity they offer all their reliance on. People were of many creeds and cultures. Humanity embodied boundless beliefs. Divine beings reverenced by traditions that were established years before.

Each one had their own doctrines of predestinations. It was just a matter of faith or a member of the human race to perceive and accept their designated sects with accepted pieties and the sanctity of one.

"If 'Toru' has a tiny spot of grime...I'm strangling you alive, Satoru!"

You've caught this stranger's attention when you've given a loud, rowdy exclamation of your own irrefutable threat. The man lethargically blinked to himself, keeping his head away from the window before he'd been knocked for six, blinking another as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

"Is that..." His submerged mind went above the apprehension of reality, own dwellings surfacing in between a quandary that emerged for an unsought time. Incredulity and dread loaded his disbelieving spirits. Own nerves malfunctioning, putting a kibosh on worrying over the mistakes he'd been berated back on a work he'd been receiving money from.

The faction comprehended him clearly. Six months. Half a year after dooms day, Fukumoto Daichi was to be reborn again. Right after on the succeeding date that every Jujutsu Sorcerer has been oblivious for. An ill-starred time that no one would've been aware of.

Their world's downfall for only a minute of time where each one was bound to suffer in successive unforeseen deaths.

Fukumoto Daichi had seen what was written in the stars.

Through every calamity; every stroke of bad luck from every Jujutsu Sorcerer's decisions till the contretemps of what Satoru's dimension provided them with. Natural disasters that couldn't be controlled till the resoluteness of cursed-spirits that has been casted to the sides---thrown towards the tenebrosity of their world because of one's existence. He'd detected them all. They were au courant with the eventualities and incidents. Every member finding utmost trust to his divine providence that he offered to their faction.

But, to his ordinance---a god-forsaken commandment, Fukumoto Daichi had announced his sacrilege was to never stand in the way of what fate had for their dimension.

No matter what it takes.

Undeterred by the laden consequences, deplorable conditions and egregious circumstances that he'd foreseen before his demise.

Even if it meant for their world to collapse into complicated, torn pieces.

Only Sasaki Hibito was the sole person to apprehend what was said between the lines of their overseer in the subject matter of a woman; a substantial commination to the tenets of Fukumoto.

This threat he'd distinguished to be. Fukumoto foreknows everything. The image of your face which had his sanction flabbergasted by the details. Yet, barely laying hold of what you provided for Satoru's world other than the sketches he envisaged because your existence; your life, your motives or plans ahead, to Fukumoto he'd seen nothing but a nullified cloud of obscurity. Withholding bupkis of your astral influence that he could not predict.

Hence, which is why he'd made it intelligible for everyone---to everyone meant that only Hibito had understood the obligation imparted to those who were vacated that you were entailed to be terminated.

It was either to decimate or keep you constrained no matter who ended up escorting you through your unnecessary pilgrimage on their land.

Nevertheless, the scene that he was welcomed with---bringing you with them to a standstill required sedulous care. An all-embracing endeavor and a life of toil for each member of their religion that it would take a chucklesome illusion of pigs flying in the air.

Perhaps, keeping you detained within their grasp would be impossible.

Because you were guided---deemed to be protected and shepherd around Japan by the strongest jujutsu sorcerer in their world.

How fearsome it was to see you with him. Even mind-boggling to get a drift of such appearance that were an absolute reciprocity of Fukumoto Daichi with an opposite gender that they had prophesied for. Though, to no extent did they have any idea where, when and how you would make an appearance.

Hibito's hand couldn't help but shake just by being in the presence of him alone. Those fingers of his that trembled from trying to clean his own glasses with the fabric of his shirt. His lungs that began shaking like a leaf.

Those of the members within his faction who had seen Gojo Satoru in the flesh have been right. It was either you get intimidated or terrorized by the judgements you had for his potentials, exhibit abhorrence for his existence and hubristic side or have a bit of both.

There was no in between if he doesn't plan to keep you close within his range. Physically, mentally and spiritually.

Only those who were of palsy-walsy are to witness what and who Gojo Satoru really was. Apparently, Hibito was not one.

Master Daichi knocked together a plan of action that was paradoxical to begin with if what he depicted were not of an illusion fabricated during his stressed out conditions.

Hibito brought back his glasses to where it was situated in the first place. Lenses all limpid that he'd happen to fall further on his seat. An expected migraine taking place from the image.

You really were with the honored one. The inheritor of the limitless and six-eyes.

"Out of all damned people...She was supposed to be with us," Hibito mentally thought to himself, shunning his eyes away from both you and Satoru who kept bickering like you did not care for the world. He kept his eyes straight, disregarding your presence on purpose.

Nevertheless, his own leg seemed to be jiggle when he began to cross them. His own nerves deceiving him through the thoughts, logics and false providence that followed; his soul outright aware of Satoru who was just meters away from him and knowing he had the capability to die with one phony act he makes when he appears to be like he knew him and his history along the Jujutsu Society.

It would always end up with the question, 'How'. In which, Hibito could forebode their sub rosa patrols that involved time ahead and revealing them all would have him dying first before he could.

"Ooooh. Scary! A threat coming from a teeny-weeny girl," Satoru teased and taunted, shifting on his seat as he leaned his head to the side, sending you a charming, skittish beam, "---A threat that's entirely impossible to happen. Heh." he'd lowly chuckle to himself, leaning closer to your face to offer more of his mischief and irritating taunts, "---I'd love to see you struggle."

"You've already gotten him dirty because you threw him off!" you've groused with a grimace, huffing back to him and taking the stuff toy in between you both, emphasizing your forefinger and drawing beads on where the exact smudges were. Showing him the tiny specks of dust that it has gotten from his previous reckless actions back at the photo booth.

"Eh. It's only a tiny speck of dust. You should've chosen a different plushie then. You had options. Either a black one or the horrid, white one." Satoru nonchalantly stated, his voice light as he leaned his broad shoulders back, crossing his arms but having his legs spread enough for you to chastise him for in which he clearly didn't care about if you were too bothered by it.

"Aren't you sitting too close to me? There are lots of spaces to be seated on! Yet, you chose to sit beside me and man spread like a bitch again!" your verbal horsewhips passed from one ear then towards the other. His grin growing like it was animated enough as Satoru scooted closer next to you, depriving more of your area with his lofty built. Another sally resurfacing that was already prepared to be quipped out in the open.

"Actually, you should be thankful. I get to check the weather up here and that annoying top of your head. Need to check if you're growing a halo or the devil's ears already." His facial expressions turned more of a cock-a-hoop when you've shamelessly pushed his thigh close with your palms, exerting all your energy to it as he let you do it your own. Satoru going on with the flow and letting you have your own fun.

He'd countered all of this perversion with a semblance of bypassing the sense of absurd froth that spumed under that palisade he trusted to be resilient and stout.

"---I realized that it might be a little bit of both though. There's no in between. Are you also like this back in your world?"

"I was once an angel. But, being with you is making me turn into a she-devil!---Satoru, your leg is heavy! Please move! Or just basically give me space then!" You've breathed out the energy used to just allow yourself to sink in further on your seat, being cloth to cloth with Satoru now while he expressed his frisky, obdurate discords with a shake of his head and continuous 'nah's' ,'No's.' and unsophisticated 'uh-uh's'.

You were being ridiculously more comfortable as you held onto the prize that you both had claimed back at the arcade. Another exhausted breath has been puffed out of your lungs as you've held onto your fluffy, Neko's white ears, making it sit on your lap, aimlessly playing with it, a genuine smile lifting your face.

An involuntary run of the mouth. The repressed thoughts, one that has been too honest to overhear by the latter, "---Also, I've chosen this because this is the only one that has the possibility to look like you!"

Satoru couldn't help the waggish grin that traced his features. His arms folded before him as he was gazing alongside your face, "Ah. I understand it clearly now. Are you saying that you've chosen that Neko plushie in hopes of remembering me whenever I'm not around?"

"---I mean," he started again and went on with his teasing, wiggling his albino brows as he jibed at your abrupt honesty, "---you've basically had him patented with such a marvelous nickname, right? There's no doubt that you've chosen that particular plushie to spare a thought for me."

Damn it. His own reasoning and logic made your body freeze. A bucket of numbing ice seeming to fall above your foolish self. Your hands stiffening from mindlessly playing with the stuff toy at hand.

Caught red-handed. You had to snap your head away after that, fighting shy of his conspicuous, unabating observance. Those palpable Ether that always had your face toiled underneath the broiling sun. With a twisted expression and your tongue poking on the insides of your cheeks, there was no doubt that you wanted to slap your own mouth, turning too free-spoken around a person that you should be through and through attentive of.

Satoru was left chuckling to your side. The tonality rich and resonant, full-toned enough to analyze that he was probably thinking of taking its meaning to his head. The assumption lingering inside his haughty mind that you've purposely chosen the white cat in terms of remembering him when he wasn't around.

You knew you were right when he started to brag his mouth upon the notion, "Don't worry, I'll always be around you, Tiny-Chan. There's no need for that." Satoru pressed on, his leg now elegantly crossed as he leaned further on your side. Straight off, being cheek by jowl with him. His willowy, athletic weight now leaning more onto you as he hummed teasingly.

"Y-You're putting words in my mouth! I-I didn't say that!" Flustered words toppled one on top of the other, caught in your own incautious reckoning. Those honest statements should've been left unsaid and prohibited only to that angel sitting on your shoulder.

Those off the record kept thoughts should've been written on a locked diary or some sort instead. Yet, this erratic, refreshing solace that neighbored you whenever Satoru was around, the apparent sheltered ambiance that could be felt through him paved those thoughts out somehow.

In which fed to his ego again after all.

"It's okay to be honest with me. I dislike liars anyway. Feel free to memorize my charm and handsome face before I return the blindfolds back," your cheeks were puffed for both, restraining the need to strangle yourself from your genuine dopiness, aware of the piping hot temperature that tarried, falling further down the volcano hole. Your face experiencing to be sizzling in a fiery catch of shame for such an honest retaliation that didn't seem to even be a verbal counterattack from you and also for Gojo's veracity that he was proudly reveling in.

He'd slanted down further, catching you entirely off-guard when the supple of his lips grazed along your earlobe. Those next words of his sounding deep-toned, modulated but a little bit hoarse that was meant to be classified into the titillating side.

What was set forth susurrated below his breath. Warmth carelessly skimming above your skin, "Don't be shy,"

All at once, those hairs on the nape of your neck stood like you've been electrocuted. The electricity going straight down the rabbit hole like it has given you a sensation of something different. One squeezing through concupiscent dreams, worth for a mother to scold the licentious behavior of her daughter.

It echoed and rang through that flummoxed state you were having, his words being crooned like a choir out in a church. Full and utterly angelic despite of how the devil was probably laughing out of court through your persistence of going through the motions being a paragon of virtue. An angel? Nah. You certainly weren't.

This quotation you've heard from Satoru have been mixed within the familiarity that echoed in that fragmented abyss planned to be healed and connected together, filling the cavity of intrigue. Though, the words that came out of his mouth was definitely the first time you've heard them loud and clear. It was as far as you could recall, including that distinct impeccable locution he uttered that has given you a giggle prior when you were forcefully fed by his Shiitake Mushrooms.

"H-Hey! IT'S MAKING ME UNEASY!---you are making me uneasy, Satoru!" Out of the blue, you've loudly protested at the top of your lungs. As luck would have it, there weren't any other passengers except for the college student you've become cognizant of. To some degree, his body stilted upon his own seat like he was situated in a rather confined space when he had all the expanse to take, off in a world of his own. If there were elders, they would've chastised both you and Satoru for being so brash and rowdy. Affiliates to be classified in the boisterous side of the crowd because of the constant rumbustious pleasantries that catapulted high and low from both parties.

The noise would've been considered ill-mannered to their culture especially while riding a public transportation.

You tore hell for leather out of the seat you've occupied in the train, lifting yourself off from Satoru's side, emigrating from his reach without sparing him a glance. Your face uttermost being baked inside an imaginary oven, feeling like it was being scorched by the heat of the stove.

Satoru was utmost tickled pink for such a raucous reaction.

Too entertained that he had to drive more around the bend. He'd given a simper, the ends of his lips stretching wider as he ought to bring his pestilent necessities to use. Satoru was settled to provoke you even more, shamelessly pulling himself out of his seat, scurrying along your side with a playful purse of his lip. The troublesome idea of whispering the phrase again along your ear.

The strongest have made it obvious. Satoru's perverse decisions and plans that were clouded with mischief all the while he scooted next to you and offered his audible teehees.

"Don't be---" His words were cut off, lanky body being at an angle where his breath was capable of giving the summer breeze along your hypersensitive skin. The wariness of his presence stuffing your sentience that you were holding tightly onto your brand new prized stuff toy with a reckless moniker of it having named 'Toru' that you've had the audacity and will power to shove the plushie on Satoru's face in attempts to shut him up.

It would've stopped everyone's tracks; would've ceased Sasaki Hibito if he wasn't intentionally shunning off to both of your existence, it would have also catch Satoru's students on the hop because of a breathtaking and unanticipated incident. An absolute willpower from a non-sorcerer would have raised a furor among everybody who'd wanted revenge given to a menace of the Jujutsu Society. That fixity of purpose from a person who entirely had no sense of cursed energy nor knew any technique in regards to Jujutsu.

All that spunk you've got deserved an uproar. If his students or those people who were constantly annoyed by him were around, you might have received a splendid applause.

Satoru had seen it. His senses knew you were about to give him a smite with your Neko stuff toy. But, he was too busy; too preoccupied with his own guffaws over the bashfulness of your spirits that he allowed it to happen. Your soft toy smacking him in the face, "---Oomph!"

However, Gojo Satoru was obviously quicker than you opined him for revenge. Energetically taking the stuff toy from you and out of your hands.

The annoying idiot literally and proudly chucked the prized possession away inside the train. Within the area of the public transportation that you were both traveling in. The poor white stuff toy kitty heading throughout the width of the train compartment, accepting its hapless fate with a faint squeak of its loss. The lifeless soft toy devoting itself for its sustained defeat for being tossed for a lot of times today.

Satoru Gojo: 2 | Neko-san: 1

Neko-San has earned his well-deserved point by hitting him on the face.

"SATORU!"

This has been one of the loudest exclamation of his name that has been spat out of your mouth, kicking up a fuss for the sorcerer's foolish actions. Those embarrassed expressions you had, the broiling heat gradually melting away when Gojo had to dramatically stood on his towering height. He'd posed like he had a strike over a bowling game. Fists tightened on either side of him. His long-legs slightly bent like he was ready to pounce or give a kick over a cursed-spirit that technically wasn't there to begin with. Stance appearing to be like he was ready for combat.

You couldn't help the tight, firm moue. Those aghast expressions candid to be perceived by anyone, distorting them even more when Satoru had to declare a word out loud.

"STRIKE!"

You've given him the stink-eye, giving his face a once over and scrutinized the widening beam he had. As a matter of fact, you've spotted the slight dinky rumpled streaks of his wispy Ivory hair on the strength of Neko-san's attack. Satoru never took his eyes off your Neko stuff toy that went and flew as far as it did that it fell right exactly before the stranger's shoes whom was sitting silently and minding his own business.

"AH! YOU NEED TO STOP IT! He's as pale as your albino hair! Stop throwing him away like he's some ragdoll! REALLY!" With a stomp of your foot and an obvious, tight wrinkle of your brows clamped together. To the fullest extent were you nettled by Satoru's acts of inconveniences. You've felt your lips twitch on the sides, huffing out an exasperated breath. Holding onto the train's metal side bar to stabilize yourself to stand as you've audibly vouched and dragged your heavy footing along the floors towards your beloved stuff toy.

"---I have to get him again myself!" you've crowed your thoughts out loud, bleats frank enough for Satoru to assess as he continued on with his poses and own glares upon a lifeless dummy he was subtly seeing as an illusionary combatant. "---you've almost had to hit the stranger on the head too! Now, I need to apologize for your behavior when I don't even speak your language!"

The floor seemed nicer to stare at for Sasaki Hibito. How long had he been moored to his seat till his destination? In all likelihood, the time he spent with the both of you around had been ephemeral. Quite not too long ago yet. Granted that, time stood still and had been a suffocating mess when Satoru Gojo has been in the ballpark bordering his vicinage.

Hibito has been eavesdropping, nevertheless. Mentally inscribing synopsis or observations for your existence as well. One he'd taken to footnote was the nonnative language you were speaking. Distinguishing you to be of a foreign woman whom the strongest could decipher. He'd also been hearing you both fighting over something so childish. An irrelevant notation he'd paid attention to when his earwigging was ceased due to seeing a large, white, stuffed cat toy that has been knocked to the ground, right before the tip of his shoes.

This was the thing that both you and Satoru has been bickering non-stop about.

He couldn't help but mentally cuss inside his head. Never risking the profanities to be commented out loud.

"Damn it." Hibito was repeatedly questioning himself if he needed to get it for you. Balancing the consequences if he did or did not. What if he acted and turned a blind eye to the plaything? would Gojo Satoru break his neck for it?

Hibito technically heard the prior canards through one of Fukumoto's disciples. One of the few and far between strong adherents of his that he couldn't conceive to be happening; confabulating with an eldritch being to start with. He'd listened to the their chinwags over how Gojo granted ruthless measures over a particular unregistered special grade cursed spirit who'd underestimated the strongest. His foe losing his temper for his vainglorious demeanor that he had whenever in the course of a Jujutsu battle. Gojo Satoru was granted that he was verily stronger and had the upper hand before the battle even started.

The word on the street purveyed in the pitiless aftermath of this certain vier, taking him down a peg or two from grisly pulling his own head off inside Gojo's Domain Expansion that has overthrew his.

Straightaway and without even realizing his fretful nerves were controlling him all at once, Hibito was coming in for the stuff toy. His subconsciousness screaming how his yips would've made everything conspicuous, yet he had to play the chivalrous and respectful Japanese citizen. He didn't need to look at the both of you anyway, he silently thought as his head bowed when he'd felt that you were at arms length away from him.

Both of his arms out with the plushie on his hand, offering your soft-toy back without even sparing you a glance.

This was the first and only time he'd seen whom everybody have loathed and been frightened of. Gojo Satoru whose existence which made every cursed-spirit hid behind the shadows because of his birth. Hibito even had the ill-fate to tolerate upon communicating towards the threat that their worshipped being has forewarned them all about.

The woman of peril that needed to be constrained within their hands.

"Ah---Hm. Arigatou Gozaimasu and Gomenasai. I hope the pronunciation is correct. By the way, mister---I'm with the crazy, albino man child. I'm so sorry." you've kindly thanked Hibito, trailing off for a second as you've glanced at the train's ceiling, reclaiming your soft-toy back from his hands. Your next words gibberish for him to understand as it was beyond any doubt a foreign sentence that he had his brows in a twist. The stranger carried on and hid his face underneath and in between his arms, playing the role of a diffident man who did not want to have a confab with anyone.

