#remember jenny lake?

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 4

While trying to figure out how Jenny was the Fifth Doctor's daughter, the Nine suggested he might be her father or her mother.

The Nun once shot and imprisoned the Tenth Doctor on her TARDIS, using a psychic shroud to take on his appearance temporarily before "regenerating" into her own body.

The Eighth Doctor has traveled with both a Cyberman and an Ice Warrior before (albeit not at the same time).

Jasper and Stewart are a pair of Fledershrews (a type of bat) that took residence in the TARDIS. The Doctor considered them to be good friends.

The Doctor had at least one grandfather and seven grandmothers.

Horses can be cyber-converted.

The Seventh Doctor took Ace back in time to kill the would-be dictator as well, but they were also unable to go through with it.

At the same time the Fifteenth Doctor and Ruby were dealing with goblins (24/12/2023), the Seventh Doctor and Ace were in a Los Angeles toyshop.

Wilfred Mott enlisted while he was still underage.

Orlando Bloom stars in Indiana Jones movie remakes.

Sam Jones knew what the Doctor's name is.

By some accounts, the Doctor removed his name from time, meaning only they and the Master (as well as anyone they later told) remembered it.

Ian Chesterton was taught how to ride a horse by Alexander the Great.

The TARDIS once dematerialized with a Nazi (played by David Tennant) half in, half out, leading to his incredibly gruesome death.

On Harmony, an idyllic planet, the locals harvested any visitors for food as the other animals had all died out.

Sometimes, the Doctor has worked to actively change history, like the time the Second Doctor tried to save Horatio Nelson from dying in the Battle of Trafalgar.

As the First Doctor regenerated into the Second, the TARDIS also somewhat regenerated, shrinking around fifteen centimeters.

River Song has eleven siblings such as Brooke, Stream, Lake, Creek, H-One, H-Two, O, etc. All of them are clones created by Madame Kovarian from River's DNA.

Speaking of River, she's been married to both Bernice Summerfield and Jack Harkness before.

Amy Pond was once mutated into an almost butterfly-like creature.

The Master does not like David Attenborough.

At one point, the most wanted criminal in the galaxy was the Master, and the Rani was second most wanted.

Snow White and the Seven Keys to Doomsday was a Gallifreyan bedtime story the Eleventh Doctor recalled enjoying.

In this story, Rassilon would ask the Matrix daily: "Matrix, Matrix that sees over all, who has the power to make Gallifrey fall?" The Matrix would always respond with: "Only you, oh Rassilon. Only you, through the Eye of Harmony have that power." One day, the Matrix added: "Snowana the Fair, using the Keys of Doomsday, she has the power to destroy all of Gallifrey." Rassilon was greatly angered by this and banished Snowana to the wastelands, expecting her to die, but instead, she grew into Snow White. Selendor had created a great weapon that could be used to destroy cities and fashioned seven keys to it, one for each sin of the Time Lords. He gave one key to Snow White expecting her to get some revenge, but she instead ran away and created a force field around her and the keys. Selendor died of grief for his lost keys

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28

[winterspiderpurrs]

Bucky was just exiting the debrief room after returning from a mission with Sam when he spotted Tony and Steve talking to each other. They were both looking at what Bucky recalls is an ipad, swiping images across the screen. Steve nodded along as Tony rattled on. Tony glances up when he enters the room and waves him over.

" First, I'm still going to do what I want. But what do you think of Peter getting his own place?"

Bucky blinks, looks at Steve, and then back at Tony.

" He likes living with May for the most part. He already has an apartment you set up for him in the tower, as well as a room at the compound and your lake house. Plus, if he isn't there, he visits Ned"

Steve nods and points to the ipad,

" and he seems like a fella who wouldn't want you to buy him a duplex. In Queens or not."

" He is in college. He needs privacy, especially with the Spideymonkey gig he still insisted on doing."

Steve and Bucky move to look at each other. They know what Tony isn't saying. That Peter needs a place he could bring someone back to.

" Just talk to the guy and see if he wants that."

Steve squints for a moment at Bucky when he says that.

**RING RIIINNNNGGGG RIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGGG**

Bucky pulls his phone out of his pocket and looks at the screen. It's Peter calling.

Tony, being Tony, looks over and notices as well who is calling. It doesn't even pass through his mind why Peter would be calling Bucky.

" Oh hey, let me talk to him," states Tony and he reaches for the phone.

Bucky was already in the process of answering and was moving the phone out of reach. In those few moments, the phone accidentally went to speaker mode.

" No hey its my phone."

" Just let me see it I paid for it"

Bucky ends up clenching the phone too hard in his metal hand and ends up muting the phone, but the speaker is still on.

Peter's voice comes through.

" Hello? That's some weird voice-mail message you got there. I'll help you set up a good one later. Anyway, you're probably in your debrief still. " heavy sigh could be heard, and the faint breeze of Peter probably swinging on his webs.

" I'm just now done with patrol. I've had a shit day of finals, and I smell like a dumpster cause I fell into a dumpster after I got stabbed. "

There was a pause before he quickly said," but don't worry, it's already healed, but yeah shitty night. I haven't slept since yesterday. So I'm gonna be exhausted when you get in. But I ordered some chinese for us, swinging to pick it up now, but it should still be warm by the time you get home. I apologize in advance if I have already passed out in bed when you get in. But I promise you amazing welcome back home morning sex. And I'll fix those waffles you like. But remember we are going to May's later for Passover since we couldn't yesterday. On Friday, we were invited over to the XMansion to celebrate there unless something else doesn't come up. But yeah, I'm rambling."

He sighs a little." I missed you. I'll see you at home in a bit. Love you, " you hear some rustling." Hey Miss Jenny, " "I got you extra egg rolls. " " Aweso-" the phone hangs up.

Everyone is staring down at the phone before Steve and Tony turn to look at Bucky.

Tony had no clue when Peter and Bucky would have gotten together and is now trying to piece together instances that should have stood out.

Steve, though, he was starting the suspect for a while now. The few times he visited Bucky's apartment, he noticed differences. The apartment seemed lived in compared to before. House plants, a video game console, a vast collection of movies that showed up on bookcases along with more photos and just more personal touches.

"Well. Looks like I need to get home. Don't call me"

Bucky tucks the broken phone back in his pocket before he quickly leaves.

Steve eyes Tony warily.

" But... no. When did the terminator get with my kid?"

"He isn't a kid anymore he is 22"

" Zip it, capsicle! "

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

... But I also really want a sneak pick at Lake of Fire :D

Here's a snippet from the next chapter, which will hopefully be posted later today or tomorrow:

Someone knocks on the door and Charles whirls around, heart leaping into his throat before he remembers that Edwin wouldn’t knock. “Yeah? Come in?” The door opens and Jenny pokes her head in, scowling. “Did you give the Tongue & Tail’s phone number to one of your creepy friends?” “What creepy friends?” Charles blinks, bewildered. “Someone’s on the phone looking for the Dead Boy Detectives. She says she has a tip about a case.” “About the Deathless?” “I didn’t ask, because I’m in the middle of running a business.” “Right.” Charles realizes he’s bouncing on his heels like that time he drank a whole pot of coffee in under an hour. If he has new information by the time Edwin gets back, they can move past whatever weirdness happened earlier. Edwin isn’t one to dwell on things like his best mate staring at his mouth when there’s a case to solve. “Sorry about that, Jenny. Not sure how they got your number.” She sighs. “Just try to keep my shop out of your paranormal weirdness, okay?” “Think it might be a bit too late for that, mate,” he tells her cheerfully, which earns him an expected eye roll. He takes the stairs three at a time before he makes it into the kitchen of the butcher shop, where Jenny keeps a landline. While Jenny goes back out front to see to her customers, he puts the phone to his ear, leaning back against a patch of wall that doesn’t have any blood splatter on it. “Uh, hello? Charles Rowland here?” “Hello, Charles.” It’s a woman’s voice, though there’s a strangely echoing quality to it. Connection must be bad. “Hi,” he says. “What can I do for you?” There’s a pause that lasts long enough that he starts to wonder if they lost connection. Then, the woman says, “Say hello to Charles, Edwin.” “What?” Charles pushes himself off the wall. “Edwin?” There’s a crackling noise that might be wind. Then, a choked, bitten-off cry, like someone trying not to scream.

WIP Ask Game

[preservationofnormalcy]

Ok so i may have a revenant in my hands, this girl bound in chains just appeared out of nowhere while i was fishing in the lake, she did not notice me, a alligator came by and tried to snatch her up, i will not describe how she killed the alligator, she is now just eating bits off the alligator, im afraid of what she will do once she finishes eating, what do i do?

Is this at ██████ ████, in ██████████? Let me see...R for revenant? Nope, because why would it be?

Try N for Necrotic, then subfile Corporeal and Hard to Kill.

...Here it is. Okay, so, just calmly and quickly remove yourself from the premises. Unless you specifically caused her death, or get in between her and the object of her revenge, you're most likely to be safe. Revenants tend to have a trigger activity as well, something that people do that sends them into a mindless rage, so it's in your best interest to gather up your stuff quickly and quietly, and get out of there. We'll have a security team dispatched to your location. Norm, can you tell them a little more about revenants? Absolutely. As Jenny implied, “Revenant” has a specific definition in Office classifications that differentiates one from your average zombie. Revenants are corporeal undead that are animated by dark or demonic magic, or even the deceased’s own rage activating their latent magic potential. They’re single-mindedly driven by a specific object or idea of obsession, typically revenge or something similar to their circumstances of death. Without incorporating their “Focus”, Revenants are by definition extremely hard or even impossible to put down. As is often the case with dangerous extranormal entities, the solution is to work with it. Revenants are by definition dangerous and violent, but remember that whatever is left of the person they used to be is angry and in pain.

Knight? Hey, it's Jenny. There's a Code Vorhees at-yeah, it's ██████ ████ again. No campers this time, just one guy fishing. Can you get a team out there? Thanks.

What? No, I'm fine. It was mutual.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Doctor Who, but Chronologically 26

It's 1913 and fuck me but this episode fucks like a rabid rhino as it's time for Human Nature.

Holy.

Shit.

And it kind of makes sense! Remember when the Tennant Doctor talked to Jackson Lake? And told him about how Time Lords sometimes store memories in fob watches? And then remember how Tecteun and the Ood had a fob watch they used to be a dick to the Whittaker Doctor? And she was maybe going to open it? Fob watch! We know all about these!!!

So, we start with Tennant and Martha, sprinting into the TARDIS to escape "The Family". These, it transpires, are aliens made of lurid green gas who can possess people, so we're off to a simply fantastic start right there in terms of saving the budget. To escape them the Doctor turns himself human, and gets Martha to basically guard him in The Past because as a human he remembers nothing, which

A) means we are treated to David Tennant's acting changing to being Subtly Wrong, right down to the way he smiles, which is unsettling as fuck; and

B) fucking sucks ASS for Martha because she's now a black maid in a posh white English boarding school and this episode is not interested in portraying posh white English boarding schoolers in 1913 as anything other than raging cock-heads who make you glad there's a world war around the corner to wipe two thirds of them out.

Although I say English. That's St Ffagans, that is. With some exteriors up by Llangors. I know my Welsh historical sites.

Anyway, Martha yeets herself bodily up the rankings with this one. She's capable, and clever, and marooned in a fucking awful time as a bodyguard for a man who doesn't remember her and treats her like shit, and she is so achingly alone. She's stored the TARDIS in a shed, and she goes to it for some normalcy, and to dream of going home. She's made friends with Jenny, another maid, and their friendship is sweet and wholesome, the only bright spot left, and the whole thing would make you weep if only, um, Freema's acting was good.

(I'm sorry I adore her but she is just... very hammy)

So it's very depressing when Jenny becomes an alien host.

BUT it's also an AMAZING SCENE, because Martha has managed to source some afternoon tea for them to share, and Jenny comes in and is Weird, and Martha doesn't just notice - in a move that had me going "Well THIS scene was written by a Welshman," she looks Jenny in the eye and says "Okay, shall I put some gravy in the teapot? We could have jam and herring." And Jenny falls for it just as a changeling would, and Martha gets the fuck out. Incredible. Martha for the win. Everyone should know their changeling lore. Martha clearly does. Good girl.

Although shout out to the Family actually; the Daughter is a little girl with a red balloon and the same nursery rhyme backing track as the sinister little girl with the red balloon in Remembrance of the Daleks who turned out to be possessed by a Dalek or some shit, which is very cool, although these little girls with red balloons and sinister nursery rhyme backing tracks are about as good at acting as each other, which is to say, not really. BUT the Son is played by what's his tits off of Game of Thrones, you know the one? Played the little blond inbred lad who loved dragons. He's fantastic in this! Plays it with just the right amount of menace and charm, it's great. It could easily have become hammy and undermined it, but it's just great. Who knew you could sniff in a frightening manner and make your eyes glow with the Power of Acting alone?

Um, what else, what else... oh yeah, the Doctor as a human is a trembling virgin who gets a girlfriend played by Jessica Hynes. He falls down some stairs because he's so flustered about asking her to a dance. He literally starts saying "Um, I've never..." before kissing her, as though that's at all news to anyone watching.

Anyway, plot-wise, the Doctor dreams of his real life and has written it all down in a dream journal, which he insists on explaining to every woman who looks his way with the tediousness of people who keep dream journals everywhere. He keeps the fob watch on the mantlepiece. He has left a list of instructions for Martha, of which number 23 is to open the watch as a last resort.

But, one of the students in the boarding school is that kid from Love, Actually who later was an American chess player in the Queen's Gambit (side note, I swear like half the cast in the Queen's Gambit was British and putting on lacklustre American accents). Turns out this kid is Mildly Psychic in the way that people often are in RTD's era because why the fuck not, and so he has, in fact, stolen the fob watch because it spoke to him. Occasionally he opens it and learns about Time Lords, but that means the Family can smell the Doctor. This means Martha tries to open the watch, only to find it missing.

So they all go to the dance, which is in the old Oakdale Working Men's Club, and my dad used to go drinking there. It's in St Ffagans now. They're moving the Vulcan there just next door which is fun, because I used to go drinking in the Vulcan, so it'll be two generations of us moved to a museum. I've forgotten what I was talking about.

So they all go to the dance. Unfortunately, this includes the Family, who are armed with a heady mix of alien guns and extraneous scarecrows. In a cliffhanger that lets down the rest of the episode, they grab Martha and Jessica Hynes, and tell a very confused Doctor that he has to change back from human or pick which of these women to kill. It feels a bit needlessly stapled on, tbh. But it's nice to see Oakdale Workies again.

Anyway I think no new questions? Other than "How will they get out of this?" but the second half is next even on this batshit watch order, so we can ignore that one. That's fun. However we do still have a fob watch hanging plot thread for Whitaker, so there's that.

The list!

“She” (an unknown person) is returning (perhaps River returned as Missy. Maybe Me? Maybe Clara???!)

There is something on Donna’s back

An entire planet, Pyrovilia, just… disappeared, somehow. (Maybe because the TARDIS is exploding??? Saturnine was also lost, and that WAS because of the TARDIS exploding. The lion man’s planet was also lost but he was a bit of a knob about it if I’m honest.)

Amy is maybe dead (she’s not)

The Doctor has been cubed (he’s out, but how?)

River is possibly blown up  (unless she’s Missy)

The TARDIS has blown up  (It’s fine now. Except it’s sort of melting now because it’s corrupted, but it’s fine again)

The universe appears to have ended  (the universe is back again)

The Doctor has employed(?) Nardole (And Nardole was “reassembled???”)

There’s a vault in the TARDIS and it contains Missy but we don’t know why (sometimes she knocks for the bants)

What has happened to all these companions and where are the new ones coming from?

There’s an immortal Viking girl now. Her name is Me and she’s now looking after the people the Doctor abandons

What’s With The Silence?

Why was Rory entirely unconcerned by the entire world suddenly going silent when that is Not Normal and should have been, at the very least, extremely disconcerting?

What did the Doctor do to Queen Lizzie One?

Who is Captain Jack Harkness? (Is he the one who gave the companions a warning about the lone cyberman?)

Why is Amy seeing a one-eyed woman in a vanishing window?

What’s with the Doctor’s future involving getting shot by an astronaut?

Is Amy pregnant and why is it inconclusive?

Who is Sarah-Jane Smith?

How is the Doctor Bill’s teacher and why/where does he have an office?

What is going on with the Cyber War and the Cyberium???

Who did the Doctor lose to Cyber Conversion?

What happened with the Other Cyber War?

What happened with the Third War that deleted the void?

Why does Rose seem particularly important?

What’s with the Weeping Angel statues, and why can’t you blink at them?

What order do these Doctors go in? (Eccleston, Tennant, uncertain, Smith, Capaldi.)

Which companion just… forgot the Doctor, and how?

Yaz and Vinder are about to die as Mori/Mwri/Muuri

There is a Lupari shield around Earth.

What’s a Time War?

What’s the Rift?

What’s Bad Wolf?

What happened with Amy’s pregnancy?

In which war did the Doctor become a war criminal, and how?

Who is the Master?

Why has Amy forgotten Rory?

Is Rory plastic or not?

Why is the Doctor sulking on a cloud?

How exactly does the Doctor have a cloud?

What exactly happened with Strax to, uh, tame him?

Which friend killed Strax?

Which friend brought Strax back?

Where did this lesbian lizard and human couple come from?

What happened with Clara as Souffle Girl and the Daleks?

How does Clara actually join?

Why so many Claras?

Why is Missy apparently in robo-heaven?

Why is probably!Missy pushing Clara and the Doctor together?

What is Trensilor and what happened there?

Who is Handles?

The Doctor is about to be dissolved by a beautiful geode man

The universe is being crushed by the Flux

Will the Doctor open the fob watch? (NEW INFO: he also needs to open a fob watch as Tennant, but this presumably won't count.)

Sontarans are invading Earth again

Who is Kate?

Who is Osgood? Another name of Clara’s again?

The fuck is the deal with the Grand Serpent

[violettesiren]

I saw a bat in a dream and then later that week I saw a real bat, crawling on its elbows across the porch like a goblin. It was early evening. I want to ask about death.

But first I want to ask about flying.

The swimmers talk quietly, standing waist-deep in the dark lake. It’s time to come in but they keep talking quietly. Above them, early bats driving low over the water. From here the voices are undifferentiated. The dark is full of purring moths.