He just didn't trust the constant frets of his fingers and the everlasting instability that Gojo's presence has brought him in.

"Oi! Tiny-Chan!~"

Ah, Damn it. Hibito felt himself tripping on the wrong foot when he'd heard Satoru merrily calling out for you. His spirit of inquisitiveness has been changed to stress, stirring an intense amount of agitation when he heard Satoru hollering. The peculiar nickname and honorific he'd used piqued his curiosity.

He had to continue and bow further as if the floor was really such nice art. Fukumoto's votary wanted you to scram; wanted you to skedaddle that he was pleading to Fukumoto's dead soul that you would leave him alone before his state of nerves could divert Satoru's attention from yours to his.

However, your nosiness; your snoopy self decided to stay upon your tracks and studied him down in concern, wondering why he wasn't giving you a look, worried that he wasn't all too well.

You've dwell on further, not wanting to judge the culture that you were still adapting from. Distracted as you appeared to be especially with the visual perception of Gojo, his six-eyes be immersed over your figure as you stood before the unusual, timid stranger. How the echo of his feet were like the drums of death, steadily being clobbered with in hulking thuds. Literally.

"He knows. He knows that I know him. He knows. He knows." Hibito was cognitively ranting and wordlessly rambling time after time. His mind in a mess and have been on edge that he had unconsciously fished his phone out of his pocket, acting as if he has gotten a text when he could hear Gojo's heavy footsteps echoing closer.

"Didn't I tell you to just stay beside me because it's more fun when I'm around?"

Hibito's breath was being held back. He could feel himself fighting to keep an unstable pattern of breaths to make him appear more composed within the presence of his mind when it has all been the opposite. From his peripheral vision, his line of sight that has been hardly engrossed over the screen of his phone, he could see and feel Satoru closing in within a spitting distance which kept his anguish mid bay.

"More fun when you're around? Hah! That was very funny. You've been giving me headaches!" you've bewailed with a tepid, sardonic laugh, turning a blind-eye to Satoru's saunters, "---throwing my plushie away since the moment I had him whenever you could. I always had to get it myself! This is all your fault!"

"Hai, hai...Come here now," Satoru droned once he was well-nigh, waltzing within the borderline of your discussion with a stranger you barely knew. "---besides, Neko-san's meant to be catapulted all the time."

"You go wash him then!"

He'd kept his foot atwix the stretch of margin that kept you and Hibito adjacent to each other, looking as though he was trying to meddle in. Satoru actually was, much to your ignorance. On grounds of Hibito's twitchiness, his own nerves reacting upon his jittery impulse, his foot has faintly repelled when his sight-line and headlong senses seen Gojo's shoes step in between the line.

It probably wasn't the best idea for his own axons to betray him in such an epoch-making occasion right now.

You've been too faraway over your own hairsplitting mumbles of complaints over Satoru's actions, those real grouches inwardly interrupted when you've felt the grasp and warmth of his riveting touch that has gently grabbed your wrists, snowed under with his sizeable palm. Indulgent as he always was with you. Gojo have pried you out of the superfluous conversation, dragging you alongside of him and back to where you both seated.

He's protective over her. She probably has been aiding to what Master Fukumoto has seen her to be. This guy wouldn't keep her with him if she was entirely useless after all. Hibito took his time as he breathed out the air he had been holding. At an apparent snail's pace with each step Satoru took as he yanked you away. The sneaking suspicions settling his ruminative thoughts ahead again.

Although, he's kinda' too protective to assess.

Unbeknownst to him, The Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer has given him the side-eye upon his intrusion, sparing him a glance of his fugitive heed when he'd intentionally whisked you away from Sasaki Hibito, the knacks of his scrupulous senses fastening on the infinitesimal buck fever he was having till the mocked-up act he was trying to mask for whatever reasons. Yet, above all was the tiniest scent that he had been around cursed-spirits. His six-eyes never conked out nor diminished him. It was a vague smell that he was inured to after all and even how diminutive this was for Hibito because he hadn't even met Fukumoto's acolytes for today yet, Satoru knew.

Satoru's foremost gut feeling that his restiveness had to be about him.

That's what he thought because Gojo has been given to understand that you were a nonentity. Thoroughly unidentified and your existence purely being a mystery whom no one in his world knew of.

"How could we even get ahold of her when it was impossible from the start?"

Gojo has cut those hunches dead, thumbing one's nose over a tangential non-sorcerer whose existence was irrelevant to begin with.

Through the birth of Gojo Satoru; the balance of the world has been altered. But, to your unanticipated existence and being entirely surrounded by him, alone. Everyone's destiny was guaranteed to be reshaped and tweaked to an extent that should've been left untouched.

Just wanna make it clear that Fukumoto Daichi has the same face with you. He's a man but prolly older. Heehee. He also have his disciples which are Sasaki Hibito and the others---which will be named and introduced soon.

Think of them as a cult that's supposed to be hiding at all costs because they know some things that aren't supposed to be known that easily.

Satoru just be breathin' and Sasaki Hibito be fainting---LMAO XD

There's still going to be chapter 7.9 before chapter 8 begins. Sorry if it's too long. I just really wanted this to last and also let them have their moments. Heehee. See you on the next chapter soon, if anybody even reads these fanfic stories of mine. Heehee!

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crypticcrossword · 3 years ago

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Persuasion Dream Cast yes i know no one is thinking about this anymore

I love this book too much, and have read it too many times. I have been trying not to think about this out of anger but inspiration bows to no one. If no one else gets this, fine, but that doesn’t make it less correct

Sarah Snook and Joel Fry as Anne Elliot and Frederick Wentworth.

Are you fucking kidding me they would have been perfect. The loss of what might have been is even more painful if I had never known it was a possibility, and I wouldn’t have beacause I wouldn’t have pieced this together originally. I wouldn’t have thought of Sarah Snook as Anne Elliot until I became not stupid (watched the season 3 finale of Succession) and realized no one else could play the hold your emotions in until you combust game like her. I have also fallen in love with Joel Fry to the point that I am considering watching Cruella. Having a comedic actor play Wentworth is galaxy brain, because the tragedy of his love life can only be countered by how ridiculous it is. Also he could perfectly pull off writing a letter to someone who’s in the room, then leaving it conspicuously on a table, then coming back and handing it directly to her just to be safe.

Richard E Grant as Walter Elliot.

I am sick in my stomach to think that the only way I can hear Richard E Grant say Sir Walter’s lines is by also sitting through Dakota Johnson Fleabagging the camera like she’s making one of those annoying ass TikToks. I used to be ok with Dakota Johnson now her voice just makes me wanna punch that gap back in her teeth. Meanwhile Richard E. Grant could shit talk men’s haircuts and recommend a better beauty product to his daughters for two straight hours and it would still be funny

Danusia Samal as Elizabeth Elliot

She’s perfect and highhandedly bitchy as Countess Svenska in The Great, and that’s also how I know she can bring the right Hot Entitlement to the role.

PATTI HARRISON AS MARY MUSGROVE.

You are a fool and a coward if you think Mary shouldn’t be played by the funniest comedian in the movie. No one else could make Mary’s histrionics over her toddler breaking his arm funnier than Patti Harrison, and now I can only dream about it.

Lolly Adefope as Louisa Musgrove.

1. She’s a genius. 2. Imagine Kitty from Ghosts going “Catch me! Catch me!” before jumping and plummeting to concrete and tell me I’m not correct. She could also play post-accident Louisa deeply, but still funny, and that’s hard to pull off.

Susan Wokoma as Henrietta Musgrove.

Very excited to watch Year of the Rabbit, and I watched Chewing Gum so I know she can play the practical sister while also trying to flirt with Wentworth in the worst ways possible.

Zach Cherry as Charles Musgrove

He has perfect “this guy just wants to chill but life has made that impossible” energy. Also can picture him in a “I love my wife- and yes she bought me this shirt” t shirt.

Rachel House as Mrs. Croft

I want to be Mrs. Croft’s best friend and she was written 200 years ago, the casting of Fiona Shaw was genius and any actress playing her needs to convey that you can trust her with your life. She is the coolest MILF alive and there is no other choice.

Jake Lacy as Mr. Eliot.

I hate this bitch now thanks to White Lotus and I need him to bring that energy here now. He wants you to trust him so bad and it’s a sick thrill that we and Anne share getting nasty gossip about him because it confirms something you already felt.

Sophie Okenedo as Lady Russell.

You should trust and like Lady Russell, but she should also be able to infuriate you like only your mother can when you’re visiting her at home and she asks a innocuous question that makes you want to eat glass.

Jamie Demetriou as Benwick.

Benwick seems absolutely heartbroken by the death of his fiancee until he can read poetry to a pretty girl for a few weeks, and Demetriou can play that soggy sadness and desperation to be loved just *chefs kiss* Also I want to see his face when Sarah Snook tells him he should read less poetry and more prose for the sake of his health.

Adeel Akhtar as Admiral Croft.

I just want Adeel Akhtar to be in everything. Cool uncle energy.

Honorable mention I think a truly great actress should play Mrs. Smith so that you’re totally absorbed in her story like you are in the book. Fiona O’Shaughnessy. #UtopiaHive

#persuasion #sarah snook #joel fry #richard e grant #danusia samal #patti harrison #lolly adefope #susan wokoma #zach cherry #rachel house #jake lacy #sophie okenedo #jamie demetriou #adeel akhtar #fiona o'shaughnessy #jane austen #persuasion book #persuasion 1995

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lauras-collection · 3 years ago

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writer year in review 2021

I'm pretty sure I did this in 2020 as well and it's such a cool way to look back on the year so here it is :D

tagged by @venomsilk and @t-lostinworlds

first creation and most recent creation of 2021

first creation would be beyond being friends part 4 does that count because it's part of a series? :D if not then my first one shot of the year was did I mention I love you? wrote this after watching cherry because I just had so many feelings lmao

most recent creation is my first ever Peter Parker fic I'll find you and I'm so excited to write the second part for this when I've got the time *cries*

one of your favorite creations from 2021

I really like lonely heart. it just has everything I love in a fic, angst and soft smut and just overall softness lol

a creation you’re really proud of

heartbreak girl without a doubt!!! My first (and so far only) long one shot!! I still can't believe I managed to write 15k words for a one shot... and in such a short time as well. I wrote it in like a week and a half?? usually it takes me like a months to even get close to 10k.

a new style you tried this year and a fic that uses it

hmmm I haven't really tried anything new this year I think??

a creation that took you forever

hm I'm tempted to say heartbreak girl just because it's the longest but as I said it didn't take me long at all. Most of my fics this year were spur of the moment fics that I wrote pretty quickly. So I'll go with impatient because I had the rough draft for this written in like... September 2020 and I posted the final fic at the beginning of October 2021 soooo :D

your creation from 2021 that received the most notes

interview intermission my first (and so far only) post to reach 1k+ notes :'))) cherry press was a great time for my creativity lmao

a creation you think deserved more notes

electric love I know harrison fics don't get as many notes as tom fics. this man needs more love in general!!! but I love electric love so much I'm thinking about expanding it and maybe making it my first attempt at publishing something. like there's a whole lot more in my mind in that universe if you will and so many more stories to be told. but the fic itself kinda flopped.

a new fandom you joined and a creation you made for it

none. lol

a creation you made that breaks your heart

I'll find you iykyk

a ‘simple’ creation that you really love

ice lolly. basically pwp but so much fun?? :D

a favorite creation created by someone else

anything by @heyhihellowhatsup0 I'm ashamed to say that I read very little fic this year :( but if you go through my fic rec tag you'll find lots of amazing fics :'))

some of your favorite content creators from the year

@heyhihellowhatsup0 of course, love you bestie, @selfcarecap, @userholland, @venomsilk, @tomhollandd / @starksparker / @johnnmurphy (I just never know which of your blogs to tag lol), @duskholland, and many more that I'm forgetting right now 😬 but again, check my fic rec tag!!

and for good measure, a couple more creations of yours that you love

here are the fics I haven't mentioned yet:

puppy love perhaps my only oneshot without smut this year?????

satin and silk* | ceo!tom

my adorable prince*

call me names*

tagging: I'm so late I'm sure everyone who wanted to do this already did this but if you see this and want to do it consider yourself tagged lol

#writer year in review #2021

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diddlesanddoodles · 5 years ago

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DUMPLING ch 41

Chapter 41

“Why do I need a new dress?” she asked as Lolly measured her waist.

“Because you will be attending a court dinner and there is a level of dress expected by those attending,” Lolly replied. “And as personal guests of the King, you will need to meet and exceed those expectations. And if I do my job well, it will leave a very good impression on the Lords. Which I fully intend to do. Besides, you’re growing out of these already. You’ve gotten a bit taller since these were made.”

Nenani looked down at her dress. When it had first been made for her, the hem had been a few inches above her ankles, but now it reached the middle of her shins.

“Does His Majesty want Haiyer there as well?” Oira asked, regarding her son with an air of reluctance. “He’s not a very...graceful eater. And sitting still for that long a time might be quite challenging for him. Not to speak of how he might react to a crowd...”

“No, I don’t think so. But I wanted to have some formal clothing made for him in any case,” Lolly replied, writing down Nenani’s new measurements. “Better to have them and never need them then to be caught off guard.”

Once she was done with Nenani, Lolly moved onto Oira and then to Haiyer. The later being much less a willing participant that his mother or sister. He had been in a foul mood all morning after having woken up in the middle of the night after a particularly nasty nightmare and even his breakfast of porridge and jam wasn’t enough to brighten him very much.

“Little boy, if you don’t stop wiggling...” Lolly said through gritted teeth, trying to get Haiyer to stand up, but he pulled his legs up every time she sat him down to measure his height. But the little boy just made a frustrated squawk and tried to shimmy out of Lolly’s hands. Exasperated, she looked to Oira for help. “Would you mind holding his legs?”

Oira went to her son and put her hands on his cheeks. “What’s wrong, baby? Why so fussy?”

Haiyer sniffed miserably, gripping his mothers hands. His face was red and he looked ready to burst into tears at any moment. “I don’t wanna...”

“Lolly just needs to measure you,” she told him with a smile. “It won’t take any time at all and then you’re free.”

“Don’t wanna...” Haiyer murmured unhappily and squirmed. “Wanna go look for Ellis...”

“Ellis?” asked Oira. “Your...fairy friend?”

Haiyer nodded. “I don’t know where she is...”

“Maybe she’s just busy right now,” his mother offered. “I’m sure she’ll turn up soon. And when she does, don’t you wanna show her the nice clothes Miss Lolly is gonna make you?”

It was a paltry offer of comfort, but after a little more coaxing, they were finally able to get the boy to sit still long enough for Lolly to get his measurements.

“Alright then,” Lolly said with a hint of triumph in her voice as she looked over her notes. “With all the girls and I working on these we should have you all ready and fitted in time. Madam Reed’s offered to do the embroidery, so I’m confident these will come out quite fine.”

“It’s going to be so odd attending a formal dinner after all these years,” Oira admitted as she stared down at her hands. “I don’t think I even remember Vhasshalan table setting etiquette.”

“Don’t worry,” Lolly said with a laugh as she slipped her paper into the pocket of her apron. “We’ll go over everything the day before so you’re not left floundering.”

“Thank you, Lolly,” Oira told the Matron with a grateful, if not forced, smile.

………….

With winter having firmly arrived, the tunnels were quite chilly. Nenani pulled her coast around herself and checked to make sure her scarf was still securely wrapped around Haiyer as he walked alongside her.

“So what does she look like?” Jae asked as he lead Nenani and Haiyer through the tunnels. Maevis’s orbs lite the dark space and thankfully gave it a little bit more of a cheery look, as otherwise Haiyer may have been inclined to be terrified. He was still jumpy from his nightmare.

Oira had left to go speak with the King in regards to the court dinner, having several questions and concerns that Lolly could not answer, and had left Haiyer and Nenani to themselves in their room. Haiyer had still been quite upset, so Nenani suggested they go look for his fairy friend as a way to keep him occupied and distracted. It was simple enough to ask one of the guards to send a message to Jae and in no time at all the three of them found themselves in the tunnels.

Haiyer held onto Nenani’s hand as they walked, but stared up at the older boy with a flat look at his question. “...she looks like a fairy.”

“Oh. So then what do fairies look like?” Jae amended. “I’ve never seen one.”

Haiyer blinked, having not thought of that possibility. “Oh. Well...She’s taller than me. But sometimes she’s smaller,” Haiyer replied matter-of-factly. “But she’s pretty and has long hair and wings.”

Jae’s eyes flickered over to Nenani as he tried to suppress an amused grim. To Haiyer, he nodded “Oh. All right, then. A pretty shape shifting lady with long hair and wings. Gotcha. She should be easy enough to find.”

“She always comes to see me before I go to sleep,” Haiyer explained, his voice warbling in distress. “Because I have bad dreams and she scares them away for me. But she didn’t come last night or the night before and I had a bad dream…a really bad dream.”

Nenani remembered quite well being awoken in the middle of the night by Haiyer screaming. The sound had seemed to radiate into her bones and because she did not sleep with the amulet on, she and her mother both sparked as they were violently awoken by the little boy’s wails. It took almost an hour for Oira to get him back to sleep and Nenani had woken up, still a little shaken herself.

Jae regarded the little boy sympathetically and ruffled his hair. “That sucks. I get those kind of dreams a lot too.”

Her brother stared at Jae with wide inquisitive eyes. “What kind of bad dreams do you get?”

Jae shrugged. “Same one mostly. Over and over. It’s all foggy and I’m by myself near a pond and I’m holding a cup. There’s a voice telling me to drink the water.” Jae paused as though lost in thought, but jerked to attention. “When I first started having them when I was little, I use to go to the edge of the water but...there were always faces looking back at me. So whenever I have that nightmare I know not to go near the water.”

“That sounds really scary,” Haiyer said with a sympathetic frown. Staring at Jae for a moment, Haiyer then reached out to grab the other boy’s hand so that he, Jae, and Nenani walked hand in hand. Jae looked down at Haiyer with some surprise and the little boy smiled. “When we find Ellis, we should ask her to take away your bad dreams too.”

“That would very generous of her.”

Jae took them to one of the gardens first to look, but Haiyer quickly decreed that Ellis was not there after barely a minute of searching.

“How can you tell?” Nenani asked, peeking out from behind a column.

“Because I don’t hear her,” he said as though it were obvious. “When she’s close, I hear tinkling. Like when it rains and the water hits a puddle and goes tinkle tinkle.”

When Haiyer mimicked the sound of a fairy, he wiggled his fingers and Jae threw his head back to laugh. “Well, that makes looking for her a lot easier then. We just gotta keep our ears open and hope it doesn’t stat raining.”