Think of it—to navigate by adjustment, by the beauty of adjustment. All those shifts and echoes. The bats veer and dive. Their eyes are tiny golden fruits. They capture the moths in their teeth.

Summer is ending. The orchard is carved with the names of girls. Wind fingers the leaves softly, like torn clothes. Remember, desire was the first creature that flew from the crevice back when the earth and the sky were pinned together like two rocks.

Now, I open the screen door and there it is— a leather change purse moving across the floorboards.

But in the dream you were large and you opened the translucent hide of your body and you folded me in your long arms. And held me for a while. As a bat might hold a small, dying bat. As the lake holds the night upside down in its mouth.

Threshold Gods by Jenny George

[iminsomanyfandomsitscrazy]

I absolutely LOVE when Donna tells 14 “why don’t you do something completely different and have some friends?” Because it always felt like Ten had the feeing of loneliness hanging over him***. While we see it somewhat with other Doctors, we see it with Ten a sh*t ton more than any other Doctors.

We see it in the infamous “I just want A mate! A mate!” in Partners in Crime to Donna, as well as the heartbreaking “they’ve all got someone else, and that’s fine” in Journey’s End that we all know and get murdered over.

As well as when he tells Jackson Lake that he no longer travels with any companions because in the end all the companions he travels with “break my heart” in The Next Doctor which nobody ever acknowledges even though it’s one of the most heartbreaking things Ten says. Whenever people bring up the heartbreaking things Ten had said, they almost never include that.

But in terms of him not wanting really to have any friends, we see in Voyage of the Damned after he loses Astrid and everyone else he’d become close with on the Sto Titanic, he tells the only other person in his friend group that survived (the dude with the “degree” in Earthonomics) that he’s “better off alone”. (Especially since Astrid had taken up his offer to join him on the TARDIS and then sacrificed himself).

And in Planet of the Dead he tells and acknowledges when Christina brings it up that they would make a perfect team, but that he “travels alone” because he can’t take losing anyone else.

And in contrast to when he says that he now “travels alone” in Voyage of the Damned but then switches tone when he’s reunited w/ Donna and not only changes his stance bc he already knows Donna, but because we see that while traveling he keeps on talking aloud and then looking up and we see it sink in that he’s struggling being alone and he truly just wants “a mate”. (And to be honest, when he tells that man that it’s cuz Martha had left him not too long ago, and he just lost Astrid a few hours prior. But by that time, he’d “only” - which oh my god, is that heartbreaking - lost Rose (once), lost Astrid via her sacrificing herself, and lost Martha via her leaving him for her and her family (which once again, he understands completely, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt)).

But once we get to Planet of the Dead, he lost Rose twice, lost Donna, Martha left him (and tho he totally, 100% understood and respected her decision, he still did lose her), he lost Astrid, he lost Jenny, he watched River sacrifice herself, and though he didn’t know her well, he A) knew that she would be important to him later on, and B) gotten to like and respect her, and of course, he can’t stand having to sit by and watch anyone die, whether he knows them or not. When we get to Planet of the Dead, he’s made himself believe that he’s better off alone because he can’t stand losing any more people. He’s lost wayyyy to many people in a span of just a few years, and his hearts understandably can’t handle any more loss. And!!!!! In Journey’s End, Stavros makes the Doctor think of everyone whose sacrificed themself for him. Which then hangs over his head and (understandably) breaks his heart and kills him. When Stavros points that out, Ten’s faced with remembering all those people - from the very start (1x02) to one of the most recent episodes with the stewardess - and it hits him like a brick, and then Rose tells him that Harriet Jones sacrificed herself for him earlier that day, and it just destroys and kills him.

He’s lost so much more than most people can handle. The amount of loss and heartbreak he went through would kill most people, and like he told Donna in The Star Beast losing her killed him. We see in The End of Time Part 2 when he asks Joan’s great-granddaughter if Joan was happy in the end and her great-granddaughter says “yes” she then asks “you?” and the Doctor’s expression just tells it all: no.

And losing Rose? The one person he believed in? Over all the gods and Demi-gods he’d met? It killed him and tore his hearts into a billion pieces.

Losing her again? He didn’t survive that. While he was able to comfort himself because he was able to give her the life she deserved and wanted, and Tentoo could spend the rest of his life with her (which is the complete opposite to when Ten days in The School Reunion that she can spend the rest of her life with him, but he can’t spend the rest of his with her), it didn’t help to mend both his hearts. That comfort couldn’t piece together the billion pieces his hearts were in.

Martha leaving? Tore him apart.

Losing Astrid? Tore him apart.

Losing Jenny? Tore him apart.

Watching River sacrifice herself? Tore him apart, watching helplessly while someone - and! someone who he knew would later be important to him - die.

Hell, losing Madame de Pompadour? That hurt.

***I’m just using “he” pronounce throughout this because I’m talking about Ten specifically, who presents as male, even if “he” is not totally correct.

[violetmoondaughter]

Water, the flow, the womb, the origin of life, the element that is in constant movement and transformation. Water flows through our bodies and across the earth; we depend on it for life. As far back as we can remember, humans have been intimately connected with water, both physically and spiritually. According to the theory of evolution we emerged from aquatic sources and ancient creation stories from around the globe told us life on earth originated from waters. Ancient Civilizations around the globe built the first cities near water sources. Water is deep, receptive, and purifying, and represent both the life giver and the death bringer.

 Some of the most common water spiritual correspondences are:

Orientation: West

Qualities: Emotion, Intuition, Flexibility, Receptivity

Magical Weapon: Cup, Cauldron, Mirror, Comb

Rituals: Divination, Purification, Healing, Blessings, Transformation

Places: lakes, springs, streams, rivers, beaches, oceans, seas, wells, fountains, waterfalls

Natural elements: rain, thunderstorms, snow, ice, fog, seashells, starfish, pearls, dolphins, seahorses, frogs, toads, fish, turtles.

Tarot: Cups

Rune: Laguz

Zodiac Signs: Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces

Spirits: Naiades, Nereids, Mermaids, Oceanines, Nymphs, Kelphis, Each uisge, Gwragedd Annwn, Morgens, Nixie, Jenny Greenteeth, Peg Powler, Crinaeae, Limnades, Pegaeae, Sirens, Camenae, Asrai, Karkinos, Charybdis, Cetus, Grindylow, Kraken, Pistrice, Selkies.

Deities: Aphrodite, Venus, Mefitis, Diana, Thetis, Leukothea, Ino, Amphitrite, Hapi, Sobek, Neptune, Poseidon, Oceanus, Sabrina, Melusine, Acionna, Boann, Bormana, Dylan Ail Don, Llyr, Sinann, Sequana, Nefti, Khnum, Tefnut, Anuket, Abzu, Enbilulu, Achelous, Anapos, Nereus, Pontus, Scylla, Proteus, Thalassa, Coventina, Fontus, Juturna, Danu, Proteus, Tiamat, Triton.

[winedark]

tagged by the lovely @sumire-no-nikki — thank you so much!! ☀️💙

1. The last book I read:

a thing of beauty by peter fiennes. it's a travel book following someone travelling through greece + relaying it to ancient greek mythology. i love the concept but i think he missed the mark, it was a pretty entertaining book and it was, on occasion, informative... but i can't say greece was in focus as opposed to this man's stream of consciousness. and lord byron.

2. A book I recommend:

weatherland by alexandra harris. beautiful beautiful book i have looked up at the sky so much more since i read it

3. A book that I couldn’t put down:

jane eyre.... need i say more <3

4. A book that I’ve read twice (or more):

the odyssey!!! i've read it about 4 times since picking it up in uni and i will probably reread it in the near future. thats my home

5. A book on my TBR:

crime and punishment! i always want to start it as my first read of the year and never do, so maybe i'll just enjoy it as a light summer read <3

6. A book I’ve put down:

a lot of the time i will put down a book fully intending to pick it up at a later date, however if we were villains by m.l. rio was so dull i made it like 30% in and gave up. sometimes i get mad when i remember that i spent money on it

7. A book on my wish list:

my wish list is impossibly long but one book that comes to mind is little weirds by jenny slate, i'm hoping to nab it before i go abroad later this year as it feels like such a good book to read by the lake (last years choice was um... the bell jar 💀) i don't know the first thing about the book but i do love jenny slate

8. A favorite book from childhood:

i loved my sister jodi by jacqueline wilson. i remember being the same age as the protagonist (10) as i read it and which only seemed to make the book more intense and life-like, the imagery really stuck in my mind.

9. A book you would give to a friend:

most of my friends who read and i don't (seem to) have similiar tastes... but i think the fran lebowitz reaader is a very good book that would appeal to a lot of people!

10. A book of poetry or lyrics you own:

i have the collected poems of odysseas elytis! he is probably my favourite poet, i could do nothing but read his work for the rest of my life and be content

11. A nonfiction book you own:

i'm gonna be honest — most of my books are non-fiction! i buy a lot of history, archaeology and travel books. i'll give a special shout out to a very specific book, which is eva crane's the archaeology of beekeeping. genuine prized possession.

12. What are you currently reading:

i'm presently reading iberia by julian sayarer. honestly i'm not enjoying it that much, he's a good enough writer but i'm not learning a thing :( this morning i finished the entire section of portugal and i couldn't tell you anything about it. this guy just wants to write about his bike lol (i will be inspired to find better books on iberia - maybe get more specific or find people better connected to the place*).

13. What are you planning on reading next:

papyrus by irene vallejo! it has very good reviews and it sounds so so fascinating. also i need to step away from travel-history-culture books til i find something GOOD

tagging: @caernua, @lestogrifoni, @camelliagwerm, @lavampira + @fluentisonus <3

[nancydrewwouldnever]

The Infamous Jenny Vulture Interview

So, I keep losing access to the infamous Jenny Vulture interview from March 2017 because of caps on access they have on their website. So, in case anyone else hits the same problem, I'm cut and pasting it here, to have an easier to access copy of it.

The Year of Living Publicly

Jenny Slate’s got two new films and a new home and, oh, by the way, she’s fresh off a breakup with Captain America. 

By Jasa Yuan

Published March 2017

Most pillows are just pillows, but for Jenny Slate, the floral-print puffs arrayed on her pristine white linen couch in her freshly rented apartment in L.A.’s Silver Lake are metaphors. For a bright future. For a new life. For freedom. The Obvious Child star and her bichon frise, Reggie, just moved into this sunny one-bedroom in February, and every time she looks at those pillows, she gets so excited because she remembers how she’d bought them while still married to editor-director Dean Fleischer-Camp, her husband for three years, but had to stow them away because she realized it felt like they were living in a box of tampons. Now she and Reggie don’t have to run their decorating decisions by anyone. “I’ve never lived on my own, because I really did go from one relationship to another my whole life, so I’ve never had a chance to go really girlie,” she says. “And I had my ex-husband over last night and he was like, ‘These flower pillows look great. But they’re just for you.’ I’m like, ‘Yeah! That’s right!’ I love them so much. I just love them for what they represent, which is that all my choices are for me.” She turns around. “I’m gonna pee really quick.”

The bathroom door doesn’t quite close — she’d warned me of this. “You can snoop around if you want,” she shouts. “It’s just a little mouse house. It’s fucking perfect for me.”

I have been in her presence for about two minutes. The first thing she did was offer to loan me a T-shirt because I mentioned I was hot. Slate used to do a stand-up routine about how her mom refused to sew her name into her shirt in elementary school, “because she was like, ‘You’re too friendly, and some stranger would just be like, Jenny! Come into the van!’ ”

There’s an obvious person missing so far from this tale of pillows versus patriarchy, but she’s not hiding anything; we just haven’t gotten to it yet. “When I moved in here, I’d been through my divorce and a breakup,” she says, returning from the bathroom and referring to the ten or so months she spent dating Chris Evans, best known as Captain America, and her much more famous co-star in Gifted an upcoming film about a family struggling with a young girl’s genius affinity for math. The internet went wild over their apples-and-oranges compatibility: a brash Jewish comedienne beloved for oversharing about her bodily functions on talk shows and voicing Marcel the Shell With Shoes On, a tiny stop-motion conch with a single eye and feet who talks about being so small he can hang-glide on a Dorito, in a series of YouTube shorts she made with Fleischer-Camp — and a world-famous Marvel superhero, who also happens to be a Massachusetts momma’s boy with one of the most insanely ripped bodies on the planet. “We used to talk about what kinds of animals we were,” says Slate. “Chris said it’s like I’m a chick riding on a St. Bernard’s head. We’re an odd match.”

Paparazzi tried to snap them, bloggers scrutinized their Instagrams, tabloids obsessively covered their one appearance together on a red carpet. Slate didn’t read the coverage, but it was extremely kind, with most articles praising Slate for taking a chance on Evans, or noting that his coolness factor had jumped several notches because of his proximity to her. Maybe this crazy thing could work out! There was something beautiful, in a year marked by division, to think of these two opposites finding common ground. He was 35; she was 34. They’d grown up half an hour from each other. They were both outspoken liberals. They’d said really adorable things about each other on Anna Faris’s podcast.

And then, a few weeks before I met Slate, news broke that it was over. In her life, though, she’d already spent several months dealing with that loss and having to find a place to live, crashing with friends in Venice Beach in January. “I watched You’ve Got Mail so many times, it was unbelievable,” she says. Was she weeping most of the time? “Yeah, I did it right.” Eventually, she found this new apartment and purged everything she owned except for a few clothes she loves, books, precious objects, and a velvet chair once belonging to her great-grandmother. “I was like, ‘You need all new things. You are a working woman. Maybe this is an indulgence, but just start over,’ ” she says. “It’s like, Fuck.”

The other night, she tells me, she was sitting at a bar by herself, reading a book about the Holocaust, and finally sent an SOS text to her friend Mae Whitman. “I was just like, ‘Can you please help me? I’m so lonely.’ And she came and we got shitbombed, and I woke up the next morning and saw my headphones on my neighbor’s yard. I have no idea how they ended up there.”

As Slate gives me the tour of her place, Reggie trails her every move. “He’s like a little soul mirror of me. We’re a lot the same,” she says. How so? “Needing closeness. Despair when left alone. But also he’s very excited to misbehave when left alone. So he doesn’t know what he wants.”

Ever since she was a pip-squeak at Camp Tapawingo in Sweden, Maine, Slate has known what she wanted to be: an actress, like Amy Irving or Gilda Radner or Madeline Kahn. That or “Jewish Felicity,” taking over Manhattan, like in the TV show. In the aughts, she came up in the alternative-stand-up-comedy scene in New York, where she garnered attention for a one-woman show as different characters eulogizing an eccentric millionaire, got cast on Saturday Night Live, and wasfired one season in after accidentally cursing on-air in her first sketch. That ego blow hurt a little less when she made the awards-circuit rounds for Obvious Child, a low-budget romantic comedy about two people navigating an abortion after a one-night stand, and she’s built a devoted fan base through her outrageous characters on the Kroll Show and Parks and Recreation, not to mention her great voice work with Marcel, Bob’s Burgers, The Secret Life of Pets (as an anxious Pomeranian), and Zootopia (as a villainous sheep). In 2012, she relocated from Brooklyn to L.A. Her relationship with Evans is easily the most Hollywood thing she’s ever done. She shows me a photo of her aura on her fridge, taken in New York’s Chinatown. There’s a thick concentration of “productive energy,” which is good, since she has a lot of work coming up, and a giant cloud of worry and overthinking, which seems to be dissipating. By the sink are potholders she made as a kid on a little loom and a drawing of Ruth Bader Ginsburg that Fleischer-Camp brought her as a housewarming gift. “We’re good friends. That’s why we got divorced,” says Slate. “If we didn’t get divorced, we wouldn’t be able to be friends and we wouldn’t be able to do our work. We had just grown apart, and we love each other. It wasn’t easy, but not bad.” She pauses. “No, it was bad. But not essentially bad.”

Her mother, a ceramicist, and father, a lauded poet, are still married; she wrote a book about her childhood home in Massachusetts with her dad this year. Her younger sister, Stacey, a mental-health counselor in Brooklyn, had come over on the previous weekend and helped her put up pictures. (Her elder sister, Abby, is a nurse-practitioner in Massachusetts, and Slate is convinced her middle-child need for attention is what nudged her toward showbiz.) Covering the top of her dresser are snapshots she hasn’t figured out what to do with, such as the one of her in a revealing tank top at Columbia University, where she went from high-school valedictorian to pothead almost instantly. “This is me when I was a slutty virgin,” she explains. “A virgin but trying to act like I knew what was going on.”

Somewhere beneath a pile of half-read books is her bedside table. She hates computers so much she doesn’t keep one in the house, and she often turns to books when scrolling through Twitter on her phone stresses her out, which it always does. Current favorites include The Collected Stories of Lydia Davis, Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning, and Emma, a children’s book with Barbara Cooney illustrations that she bought on Etsy and loves so much she put it on display so she could see it when she wakes up. “It’s about an old woman who doesn’t love how she’s alone, and then learns to make herself not alone through art, and draws people into her life through art. It’s the fucking best thing.”

The instinct other young actresses have to keep every interesting thing about themselves under wraps — or the toughness that female comics often give off — wouldn’t be very useful in Slate’s case. Her brand, if you can call it that, is built on vulnerability, whether she’s revealing her innermost insecurities through an animated shell or telling Seth Meyers on TV that she was so stoned in college she accidentally signed up for an astronomy class thinking she’d learn about astrology. Not to mention that she and Evans met while playing love interests in a movie that is now coming out and that she needs to promote. That’s hard to get around.

“I don’t mind talking about him at all. He’s a lovely person,” she says. “I don’t know. It feels like such a huge thing. Last year was a giant, big year for my heart. I’ve never, ever thought to keep anything private because that’s not really what I’m like, and now I’m learning those things, and they’re weird, kind of demented lessons to learn.”