Nenani felt a guilt ridden lump in her belly as she knew they were on a fool’s errand. Not because she did not believe that fairies weren’t real. But because she was almost certain that the one they were searching for was currently trapped in a glass jar in Maevis’s study. And she did not know how to even broach the subject with Maevis. He was so busy these days that if it were not for their daily lessons, she would likely not see the magician at all.

Production on the warning beacons was in full swing and Maevis had procured the help of several craftsmen to make lanterns that could be hung all around the castle and then endowed with some spell of Maevis’s making that would make the lantern glow should Aidus’s magic be nearby. She recalled Maevis telling Quinn the other morning that the lanterns had a range of a quarter mile and how King Warren had commissioned hundreds of the things to be made and placed so that no part of the castle would be left vulnerable. And there was further discussions still about making even more to send out to the Gate and other boarder posts. Vhasshal had been attacked repeated by Aidus and Warren was not taking lightly the precautions of preventing another.

In that moment, she wished she had thought to bring her dagger, but without a belt to hand it on, it was quite cumbersome to just be carrying around. She recalled Keral’s suggestion of asking Connar to make her one and she resolved herself to the task. Making a mental note to ask Jae to perhaps take her to the smithy later, she turned her focus back to the search.

They checked a smaller garden near the west wing and then the main corridor, but still no sign or sound of Ellis. As they returned to the dim interior of the tunnels, Haiyer’s stomach gave a sad little growl.

“Hungry?” she asked her brother.

“Yeah,” he admitted, pulling at the extra length of the scarf.

“Me too,” Jae chimed in. “How about we go see if your friend’s in the kitchens? Maybe she got hungry, too.”

Haiyer’s face lit up. “Maybe she wanted some jam!”

Holding up his bandaged and splinted arm, Jae grinned at Nenani. “Might be able to use this to gain a bit of sympathy and weasel a few sweet rolls of out Farris. With the kitchens all fixed and new, he should be in a pretty decent mood.” He paused and then shrugged. “Well, for Farris I mean.”

………………………..

“I don’t fuckin’ care what yer damn papers says,” Farris growled at the other giant. “When have I ever ordered fifteen barrels of pickled fuckin’ arduks?”

The delivery merchant was thin and older and a good two heads shorter than Farris, but he glared up at the spice master with a fierce scowl as though he were much taller.

“Well I don’t rightly know,” replied the man tersely. “All I do knows is what I’ve been told and I was told ye were needing fifteen barrels ‘a pickled arduks!”

“Well ye were told wrong.”

“I’m not gonna trudge all the way back to market with a cart full of useless pickled arduks! You ordered them, so pay me my due and I’ll be on my way!”

“If you and yer worthless arse ain’t outta my face in the next minute, I’m tossin’ ye and yer useless arducks out the gate.”

Jae and Nenani watched from the partially open tunnel doorway atop the mantel as Farris and the deliveryman bickered back and fourth while the rest of the staff went about their work and only minutely seemed to take any interest in the exchange. Finally Farris seemed to have had enough and together, he and Bart began to usher the other giant out of the kitchen, practically pushing him back up the stairs.

“So much for him being in a good mood,” Jae muttered. Suddenly, large fingers gripped the tunnel door and pulled it open all the way as another hand reached in and plucked Jae up around his middle. Haiyer gripped Nenani’s skirts and slid behind her with a startled squeak.

“Ah! Hey!” Jae growled as he was pulled away from the mantel. “Dammit Kol!”

“Well, get a look at this pathetic lil’ twat,” Kol said with a laugh as he brought his other hand to better support his grip on the human youth. “You really are all sorts of busted up, ain’t ye lad?”

“Come off it,” Jae huffed and glared at the baker, but paused and pointed at the visible bruise along his neck. “Speaking of busted, who did you pick a fight with? Because it looked like they kicked your arse.”

Kol’s arms and neck were discolored with healing bruises and after setting Jae onto the table, he looked down at the largest one on his arm and gave a dismissive snort. “Eh, that fuckin’ mage sent a couple of his snakes to ‘cause a bit a trouble. One tried to squish me. Looks a whole lot worse than it is. Not that ye’d know it by the way Quinn’s been loiderin’ over me since it happened.”

Jae grinned as Kol sat him down. “Be grateful. I’d much rather have Quinn fretting over me than Rosanna.”

Kol’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he laughed. “Oh-ho-ho! So the Queen don’t hate yer guts now? How’d ye manage that?”

“Honestly, Lolly and the other girls did most of the work for me,” Jae admitted. “But it turns out almost dying does wonders for your reputation.”

“That may be so,” Yale said as he walked up with a bowl of freshly washed herbs that he sat down next to a cutting board next to Jae. He turned back to the wall for a moment to pull a knife down from where it was hooked onto the wall. He waved it at Jae in gesture. “I’m bettin’ it has a lot to do with her being with child. Whenever my Mum was pregnant, she got all clinging with our neighbor’s lil’uns like they was her own.” Yale regarded Jae with a smirk. “And yer not too far off from being the size of a newborn yerself, Jae.”

“The worst part of your theory,” Jae replied flatly and then sighed. “Is that you’re probably right. Hopefully when the baby’s born, she’ll be too busy to remember she’s supposed to hate me.”

Yale opened his mouth to reply when his eyes caught sight of Nenani and he grinned. “Oi, there. Were ye just gonna be loiterin’ there all day or ye gonna come out and say hello?” Yale’s eyes caught sight of Haiyer peeking out from behind his sister’s skirts as he walked along the table towards the mantel. “Ah ha...ye brought the pup too?”

Nenani turned and looked down at her brother, not bothering to hide her amusement. “You remember Yale, right? From before?”

Haiyer nodded meekly, but stepped back into his sister’s shadow as Yale put an arm onto the mantel and peered at him.

“Why so shy, boyo?” he asked the child in a softer voice. “Don’t tell me I scare ye now.”

“Yeah, don’t let his ugly mug scare you, Haiyer,” Jae called out to them from the table. “He can’t help it. That’s just his face.”

Yale tilted he head to give Jae a look, but rolled his eyes and turned back to Nenani and Haiyer.

“Well, judging by what time it is,” Yale said with a knowing smirk, reaching up to curl a hand around Nenani. “I’d say the three of ye are here to try and sneak some treats, eh?”

Nenani grinned. “Sweet roll, please.”

“What about ye, lad? Wantin’ somethin’ to nibble on?” Yale asked. Haiyer fidgeted nervously and pulled at the scarf, looking between Yale’s very large face and his sister who was calmly sitting in the giant’s hands. Nenani could see flickers of fear cross his eyes, but then he looked up into Yale’s face and said in a small voice, “Could...could I have some jam?”

Yale laughed and offered his other hand. “Of course ye can.”

………………………

“So what’s an arduck?” Nenani asked.

“Pickled flower buds. Like a caper, but much bigger,” Yale replied and then huffed a small laugh. “More popular with us folk since we can actually see the damn things. The flowers are poisonous once they’ve bloomed, but if ye pick ‘em when they’re still all wadded up and pickle ‘em, they’re real nice on fish.”

“So was he just wrong about the order?”

“Nah. It’s an old scam some try to fool us with every once in a while,” Yale explained as he chopped the mountain of herbs. Nenani and Jae contently ate their sweet rolls while Haiyer made a right mess eating a piece of bread lavishly smothered in bright red jam. Nenani had the foresight to take back her scarf before he tucked into his food. With the roaring fire in the hearth having made the room comfortably warm and Haiyer’s pension for making a mess of his food, Nenani thought it best she take back ownership of it. As it turned out, she had made a most prudent call. The jam stained Haiyer’s face and hands and she was just glad that his clothes were dark colors and mostly hid the spots where he’d ungraciously drops goblets of it onto his shirt.

“They’ll come to the gate claimin’ to have a delivery ‘a something we never ordered,” Yale continued “And then try to hassle Farris in‘ta payin’ ‘em fer their product. Ye can always tells it’s a scam when they won’t say who their broker is. ‘Cause there ain’t one. And most ‘a the time what they have is either fake or spoiled. If they’re in barrels, ye best watch out. Real easy to just fill ‘em with rocks or water and try and pass it off as something else.”

“I wouldn’t think the risk was worth a measly few coppers,” Jae said. “Trying to defraud the crown? That’s like...three months hard labor?”

“Last fella who tried it and got caught got four months,” Avery added as he loaded a large silver tray with several large roasted boars. “Only he was tryin’ to fool Hev.”

“Ah, I remember that one,” Yale said with an incredulous laugh. “He was tryin’ to pass off lead weighted tin fer fuckin’ silver. Like Hev wouldn’t have noticed?”

Farris and Bart came down the steps then, chuckling as they entered the kitchen proper. “...but he’ll probably be feelin’ that one tomorrow,” Bart was boasting as he dusted his hands off. “Pickled arduks, my arse.”

“We were bound to get one more before the snow,” Farris replied. “He’ll probably try one ‘a the Lord’s estates next.”

“Could warn ‘em,” Bart offered.

Farris considered the idea for all of one second before he shrugged. “Nah,” he said and turned to Avery. “Ye get them roasts plated?”

“Almost. Got ‘em here. Herit’s doin’ up he bread fer the sutffin’ now,” Avery replied, gesturing over to one of the counters near the ovens where the aforementioned tenderfoot was dicing up hunks of bread.

“Herit, it’s just cuttin’ up some damn bread,” Farris barked. “Get on with it, already.”

“Comin’!” Herit replied, sweeping the cubes of bread off the cutting board and into the large bowl. He hurried over and handed it to Yale who quickly poured a measure of oil and the herbs into it, flicking the bowl to toss everything together before handing the whole thing to Avery who quickly plated it. Herit ran to the servants’ stairwell and yelled up. “Service!”

A footman hurried down to collect the platter and then hurried back up the stairs again, balancing the heavy tray with an amazing ease. Farris walked closer to the table, eyes sweeping over and noting the three humans and stuffing their faces. With a raised brown, he reached out to lightly pinch at Nenani’s arm. “Ye wouldn’t just wait fer luncheon, could ye?”

“Nope,” she answered and took another bite. “Not another minute.”

“We were out and looking for Haiyer’s fairy,” Jae replied through a mouthful of sweet roll. “Then we got hungry.”

The spice master snorted and turned to eye the little boy. “So ye went and lost yer fairy, have ye?”

“I didn’t lose her,” Haiyer replied firmly, face covered in the gore of his jammy bread. “I just don’t know where she is...”

Farris leaned down closer to the little prince, noting the bright smears of red all over his face. “Boy, if yer Mum see’s ye like that, she’s gonna burn a hole in my hide. Ye know how to wipe yer face don’t ye, lad?”

“...yeah,” he said unconvincingly just as a glob of jam fell from the bread and onto Haiyer’s lap. The little boy looked down at it before plucking it up and sticking it into his mouth. Farris gave the boy a withering look and without turning his gaze from him, he called out to Yale.

“Yale, see if ye can’t clean this one up some,” he said as he straightened up. “He’s all over jam, looking like a gutted fish.”

Haiyer looked down at himself and then back up at Farris with a look of pure bafflement. “I’m not a fish...”

Bart snorted as he walked away and Farris rolled his eyes. “Could ‘a fooled me, son.”

By the time Yale came back with a small bowl of warm water and a cloth, Haiyer had finished his bread and was trying to lick his hands cleans. Yale wrung the cloth between his hands and then pluck Haiyer up from the table, ignoring his protests.

“Heard ye were gonna be joinin’ ‘em up a the top tables in a few days,” Farris said to Nenani, arms crossed and his brows raised.

She nodded. “The King wanted Mama and I to come,” she replied. “Lolly’s making me a new dress and everything. I don’t get all the fuss. It’s just a dinner right?”

Beside her, Jae laughed. Loudly. “No, Nenani. No.”

Yale had draped the dampened cloth over his fingers and gently began to wipe the red residue from Haiyer’s face and hands, but Haiyer was not being very cooperative. “Oi, stop wiggling,” Yale murmured to him as the boy kept moving his face and trying to pull away. “Yer all sticky.”

“He’s right, Dumplin’,” Farris said, all but ignoring Yale and Haiyer. “Those dinners aren’t just fer folks t’fill their bellies. The whole thing’s nothing but a dance fer courtiers t’shuffle their cards and try to win a better hand.”

“It’s all a political theater,” Jae translated when he saw Nenani’s baffled expression. “All the Lords come together and talk out issues from all over the kingdom. At any given time, someone’s trying to dispose someone else’s position or gain favor with Lord-whats-his-name or Lady-I-don’t-remember. It’s why I don’t usually bother going.”

Nenani frowned. “They do that...every night?”

Farris nodded. “Aye. Just about. Though not all the Lords are at court at any given time. Donal gives me lists of who is expected to be at court and when so I can adjust the menu and make sure we’re pushing out enough fer the lot of ‘em.”

“And if Lady Tafford’s showin’ up,” Avery added with a grin. “You better make sure there’s extra puddin’s to spare.”

“Warren tries to make it a point of going most nights,” Jae explained after polishing off his treat and dusting his hands of the crumbs. “So if the Lords have an issue to discuss he can hear them whine or at the very least moderate between them. It’s like low key pandering without making it look like he’s doing anything at all.”

“...that sounds exhausting,” Nenani replied with a withering frown.

“Oh, believe me. It is,” Jae said. “But there’s a trade going on. Just with him being there, the Lords are made to feel like their whining is being heard and they’re far less likely to make too much of a fuss if Warren does something they don’t particularly like. It’s all a balancing act.”

“But even if they don’t like something he does,” Nenani said. “He’s the King. Don’t they have to do what he says?”

“Strictly speaking? Yes,” Jae replied. “But it’s really hard to effectively rule without the support of the local Lords. They control a lot of land and are a big part of the economy. He needs them. Like your Lord Eldherst. He owns the land where most of the mutton we eat here in the castle is raised. That armory he’s always trying to get Warren to build? He wants it built on the south moor because his friend Lord Wendleton owns an ore mine in the north and having the armory in the south moor would require a new road built. Right through Eldherst’s land. Which means he would receive a subsidy from the crown.”

Nenani looked at Jae askance, remembering Eldherst’s fine coat and jeweled fingers. “He’s a Lord. Doesn’t he have enough money already?”

Everyone within earshot burst out into laughter. Except Haiyer, who looked just as baffled as Nenani.

“Ye haven’t seen enough of the world to know, lass,” Farris told her with a breathy chuckle. “But it ain’t just monsters and smoke mages ye need t’be wary of. Greedy folks with deep pockets are dangerous enough in their own right.”

“Not only all that,” Avery added in. “But Eldherst’s land borders Sherfield.”

“Aye, that’s true. They use to be well known fer their metal workers,” Farris explained and looked to Yale. “S’where Hev’s from, ain’t it?”

Yale nodded, finally having cleaned most of the jam off Haiyer and sat the boy in the crook of one arm while he put the cloth into the bowl and picked it up with his free hand. “Just north ‘a there, but his Granddad was the foreman in that mine, if I remember correctly.”

“Sherfield use to be a big metal workers town before the mine ran dry,” Farris explained. “So the idea of a road from Lord Wendleton’s ore mine going right passed their town has a lot of support from the locals. Could rebuilt their local economy overnight.”

“Or until the armory finally sinks,” Jae offered with roll of his eyes. “Such a stupid idea...”

“So why not just build the armory in Sherfield?” Nenani asked.

Farris shrugged at her with a small smile. “Couldn’t tell ye. Ye might just have to ask Eldherst yerself.”

Nenani frowned at the kitchen master. “Is it considered impolite to accidentally light a Lord’s coat on fire?”

“Unfortunately, Dumplin’,” he said with a laugh. “I think it very well might. But ye just reminded me ‘a somethin’...”

The spice master turned from them and disappeared into the spice pantry for only a few moments before returning with a small jar. Beside her, Jae stiffened and muttered a faint curse. As Farris returned to the table, he sat the jar in front of Jae and pinned him with a look. “When was the last time ye even had any, boy?”

“Last week,” Jae replied stiffly.

Farris’s expression soured.

“I keep tellin’ ye, lad. Yer a fuckin’ terrible liar,” Farris’s his voice dropped into a warning growl. “I know ye haven’t been takin’ none since ye should’ve run out a good while ago, but ye haven’t come to ask fer more. So I’ll ask ye again; How long since the last time ye had any?”

“...two months,” Jae said in a small and guilty sounding voice. He shrank back from the kitchen master as he gave his answer, clearly knowing the kind of reaction he was going to get.

“Two months? Two fuckin’ months?” Farris scowled. “And I supose ye’ve been liftin’ spirits again?”

“I haven’t stolen anything,” Jae snapped. “Keral gave me some of his whiskey.”

“He what?” Farris yelled. “Haven’t ye learned yer lesson to stay away from that shit?”

“Look, I just...I wasn’t in the best frame of mind for a while and...it was just easier to sleep after a couple sips of whiskey than to have to drink all that tea and hope it kicks in before the nightmares or fits do.”

“Ye’d have been fine if ye just kept drinkin’ it like I told ye,” Farris said, but Nenani was surprised that his tone did not have the kind of heat behind it as she would have expected.

“I ran out around the wedding and you told me not to bother you and then Nenani showed up and Yaesha had a little left, but not a lot and there was all that mess with Craeg and...I just let it...kind of slip away for a while. And besides, I haven’t had a fit since the wedding.”

“Oh don’t be tryin’ t’feed me that shit,” Farris said, walking around the table to the hearth used his apron to grip the kettle and pull it out of the fire. Taking one of smaller ramekins from the shelf and something from a small box, he brought both back over to wear Jae sat and filled the small cup with boiling water. “Ye ain’t a child, Jae. Ye should know better. And next time I see Keral, I’m puttin’ a fuckin’ boot in his arse fer encouraging ye like that.”

Farris sat the still hot kettle onto a trivet before grabbing the small jar and taking a pinch of the dried leaves therein before sprinkling them into the hot water. “Yer gonna start drinkin’ it again and stop with the spirits.” He reached out and caught Jae’s chin and forced the boy to meet his eye. “I mean it boy. No more. Keral may find solace at the bottom of a wine glass, but I ain’t ‘bout to let ye follow him down.”

“Okay,” Jae replied, looking genuinely sorry. “I just...”

“Ye ain’t got to explain a thing t’me, Jae. I understand just fine,” he said, releasing Jae’s face and he held out a small cup between his fingers to him and as Jae took it, he said, “One cup a day.”

“I remember,” Jae replied, looking down at the cup in his hands and his head perked up. “Do you think the tea would work for Haiyer?”

The kitchen master eyed Jae and then turned to look at Haiyer. Yale had sat the boy down next to where he was working and was now occupying himself with a pepperseed. The little boy held it to his face to smell it, but the moment the pungent spicy aroma hit his hose, he turned away and sneezed.

Looking back to Jae, Farris asked, “What fer?”

“The whole reason we’re looking for his fairy is because he says she’s what scares away his nightmares,” Jae replied, rolling the cup between his hands.

“He had one last night,” Nenani said. “A bad one.”

Yale looked down at the boy next him. “Ye havin’ bad dreams, boyo?”

Looking up from the pepperseed he was rolling back and forth, Haiyer nodded lightly. “Uh-huh.”

“I’ll send some up tonight,” Farris said. “Might take a few days, but it should help.”

Nenani scooted over to peer into ramekin and watched the tea leaves lazily float around in the hot water, turning it a faint shade amber. “What is it?”

“Lime flower tea,” Farris explained. “Helps ease a fidgety mind.”

“I do not have a fidgety mine,” Jae protested, glaring up at the kitchen master.

“Oh, yes ye do,” Farris shot back with a smirk. “Just like a rabbit.”

Nenani set back on her knees and regarded Farris with a suspicious eye. “How come you never gave me lime flower tea? I had nightmares all the time.”

Farris snorted and pinned her with a look. “Lass, it’s practically all ye’ve been drinkin’ since ye came here.”

She blinked up at him. “What? Really?”

“Aye,” he laughed. “Didn’t do a thing fer yer nightmares, though. And it might not help yer brother either, but till he starts takin’ it, we won’t know. Some folks just take to it better than others.” He looked to Jae with a pointed look. “Should be fine now, lad. And yer not leavin’ that table till ye’v downed a whole cup.”

With a sigh, Jae carefully dipped his cup into the tea, avoiding burning his fingers. He took a metered sip and made a face. “I hate lime flower tea.”

#DUMPLING #g/t fantasy story #G/t story #g/t #Giant/tiny #fantasy giant #Fantasy Story #Nenani #Jae #Farris #Haiyer #Yale #Kol #Lolly #Oira

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scone-lover · 5 years ago

Text

@pipsqueakparker

Oh, no.

I didn’t expect to ever have to explain myself here. 😂 WHAT HAVE I DONE??? (I brought this upon myself. I will deliver.)

Love you. ❤️

Link to the fic, link to the ask, and my commentary is below the cut!

I’m met by the splendid sight of a mostly-naked Simon

I mean, he couldn’t be fully clothed and deepthroating butter in the kitchen. Where’s the fun in that? This is a sensual experience. He treats it as such.

with his back halfway to me, which means a lovely view of his arse in profile

This is in there for no other reasons than bums.

I would like to remind you that you were here for this idea’s inception. In fact, it wasn’t even my idea! It was, in fact, the iconic @subpar-selkie‘s:

But of course, this whole fic was born from that one cursed reddit post.

I’d also like to highlight this, which inspired one of the other scenes in this fic:

An entire stick of butter. (One of the normal sized ones, thank Merlin.)

Okay, I KNOW there were double-sized sticks of butter, which present their own opportunities, but I have some at home and I honestly don’t think they’re the right dimensions for a proper deepthroating. Simon would (probably???) agree.

And what he’s doing to it. He’s licking it. I watch in morbid fascination as he licks at the top of the butter.

I had to start off nice and slow. If he deepthroated it right from the outset that would give it all away!

His hair’s messy, his eyes sleepy, his tongue pink as it darts out smoothly over the surface.

this is a s e n s o r y experience

And then he wraps his lips around the top and starts sucking on the butter like an ice lolly (...or something else).

I just wanted to drag this scene out as long as possible. I also clearly wanted to use some language that is mainly associated with smut (ex: wrapping lips, very common phrasing). Ice lolly comparison is shamelessly stolen from Kris’ 5+1. Because that is the mood that I’m trying to invoke here. With butter. 😂

He hums in contentment and takes it in further

I... am so sorry

(Did you think of a dick? DID YOU??? GOOD.)

still oblivious to my presence.

He is lost in the pleasure of this experience. It’s just a boy and his butter.

His eyes closed, his lips sliding up and down the stick of butter...

I started laughing while retyping this. I don’t know what kind of fucking crack I was on while writing this. I’m disgusted with myself

...it’s exceedingly pornographic.

We got that already, Baz, but thanks for spelling it out for us.

Side note I used this language because one of my favorite phrasing tropes in Snowbaz fic is when Simon does something super normal but Baz is so fucking thirsty that he describes it as pornographic. Like, idk, swallowing or moving his shoulders or existing with moles. It is always so funny.

I’m hard. I’m hard because Simon fucking Snow is deepthroating a stick of butter.

I just. I needed to portray Baz’s utter exasperation with this situation, yet undeniable horniness. And I hope I achieved that.

Thanks for the ask, friend, this was fun! 😂😂😂

#ask game #fanfic asks #dvd commentary #5+1 things #my fic #fanfic #writing #five times they weren't out of butter

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paralleljulieverse · 5 years ago

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“We’ll be educating Archie, so we’ll be busy for a while...”

We are a little late with this commemorative post, but last month -- 6 June, to be precise -- marked the 70th anniversary of the debut of Educating Archie (1950-59), the legendary BBC radio series starring ventriloquist Peter Brough and his dummy, Archie Andrews. Fourteen-year-old Julie Andrews was part of the original line-up for the 1950 premiere season of Educating Archie and she would remain with the show for two full seasons till late-1951/early-1952.

It would be difficult to exaggerate the significance of Educating Archie during the ‘Golden Age' of BBC Radio in the 1950s. Across the ten years it was on the air, it grew from a popular series on the Light Programme into a “national institution” (Donovan, 74). At its peak, the series averaged a weekly audience of over 15 million Britons, almost a third of the national population (Elmes, 208). Even the Royals were apparently fans, with Brough and Archie invited to perform several times at Windsor Castle (Brough, 162ff). The show found equal success abroad, notably in Australia, where a special season of the series was recorded in 1957 (Foster and First, 133).

Audiences couldn’t get enough of the smooth-talking Brough and his smart-lipped wooden sidekick, and the show soon spawned a flood of cross-promotional spin-offs and marketing ventures. There were Educating Archie books, comics, records, toys, games, and clothing. An Archie Andrews keyring sold half a million units in six months and the Archie Andrews iced lolly was one of the biggest selling confectionary items of the decade (Dibbs 201). More than a mere radio programme, Educating Archie became a cultural phenomenon that “captured the heart and mood of a nation” (Merriman, 53).

On paper, the extraordinary success of Educating Archie can be hard to fathom. After all, what is the point of a ventriloquist act on the radio where you can’t see the artist’s mouth or, for that matter, the dummy? Ventriloquism is, however, more than just the simple party trick of “voice-throwing”. A good “vent” is at heart a skilled actor who can use his or her voice to turn a wooden doll into a believable character with a distinct personality and dynamic emotional life. It is why many ventriloquists have found equal success as voice actors in animation and advertising (Lawson and Persons, 2004).

Long before Educating Archie, several other ventriloquist acts showed it was possible to make a successful transition to the audio-only medium of radio. Most famous of these was the American Edgar Bergen who, with his dummy Charlie McCarthy, had a top-rating radio show which ran in the US for almost two decades from 1937-1956 (Dunning, 226). Other local British precedents were provided by vents such as Albert Saveen, Douglas Craggs and, a little later, Arthur Worsley, all of whom had been making regular appearances on radio variety programmes for some time (Catling, 81ff; Street, 245).

By his own admission, Peter Brough was not the most technically proficient of ventriloquists. A longstanding joke -- possibly apocryphal but now the stuff of showbiz lore -- runs that he once asked co-star Beryl Reid if she could ever see his lips move. “Only when Archie’s talking,” was her deadpan response (Barfe, 46). But Brough -- described by one critic as “debonair, fresh-faced and pleasantly toothy” (Wilson “Dummy”, 4) -- had an engaging performance style and he cultivated a “charismatic relationship with his doll as the enduring and seductive Archie Andrews” (Catling, 83). Touring the variety circuit throughout the war years, he worked hard to perfect his one-man comedy act with him as the sober straight man and Archie the wise-cracking cut-up.

Inspired by the success of the aforementioned Edgar Bergen -- whose NBC radio shows had been brought over to the UK to entertain US servicemen during the war -- Brough applied to audition his act for the BBC (Brough, 43ff). It clearly worked because the young vent soon found himself performing on several of the national broadcaster’s variety shows. His turn on one of these, Navy Mixture, proved so popular that he secured a regular weekly segment, “Archie Takes the Helm” which ran for forty-six weeks (ibid, 49). While appearing on Navy Mixture, Brough worked alongside a wide range of other variety artists, including, as it happens, a husband and wife performing team by the name of Ted and Barbara Andrews.

Fast forward several years to 1950 and, in response to his surging popularity, Brough was invited by the BBC to mount a fully-fledged radio series built around the mischievous Archie (Brough, 77ff). A semi-sitcom style narrative was devised -- written by Brough’s longtime writing partner, Sid Colin and talented newcomer, Eric Sykes -- in which Archie was cast as “a boy in his middle teens, naughty but lovable, rather too grown up for his years-- especially where the ladies are concerned -- and distinctly cheeky” (Broadcasters, 5). Brough was written in as Archie’s guardian who, sensing the impish lad needed to be “taken strictly in hand before he becomes a juvenile delinquent,” engages the services of a private tutor to “educate Archie” (ibid.). Filling out the weekly tales of comic misadventure was a roster of both regular and one-off characters. In the first season, the Australian comedian, Robert Moreton, was Archie's pompous but slightly bumbling tutor, Max Bygraves played a likeable odd-job man, and the multi-talented Hattie Jacques voiced the part of Agatha Dinglebody, a dotty neighbourhood matron who was keen on the tutor, along with several other comic characters (Brough, 78-81).

In keeping with the variety format popular at the time, it was decided the series would also feature weekly musical interludes. “Our first choice” in this regard, recalls Peter Brough (1955), “was little Julie Andrews”:

“A brief two years before [Julie] had begun her professional career as a frail, pig-tailed, eleven-year-old singing sensation, startling the critics in Vic Oliver’s ‘Starlight Roof’ at the London Hippodrome by her astonishingly mature coloratura voice. Many people of the theatrical world were ready to scoff, declaring the child’s voice was a freak, that it could not last or that such singing night after night would injure her throat. They did not reckon with Julie’s mother, Barbara, and father, Ted: nor with her singing teacher, Madame Stiles-Allen. In their care, the little girl, who had sung ‘for the fun of it’ since she was seven, continued a meteoric career that has few, if any rivals” (81).

As further context for Julie’s casting in Educating Archie, the fourteen-year-old prodigy had already appeared on several earlier BBC broadcasts and was thus well known to network management. In fact, Julie had already worked with the show’s producer, Roy Speers, on his BBC variety show, Starlight Hour in 1948 (Julie Andrews Radio Artists File I).

Julie’s role in Educating Archie was essentially that of the show’s resident singer who would come out and perform a different song each week. In the first volume of her memoirs, Julie recalls:

“If I was lucky, I got a few lines with the dummy; if not, I just sang. Working closely with Mum and [singing teacher] Madame [Stiles-Allen], I learned many new songs and arias, like ‘The Shadow Waltz’ from Dinorah; ‘The Wren’; the waltz songs from Romeo and Juliet and Tom Jones; ‘Invitation to the Dance’; ‘The Blue Danube’; ‘Caro Nome’ from Rigoletto; and ‘Lo, Hear the Gentle Lark’” (Andrews 2008, 126)

Other numbers performed by Julie during her appearances on Educating Archie include: “The Pipes of Pan”, “My Heart and I”, “Count Your Blessings”, “I Heard a Robin”, and “The Song of the Tritsch-Tratsch” (”Song Notes”, 11; Julie Andrews Radio Artists File I). Additional musical interludes were provided by other regulars on the show such as Max Bygraves, the Hedley Ward Trio and the Tanner Sisters.

Alongside her weekly showcase song, Julie’s role was progressively built into a character of sorts as the eponymously named ‘Julie’, a neighbourhood friend of Archie’s. In a later BBC retrospective, Brough recalled that it was actually Julie’s idea to flesh out her part:

“We were thinking of Educating Archie and dreaming up the idea...and we wanted something fresh in the musical spot. We had just heard Julie Andrews with Vic Oliver in Starlight Roof...and we thought, why not Julie with that lovely fresh voice, this youngster with a tremendous range? So we asked her to come and take part in the trial recording and she came up with her mother and her music teacher, Madame Stiles-Allen...and Julie was a tremendous hit, absolutely right from the start. She used to sing those lovely Strauss waltzes...and all those lovely songs and hit the high notes clear as a bell. And then she came to me and said, ‘Look...I’m just doing the song spot, do you think I could just do a line or two with Archie and develop a little talking, a little character work?’ So, I said, ‘I don’t see why not’, So we talked to Eric Sykes and Roy Speer and, suddenly, we started with Julie talking lines back-and-forth with Archie, and Eric developed the character for her of the girl-next-door for Archie, very sweet, quite different from the sophisticated young lady she is today, but a lovely sweet character” (cited in Benson 1985)

As intimated here, an initial trial recording of Educating Archie was commissioned by the BBC, ostensibly to gauge if the format would work or not. This recording was made with the full cast on 15 January 1950 and was sufficiently well received for the broadcaster to green-light a six-episode pilot series to start in June as a fill-in for the popular comedy programme, Take It From Here during that series’ summer hiatus (Pearce, 4). The first episode of Educating Archie was scheduled for Tuesday 6 June in the prime 8:00pm evening slot, with a repeat broadcast the following Sunday afternoon at 1:45pm (Brough, 88ff).

All of the shows for Educating Archie were pre-recorded at the BBC’s Paris Cinema in Lower Regent Street. Typically, each week’s episode would be rehearsed in the afternoon and then performed and recorded later that evening in front of a live audience. Julie’s fee for the show was set at fifteen guineas (£15.15s.0d) for the recording, with an additional seven-and-a-half guineas (£7.17s.6d) per UK broadcast, 3 guineas (£3.3s.0d) for the first five overseas broadcasts, and one-and-a-half guineas for all other broadcasts (£1.11s.6d) (Julie Andrews Radio Artists File I).

The initial six-episodes of Educating Archie proved so popular that the BBC quickly extended the series for another six episodes from 18 July to 22 August (“So Archie,” 5). Of these Julie appeared in four -- 25 July, 1, 8, 14 August -- missing the fist and last episode due to prior performance commitments with Harold Fielding. Subsequently, the show -- and, with it, Julie’s contract -- was extended for a further eight episodes (29 August-17 October), then again for another eight (23 October-18 December). These later extensions were accompanied by a scheduling shift from Tuesday to Monday evening, with the Sunday afternoon repeat broadcast remaining unchanged (Julie Andrews Radio Artists File I). All up, the first season of Educating Archie ran for thirty weeks, five times its original scheduled length. During that time, the show’s audience jumped from an initial 4 million listeners to over 12 million (Dibbs, 200-201). It was also voted the top Variety Show of the year in the annual National Radio and Television Awards, a mere four-and-a-half months after its debut (Brough, 98; Wilson “Archie”, 3).

Given the meteoric success of the show, the cast of Educating Archie found themselves in hot demand. Peter Brough (1955) relates that there was a growing clamour from theatre producers for stage presentations of Educating Archie, including an offer from Val Parnell for a full-scale show at the Prince of Wales in the heart of the West End (101). He demurred, feeling the timing wasn’t yet right and that it was too soon for the show “to sustain a box office attraction in London” -- though he left the door open for future stage shows (102).

One venture Brough did green-light was a novelty recording of Jack and the Beanstalk with select stars of Educating Archie, including Julie. Spread over two sides of a single 78rpm, the recording was a kind of abridged fantasy episode of the show cum potted pantomime with Brough/Archie as Jack, Hattie Jacques as Mother, and Peter Madden as the Giant. Julie comes in at the very end of the tale to close proceedings with a short coloratura showcase, “When We Grow Up” which was written specially for the recording by Gene Crowley. Released by HMV in December 1950, the recording was pitched to the profitable Christmas market and, backed by a substantial marketing campaign, it realised brisk sales (“Jack,” 12). It was also warmly reviewed in the press as “a very well presented and most enjoyable disc” (“Disc,” 3) and “something to which children will listen again and again” (Tredinnick, 628).

In light of its astonishing success, there was little question that Educating Archie would be renewed for another season in 1951. In fact, it occasioned something of a bidding war with Radio Luxembourg, a competitor commercial network, courting Brough with a lucrative deal to bring the show over to them (Brough, 103-4). Out of a sense of professional loyalty to the BBC -- and, no doubt, sweetened by a counter-offer described by the Daily Express as “one of the biggest single programme deals in the history of radio variety in Britain” (cited in Brough, 104) -- Brough re-signed with the national broadcaster for a further three year contract.

For their part, the BBC was keen to get the new season up on the air as early as possible with an April start-date mooted. Brough, however, wanted to give the production team an extended break and, more importantly, secure enough time to develop new material with his writing team. Rising star scriptwriter, Eric Sykes was already overstretched with a competing assignment for Frankie Howerd so a later start for August was eventually confirmed (Brough, 105ff). The Educating Archie crew did, however, re-form for a one-off early preview special in March, Archie Andrew’s Easter Party, which reunited much of the original cast, including Julie (Gander, 6).

The second 1951 season started in earnest in late-July with pre-recordings and rehearsals, followed by the first episode which was broadcast on 3 August. This time round, the programme would air on Friday evenings at 8:45pm with a repeat broadcast two days later on Sunday at 6:00pm. The cast remained more-or-less the same with the exception of Robert Moreton who had, in the interim, secured his own radio show. Replacing him as Archie’s tutor was another up-and-coming comedy talent by the name of Tony Hancock (Brough, 111). It was the start of what would prove a star-making cycle of substitute tutors over the years which would come to include Harry Secombe, Benny Hill, Bruce Forsyth, and Sid James (Gifford 1985, 76). A further cast change would occur midway through Season 2 with the departure of Max Bygraves who left in October to pursue a touring opportunity as support act for Judy Garland in the United States (Brough, 113-14).

The second season of Educating Archie ran for 26 weeks from 3 August 1951 till 25 January 1952. Of these, Julie performed in 18 weekly episodes. She missed two episodes in late September due to other commitments and was absent from later episodes after 14 December due to her starring role in the Christmas panto, Aladdin at the London Casino. She was originally scheduled to return to Educating Archie for the final remaining shows of the season in January and her name appears in newspaper listings for these episodes. However, correspondence on file at the BBC Archives suggests she had to pull out due to ongoing contractual obligations with Aladdin which had extended its run due to popular demand (Julie Andrews Radio Artists File I).

Season 2 would mark the end of Julie’s association with Educating Archie. When the show resumed for Season 3 in September 1952, there would be no resident singer. Instead, the producers adopted “a policy of inviting a different guest artiste each week” (Brough 118). They also pushed the show more fully into the realm of character-based comedy with the inclusion of Beryl Reid who played a more subversive form of juvenile girl with her character of Monica, the unruly schoolgirl (Reid, 60ff). Moreover, by late 1952, Julie was herself “sixteen going on seventeen” and fast moving beyond the sweet little girl-next-door kind of role she had played on the show.