She didn’t set out to have a tabloid-­fodder romance. She’d fought hard for her part in Gifted, as a teacher who falls for Evans’s character, a working-class guy trying to give his prodigy niece (Mckenna Grace) a normal childhood. Slate’s part is not huge, but it’s a big studio picture. It got her in the room with director Marc Webb and Fox Searchlight. She liked the script, but more than that, “I was just like, ‘I want viability as an American film actress. I want to find my own seat at the main dinner table, because I want to do this forever, and I want to show that it doesn’t always have to be a bikini model opposite Captain America.’ ”

Evans and Slate met at her chemistry read — the audition in which it’s determined whether two romantic leads play well together — and they instantly got along. “I remember him saying to me, ‘You’re going to be one of my closest friends.’ I was just like, ‘Man, I fucking hope this isn’t a lie, because I’m going to be devastated if this guy isn’t my friend.’ ” The first time they went out to dinner, as co-workers getting to know each other, she remembers insisting they split the bill over Evans’s strenuous objections. “If you take away my preferences, you take away my freedom,” she says she told him. “Then I was like, Oh, man, is this dude going to be like, ‘Ugh, this bra-burner.’ Instead, he was like, ‘Tell me more.’ ” They drew from that friendship for their flirting on film, but the time when they jump into bed together in the movie felt as awkward as you hear all love scenes do. “It’s one of those scenes where you bust through a door making out. I’ve never done that in my life,” says Slate. “I remember apologizing to him after. I’m pretty sure I kneed him in the balls.”

Slate was in a weird space at the time. Her marriage was dissolving, and she was working only two or three days a week, and spending her days off wandering around Savannah’s many parks and doing yoga and writing that book, About the House, with her dad. (Which, incidentally, the publisher gave away free with any donation to any charity.) Every weekend, Evans would organize a game night for the cast and crew — usually something called “running charades,” which sounds like high-speed pantomime — that she begrudgingly went to, even though all she wanted to do was hang out on the porch and drink beer and smoke cigarettes. “At first I was like, ‘What a fucking nightmare,’ ” she says. “Chris is a different speed than me — I think he really did just jump out of a plane for an interview. And so when he was like, ‘Game nights,’ I was like, ‘This is annoying. This guy’s like a sports guy. He’s the kid that likes P.E.’ ” But finally his enthusiasm won her over. “I first really liked Chris as a person because he is so unpretentious,” she says. “He is a straight-up 35-year-old man who wants to play games. That’s it. I was like, ‘I’d better not discount this, because this is purity.’ ” It also helped that she’s so competitive she constantly won.

As they got to know each other, she learned he’s still close with people from his childhood, and his best friend is a woman. “What’s the same about us is not just that we’re from Massachusetts, which was such a delight, but Chris is truly one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, to the point where sometimes I would look at him and it would kind of break my heart,” she says. “He’s really vulnerable, and he’s really straightforward. He’s like primary colors. He has beautiful, big, strong emotions, and he’s really sure of them. It’s just wonderful to be around. His heart is probably golden-colored, if you could paint it.”

They didn’t fall for each other on set. “To be quite honest, I didn’t think I was his type,” she says. (Evans has dated Jessica Biel and Minka Kelly). “Eventually, when it was like, Oh, you have these feelings for me?, I was looking around like, Is this a prank? I mean, I understand why I think I’m beautiful, but if you’ve had a certain lifestyle and I’m a very, very different type of person — I don’t want to be an experiment.” Evans never made her feel that way, but it was hard to get past how so many people seemed to feel some ownership of him and view her as an interloper. “If you are a woman who really cares about her freedom, her rights, her sense of being an individual, it is confusing to go out with one of the most objectified people in the entire world,” she says. Especially when she’s aware that in Hollywood, she says, “I’m considered some sort of alternative option, even though I know I’m a majorly vibrant sexual being.” And especially when random ladies would come up to her at CVS, “being like, ‘Oh my God, is that Chris Evans? He’s so hot!’ You’re like, ‘How dare you? That’s my boyfriend. But yes, he’s so hot.’ ”

Every time Slate mentions Evans, it keeps coming back to the same thing: As much as they loved being with one another, she says, “we’re really, really different,” with different social circles and different lifestyles. Slate comes from a DIY comedy scene, and most of her friends are fellow comics and gay guys. “Chris is a very, very famous person,” she says. “For him to go to a restaurant is totally different than for me to go. I sit in my window and I say ‘Hi’ to people on the street. I have more freedom because I’m not Captain America. I’m mostly a cartoon.” She kept waiting for everything to feel normal, but it never did. “This is what I needed to do to feel normal. To be alone.”

That meant day-to-day they mostly stayed home, “which was really nice,” she says. But it was also one of the most anxious years of her life. She fretted over the “psychos” on the internet who turned her relationship with Evans into a pissing contest with Fleischer-Camp. And she struggled seeing the person she was in love with deal with the side-effects of fame. “The stress that I saw him be put under, I’ve never seen that before, and he handled that really gracefully,” she says. What she wasn’t taking into account was that he’s used to it. “He’s not stressed,” she says. “I was the person that was stressed.”

She’s also aware in hindsight that she hadn’t processed her separation before she got together with Evans. It wasn’t as scandalous as tabloid reports made it sound — as with any long-term relationship that splinters, they’d been on the rocks long before it was official. But, she says, “When Chris and I started dating, my husband and I had only been separated for a couple of months.” The divorce actually went through while she was at the Sundance Film Festival, after she and Evans broke up. “Even though we had an amicable divorce, I think that’s still something that you need to mourn. When you get separated from somebody that you actually care about, it is the destruction of a belief system. That is really, really sad.” Throughout all of it, the divorce, the new love, she says, “I just didn’t have the tools. And I didn’t think very hard about that, to be honest. I wanted to step into the light. Chris is a sunny, loving, really fun person, and I didn’t really understand why I should be prudent.”

Are she and Evans on good terms? “We’re not on bad terms, but we haven’t really seen each other, spoken a lot,” she says. “I think it’s probably best. I’d love to be his friend one day, but we threw down pretty hard. No regrets, though. Ever.”

Slate introduces me to the mascots of her new home, two cute mice figurines in jaunty outfits who look like they’re off to travel the world. “The way I feel now is I’ve stepped out of the woods and I’m a forest animal and I’m standing on the lawn,” she says. “And if anybody tried to approach me right now, they’re seeing a creature that’s just trying to figure out what the lawn is like. All I’m thinking about is the lawn. I’m not thinking about whether or not they are going to be a fun person to be on the lawn with, because I am just trying to be on the lawn.” And what or where is this lawn? “It’s just where I am,” she says. “I like the lawn. It’s filled with air, freedom, sunlight, and I’m alone.”

Slate wants to step out in the sunlight now, with a walk around the Silver Lake Reservoir. She bids good-bye to Reggie and turns on the TV to keep him company. “I watch Twin Peaks, but Reggie watches Frasier,” she says. That morning, while Slate was walking him, a woman got out of her car and stopped in her tracks. “She was like, ‘Oh, are you Jenny Slate?’ And I said, ‘I am.’ And she said something nice to me and I said, ‘Thank you so much. I need a lot of encouragement,’ which is usually what I say because it’s true.”

Dating Evans actually, weirdly, spurred her to double down on her career, because, she says, “I don’t want people to ask me more about my love life because of him than they ask me about my work,” and in order to ensure that, she’d have to produce a lot of work. She does stand-up in small clubs whenever possible and had two films at Sundance this January, just as the paperwork for her divorce came through: The Polka King, the true story of a polka-world Ponzi scheme, opposite Jack Black; and Landline, a story of two Jewish-Italian sisters and their parents having life and love crises in ’90s New York City, with Obvious Child creators Gillian Robespierre and Elisabeth Holm (out July 21). Soon she’ll be heading to Vancouver for a road-trip movie with Evan Rachel Wood, Alison Pill, and Cynthia Erivo, which is also Wood’s directorial debut. She and Fleischer-Camp are also at work on a feature-length Marcel the Shell movie, which she says will be “a character portrait much like Billy the Kid or Grey Gardens.”

Today, she’s leaning in to International Women’s Day by wearing a sundress covered in red roses and made by a company, Day Space Night, that’s run by women. She even canceled her one meeting with a man, an appearance on Snoop Dogg’s podcast, so she could have an entirely penis-free day. And she’s planning on ending the day by going with her girlfriends to a 90-minute seminar on fertility and reproductive rights.

A vocal supporter of Planned Parenthood, Slate credits Obvious Child not just for allowing her to prove she’s a legitimate actress, but also for turning her into a women’s rights activist. Back when she signed on, she says, “I still felt embarrassed of the word feminist.” Then one day discussing a costume fitting with co-star Gaby Hoffmann, Slate jokingly apologized for showing up with “crazy bush,” she says. “And Gaby did not take it as a joke. She was really serious and she looked at me and she was like, ‘I didn’t know we were supposed to apologize for that.’ I was like, Oh, I’m being a fool. I need to learn this shit right now.”

And now that she’s got a financial cushion from Zootopia and Secret Life of Pets, she can act on what she’s learned and say “no” more often. Specifically, she’s drawing the line at any movie that, she says, “makes it okay to laugh about things like women’s bodies after birth, like when women who’ve just had babies are referring to their vaginas as all ruined. I think it’s really rude for someone to disparage a vagina in the female body after it’s just fucking created and exploded a baby into our world. It makes me furious and I will not change my opinion on that.”