Still, there can be no doubt that the two years Julie spent with Educating Archie provided a major boost to her young career. Broadcast weekly into millions of homes around the nation, the programme afforded Julie a massive regular audience beyond anything she had yet experienced and helped consolidate her growing celebrity as a “household name”. Because Archie only recorded one day a week, Julie was still able to continue a fairly busy schedule of concerts and live performances, often travelling back to London for the broadcast before returning to various venues around the country (Andrews, 127). As a sign of her evolving star status, promotion for many of these appearances billed her as “Julie Andrews, 15 year old star of radio and television” (”Big Welcome,” 7) or even “Julie Andrews the outstanding radio and stage singing star from Educating Archie” (”Stage Attractions,” 4). In fact, Julie made at least two live appearances in this era alongside Brough and other members of the Educating Archie crew with a week at the Belfast Opera House in October 1951 and another week in November at the Gaumont Theatre Southampton (Programme, 1951).

Additionally, the fact that the episodes of Educating Archie were all pre-recorded means that the show provides a rare documentary record of Julie’s childhood performances. To date, several episodes with Julie have been publicly released. These include recordings of her singing “The Blue Danube” from 30 October 1950 and the popular Kathryn Grayson hit, “Love Is Where You Find It” from 19 October 1951. Given recordings of the series were issued to networks around Britain and even sent abroad suggests there must be others in existence and, so, we can only hope that more episodes with Julie will surface in time.

Reflecting on the cultural significance of Educating Archie, Barrie Took observes that, “Over the years [the] programme became a barometer of success; more than any other radio comedy it was the showcase of the emerging top-liner” (104). Indeed, the show’s alumni roll reads like a veritable “who’s who” of post-war British talent: Peter Brough, Eric Sykes, Hattie Jacques, Max Bygraves, Tony Hancock, Alfred Marks, Beryl Reid, Harry Secombe, Bruce Forsyth, Benny Hill, Warren Mitchell, Sid James, Marty Feldman, Dick Emery (Foster and Furst, 128-32). All big talents and even bigger names. However, it is perhaps fitting that, in a show built around a pint-sized dummy, the biggest name of all to come out of Educating Archie -- and, sadly, the only cast-member still with us today -- should be “little Julie Andrews”.

Sources:

Andrews, Julie. Home: A Memoir of My Early Years. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2008.

Baker, Richard A. Old Time Variety: An Illustrated History. Barnsley: Remember When, 2010.

Barfe, Louis. Turned Out Nice Again: The Story of British Light Entertainment. London: Atlantic Books, 2008.

Benson, John (Pres.). “Julie Andrews, A Celebration, Part 2.” Star Sound Special. Luke, Tony (Prod.), radio programme, BBC 2, 7 October 1985.

“Big Welcome for Julie Andrews.” Staines and Ashford News. 17 November 1950: 7.

Broadcasters, The. “Both Sides of the Microphone.” Radio Times. 4 June 1950: 5.

Brough, Peter. Educating Archie. London: Stanely Paul & Co., 1955.

Catling, Brian. “Arthur Worsley and the Uncanny Valley.” Articulate Objects: Voice, Sculpture and Performance. Satz, A. and Wood, J. eds. Bern: Peter Lang, 2009: 81-94.

Dibbs, Martin. Radio Fun and the BBC Variety Department, 1922—67. Chams: Palgrave MacMillan, 2018.

“Disc Dissertation.” Lincolnshire Echo. 11 December 1950: 3.

Donovan, Paul. “A Voice from the Past.” The Sunday Times. 17 December 1995: 74.

Dunning, John. On the Air: The Encyclopedia of Old-Time Radio. New York: Oxford University Press, 1998.

Elmes, Simon. Hello Again: Nine Decades of Radio Voices. London: Random House, 2012.

Fisher, John. Funny Way to Be a Hero. London: Frederick Muller, 1973.

Foster, Andy and Furst, Steve. Radio Comedy, 1938-1968: A Guide to 30 Years of Wonderful Wireless. London: Virgin Books, 1996.

Gander, L Marsland. “Radio Topics.” Daily Telegraph. 13 March 1951: 6.

Gifford, Denis. The Golden Age of Radio: An Illustrated Companion. London: Batsford, 1985.

____________. “Obituary: Peter Brough.” The Independent. 7 June 1999: 11.

“Jack and the Beanstalk.” His Masters Voice Record Review. Vol. 8, no. 4, December 1950: 12.

Julie Andrews Radio Artists File I, 1945-61. Papers. BBC Written Archives Centre, Caversham.

Lawson, Tim and Persons, Alissa. The Magic Behind the Voices: A Who's Who of Cartoon Voice Actors. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi Press, 2004.

Merriman, Andy. Hattie: The Authorised Biography of Hattie Jacques. London: Aurum Press, 2008.

Pearce, Emery. “Dummy is Radio Star No. 1.” Daily Herald. 6 April 1950: 4.

Programme for Peter Brough and All-Star Variety at the Belfast Opera House, 22 October 1951, Belfast.

Programme for Peter Brough and All-Star Variety at the Gaumont Theatre Southampton, 12 November 1951, Southampton.

Reid, Beryl. So Much Love: An Autobiography. London: Hutchinson, 1984

“So Archie Stays on.” Daily Mail. 1 July 1950: 5.

“Song Notes.” The Stage. 28 September 1950: 11.

“Stage Attractions: Arcadia.” Lincolnshire Standard. 18 August 1951: 4

Street, Seán. The A to Z of British Radio. Lanham, MD: Scarecrow Press, 2009.

Took, Barry. Laughter in the Air: An Informal History of British Radio Comedy. London: Robson Books, 1976.

Tredinnick, Robert. “Gramophone Notes.” The Tatler and Bystander. 13 December 1950: 628.

Wilson, Cecil. “Dummy Steals the Spotlight.” Daily Mail. 27 May 1950: 4.

____________. “Archie, Petula Soar to the Top.” Daily Mail. 20 October 1950: 3.

#julie andrews #educating archie #peter brough #archie andrews #radio #bbc #british #1950s #ventriloquist #hattie jacques #max bygraves #tony hancock

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itsthemoofacewriting · 5 years ago

Text

A boring Saturday

I had dreadful writers block and it especially didn’t help with this pairing; I struggle to write them romantically at the best of times.

Also, bad news, I am currently no longer chapters ahead of myself. I was holding off from posting this to see if I could get ahead but figured I’d made you wait long enough. So, we’ll see how that goes…

Summary: They were going to need each other if they wanted to survive education. A-level/School AU. LuNami.

Rating: K.

This can also be found on AO3 and FFN

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3

Anyway, enjoy.

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

“Nami, I’m bored.” Luffy said, laying down of the grass and picking at the grass next to him.

“So you’ve said.” She said absently, engrossed in the book she was reading as she turned the page. It was just starting to get good.

Luffy had been texting her and was apparently unimpressed by her slow responses, so he showed up uninvited. It wasn’t anything new. But he wasn’t doing anything different now to what he was doing in his texts, except she couldn’t ignore him now.

She’d been in her garden, enjoying the beautiful Saturday weather before she’d been rudely interrupted. Although, to her glee, he’d gone quiet. She’d have to use this opportunity whilst she could. Don’t get her wrong, she enjoyed Luffy’s company and he was easily one of her closest friends, but sometimes the peace was nice, especially as that’s all she’d planned for today.

“Woah! Look at this.”

Ah, so that’s why he’d gone quiet. He’d taken to wandering around her garden whilst she was distracted and had stopped to snoop through her shed. In it he’d found one of her old water pistols she’d had when she was younger. To be fair, it was impressive and when she was younger, she’d loved it.

“I bet this still shoots well.”

She didn’t like the look on his face. It gleamed with bad intentions. “No.”

Hi face fell. “Wha? But-”

“You are not shooting that at me.” She cut him off, sending him an unimpressed look.

“Obviously! That’s no fun if you don’t have a weapon either. Did your sister not have one too?” He turned, not waiting for her response to continue digging. She didn’t get the chance to confirm, he triumphantly turned around and thrust the second one into the air. “Yes!”

She sighed, putting down her book and looked at him more seriously now. Reading would definitely be out the window now that he’d found those. She looked around her garden, seriously questioning whether it could take Luffy’s rampaging. It definitely wasn’t big enough and she’d have to keep him far away from Bell-mère’s orange grove.

“Your place isn’t big enough, let’s go to mine!” It’s like he read her mind sometimes. Although she doubted that they had to same reasoning behind the suggestion. “There’s more places to hide too! Ooooooh, let’s invite everyone else!”

Places to hide? This was starting to sound extreme. Surely this was just supposed to be a bit of fun, everyone ran around and got wet and that was it.

“It’s worth asking, but I don’t know if everyone will have water pistols.”

Everyone had water pistols. She was expecting rounds or that someone couldn’t come. Anyone who didn’t own a pistol was supplied one by Usopp. Apparently, he plays with some of the kids on his road. So here they were, stood in a circle going through the rules. Her hunch about it being an extreme water pistol fight had been correct, but then with this group, she shouldn’t be surprised.

It’d escalated from just running around with a water pistol to someone suggesting they add food colouring to the water and wear white tops so they could determine a winner at the end. Everyone’s competitive spirit was brimming to the surface with that suggestion. They’d split off into two groups to go into town to gather supplies, one group tasked with getting different food colours and the other to get some cheap white tops. Luffy had gone with the group to get food colours from the supermarket, so naturally they came back with ice lollies.

With little variation on the food colours, they’d used the lolly sticks to decide on groups, colouring the ends to determine who would be paired with who. There was uproar about there being a group of three, but Robin had made a very good point that it came with both advantages and disadvantages. The group of three would have an extra fighter but would also be at a higher risk of losing with having another person to shoot at.

Nami looked around the group, calculating who she wanted to be in a team with. Luffy or Zoro would be good, both great fighters and hated to lose. Sanji was just as good and he would also protect her from being shot at, he was already shouting about how he would throw himself in front of her and Robin. Robin would be a good pick; the woman was sneaky. Actually, as she looked around, probably any of them would be good.

Okay, she was wrong.

“You take the lead and I’ll back you up!” Usopp exclaimed.

“How am I stuck with the coward?” Nami said to herself, pondering her poor luck as they huddled behind a garden table that they’d turned on its side.

Once the groups had been announced, everyone had taken cover in their teams to discuss a strategy before starting.

There was her and Usopp. Sanji and Brook. Franky, Robin and Chopper. Zoro and Luffy. Nami’s eyes narrowed, the last group was definitely the most dangerous combination.

“You’re no better!” Usopp said, outraged and pointing a finger at her accusingly.

Nami ignored him. “Sanjiiii, you wouldn’t let me get shot, would you?” She called, looking over at him and pouting cutely.

The reaction was instant. “Of course not, my lovely swan! I’ll shoot those who so dare to shoot at you or Robin. I’ll even use my own body to shield you if I must, a worthy way to lose.”

Brook’s head popped over from their cover. “But Sanji, water makes a white top go see through…”

Both of them had a perverted look on their face, no doubt imagining what would happen.

Nami rolled her eyes, trust the two of them to think of that, that had to be the worst team in this match. Brook was a lost cause, but Sanji’s odd chivalry will surely save her. “Sanjiii,” she called, drawing his attention back on her and making sure to flutter her eyelashes. Any of his previous thoughts were thrown out the window and he continued his previous shouting about protecting the girls.

“Sanji, me too!” Usopp shouted over her shoulder. It snapped Sanji out of his spouting and shouted at Usopp that he had to save himself.

Any further discussion was cut off as Luffy ran across the garden, declaring war and shooting at anyone he could see in his sight.

Everyone scrambled after that, plan or no plan.

It was carnage. Everyone was running around screaming, either from being chased or being shot at with freezing cold water.

It’d started off well enough. Sanji had kept his word and although he was supposed to be on a different team, he might as well have been paired with Nami and Robin. He shot at anyone who came close or dove in front of them to take the damage. There was so way his team would be winning. However, as soon as Zoro had goaded him, he was a lost cause. They were exclusively shooting at each other now and Nami was glad they’d all decided to wear glasses, if not, she was sure that’s where they’d both be aiming right now.

Usopp had pretty much abandoned her once Luffy had started, he’d legged it up a tree. Although she had no ground cover, he at least snipped people from high up and from what she could see, he still had a relatively white top. She’d had a similar idea and had been slinking about, hiding behind whatever she could. They could win if they carried on like this.

Just as she peered around the bench, she locked eyes with Luffy. Oh god. No. Not him. Maybe if she stayed still, he wouldn’t see her… because apparently Luffy was now a t-rex.

His smile slowly grew, until it was splitting across his face and he slowly started to walk towards her. Similar to the way a lion stalked towards an unsuspecting gazelle.

Except she was aware of him. It was only a split second later and she was pushing the bench towards him in hopes of slowing him down as she took off across the garden. Luffy hot on her heels and cackling.

“No! Go and chase someone else Luffy!” Nami screeched, zip zagging to avoid the water spraying behind her.

“Look at your nice white top!” He cooed back at her. His was a rainbow of different colours, a clear indication of how many fights he’d recklessly been in before pursuing her.

She led him past the tree where Usopp was stationed but he didn’t even blink as he was sprayed, still intent on getting his prey. She could hear him gaining on her, his feet thumping on the grass and laughter drawing closer as she was running out of steam.

Daring a glance behind her shoulder she shrieked, he was so much closer than Nami had expected. She needed to do something and quickly. Without giving it much thought, she turned on her heel suddenly, just dodging Luffy bumping into the back of her and sprinting past him in the opposite direction. She even managed to get a quick spray in as she ran past him. He was laughing at her bold move, gathering his wits and taking off after her again. Perhaps if she did this for long enough, he’d run out of water and she could get him.

That didn’t happen. Luffy wasn’t looking where he was going, too focused on her and tripped over the bench she’d pushed over when he’d started chasing her. Nami looked back just in time to see him go down and instead of checking he was okay; she ran up to him and started to spray him mercilessly with her water pistol.

She was giggling madly, delighted at the turn of events. Luffy joined her and rolled onto his front, soaking her pristine top. Nami didn’t even care at this point, lost in the joy of getting the better of the boy on the floor.

To prevent him getting up, she put her foot on his chest. “Yield!” She panted out, between her breathless giggles.

“Never!” Even though his water was getting on him too from firing upwards. But he didn’t seem to care.

Nami was a mess. Her face was red from the combination of running and laughing, her hair sticking to together in clumps from the water. But she had the brightest smile on her face, eyes filled with mirth at her relentless attack on Luffy.

She almost stopped spraying Luffy when she caught the look on his face, she’d never seen that expression on his face before.

Before she could voice her concern, Luffy interrupted, “You look so pretty.”

The spray from her pistol stopped and she gaped at him, not expecting such blunt words. Considering how red Nami’s face was already, she could still feel the flush extending down her neck. In all her time of knowing Luffy, had he ever acknowledged someone’s looks? Her mouth kept opening and closing, completely lost for words. Luffy didn’t look phased at all, he just continued to smile up at her and somehow that only made it worse. She never did get the chance to respond as another voice interrupted their moment.

“What the hell is going on?” A voice boomed.

All nine teenagers in the back garden froze. Their heads snapping towards the back door of the house to see a flabbergasted Garp standing there. In all the madness and noise, no one had heard his car pull into the drive or him shouting out Luffy’s name to see if he was home. It was only as Garp made it through the house that he could hear shrieking and made his way towards the noise.

“Gramps! …. Uhhh…” Nami hadn’t moved her foot from his chest, still frozen, and Luffy was currently looking at his Grandad upside down.

Garp looked around the garden, it was like a warzone. Garden furniture thrown around, plants and bushes trampled. All nine of them still gaping at him, trying to figure out what his reaction would be.

It wasn’t hard for him to work out what was going on, all of them holding water pistols and sopping wet. His grandson currently trapped underneath a girl he hadn’t met yet. Was this the Nami that he’d heard so much about? She was pretty; Luffy had good taste. Especially as she’d seemed to best him too, a difficult feat for someone like his grandson.

He slowly grinned. “So, who won?”

Suddenly, everyone came alive. Shouting as they argued for their teams.

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

As always, please forgive any spelling errors.

Thanks for reading.

#lunami #luna #luffyxnami #namixluffy #opfanfic #opwriting #one piece #luffy #nami

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readersguidetotheuniverse · 5 years ago

Photo

Beach Read, by Emily Henry

Beach Read was a ridiculously well written view on the tragedy of losing one’s father and dealing with a very well-kept secret.

Cover-content

Alicia: Okay, so let’s start with the name. How delusional of me was it to expect an actual beach and people reading in it? Also, the cover does not help at all to make you think you’ve got another thing coming. I don’t think this cover fully represents the concept of the book, to be honest. I mean, spoiler alert, they do read in a beach. At the very last chapter! If you have to read the whole book for the cover to make sense, maybe it’s not the right cover.

Ariadna: I found it quite misleading. I expected sand, sunscreen and ice lollies, but it turned out to be… a lake. A bit underwhelming (the cover, not the book). A romance novel coming out in May, expected to be a Beach Read. Ok, marketing team, we see what you did there!

Marina: I expected a summer romance on a beach in, say, Florida and got an enemies-to-lovers on a lake. I get that they live right on the beach (lake-shore more like) but they barely spend any time (reading or otherwise) there except for the last chapter when they read each other’s books. I guess they must have chosen it because of the title.

Past- vs. Present-January

Alicia: In my opinion, past January was a bit too naive for her own good. She sees the world through rose-colored glasses and that’s okay while you’re young, but at some point you have to grow up and see that life is not that simple. Happy endings don’t just happen to everyone. Not everyone has the luck to have good supportive parents, a career in something you love, loving partners or friends… people are a spectrum and sometimes you just lie there in the grey middle and that’s just how it is. Now, I think the change in January’s ‘personality’, or just her way of interacting with the world, is simply the consequence of life hitting you with the worse it’s got. She has not only lost two of the most pivotal people in her life, she has also found out that she has kind of been living a lie, and also she’s stuck in her career and money is starting to run low. That changes you whether you like it or not. And even though I would not wish that suffering and pain to anyone, I think she really needed it to finally grow and find herself.

Ariadna: Me being a single, unemployed, 28yo romantic booknerd born in January whose father died a bit more than a year ago, January’s description in the first chapter felt almost like a personal attack. Overcoming her emotional turmoil post her father’s death, all the doubts, the anger, the sadness… Imho, all that makes the new January much more plausible character-wise than the “rose-colored glasses” Janie from before. I really liked her evolving through the chapters into a less naive, more realistic and emotionally intelligent adult.

Marina: Even January says it during those first few chapters: she was living in her head, a life that could be but never was. I can only imagine what it would have been like had she not lost her father or never discovered his affair. Then again, she was wound to find out eventually as he writes in one of his letters. This “new January”, as she keeps calling herself, to me is a medium point between the January that believed her life to be a romance novel and the January that knows her life is not perfect and that’s ok. Throughout the book January explores herself, the character development is there, though subtle.

The families

Alicia: It was a bit hard for me to relate to January’s family issues. The same way I don’t believe in perfect love stories, I also don’t believe in perfect families, so the fact that January’s family is represented as such a perfect unit just makes it a bit too unreal for me. And I don’t need a cheating husband, which felt a bit too shoehorned in the story, to know that it just couldn’t be that good. It’s definitely a ‘too perfect to be true’ kind of situation that only really happens in novels. And I know romance novels are labeled as ‘fiction’, and this is not supposed to be an accurate depiction of any real family. But still this kind of perfect people with perfect relationships makes me not connect as much to the story or characters, ’cause I don’t believe in perfect anything. Gus’ family, on the other hand, seems painfully real, damaged, abusive,… which is not nice. But family is not always nice.

Ariadna: Even though both Janie’s and Gus’ family stories are crucial to the plot, both “alive” families seemed too artificial to me, put there by the author just to help move the plot forward, as could have been any other character. I felt the relationship between January and her mother could have been explored a great deal more, and it would have helped her make sense of her father’s secret without the deus-ex-machina in shape of letters. Gus’ aunt and her wife felt a bit neglected to me too. I understand the journey of mutual understanding and openness between the two main characters, but I think Pete’s big mouth could have been a greater catalyst for the big fight… which actually wasn’t either. Too random, too vanilla for my taste.

Marina: Can I just start by saying I think it would have been way more realistic if the author had introduced more interactions between January and her mother and Gus and his aunts. The reader barely gets any context on what’s going on with January’s mother. She is also a grieving person and I feel like the author centers too much attention on January’s feelings about being betrayed by her mother and too little time exploring how to deal with those emotions, or how THEY dealt with those emotions.

The romance

Alicia: I’m about 0 percent romantic. I don’t like romance. I don’t believe in it. I believe in love but not fairytale romance. So I am always a bit dubious when I read romance novels ’cause it just doesn’t seem realistic to me. And this was a beautiful love story, there’s no denying that. And I’m a sucker for an enemies-to-lovers story. But this one in particular felt, maybe, too cliché? Maybe. For starters, what was the chance of her moving next door to her college enemy? This is the US we’re talking about. Over 300 million people. My scepticism was too strong for this. Cliché #1. Then, turns out, he loved her basically from the get go. She thought he hated her so she ‘hated’ him as well but they had been ‘thirsty’ for each other the whole time.. The ‘I look at them all the time but they never looks back at me’ type of thing. #2. Then little clichés all over the place. Confessions and kissing in the pouring rain. Notes through the window Taylor Swift style (I did love this a lot to be honest). Letting her go because she is too pure for this world and he doesn’t deserve her… Anyway, this book kind of failed at making me believe in romance, but still made me root for them and their love story which is a lot.

Ariadna: Maybe I’m a bit cynical –which I am, why lie– but I found the romance between January and Gus to be a bit forced, for the sake of the plot. Nemesis turned lovers, both writers, both living next to each other, both developing feelings the second they see each other… I think it would have been nice to use the family stories, the secrets and subplots, to make them connect more, and not fall in love because they already fancied each other but because they really came to understand the other in depth and fell in love with that “new” version of them.

Marina: Not going to complain about this, enemies-to-lovers is one of my favourite tropes in romance fiction. Though at times it felt like reading YA, not Adult Romance because January acts a bit like a teenager at times. For example, when she hides from Gus at the bookstore. And ALL THE DRAMA, by God, the drama! That reads YA through and through. But, oh well, if there weren’t drama it wouldn’t be a romantic novel, would it? Even though the romance is a bit weird, to be honest. The reader knows from the beginning that January is halfway in love with Gus and that’s not really an enemies-to-lover theme, is it? I would have liked it more if January actually despised the guy and then, slowly, came to the realization that “oh, this guy is not so bad!”.

Light & dark personalities

Alicia: There is this part of the novel that especially resonated with me, in which Gus describes his parents as a black hole and a bright light. It took me a moment to digest this ‘scene’. First ’cause I think the concepts of black hole and bright light as types of personality are really good metaphors and I was a bit wowed. Second because I sometimes see me as a black hole myself, and this hit too close to home. It made me reconsider some aspects of myself I do not like very much. I have doubted myself and my relationships with other people one too many times because of this. And seeing a character go through the same process and describe himself in a way I can see myself in, it was hard. I have bright lights in my life and day after day I think ‘one day they’ll get tired of me, one day their light will outshine me forever’. This book, in some way, made me feel seen and understood. And somehow that made me feel better. Gus sees himself as a black hole, but I could definitely see the light in him. January is a bright light but I could definitely see the darkness in her. This book gave me hope that it is possible to find someone that sees my darkness and doesn’t reject me for it, but finds light in it. I’ll hold onto it.

Ariadna: At first, I identified with January because of all she was going through. But as soon as I saw her “real” personality, all rosy and bubbly and outgoing, I fell out of love with the character (see above). However, it hit right in the heart when Gus opened up about his feelings, specially about how he felt about himself. I’ve personally felt like a black hole so many times in my life that, well, I literally cried while reading that. I think that passage is what really made me root for the love story and specifically for Gus. It made him much more realistic than “early-thirties-crisis” Janie, and I love how Emily worked their story and developed both characters to the point where they realise that “bright light” and “black hole” coexist in a person, but don’t actually define them, as a sign of emotional maturity and a glimpse of hope for those who feel lost and broken. Repeat after me, those feelings do not define us!

Marina: When January first started telling her story I saw her anger. Not just towards her parents but the world she had had to survive in. Those first chapters shaped her to be almost embarrassed to have felt that way. I think growing up and seeing how much her parents loved each other and then to suddenly discover that her dad had been cheating on her mother the whole time must have been a huge shake to her world-view. Emily Henry made a wonderful job describing the reticence of losing that last part of your loved ones, the last thing you have that belonged to them. Meanwhile, there’s Gus: a morally grey character who failed at showing his emotions towards January when they were younger because of the way he was brought up. And this brings me back to what I was saying about the families: there’s not a whole lot of background even if at the same time you get parts of their lives before they met.

Overall

Alicia: It is a pretty good novel. It was definitely enjoyable, relatable, funny, dorky… It’s not a novel you have to take seriously word by word. But at the same time it does touch some dark topics and it can be a bit painful to read at times. It surely was a bit overwhelming to me at some points. But I think the tougher themes and the lighter ones are well balanced, and these darker topics give the story a depth that many romance novels do not have. I liked it quite a lot.

Marina: Would recommend exactly for what the title says: as a beach read. It’s funny, it’s light and you can easily read it in a couple of days while sunbathing and/or drinking your favorite cocktail!

#beach read #emily henry #book #book rec #romance #group reading #book club #feel good #book recommendations #book review #rg2universe #rg2u #readers guide to the universe #goodreads #group read

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latetotherant · 6 years ago

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“Are you rich?” Is Shrill too Economically Idealistic for Its Own Good? ••• By Meredith Salisbury

“Oh My God. What’s happening? I’m afraid that I am feeling myself.” These are the words we here Annie (Aidy Bryant) say to her best friend and roommate Fran (Lolly Adefope) while she’s dancing in a new dress and enjoying some new found self-love towards the end of the first episode of Hulu’s comedy Shrill. The show, which is based off of Lindy West’s memoir Shrill: Notes from a Loud Women, follows Annie as she navigates life as a fat millennial woman living in Portland, Oregon. Shrill has been rightfully praised for its blunt and realistic depictions of everyday life as a fat woman and for its nonchalant handling of abortion. For all the care Shrill puts into authentic depictions of Annie’s everyday life, Shrill does so at the expense of showing the larger and more systemic issues fat women face. The omission of these larger cultural forces makes Annie’s transformation seem idealistic, unrealistic, and impossible for the women watching replicate.

Shrill is set in Portland, Oregon. It makes sense that one of the most accepting and liberal cities in the popular imagination is the setting for televisions first radically positive representation of fat women. Like Portlandia, another socially conscious television show set in Portland, Shrill uses comedy to point out where its liberal audience fails in their liberalness. In Shrill, radical self love, queerness, and anti-capitalist ideals are all casually accepted from the get go. Annie’s parents praise Fran’s, who is a lesbian’s, love life with her rotating door of queer partners and Annie’s ex-punk gen-x boss Gabe (John Cameron Mitchell) vilifies “the establishment” regularly. In a way Shrill feels like it teeters on the line between comedy and parody. It is unclear that the Portland represented in Shrill is different than the one created by the sketch comedy show Portlandia. Carrie Brownstein, the creator and star of Portlandia, even directed the Shrill episode “Date.” The similarities between the shows’ representation of Portland is not necessarily a bad thing—Portlandia did a great job at pointing out to liberal people where their liberal ideologies fell short—and Shrill picks up where Portlandia left off and continues this crusade. The issue is that Portlandia was satirical whereas Shrill is meant to be realistic. Shrill, like Portlandia, does not take into account Oregon’s white supremacist past or the fact that Portland is the whitest large city in America nor does it acknowledge how Oregon is one of the most expensive states to live in and that Portland is experiencing an affordable housing crisis.

The fact that Annie and Fran are never plagued with systemic issues leaves room for the show to explore interpersonal ones like Annie’s relationship with her boss Gabe. Gabe is Shrill’s villain. He is the editor-in-chief of The Weekly Throne, the alt-weekly newspaper Annie works for. At first he frustrates her by passively blowing off her pitches and asking her to keep working her way up, but by the fourth episode, the one titled “Pool” he begins a crusade against fatness. After learning The Weekly Thorn can save “a buttload of money” if the staff can “pry [their] cheese-thighs off the couch more than once a week” he gets rid of the vending machines and requires the staff to do “one heart healthy grouptivity once a month.” At the first “grouptivity” Gabe mutters “lazy bodies lazy minds” under is breath. He goes on to question whether Annie takes work seriously and tell her that “success is about an effort” and that “[she] didn’t [try] today.”

Through Gabe, the show pushes people who believe they are fighting against dominant culture to see that they still have biases they need to work on. Gabe is portrayed as a gen-x, ex-punk, and “feminist” through jokes about being the “original bassist in Bikini Kill,” by wearing band t-shirts for bands like Quasi (Janet Weiss of Sleater-Kinney fame’s band), and the fact that Gabe is played by John Cameron Mitchell who is an queer gen-x icon in his own right. We are led to believe that Gabe’s work was once gritty and boundary pushing. He claims when he was Annie’s age he was already “burnin’ shit down and fuckin shit up.” But, what we see now is someone who was on the right side of history, but lost his way as he became older and more financially stable. He is a former radical who is hindering Annie’s growth professionally and personally.

The way Gabe treats Annie at The Weekly Thorne is terrible. Shrill uses Annie and Gabe’s work relationship to drive Annie to find self confidence. The thing is for women work is not just another place for interpersonal relationships. It is a place that provides people with an income and (hopefully) benefits. Individuals need these to survive. In Shrill Annie never once thinks about the financial ramifications of her actions. At work she is not very professional. She is seen sitting on tables, hugging her boss when he gives her an assignment, pestering him about pitches, and posts an article to the paper’s site without permission. While some workplaces are significantly more informal than others, Annie’s behavior at work does not make it appear as though she values her job. Gabe is by no accounts a good boss and she has every right to be upset with the way he is treating her, but it is still fascinating to me that Annie never once seems concerned about the possibility of losing her job. She even quits in a fit of rage in the last episode. It is known that fat women face discrimination when they are applying for jobs and full time jobs in any media industry are nearly impossible to find these days. There is never a moment where Annie stops and worries about what the implications of leaving her job would be. Sure she stood up for herself, but at what cost? She walked away from an income and health insurance without batting an eyelash. What other millennial women who works in media could do that?

Annie and Fran’s financial situation remains a mystery throughout the six episodes. How is it that two marginalized women in creative careers can have very little financial anxiety? The only inkling of concern comes from Fran when she asks Annie “Are you rich? That’s like $50 every time you have sex with Ryan” when she finds out Annie has been taking the morning after pill every time she has sex with Ryan. Annie never addresses this, she is rightfully preoccupied with the abortion she needs to have, but it still leaves the viewer wondering how she is finacially staying afloat.

Annie’s spending on the morning after pill is not the only unexplained expense in the show. A quick google search revealed that Annie and Fran live in a home that last sold in 2016 for $500,158 and rents for similar houses in the same neighborhood are around $2400 a month. It is unclear how they can afford to live there with Annie working for a small alt-weekly newspaper and Fran cutting people’s hair out of her house. It’s even more baffling when you add in the fact that Fran does not even require payment for her work. The only time we see her compinstated for her work she is paid in stolen clothes. How do these two afford a multi-bedroom house in Portland, Oregon, a place that is notorious for unaffordable housing, while working in independent publishing and freelance hair styling?

The walls of Annie and Fran’s home are adorned with art prints like this one that used to be sold at Otherwild and Fran is often spotted in Wildfang overalls and coveralls. Both brands have become trendy in recent years and are recognizable in queer urban circles as marker for a type of queer financial stability. Wildfang coveralls are the velour Juicy Couture track suit of lesbian culture. Rachel Syme explains that the “Juicy’s suit was just pricey enough to radiate status, but attainable enough to become a part of the everyday wardrobes of thousands of high-school girls.” Wildfang’s clothes do the same thing for queer women. Fran’s $188 coveralls signal to queer women watching that she is financially stable, yet still relatable, but it is never addressed how she got this way.

Annie quits her job in a fit of rage after Gabe writes a rebuttal to her article claiming her fatness. In this moment we see Annie stand up for herself. She calls Gabe a “bully” and tells him he is “stomp[ing] over an entire group of people.” We are supposed to cheer Annie on in this moment—she has finally began to believe in herself—but she just walks out of her job without any real concern about her future. This moment is the climax of the season. But what is she going to do now? Study after study has found that fat women face major discrimination when applying for jobs; especially in the media industry. I am proud of her for standing up for herself, but I do not see how any real person could do that without some type of financial safety net.

For fat women and queer women Annie and Fran appear to be wonderful role models. Annie is smart, and stylish, and finding her voice in a way many of us hope to and Fran is strong, and unwavering in her sexuality and standards. Shrill does a wonderful job creating inspiring role models, but Annie and Fran’s lives are impossible to replicate in everyday life. Throughout the season we see Annie strutting around Portland in a collection of adorable and perfectly tailored dresses. It turns out that almost all of Annie’s clothes were custom made for the show by costume designer Amanda Needham. Fran’s strength is a linchpin of the show and she is portrayed as the foil to Annie. In her review of Shrill Emily Nussbaum explains that Fran “specialize in brassy self-assertion, a bravado that doubles as a shield and as a weapon.” and later explains that it’s Annie’s “niceness ... that fuels the show.” Fran’s self-assertion comes from her ability to opt-out of interacting with straight men, other than her brother or the occasional boy Annie brings home. Shrill leads us to believe that Fran’s lesbianism is what makes her that brash woman who refuses take shit and this is why she is able to empower Annie. Although all women are taught throughout their lives to seek the validation of men; coming out as a lesbian frees you from some of those expectations. Although male bosses, relatives, and friends still exist; there is no longer the expectation that one of the men in your life could be your future partner and this alleviates some of the compulsory need to please them. Annie on the other hand still believes she needs to placate a boy and win over a boss and those needs hinder her ability to stand up for herself. The thing is that queerness does not suddenly alleviate all of those pressures. As much as I would love to exist in a world without problematic straight men and the patriarchal nonsense they bring with them it is not possible. Fran has created a life where she only cuts cute girls’ hair and somehow still has a roof over her head a wardrobe full of $200 Wildfang overalls. Her queerness and lack of traditional employment may allow her to accept herself without pause, but the lack of hardship or pushback she receives is implausible and unlike the experiences of any queer women I have ever known or heard about.

Shrill represents a radical hope for fat women’s futures. It presents a nuanced depiction of the everyday struggles of fat women, but refuses to complicate its narrative with the broader and more systemic sexist and homophobic struggles fat women face. By diving deep into specificities it allows Annie to overcome her personal problems but misses the mark on addressing larger structural ones. In Shrill’s universe, Annie can quit her job without ever acknowledging how hard it is for fat women to get hired in the first place and Fran can live a blissful queer life in Portland without ever facing a racist or homophobic person. And both of them never have a financial care in the world while living in one of the most expensive cities and working in underpaying careers. I wish the lessons taught in Shrill were applicable to everyday life. I wish I could call out a fat-phobic boss on the internet without the fear of losing my employment and possibly my health insurance. I wish I could only cut cute girls’ hair and still have a roof over my head and some of the most stylish clothes in queer culture today. But alas I do not live in the world Shrill has created and I do not think I ever will.

#meredith salisbury #television #shrill #tv #pop culture #queer

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nerdygaymormon · 7 years ago

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I desperately need advice about my 16 yo daughter who has stopped "believing in the Church" because she has "decided to be lesbian".

It’s unlikely your daughter “decided to be lesbian” but instead she’s describing her feelings and how the world works for her. There’s not a “fix” for this because she is not broken.

Maybe she stopped “believing in the Church” because she doesn’t see a future for her there or because of the way people in her situation are spoken about.

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My advice is first to read these 10 tips for parents on the church’s website. Tip #1 is “You will never regret saying ‘I love you.’“

Your job is to be the parent your child needs and to love them and prepare them for the world.

Your daughter experiences the world in wonderful ways. Studies show that LGBT people tend to be more creative, have higher IQ’s, higher emotional intelligence, have more compassion, are more cooperative and have less hostility. Does any of that sound like your daughter?

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Now that she’s out, you’ll think of past conversations or comments you made and realize how those could have hurt her. It’s not too late to apologize. You’ll probably think of different things she’s said and done and understand them in a whole new way. You’ll see her orientation has always been there.

You’re going to have to change your hopes and expectations for her future. I know parents have dreams and putting them away can invoke feelings of loss. That’s okay. Spend time listening to her hopes for the future, where she wants to go and what she feels is her path and help her find ways to achieve those dreams.

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An important role for parents is being your child’s advocate and protector. Speak up when you hear homophobic things. Even if it’s “Hey, these are real people you’re talking about and that was unkind.”

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For gay Mormons, the normal path is to come out and then quickly leave the Church, and there’s good reason for that. A recent study showed the more religious and involved in church a teen is, the likelihood of their attempting suicide drops significantly UNLESS they’re LGBT, in which case increased church involvement has the opposite effect.

You should familiarize yourself with the warning signs of suicide. In the United States nearly 1/3 of gay teens have attempted suicide. Also know that LGBT individuals are more likely to be the victims of bullying and violence than any other minority group in the United States.