Also a no-go are any roles she’s offered that “seem like a weird stereotype version of me. Like Quirky Best Friend: ‘She doesn’t have a filter! She talks about poop!’ ” She thinks it’s worth it to hold out for roles with nuance, that will allow her to lean into humor and tragedy equally, and get to the heart of the human condition. In the meantime, she has plenty of personal-growth goals. She wants to learn Norwegian this summer. She wants to spend time with her family on Martha’s Vineyard. And she wants to find a farm she can help on so she can be around animals.

Eventually, she’ll try dating again, too. “I am inclined toward partnership,” she says. “I’m like a mallard, definitely looking for my other duck. But I’ve been in love in very strong ways enough times now that there are just some compromises maybe I won’t make.” He has to know who Gloria Steinem is, for one thing. She’s thinking maybe a scientist with a sense of humor. But definitely someone who’s sure enough in who he is to accept that she’s had a past without him. “Whoever is the next person is going to have to respect that I had a husband who I loved and this boyfriend who I loved so much, and I don’t want to have to act like they weren’t important.”

We’re back at the apartment and Slate is overjoyed that Reggie hasn’t peed on anything. Speaking of pasts, she’ll also soon be hitting the press tour for Gifted with Evans. “I feel pretty relaxed about it right now,” she says, sounding not entirely convincing. “That’s because I know Chris and he’s a very nice man. And we’ve gone into our separate lives. But that doesn’t also mean that I’m going to sleep well the night before, you know?”

First, she’s taking her parents to Cabo San Lucas to celebrate her 35th birthday. I suddenly have a horror flashback to a similar trip to Cabo I took years ago and warn her not to drink the water or brush her teeth with it, or to have ice or eat anything raw, or maybe to eat anything at all.

“Oh God,” she says, laughing, “having raging diarrhea is just a real on-brand nightmare for me.”

She thinks for a second. “But, you know, it would be such an icebreaker. If I showed up with, like, a spray tan and a blowout, he’d be like, ‘What happened to Jenny?’ But if I was able to say, ‘Aw, man, I have diarrhea,’ he’d be like, ‘It’s you. I remember you.’ ”

*This article appears in the March 20, 2017, issue of New York Magazine.

[thekiltongrammarwriter]

Girl I’ve Always Been | Childhood (1)

Pairing: Andie Bell x fem reader (Becca Bell x reader) childhood best friends

Summary: Her deep silver eyes shot up to you, wide and almost menacing. Her eyes were the same color as your father you noticed. Her lips were calm and poised as they eyed you, running down your figure to stop at your soiled trainers. Her bike was still on the ground, you could just make out the sticker that lined the bars. ‘Property of: Andie Bell’ written neatly on with a marker pen. Andie bell.

Series Warnings: Childhood innocence, toxic parents, Jason Bell being his own warning, hurt/comfort, found family, firecracker baby Becca Bell, featuring the very famous Roadie and Toadie, My take on the Bell family. Pre AGGGTM.

Authors note: I first Read A good girl guide to murder when it first released in 2019, and I absolutely adored it. It kept me on my feet and I fell head over heels for so many characters. I happen to be one of those people that sympathize a great deal with characters. One of those characters happened to be Andie bell. She was so complex, so versatile it was impossible to know her next move. I throughly enjoyed the dynamic between the Bell family, and in turn it made me love Andie more as a character. Not condoning her actions, but there is a saying, hurt people hurt people. I wrote this piece simply to explore Andie’s childhood, and explore it in my own special way. This is again solely for entertainment purposes. I do hope you enjoy it. (The cover photos will be altered when we get picts of India as Andie)

Words: well beyond 7k (Not Proofread. Expect grammar errors)

Your eyes peered out of the frosty window of the car your parents had been driving for what seemed like hours now. You watched as the bustling streets of London remained a firm solid memory in your mind, your eyes now peering over at the soft country road of a small town. Your mother eyed you with soft eyes from the front seat, leaning down so her firm hand made contact with your cheek, softly moving some strands of hair from your eyes. “I know the move was not what you expected sweetheart, but your father and I know you will grow to love Little Kilton. I hear there are even some lakes? Isn’t that so Charles?”

Your father’s soft smile filled his features as he peered at you with his soft silvery eyes, “Oh yes! Plenty of lakes! I hear they’re known for their tea rooms!”

What town wasn’t known for their tea rooms?

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, watching as your fathers smile lifted at the sound of your voice, at the age of eight you had now moved more than four times. That was just part of the job given that your parents were the top familial therapist’s in the England. They had worked with so many families all over, from the great city of Cardiff in Wales to the great burrowing dales of Scotland. You had been too small to remember the early years, living in wales and Scotland, though you think now you’ll remember this move the most.

The white pale sign greets your eyes, ‘Little Kilton’ leaping of it as your father zooms past, he notices your wide gleaming eyes watching the small city center, the churchyard, the tea rooms. It’s all so new. It’s only when your father turns into a small neighborhood that you really feel anxious, your leg shaking against the car floor.

The houses all look similar to each other, terraced houses, orange brick lined with white window tills, black rimmed picked fences. Your father curses as he flips the map onto the left side, “Jenny do you have that paper I gave to you when we left tesco’s yesterday? The one with our address on the back?”

There is some shuffling as your mother peers through her rucksack, before producing a small piece of paper, you’re observant enough that you catch the street name, Hogg Hill. You laugh to yourself, imagining a street laden with Hoggs, all sorts of colors.

“There we are” your father sputters, twisting the wheel until the car is turning on a specific road. “Hog Hill, number 29”. The house isn’t what you expected, its a detached house, standing alone from all the others, the brick is devoid of color, probably withered away with age. The gate that lines the house is made of brick, metal bars upholding the bricks. The mail slot is pure gold, cleaner than any other mail slot you had seen in your short years of life.

The windows remain clean, and you’re about to ask your mother if the previous tenant had done a clean up when she answered for you, getting out of the car, eyes taking in the house.

“Would you look at that Charles-“ your mother begins, her words a void in your head as she begins to decorate the front door, talking a mile a minute about planting a small garden, to which you take the time to look round. The street is small, but you find yourself smiling as you watch an elderly couple walking their small dog, lead on and tail wagging. It makes your heart swell, but also in a way that has you begging for home. Your grandparents had been sad to see you go, and you along with them. You must have cried buckets upon leaving.

It’s your father who mentions it. You don’t remember noticing it yourself before he had brought it up, “My goodness will you get a look at that tree Jenny?? It’s bigger than five lots combined!” Your father comes near, rustling your ponytail and tickling you as he passes, “it’s a sycamore tree! Your favorite!”

Your eyes follow your fathers and right across from your house stands a tree. Not just any tree, a sycamore tree. Your grandmother’s favorite. It’s big and tall, overlooking the semi detached houses, and all you want to do is rush over and begin climbing. That small curiosity that beats in your chest aching to get out. You bet you could see all of Little Kilton from that high above the ground, you wager you could even see all of London, maybe even London Eye. It’s only then that your mother breaks your concentration, piling up your arms with boxes, as much as your eight year old hands can carry. And the tree is forgotten.

After nearly two days of decorating and helping your mum move the furniture you’re itching to get outside. It’s when your mother is out talking on the phone that you manage to sneak out from under her.

The weather is Cloudy, the breeze feeling nice on your skin, the tiny patch of sun that peeks out through the dreary clouds is warm. You tug your climbing shoes on, before racing across the street.

The sycamore is as big as your grandmothers, and you easily climb on it, making it halfway. You clutch the tree trunk in your hands as you peer down at the land bellow. Although your previous theory of being able to see London had been false, you never realized how small Little Kilton truly was. It stretched miles and miles, but seemed cut off from the rest of the world. A tiny town filled with tiny people.

A vast difference from the bustling Streets of London. Where the people were anything but tiny, crowds of people going to and from. The feel of the underground station rocking your feet, rattling the edges of your skin.

It was quiet here. Almost too quiet. The Unsettling sort of quiet that caused your mind to race with endless ideas. Here there was no underground station, no busy bodies going to and from, just the tiny town, where kids would play in the park and everyone knew your name.

It would only be a matter of time before your mum found you missing and would call for you to come back, help her finish off the garden out back. You sighed, moving to climb off the tree, making sure you were careful on the way, you didn’t want to get any scratches or broken limbs. Not like last time.

You hadn’t seen her at first, the tree had most likely been too high to peer down at, you had mostly kept your eyes on the rest of the town, not bothering to look bellow. A girl was on her bicycle, pedaling angrily down the hill. You watched from your front steps as her front tire hit a crack in the pavement. The first thing you noticed was, she didn’t cry. Or wince. She simply rose up from the road, ashy blonde hair now ruined as she pulled up her ponytail. Her scraped palms and unblemished face were a stark contrast to the fierce determination in her eyes. You could tell she was angry, from her raised brows and lips muttering incomprehensible words.

her knee was bleeding, racetracks of blood spilling over the wound that had no doubt gotten cut from the fall. You weren’t sure what possessed you at that moment to walk over to her. You were normally too scared, too sensitive to go talk to other children on your own. But something in you made your feet walk towards her.

Maybe it was because your parents were therapist or because you were observant and you always knew when people needed to talk, but you stood in front of her, your feet licking against the ground as you walked, alerting the blonde girl of your presence.

Her deep silver eyes shot up to you, wide and almost menacing. Her eyes were the same color as your father you noticed. Her lips were calm and poised as they eyed you, running down your figure to stop at your soiled converse. Her bike was still on the ground, you could just make out the sticker that lined the bars. ‘Property of: Andie Bell’ written neatly on with a marker pen.