Studies show that for gay members, being active in the LDS Church results in a lower quality of life and lower self-esteem, higher rates of depression, sexual identity crisis, internalized homophobia and 70% of these members have symptoms of PTSD. Finding an LGBTQ-positive therapist, counselor or psychologist can help in dealing with these things.

I know it’s hard to hear that the church you love and believe in can be harmful to your daughter. Try imagining the experience of church from her perspective. Take away all the blessings and happiness related to romance and families since the church says they’re forbidden for her. Add in the many negative messages that she’s received over the years.

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If you require your daughter to attend church, talk with her about how the other youth will treat her when they learn she’s a lesbian and ways she could respond. Does your congregation seem like it would be welcoming and affirming when they find out? At a minimum, consider letting her take a pass when the lesson or activity deals with dating, marriage, eternal family or the Family Proclamation.

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Church can be a stressful place, but home should be a safe space. Your daughter should know you love her and always will. Know that you will support her as she seeks for happiness and peace.

If/when your daughter stops attending church, you’re going to feel a little lost. What values and rules still apply, what things will you let slide? Do the Church rules about modesty, Word of Wisdom, or dating & relationships still apply? There’s more than one way to live a value, be willing to negotiate and give her more control of her life as she continues to mature.

My observation is that strict parents who always enforce LDS rules in the home have a worse relationship with their LGBT child than those who are more lenient. The goal is for her to grow up healthy & whole and for your relationship to stay intact.

You still have an important role as a mentor and advisor and can let her know your views and share your perspective. She will hear you, she will also make choices you may not agree with.I know it’ll be an adjustment for you giving her some autonomy to make choices you don’t want her making.

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If she does leave the church, continue to invite her to important family events, let her decide whether she wants to attend the ones of a religious nature. Baptisms, mission farewells and weddings are important milestones in a person’s life, and she may want to be present to celebrate with those who are experiencing these moments.

Be supportive and encouraging of the important moments in her life, even if they’re at odds with what our church teaches. Please don’t wonder if this will show you’re “endorsing” things you don’t believe in, once you pull out that sword of righteousness it can be used to sever and kill relationships. I know that change is uncomfortable and will be tough, but it’s necessary.

You shouldn’t assume your daughter will live a life without relationships. Frankly, that’s not healthy. Parents should want their children to grow up having positive attitude towards sex and relationships, for your daughter that will be different from your experience.

She knows church is part of your life and it’s fine to talk about it a bit, but if she’s stopped going to church, don’t go on for hours about random happenings in your ward.

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Perhaps you wrote me because you know I’ve done my best to live the church standards, but it has come at a high price. It’s nearly killed me, literally. I hope parents & leaders don’t point at me and tell other gay members they can be like me. People who say this don’t know what sort of misery they’re wishing on their loved one. If an LGBT member chooses to walk a path inside the church, then I’d be happy to talk with them about ways of trying to make it work.

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Often it feels like the church doesn’t know what to do with people like me and your daughter. God has a plan for her life. We weren’t sent here to suffer for no reason. This life isn’t meant to be meaningless as we wait for the next life to obtain the blessings that all the straight people are allowed to access now.

The more I learn, the more I’m convinced that we’re all going to be taken care of. We’re going to be surprised how many people make it to the Celestial Kingdom. Our Heavenly Parents are more liberal and loving than we imagine. God intends for us to fully live life with these orientations, for this to be a blessing and not a curse or burden.

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When you hear something at church that troubles you, ask these three questions:

1) Does that sound like your daughter, does she resemble that remark?

2) Is this consistent with the God you know?

3) Does this fit with the great commandment to love one another?

I bet most of the things which trouble you will fail these questions, it’s a way to gain greater understanding and hope.

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I know this is already a very lengthy reply, but I’m going to make it even longer by listing some resources I hope you find helpful

1) I already referenced the Ten Tips for Parents on the church’s site

2) Richard Ostler is a former bishop and a current temple worker. He strives to increase understanding among members about LGBTQ topics. I recommend his Facebook posts which can be found on his Listen, Learn & Love website

3) I think the Family Acceptance Project’s pamphlet for LDS families is excellent

4) The Human Rights Campaign has an online booklet for LGBT Mormons

5) This TedTalk speaks about some of the reasons why Nature creates homosexuals, and some of the differences in people who are LGBT compared to the rest of the population. It references numerous scientific studies but explains them in layman’s terms

6) Dr. Bill Bradshaw is a BYU researcher/professor and former mission president. He put together a document that summarizes a lot of research that shows LGBTQ orientations are biologic, not a choice or caused by parenting or cultural influences

7) Bryce Cook put together the BEST write up I’ve seen about the LDS church’s history on homosexuality while explaining what this is like for gay Mormons

8) Taylor Petrey is a professor who in this article gives many things to think about regarding gays & lesbians and Mormonism. He writes like an academic, but is so thought provoking

9) Greg Prince has a book coming out next year, until then this address he gave at an Affirmation Conference will have to suffice, I find it very insightful

10) This is an easy-to-follow explanation of why temple sealings for gay couples makes sense

11) Josh & Lolly Weed are the most famous example of a gay Mormon man and a straight Mormon woman in a mixed-orientation marriage. They have been very open about their experiences. This post in which they announced their divorce is very illuminating

12) This is a listing of all sorts of queer people and relationships in Church history (we’ve been a part of the Church since the beginning)

13) Gay Mormon History is a site that lets people explore the history of LGBT issues in the LDS Church

14) Carol Lynn Pearson is a Mormon who was married to a gay man. You may be familiar with some of her work like My Turn On Earth. She has written several books I recommend: Goodbye, I Love You; No More Goodbyes; and The Hero’s Journey of Gay and Lesbian Mormons

15) Tom Christofferson, brother of the apostle D Todd Christofferson, is a gay man who came back to church and wrote a book titled That We May Be One: A Gay Mormon’s Perspective on Faith and Family

16) Mama Dragons is for moms of LGBTQIA kids, their purpose is to support healthy lives

17) Affirmation is the oldest organization for LDS & post-LDS LGBTQ+ individuals, their family and allies. Affirmation has multiple Facebook pages for different situations. The one that’s probably best for you at this moment is Affirmation Living Waters. It’s for active LDS LGBT people, parents, family & friends

18) People are always going to bring up the scriptures as a way to condemn homosexuality. You should spend time investigating those verses (there’s relatively few of them). If you want, you can see some summaries I’ve posted by searching #queer people in the Bible on Tumblr (this link seems to pull up all my related posts on the phone and just a few of them on my computer)

#queerstake

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edward-richtofen-queen · 6 years ago

Text

You're Mine

Pairing: Michael Myers | The Shape × Evan Macmillan | The Trapper

Warning(s): NSFW

༺━━━━⁎∗.❆.∗⁎━━━━༻

It was a stormy night; Rain pouring down onto the mansion that the fourteen killers resided in. Most lollied around out of bored boredom, like Max and Phillip, but others were doing more productive things, such as cooking or cleaning. Trapper was in the ritual room, mumbling under his breath in an unknown language as he spoke with the Entity. It was a normal daily thing, mostly due to Evan's strict schedule he stuck to for the Entity.

A unknown noise from the door made Evan stop. Out of the corner of his mask, a familiar smiling doctor stood leaned up against a wall, clearly annoyed. "You think your special?" Herman began, rolling his pulled open eyes as Evan cocked his head to the side. "Just because you've been in this realm longer doesn't make you special, pretty boy. You're the weakest of us all. Even the nurse is better than you, and she's the slowest killer than the rest of us."

Evan snarled, stepping forward and holding the man in question by the collar. "For a doctor, you've got something wrong with you. Your whole kit is just electrocute and smack survivors with whatever the fuck you call your weapon." Herman chuckled. "Don't get all mad on me now, I'm just telling you that you're weak!" The Doctor didn't need to flinch of do anything, seeing Trapper fuming with anger was already funny.

"Don't you fucking laugh, you sentimental fucking excuse of a doctor! I don't know who pissed in your damn cereal, but I'm not having this shit right now!" Evan growled lowly as his fingers reached for the doctor's neck. Unfortunately, Evan was grabbed by his collar and dragged backwards into the arms of Michael Myers.

"Myers! This isn't the time!" Evan whined and struggled, Michael standing strong and not moving an inch, then began to drag Evan away from the Doctor. Evan was quick to comply, only moments away from shutting Herman's mouth for good for a while.

An airy chuckle breathed through Michael's mask as he kicked his door in to enter, along with Evan. Evan walked in, still fuming but calming down. "You shouldn't have intervened, Michael," Evan scolded as he sat on the edge of the bed as he watched Michael pick up his notepad to write. The Entity let's us do whatever we please, only that we don't kill each other because reenacting us takes to much energy from it, Evan It read.

"It would only be this once," Evan whined slightly, causing Michael to softly chuckle. Let's not forget; You aren't just the Entity's, Evan The paper read as Evan rose an eyebrow, a soft grin under Michael's mask. How about I remind you who you also belong too, yes? Evan had just finished reading as Michael pushed him against the wall, the notepad draping to the ground with a light thud. Trapper couldn't help the smirk that twitched onto his lips, "That's funny—I thought you were the one that belonged to me, pretty boy."

Micheal had lifted his mask above his nose, a smirk playing on his lips as if challenging Evan. They had already done it once or twice, but this time. They weren't gonna go easy on each other. Not anymore.

Michael attacked Evan's neck with kisses and bites. A moment of searching and he struck gold when he found the tender spot on the man's neck, sucking and biting to draw hickeys for the others to see. Evan was his and his alone. If he could have it his way, he wouldn't even allow The Entity to touch him. Wasting no time at all, Michael twirled his knife in his free hand and cut right through the fabric separating skin from skin. He wasn't worried about the fabric, The Entity would give them new clothes anyway. Throwing Evan on his bed, Michael crawled over the large man to kiss and stroke, hands tracing past scars from previous love making and trials. A possessive growl rumbled in Michael's throat, lips training down to Evan's chest as the man groaned. Evan grunted, tugging harshly on Michael's mask.

"Dammit, Myers, let me see you!" Evan barked, yanking the latex from the blonde's head. Michael's eyes made Evan shake in anticipation. They were so blue, piercing and full of greed and lust that he hadn't noticed Michael's finger trail up his thigh and right to his ass. Evan shivered at Michael's soft touches. It didn't process until Michael gave him a hard squeeze. This cause Evans breathing to hitch and get caught in his throat. That's what Michael was good for. Teasing. Dragging out. Making you suffer before you got to the real fun. Evan wasn't going to have any of that. He was going to show Michael that he belong to him as much as he belonged to Michael.

He quickly flipped them, moving until Michael was on his stomach. Evan leaning down and attacking his neck this time as his member rest against his entrance. "Come on, Michael," Evan purred into his ear, hands trailing up his chest. "Who do you belong to, hmm?"

Michael grunted when he felt himself being filled, face red and flustered as he buried his face in a pillow. Michael's lips parted slightly. Evan growled as he pushed himself all the way in and rested at the hilt. He gripped Michael's jaw and made him turn slightly to look at him, lips inches away from each other. "I'm not moving till I hear you say it."

His words were low; husky and rich like chocolate and honey. Michael caved into his words, lips parting just a bit. "You...I belong....to you...." Michael's voice was scratchy and husky, most likely due to not talking for years and still learning to pronounce. It didn't matter though, Evan loved it when he spoke. It sent shivers down his back with how deep it could get.

"Good boy," He said, smirking and chuckling before he pulled back and slammed in, causing Michael to let out a surprised grunt of pleasure. Evan's smirk only grew as he began to pound his way against Michael, him in turn panting and grunting. Both men started to sweat, the wet sound of skin on skin and the ignored sound bed repeatedly hit the wall, no doubt causing it to scratch and dent the wallpaper. The dim light from the lantern was enough to illuminate both men, causing the atmosphere to become rich with mystery and lust.

"Eh—van," Micheal grunted, fingers tearing at the sheets as he tried to stay stable underneath the harsh fucking he was being given. His beady blue eyes, once filled to the brim with hatred and bloodlust were misted over with lust and love. He was in pure ecstasy, a groan grumbling in his throat.

Evan moaned, gripping Michael's hips as he violently smacked and thrusted into Michael. Tears of pain and pleasure streamed down his cheeks, turning his head as he kissed Evan with hot passion. Evan's animalistic growls and groans reverberating off the shell of his ear, making his toes curl and a whine escape his lips when Evan angled him the right way. The sounds he made along with Evan had dulled in his ears, only hearing white noise as he grunted in embarrassing release. Evan grunted and picked up for a minute and then he growled in his own release, the backboard of the bed making a squealing noise as they stopped and sunk next to each other.

"Shit, Michael," Evan panted, fingers trailing down Michael's chest. Michael made a soft noise of recognition, his breathing a little strained. He had never made this much noise before and it was taking a toll on him, but it was worth it. His legs hurt slightly and shook just a bit—he had experienced being shot over and over again, so he was fine. Evan purred quietly as his hands cupped his cheeks. "I guess I am yours, and you're mine, right?" Michael response was cuddling with the larger man.

∾❦∾

Downstairs, Herman chuckled to himself—did he just get Evan laid? Max had a confused look on his face and Phillip seemed horrified to hear such the noises. That poor bed Herman thought with a laugh. Even down the Hall, Herman could hear the animalistic growls coming from one of the two men. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he removed his guards and slipped on a pair of glasses to read.

At least Evan won't be bothering him for a while.

༺━━━━⁎∗.❆.∗⁎━━━━༻

I decided to repost this on Tumblr so anyone who likes Shapper Smut can read it! There's not much of this ship around anymore, and I'll be sure to write some more!

This post is dedicated to @renlvbon for being my newest inspiration (And I hope you feel better!) and @ameliafireheart for the support♡!

#smut warning #shapper #it gets really gay #my friend and i did this together #it was fun #evan macmillan #michael myers #fanfic

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decantae · 6 years ago

Text

A snippet from For Queen and Country that’s about a year old. The premise of this scene is Louise (radio personality and fledgling vampire) handling the aftermath of an on-air hijacking used to incite violence against the Other.

If you would like to be tagged in FQAC writing posts, please let me know - I lost my tag lists!

Word Count: 1,478

"That was the single scariest thing I have ever had to deal with on air," Louise said as soon as she tagged in her replacement. Even getting to her feet was a struggle with legs like jelly. Joe pressed a mug of hot coffee into her hands, and guided her through to the break room. "And that includes that one caller who phoned-in when he thought he'd committed a hit-and-run. Though it's a close thing."

Joe let her ramble until they were in the kitchenette. Several passing workers (including a few rubberneckers from next door's underground anarchist magazine) made reassuring comments on their way by, and Louise maintained a shaky public smile through it all, but once they were alone, she leaned heavily against the sink, mindless of spilled water soaking into the back of her faux fur coat. "I hope it's not a slow news day on the BBC. Or ITV. Or Sky News. That message does not deserve any more air-time than it's already gotten. Fuel to the fire. Did you get it recorded?"

Joe shot her a funny look, then head tilted to the side quizzically. It drove her to wonder if there was something on her face, and she bent down to check in the nearest reflective surface, the microwave door. It may have just been the dim lighting but she seemed to have adopted a pallor that even her make-up couldn't hide. Beneath red lips and blush she was chalky-white, reading to her eyes as an embalmed corpse ready for the open casket funeral.

"Yeah, we got it. I'd advise you to slow down and breathe just a sec,” he continued, “but all the horror flicks I've ever seen suggest vampires don't need oxygen. Can't say I've ever seen one of your sort go into shock."

"It would be just my luck to be the first to do so," Louise said faintly. As much as she had grown used to life as a creature of the night, it felt no less taboo to be discussing such matters with a human –– even one in the pocket of the Collective, as Joe was. He had previously made it clear that he would never bring it up at work unless it was critical.

Silence reigned. She gulped down her coffee, which satiated a thirst, but not the thirst; the one that made the back of her throat itch, as if there were slivers of microscopic glass tuck in all the little fleshy crevices down her oesophagus. Her mind couldn't stop refocusing on the sensation, like worrying at a hangnail, or picking at a scab.

Her gaze slid to the fridge. "Joe," she began lightly, breaching a sensitive topic. "Do you mind if I—–?" "Oh, God no. Go ahead. You look like you need it, and, um, I'm anemic, so... Whatever you need to do." Her manager waved a hand and took up a position in front of the closed door, a guard against any curious colleagues. In the meantime, Louise descended upon the paper bag in the fridge like a bat out of hell, pausing only to rummage around in one of the cabinets for a reusable metal straw.

Drinking from the packaged blood inside was sweet, sweet relief after a long day, even if it was cold. (Still, after the DIY AB+ ice-lollies she'd attempted to make from last summer, anything was an improvement.)

While Joe was purposefully fiddling with his phone as she sucked the bag dry, careful not to smear her lipstick, she allowed herself to muse what it would be like to drink hot, living blood. Apparently, according to some of her brothers and sisters in the Collective, it was easy to acquire a taste for the 'real thing'. When the man coughed uncomfortably, she averted her gaze.

Already, her throat was soothed and her frayed nerves were bolstered. If there were to be interviews for the telly, she thought she might be able to stand and do one of them now – or at least sit for it. "Right," Joe said, when her straw could suck up no more. As Louise moved on to slicing open the bag with one fang to get at the trapped liquid, he unsuccessfully masked a wince. It was just a bag. "This is a big old mess, and we're going to have to work overtime on working out a plan of action with the Collective. Take the night off, Lou."

"What?" She looked up, and the blood in the plastic ran over and dripped down the corner of her lips. "No way. I haven't missed a day in four years and six months and I'm certainly not going to start now. That would be absurd." Something in Joe's eyes told her that it was a position he wouldn't budge from. "What is it?" "You know what? Make it a long weekend."

"Did I do something wrong?" Louise asked, stunned. "I know I was a bit shaken by the whole thing, but I'm sure I'll be as right as rain tomorrow. Besides, I'd like to see Chris Moyles or, god forbid, Chris Evans do any better in that situation." Perhaps if she kept lying, one of them would scan as the truth. "Really, I'm good."

"Yeah, um, not to make this workplace discrimination or anything, but you're literally dripping blood on the tiles." Louise looked at the plastic bag scrunched in her hand, the trails of blood running down her arm, and then the circular splashes on the ground before tossing it into the rubbish bin. Joe continued with palpable uncertainty, gesturing to her chin and cheek, "And you've got a little bit of it on your face––here. And there."

She ran her thumb along the worst of it and licked it off. "Wow, I'm so sorry, Joe. I'll clean this up right away. This has never happened before..." As she reached for the paper towels, he stopped her. Finally, she recognised the twin emotions in his face that she had confused before: concern and apprehension. They did not seem so unwarranted now.

"Don't worry about this, pet. It's only blood –– I'll handle it. Won't even write it up as a biohazard." Joe patted her on the shoulder as he moved to clean up, passing her a sheet of kitchen roll for her face. Though a slip-up of such a magnitude was unheard of for her, she knew to dab off blood like excess foundation rather than smear it, at the very least. It was times like these that Louise was reminded that Joe had been in the employ of the vampires for longer than she had been one. He must be used to spillages. "Do me a favour and head home."

Her protest was fainter this time; she could barely hear her own voice. "You said we're going to have to sort things out with the Collective..."

"And, tell you what, if you feel like calling up Queen or Kaminski or one of the others later on, you can do that. As long as you take a nap first." He shot her an easy grin. "Or have a stiff drink. When was the last time you had a Friday and a Saturday off?"

Louise hesitated, though she knew the answer. "Four years and six months..." "Exactly. Now go on, get. And if I see you in here tomorrow, I'm adding another day."

Louise nodded, and with one last check in the microwave door to ensure the blood looked enough like a student project rather than a murder victim, she left the kitchen area and On the Edge studio with great haste, only diverging from her path to pick up her Prada bag from the cloakroom. What could only be disassociation marked her exit: one moment her heels were clicking on the linoleum of the empty corridors and the next she was tripping over her own two feet on the tarmac of the parking lot.

It was only once she was in her car, a yellow Mini, that she closed her eyes against the sunlight. Joe asked a workaholic to stop working, and this was the effect. What else could she possibly do with her time? Message the bosses, that's it. Sliding her phone out from her bra, she scrolled through her contacts to ascertain who would be the best one to ask for guidance–– ––until, for once, she didn't feel like sorting it out immediately.

The best place to find a vampire was to show up at one of the clubs. Drinks were good, but it wasn't even midday yet. She could survive until they opened with a bath (plus bubbles) and some soothing music, but she hadn't been out on the town alone since her 21st, and given how bloody that night ended, she was not excited to relive the trauma.

Unless.

#louise #my writing #original writing #writeblr #wips #vampire stories #amwriting #creative writing #fqac #vampire

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agameoftragedy · 6 years ago

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Writing (and being) people with mental difficulties

I’ve been thinking about this for a while and I don’t know how well I’m going to be able to express it, given that that’s part of the whole problem. I myself have developed what seems to be increasing mental difficulties, which makes it harder to explain what you experience to people who don’t know or see.

One of the first things to qualify is that naturally everyone’s experiences will be slightly different anyway; the brain is even more complex than the body and there’s still aspects to it that we don’t understand, but you can certainly read about examples of people who have obviously sustained brain damage to a specific area of the brain and the repercussions of that depending on the area. But, when it’s not so apparent what area is struggling or affected, or if it seems to be somewhat all-encompassing...!

The other thing is, I myself don’t know how you would write somebody who has had severe learning difficulties from birth (Lollys Stokeworth from ASOIAF for example) in the first person. Again, part of why this can be so difficult is because if (some parts of) the brain are that bad it can render you incapable of explaining your experiences to other people in a way they can understand. And if they can’t tell us, it’s left to everyone else to imagine (and make mistakes).

So, bit of background on me, I used to be shy but pretty cogent even face-to-face, and was generally good at expressing myself. I was top of my class in several subjects as a kid (and then went to a school for ‘smarter’ kids as a teenager so I wasn’t so special), went to uni, etc. It’s not 100% clear what’s gone wrong with my body since my early 20s, but it’s certainly neurological as well as physical, and honestly the neurological problems I have are way more troublesome than the pain and physical fatigue. They can’t seem to pin down the problem, but when I had MRI/CT of my head a couple years ago there was apparently nothing evident (though those don’t show everything...).

So, down to business:

- My brain is crap. Now, I know this, because I have also experienced my brain working how it used to, and now it is complete trash in comparison. If you are or are writing somebody who has had trouble from birth, they may not have any such feelings because they don’t know how it feels to have a brain that works differently anyway, except perhaps observing that other people can do things they couldn’t.

- How bad a problem this is varies massively. I was very cerebral and that was used a lot in my hobbies, so it prevents me doing things I love(d). If your character wasn’t like that anyway, it may not bother them as much. If your character has always been this way, everything they do probably already fits with their abilities. It can also literally vary from day to day, one day you’re kinda forgetful and the next you can barely string a sentence together, good days and bad days.

- You still have a personality. In fact, this is probably part of what is interesting, the way personality filters through these problems. Sometimes it can actually make you differentiate yourself more - I was quite shy and reserved, keep my thoughts to myself, but my emotional regulation is faultier now and I’m more likely to just say the thing and/or show how I’m feeling. I like to think I’m nice, and it means I get cuddlier and compliment people, but if your character was an asshole under wraps they could now be more overt about it (or contrast with another character who’s just as bad but covers it up).

- It can mess with your moods. I used to be prone to anxiety, constantly caught up in my thoughts, but that’s often way too much work for my brain now and I find myself more able to just like look at some pretty flowers like ‘ooooh’ with nothing more going on underneath, so I can be kind of happier. On the other hand though...

- It depends on your environment and how you’re treated. Because I’m struggling enough as it is, I’m prone to frustration of anything making my life any harder. I can be happy as a clam in my own little environment I’ve developed, but when you go out into a generally unaccommodating and judgemental world, it makes everything harder. It would be presumptuous to say that it’s worse, but I know I especially suffer as somebody who knows how things could be, because I remember that I used to be able to do these things and I also know how some able people talk and think about (mentally) disabled people when they’re not around.

- If you haven’t always been like this, adjusting is hard, especially if you can remember before (and have a questionable short term memory). To start with it’s hard to remember that you might struggle to do something (because you used to be able to), and then it’s hard to deal with the emotional pain of realising how bad you are in comparison (especially if you have little to no hope of regaining that ability).

- People can be shit and it’s hard to help that. This can often include doctors. In my experience it’s a little like being a child again; I know my judgement can be iffy at times now and I kind of need somebody keeping an eye on me, but it’s trying to get a balance between that and people ignoring and dismissing what you want and say entirely (assuming you can even express it adequately). You can keep your autonomy if you don’t admit you have this problem, but that leaves you in potential danger (from yourself) and gets you no help at all. For me I luckily have a couple of very understanding and supportive people in my life, but without those... I have deep concerns for people, as with neurodivergent kids whose parents don’t take their issues seriously.

- Trouble ‘thinking’ may well not be your only issue. I get a lot of headaches, and ‘episodes’ (there is a lot of discourse over whether they count as seizures) where basically I collapse and can’t move but am still conscious, ocular migraines, tinnitus... You can sprinkle various neurological symptoms really, depending on how a character acquired their difficulties.

- Comparing adult people with difficulties to children is controversial, though I can see some similarities at times in cases like mine. I’d certainly say that if somebody acquired their difficulties as an adult, I’d avoid this - if they were a sexual person before there’s probably still some level of that, they probably don’t insta-child, and there’ll probably be times where they still feel like they’re basically the person they were (until reminded of what’s changed when they try too much).

~~~~~~~~~~~~

This post is unfinished but I’m honestly not certain if I’ll be able to do so. I seizured at this point and have no idea what else I was going to say when I was writing it. If anyone else has input or questions, I’ll receive them happily.

#disabilities #mental disabilities #writing #representation

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carotriesstudy · 7 years ago

Photo

This is my first of these posts but expect more coming your way! They may evolve into more picture based but for now deal with the ramblings of a madman >:D

SONG OTD: Eastside by benny blanco ft Halsey & Khalid This is a new song and it was recommended to me by Spotify as I listen to Halsey and Khalid a lot. I really like it, it has a very chill vibe. My favourite line from it is “Take your whole life then you put a line through it” it feels very fitting with everything that is happening in my life atm.

ALBUM OTD: American Teen by Khalid I have been listening to this album a lot in the past few days and I find it to be very good for when you are relaxing or doing something easy. I am actually listening to it right now as well as Eastside. My favourite songs are American Teen, Saved, Location and Young Dumb & Broke but they are all good those are just the ones I know the best. Also, Another Sad Lovesong is amazing! Just listen to the album :D

BOOK OTD: The Catcher In The Rye by J D Salinger I haven’t gotten very far in this book but I picked it up again today and I really like it. It is written in a very humorous way and that is due to the narrators’ personality. If you have to read a more classic book I would definitely choose this one it is such a pleasure to read. It feels like a YA book almost.

QUOTE OTD: “People talked about his trial and how it saved them from Andrew. No one said what they were doing to save Andrew from himself.” - All for the Game Trilogy #2 The Raven King This is one of my absolute favourite quotes from the entire book series. I could talk about this specifically for ages. It sums up so much so well. God, if you haven’t already read these books, do it now. I am rereading them atm. for the fourth time. In like a year or so. damn, they will haunt you.

TOPIC OTD: Calculus, Limits and Continuity I am studying over the summer in preparation for college and this is what I am doing atm. More specifically Continuity. There is a lot so I am trying to boil it down without feeling like I am skipping important stuff :/

Now moving on to what I actually did today :)

Last night I went to bed around 00ish and then I obviously woke up at 6ish due to the light and the fact that my brain hates my body. Anyway, I went back to sleep (poorly) and woke again at 7:30ish and just stayed in bed.

I finally got out of bed at 9 and had some breakfast. I ate some stale bread with cheese which was not a very good idea because my skin hates dairy... Also, I am trying to go fully vegan but it’s a struggle atm.

Then at 9:30 I wrote some notes on “Continuity at a point” because I am that person. I reached 100.000 points on Khan Academy so go me (my account is carolinetriesstudy like here). Basically, that just means I unlocked new avatars but I can’t change the cute one I have now :3

Then I chilled in my bed until my mother “reminded” me to walk my dog which she had asked earlier and I had completely forgotten :))) Anyway so around 10:30 I walked my dog which was quite nice because it hadn’t gotten that warm yet despite being clear-skies and 25 degrees.

A bit later I got an ice lolly and went outside to read (The Catcher In The Rye) in our hammock. It had gotten a bit cloudy so it was not warm at all which was nice.

Around 12ish I cleaned my room and put some winter clothes in a cardboard box as I am slowly packing down my room.

Then at 13:45 I made some chickpea spread for lunch which was dairy-free so go me. It was good. I also had some coke. The drinking kind, not the sniffing kind. And then I planned this post and started writing it. So if you made it all the way here hello. Now I'm gonna continue my day and do some studying. It’s 15:40 :) also this post in my head was gonna be sooo aesthetic and nice but now its just me rambling and I didn’t use any of the pictures I took because the quality was bad. Sooo this is the quality content you signed up for.

So as I mentioned I did do some Khan Academy. Not very exciting.

At 17 I watched The Alienist with my mom and it is one of my favourite shows! I have already seen it before but my mom hasn’t so we are binging it atm.

At 18:40ish I did some more Khan Academy because your girl needs to be smart for college.

At 20:30 I did some more Khan Academy and then their server crashed at 21:15 so I am taking that as a sign to turn in for the night.

sorry for the long ramble but I have a very poor sense of what to put in and not to put in. so any feedback would be greatly appreciated

#studyblr #day in my life #khan academy #studyspo #music #books #booklr #summer study

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flowerpotphil · 8 years ago

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Forgotten Bags And Dark Clothes

Based off this prompt by @writing-prompt-s

Summary: Dan and Phil are suffering the sun abroad, but Phil somehow forgot his bag and has to suffer Dan's clothes and the unruly heat.

"Dan! Why did you only bring black clothes?! I'm going to die." Phil groaned, sitting down on the plush double bed in exasperation.

"I didn't only bring black clothes, there's some other stuff," Dan watched Phil in the mirror's reflection, having stopped fixing his hair to watch his friend whine about forgetting his clothes, "I don't see how you forgot your bag in the first place." He grinned, knowing the question would provoke Phil.

"You're sleeping on the floor tonight." He groaned, turning his head to meet Dan's gaze in the mirror. "Anyway, you're talking about me messing up when you booked a room with only a double bed."

Yes. Daniel Howell had done that. He liked sharing a bed with his friends sometimes, it made him feel more at ease when he was going through a particularly bad time; while booking the room, this was the unfortunate case.

Dan was one to hide his feelings, but after living with his best friend for so long, there was nothing he really could hide. Whether it be a surprise or a feeling, it just wasn't doable. He was grateful for the fact Phil was just as okay with sharing a bed, but he was almost sure it was that he knew Dan wasn't alone with his thoughts or sneaking out their apartment without a phone late at night. Or maybe he just likes the closeness.

But he felt okay for the time being. Happy to be on holiday, away from work.

Happy to be with Phil.

"Shut up." Dan smiled, looking down at the edge of the mirror. He always liked monochrome things, it's why he was drawn to the room.

"Oh no..." Phil's voice trailed off slowly as his eyes widened. In his bag was his sunscreen. And where was his bag? In their apartment. Dan didn't have factor 50 sunscreen, meaning Phil would have to make do with cowering in the shade like a vampire, it wasn't as if he didn't look like one. In Dan's clothes, he'd certainly look the part. "What's wrong?" Dan turned around instead of looking in the reflection, concerned and slightly alarmed. "Sunscreen, you don't use factor 50, I'm going to burn. Your clothes won't help." He balled up a tshirt in frustration and threw it into the open suitcase.

"Stop being melodramatic, we can just go out at night or stay in on our laptops."

"We're on holiday!"

"I'll buy you some, but you're coming with me so get dressed." Dan hauled himself out the chair and stretched, he'd already gotten dressed, having slept on the flight and not been tired when they got to the hotel; Phil slept when they got there.

Phil trudged off to the bathroom with some jeans and a tshirt, mumbling about how dead he was and how he'd look like death itself. All it did was make Dan laugh.

Moments later, Phil appeared in ripped black jeans and Dan's 'Is this black enough?' tshirt. "You look good." Dan mused, taking it as his cue to get his stuff to leave. Phone, wallet, that's it. "Come on, let's get you some sunscreen so you don't shrivel up."

"You look amazing in all black." Dan commented, admiring Phil as he walked alongside him.

"Do I? I mean, thanks."

"Is all right Lester."

The two walked in silence for the rest of the way, not a negative silence, but a comfortable one that was slightly sweaty. "Here. Let's go get you some of that creamy wh-"

"Daniel Howell, don't you dare finish that sentence." Phil rolled his eyes, but a smile twitched onto his face.

The store was small, possibly the smallest in the precinct, but the air conditioning was a relief, and it enabled Phil to run straight to the sunscreen and frantically look at the scattered bottles. "They don't have factor 50!" Phil scowled and looked towards Dan for the answers. "Let me look." Dan moved each bottle one by one, looking at all the labels until he got to the last few bottles. "There's one bottle left, use it wisely." He handed it to Phil, who seemed to deflate in a sudden calm. "You're buying me ice cream for dragging me out and wearing my clothes." Dan joked as Phil cradled the bottle.

"Honestly, I'll repay you with anything right now."

The two paid for the sunscreen and an ice lolly and an ice cream: Dan going for a classic ice cream and Phil for a suspiciously synthetic watermelon tasting ice lolly. "Honestly no wonder you get so hyper with all those chemicals, there's no way that could taste of watermelon." Dan said, having taken a lick of it and grimaced at the taste.

"Who cares? As long as it tastes nice." Phil smiled, a green tint around his lips.

Neither of them thought beforehand about the fact it would be noon when they got out the shop, the time at which the sun was highest and Phil would burn quicker than Dan could click his fingers.

They got to the exit of the small precinct the shop was in and Dan flung his arm out in front of Phil. "You can't go out there!" Phil tilted his head. "The sun's out! You'll burn!" He sighed and shook his head. "Well, looks like we've got to lube you up in front of everyone."

"Don't put it like that." But Phil was smiling, Dan always brought that effect. "But I suppose it's needed."

That led to Phil perched on a bench with Dan applying sunscreen all over his exposed skin, making sure he put enough on and laughing when Phil shivered at the coldness of it. He sat in front of him to put it on his pale face, still marked with the green juice of the ice lolly. Of course, Dan did their signature cat whiskers in sunscreen, making them both giggle to a joke that no one there would understand. "Come on, I'm hungry." Phil crossed his eyes as he watched Dan rub the sunscreen into his face. "You've just eaten?"

"But I want pizza or a burger or something."

"Come on then, but don't you dare get grease on my clothes."

2 hours later, Dan and Phil had eaten their pizza, meat feast obviously, and decided to go down to the pool. Phil ended up running over to one of the unberellas for shade, his longest propelling him along while Dan trailed behind him. His flip flops slapped against the wet tiles, it made him wonder how Phil could even run in them.

When he got to the sun loungers, he saw that Phil had already lay down the two towels for them to sit on. "I regret running, you have to wear the one colour that absorbs heat." Phil flopped down, his sunglasses tilting with the movement.

"Don't blame me, you forgot your bag. You didn't even tell me how." Dan was busy on his phone, scrolling through his Instagram while Phil opened a book he was reading. "Because we usually share a suitcase, I completely forgot we could have separate this time."

"That's sweet, but you're an idiot. Maybe you can just buy some clothes tomorrow when we venture out." Dan suggested, before leaning back and taking multiple pictures of himself with different expressions. "Now help me choose which to post."

It was sunset by the time they moved, Dan giving Phil his phone so he could run to their room and change into something less showy than his swim shorts. Neither of them had gone swimming, Dan had fallen asleep after posting the perfect picture, leaving Phil to listen to the constant notifications that he must have switched on by mistake. He could switch them off, he knew the passcode for Dan's phone, but he liked knowing how much love the picture was getting.

However much he loved Dan, it didn't stop him shoving him into the pool when he caught up with him.

"Motherfucker!" Dan shouted as he fell into the water, coming up with a gasp.

"Language Daniel." Phil laughed, then he walked to the nearest vacant chair and put their stuff down, throwing himself into the water to join Dan. Fully clothed. "I'm not even angry with you about my clothes." Dan playfully hit him and wrapped his hand around his wrist to pull him to the ladder. "Let's go, I'm too tired to party." He grinned, pulling himself up and out of the pool so Phil could do the same.

They used the beach towels to cover their bodies, each wrapping themselves in one and grabbing their respective things.

They didn't bother with food after that, they just headed to their hotel room so Phil could strip free of the sodden clothes, and Dan could get some on.

There was one problem - Dan didn't pack 2 pairs of pyjamas.

"Phil, not to alarm you, but I don't know how we can sort out my pyjamas, I only packed bottoms. One pair to be exact." Dan called, still wrapped in his towel. Phil emerged from the bathroom in his own towel and walked to the suitcase. "Really? Well, one of us is going in boxers. Don't you prefer that?" He said, picking up the pyjama bottoms and holding them against him, it was obvious he wanted them. "Yeah, but would you be okay with that?"

"Of course, it's not as if we have any other choice."

Tired from their day, and the lack of sleep, the two dumped the suitcase on the floor and climbed into the bed, crisp covers making them feel rather at home. "Night Phil." Dan said, sleep already taking hold.

"Night Dan, sleep well."

But before Dan could fall properly asleep, he pulled Phil's arm over his body. "Perfect."

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