Andie bell.

She eyed you for what felt like eternity, until you managed to speak. “I saw you fall”. If the girl thought your words were candid she didn’t show it, only rose those threatening eyebrows, her silvery eyes wild as she eyed you, like she was on the defense. You knew that because your parents had seen to many cases like that.

Andie couldn’t help but feel like your words were contradictory, like you cared but didn’t at the same time.

Her chest puffed outward, like a threatened puffer fish desperately trying to defend itself, and then the stubborn response fell from her lips, “Didn’t fall.” The words were harsh, menacing, with a sudden chill added to them. “just….lost balance is all”

You scoffed, eyebrows raised, clearly she had. The evidence was all around for others to see, You just stared at her for a second, wondering if she was being serious. Surly the way her knees were scrapped and her bike was dented had been evident of the fall, of some accident.

“But you did” you let out, head tilting, eyes soft.

Andie gulped, her nose flaring and eyes squinting in anger. “No I didn’t” she growled out. But you saw it—the tremor in her voice, the vulnerability she tried to hide. She got closer to your face, hands balling into fists. She didn’t like how weak you made her feel, and even more so that she couldn’t read you enough to decipher your emotions. It was beyond frustrating. but it was obvious you didn’t perceive . All you saw was an angry little girl with the same characteristics your parents would talk about.

You shrieked back as she stepped over to you, eyes still mapping out your emotions, trying to catch a glimpse of anything.

It took a second, but you could clearly see her anger, the way it was raw irritation. You planted your feet, stood your ground. She was in obvious need of help, you could tell from the way she held her body that pain was something she was not immune to.

“I have plasters. No shame in falling.” Andie’s gaze bore into yours, as if assessing whether your words held true. She was wary, like a wild animal caught in a snare and at that you watched as her eyes softened, and with a simple nod moved past you, bumping your shoulder lighty as she passed.

She followed you back to the house silently, scratched up bike trailing beside her.

She didn’t talk, didn’t even veer her eyes away from in front of her, pulling her dented bike by its handles. Once you made it to your new house, boxes and boxes still laying out in your fathers boot, evidence of you being freshly new to the town.

Your father smiled as you neared, his eyes kind and sweet, and you watched as his eyes took in the girl next to you, taking in her bleeding knee and soiled clothes. “Oh dear! Have a fall did we sweetheart?” He spoke, dropping the box he was carrying to come and eye Andie.

You watched the blonde girl, who seemed a bit nervous and confused as your father moved closer to her, she stepped back a bit, not too much for it to be noticeable, but you noticed. You could tell by her firm jaw and observant eyes that she was calculating her thoughts about your father.

“This is Andie Bell papa” you spoke out, moving to step in front of the small girl,a small smile perched on your lips. “She had a bit of a fall and I offered to help clean her up”.

You watched as Andie’s silver eyes moved to you, and you didn’t understand why you suddenly felt nervous, the beginnings of butterflies in your stomach.

Your father nodded at your words, moving to grab your head affectionately and drag you into him, laying a big almost embarrassingly kiss onto your cheek. You shrieked, pulling away, wiping at where your father left his lips.

“Always the mediator aren’t you” he had whispered into your skin

You were a big girl now, and you certainly didn’t need to be branded as the girl whose parents still treated her like a toddler with their endless affection. If your father noticed your less than enthusiastic behavior torward his affection he didn’t make it known. Only smiled that wide smile, “well Andie it’s a pleasure to meet you!! I’m sure you’ve made quite the impression on my daughter, you’re the first friend she’s ever brought home”.

You could feel your cheeks heating up at your father’s admission, you were worried Andie would be less than enthused to be around a middle aged man talking fondly about his daughter. You were sure she would take the plaster from your hands and walk straight out of the door, no thank you or words mentioned. She most likely thought you a nerd, a dweed, a good girl who did everything your parents asked, and with a smile. That you were, and you weren’t ashamed, you usually never were. So why was it when it came to Andie Bell did you feel the need to suddenly be cool?

To your great and utter astonishment the blonde only smiled at your father, the lines of her lips lifting into a beautiful grin, and you were amazed at how beautiful her smile was. It was a big difference from the scowl you had seen on her face the whole walk over.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too sir.” It was short and simple, and your father seemed to like that, moving aside and gesturing for you to take Andie inside the cluttered house, where you were sure your mother would be flying around like a headless chicken.

“Don’t let me stop you. Off you girls go, and make sure to clean out those cuts, don’t want them to get infected” he chimed, going back to the boxes laying on the pavement of the drive.

“Sorry about my father” you spoke, “he means well but sometimes I think he fancies making me feel embarrassed” you whispered.

You watched as Andie’s eyes remained on yours, something flickering in them, you didn’t notice it then, the small flickers. Emotions that were too big for an eight year old to feel, that would flicker and make themselves known.

“Your father loves you” she spoke, her voice calm and controlled, a major difference to her angry self that you had met a while back on the pavement floor. “I think it’s wonderful”.

Wonderful? Any other child your age would have agreed with you, would have laughed and said a very different thing, “parents! How embarrassing can they be!!”. But Andie Bell hadn’t, in fact she had saved you from making a small error in your judgement. You peered back to your father, watched as he eyed the boxes, standing that same way he always did when he thought too hard.

A smile formed on your lips. Your chest ached in that way that only ever happened when you thought of your dad. A warm feeling. “You’re right” you chimed. It was only then that your eyes caught the lines of discomfort in the young girls face, the way her lips let out a hiss as she walked.

You immediately without thought reached for her hand, concern etched into your soft eyes, “come along Andie, let’s fix that cut of yours”.

Your mum’s eyes rose from the lamp she had carefully taken out of the box, eyes seeming to take on a surprised expression as you strolled in, hand in hand with Andie. Your mother looked amused, like she’d waited for this moment for years.

“Made a friend already have we dear?” Her smile is genuine and soft, her eyes then turn down to the cuts on the girl and immediately mum mode is activated. She immediately comes near to Andie, “had quite the adventure it seems, come dear let’s clean that cut of yours. What’s your name sweetheart?”

Your surprised when Andie replies, fast and steady, you watch the way she interacts with your mother, her uneasiness of others seeming to fade away as she tells your mother where she lives, “Number 33 four houses down, I have a little sister named Becca, but she’s a bit of a bore, all she does is toddle about and play with her dolls”.

You think it’s the most words you’ve ever heard the girl say in your presence. Your mother seems to love the conversation, nodding along and laughing at the way Andie describes Becca, like any older sister would, with the least affection.

You watch from your place across the table as your mother asks permission to lift Andie onto the granite, and when she nods your mother lifts her on the counter, very tenderly taking the girls shins into her hands before cleaning out her wound. Andie doesn’t wince, nor cry, the only indication that she’s felt any type of pain evident from the way her fingers grip the sides of the granite, fingers turning deathly pale. “I am quite use to cleaning cuts” your mother spoke, moving to get the plaster from the box and placing them neatly on the wound, tapping Andie’s cheeks playfully as she did so. Andie had smiled, not a forceful smile or a big smile. But a soft one. Genuine in nature

“This girl over here is constantly giving me a fright with her tree climbing. I’m just happy that she was there to help you”.

Andie’s eyes meet yours, and to your surprise she nods her head, a mere shake directed at you, but you know well enough what it truly means. Thank you. Thank you for helping me. You can’t fight the smile that fits across your features, or the amused expression on Andie’s face. Once of the counter and onto the floor you watch as Andie’s eyes widen, your ears hearing a distant voice in the distance, “Andie your father is almost home!! Come put the kettle on!” It’s a woman’s voice. But your perspective enough to watch the way Andie’s eyes change when the word father is entered into the equation. Your mother must tell too, because she’s immediately speaking, “it’s about tea time. Why don’t you go along home now honey? I’m sure your mother is looking for you”. Andie is nodding, before making her way out the door and down to her bike, not even looking back at you. A pit opens in your stomach, but it’s only when she’s about halfway down the drive that she turns. “I didn’t catch your name. You’ll have to tell me next time!” She shouts, and then she’s gone, biking down the street down to her house.

Your mother only smiles, moving to kiss your forehead, “well look who made a friend today.” Only your not listening, your made to focused on following Andie as she peddles down to her house. Her mum is outside the house, looking like a carbon copy of her daughter, and she sighs when she sees Andie, speaking words you can’t hear, but you watch as Andie points in the direction of your house. Her mother peers over and you find yourself ducking behind the door, hoping she hadn’t caught you. But you don’t see the way Andie laughs, her eight year old teeth making appearance as she giggles.

You don’t see Andie much during the weekend, your parents keep you busy as you trail alongside them in the center of Little Kilton, holding fast to your fathers hand as you go into the antique shops, your eyes far to busy taking in all the old valuables, old oil paintings and clocks devoid of colour and paint. Although you can’t help but want to run into Andie, you can’t explain why, but you felt this feeling in your chest when you looked at her, you didn’t know what it was, or why it was there. At first you had thought it odd, but now..you enjoyed it. The way it would flit through your whole body, make your tiny heart beat fast in your chest.

As you sit in the ices cream parlor, a cone in your hands you watch as your mother sits in front of you, eating her ice cream with a spoon, much too posh then your father and you. Unlike you barbarians she didn’t feel the need to lick till her tongue was frozen. You were usually a rather observant child, people would comment that you were much to mature for your age, you weren’t sure if that was true. Did a mature eight year old still wear bunny nighties to bed?

But you were observant as ever. Had been ever since you were an infant, your eyes were always so clever, finding things, always searching. Learning, mapping. You could see it now, the way your parents were eyeing each other, you knew those eyes. The back to school discussion. It was practically protocol now.

“I can see you both eying each other, is it about school?” You let out, your tiny eyes flitted between your parents. Your father smiled, that large grin that lifted of his features, his sliver eyes glinted and he merely nodded. “As a matter of fact yes. Your mother and I know you’ll be starting up year eight soon.” Your father moved to pinch your cheeks, “growing a bit old ain’t you?” He joked. You giggled, but the sentiment was just as felt. You were getting older.

You were usually star pupil, always getting the highest marks in exams and projects. You were use to being the new kid, that never changed but it didn’t help when you started school back up again, it usually left you with anxiety, trying to fit in a new environment. You delt with many different children in the past, angry children, cruel, kind, clever, plain mad. That wasn’t what you were worried about. You were more worried about the logistics of the day. Which classroom would you go too, would you need your kit for physical education? What if you lost it or misplaced it? Would the teachers be angry?

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine come Monday.” Your mother spoke, “Kilton grammar School is a perfect educational school, I was just having a chat with that Dawn Bell from four houses down, and she tells me your little friend Andie is starting up year eight as well”. At that you can feel your mothers sly finger meet your stomach, you thrash as she tickles you. But all you can think about is that Andie will be at school. With you. It shouldn’t make you as happy as you feel, but you welcome the excitement.

The rest of the weekend flashes by so fast you’d think it never happened. Your mum finishes the final touches of the house, decorating it with as many colorful portraits and antique clocks. Your father helps you pick out your school uniform. Just as my school you’ve been to Kilton Grammar school is no different. Your father holds up your polo uniform, Kilton grammar emblem embedded in the fabric. He holds it up in his hands, it looks tiny compared to your father. Like he’s some giant. It makes a grin overtake your features.

“I quite like this shade of blue. Nicer than your old pair of uniforms you had to wear.” He puts it down on your bed, “now for your jumper”. You watch as he puts it next to your polo, “I say we go with these smart trousers, it will be a bit nifty when we drop of. Wouldn’t want you catching cold now would we? Or perhaps we could go with some smart skirts and wear some long socks, it’s a while since I was in primary school. Is that still allowed jelly bean?”.

You laugh, “i think I’ll go with the smart trousers papa”. He nods, “grand idea.”

It’s no surprise when on Monday morning your eyes open even before your alarm wakes. It’s the early hours of the morning, you can tell from the way the sun is not quite up, not yet ready to greet the sun. You yawn, pad to the lavatory, brush your teeth and smarten your hair. You settle for a dull ponytail, bunching up your brown bristles of hair. You wish you had gotten your mothers honey curls, but you hadn’t. Dull old brown suited you. It was then that your eyes caught sight of the sycamore tree. And you wondered how the view looked from way up high, it had been otherworldly to be up that high last time. But the colour from the morning sky must have been otherworldly. You had half and to sneak out, have a quick climb, perhaps ease your anxious anxiety, but your parents had woken up a bit long after.

Your mother busied herself with breakfast, putting a plate of fried eggs, one very juicy tomato and some mushrooms in front of your face. You had barley eaten two bites, your stomach filled to the brims with nerves when your mother had dragged you to the car, “we’ll be late if we wait any longer!” She chimed. You buckled in and watched as your father’s car rolled out of the driveway. You couldn’t help but flit your eyes to the Bell house. It looked quiet from the outside, and you wondered if Andie was half as nervous as you were. You laughed at that, Andie didn’t seem like the kind to be nervous about these type of things. You were sure right about now she was as calm and chipper as you were. Perhaps she would busy right at this very moment berating her little sister as they sat in the car, “Becca would you please stop that chattering!! It’s hurting my head!” You could practice hear.

As soon as the school gates appeared you could feel your chest halt, the way it always did when you were nervous. That familiar drop in the pit of your stomach. ‘I can do this. I can do this. Just be calm’ you recited in your head like a mantra. Your mother took your trembling hand in hers, and walked you across the cold nifty England air into the building. You took in the school corridors, watching all the children pass you in the halls. Your nerves seemed to run rampant as you took in the sight of all the halls, endless amount of classrooms and was that a stairwell?? How were you ever going to memorize this information? Where were the lavatories? The Headmasters office? The nurse?

“I can see your feeling a bit overwhelmed at all this new information” your mother’s voice spoke, and she very calmly took your hands in hers, her green eyes soft as she eyed you. “Remember what we practiced last time? Breathe in….” You did, “and out”.

She smiled once you did, moving to kiss your forehead. “Now you are going to have a wonderful day! I’ll let you in on a secret-dad and I are nervous as well. It’s always scary to try new things. But I’ll tell you what, when I come to pick you we’ll pick up a few sausage rolls”. How could you ever say no to that?

After your mum walked you to your class, you breathed in a sigh of relief when Mrs Edmunds came up to you, she was a soft young women, couldn’t have been older than your aunt, fresh out of Uni you assumed. “Well hello Miss Y/n. I’m Mrs Edmund! Welcome to year eight. Why don’t you go ahead and have a seat where you like, you can leave your kit on the table”.

Your brows furrowed as you eyes the corridors, flitting around for your father. He never would leave without saying any sort of parting. Especially on first days. Your chest began to heave slightly faster, what if he didn’t come?

“Looking for me jelly bean?” You immediately let out a sigh, falling into his arms and holding fast. Your father always had a way to calm your racing heart. It was like he just knew what to say. Some kind of magic only he had. After a long embrace and a kiss on the cheek he smiled, that wide glinting smile, sliver eyes looking grey in the light of the hallway. “"After while, crocodile."

"Too-da-loo, kangaroo." You reached down, squeezing his hand.

"Gotta go, buffalo." You squeezed back.

"Give me a hug, ladybug." He moved forward and pulled you into another hug and kissed the top of your head again.

"Take care, polar bear." You squeezed him tighter. He laughed, before pushing you into the classroom, your parents waving once last time before they disappeared down the hall and out the doors of Kilton Grammar. You were officially alone.

You scanned the classroom, eyes flitting to new faces you had never seen before, your hands were shaking in front of you, and you could feel your heart hammering in your chest. You hated the first day of school. Hated it.

“Oi” a soft voice flitted behind your ear, you turned taking in a young boy, his stature was just few inches taller than you, and you noticed the way his hair was dark and neatly pushed back. His dark brown eyes seemed to fill with kindness, it nearly radiated of him in waves. His eyes were soft as they laid on you, like he knew how hard your day had already been. “I’m Sal, Would you like to sit with me? I’m not much of a good talker but my mum says I can listen very well”.

At first you felt the overwhelming feeling of shame fill your chest, you were eight years old not some toddler, but Sal didn’t seem to mind. In fact his smile was wide and calm as he kept his eyes on you. Like a secure hug, and you knew at that exact moment that Sal Singh would be a friend you would never forget. He was still as he waited for you, his cheeks a red shade as you gave him a shy smile. His cheeks reddened, You shook his extended hand, offering your name. He smiled, his eyes alight. “I like your name, sounds like some fairytale character. Much better than what my mum picked. Sal” he retorted, his mouth lifting in disgust. “Not much of a name is it?” He joked.

You took your seat next to his, smiling when he held out an extra pencil. You quickly learned that Sal was smart, clever in the way he spoke. He was more mature than the other kids that sat behind you. He spoke about his mother and father, his baby brother who he adored to bits, Ravi his name was. you couldn’t help but feel like Sal had somehow in his own way, came to your rescue. Like some Angel sent to make your day better. Brighter, jovial.

“Would you mind if we sat together in the canteen?” He had nervously asked, his fingers bending his pencil, like he was waiting for you to run off and never speak to him again. “I wouldn’t sit with anyone else even if I could. I haven’t had a proper introduction to anyone else” you secretly whispered, and Sal’s eyes lit up, his dark eyes reminding you of the bark on the sycamore tree back home. “Wicked” he spoke. “I can introduce you to some friends if you’d like” he spoke, and before you could object he was calling names you’d never heard before.

“Emma! Chloe!” He called, and soon two new girls your age trotted over. Emma eyed you as Sal introduced you, she was shy. You could tell by the way she stood, her feet not quite touching. Lopsided.

“I’m Emma Hutton!” She greeted out, bellowing her name like she was some star in a film. You laughed, shaking her hand. Narcissism tendencies much? “Do you like hamsters?” The girl beside Emma questioned, her voice so high pitched it ricocheted of the walls. Before you could answer Emma was answering for you, “of course she does Chloe!! I was so jealous when Andie got one last summer holiday! And for what?”.

Your heart rattled against your rib cage at the girls name. Come to think of it you hadn’t seen Andie on the way to school, “Andie gets everything she wants because she’s a daddy’s girl”. Chloe sniped back, “As long as she’s the perfect obedient little girl her papa will cave for anything” Emma spoke, huddling up next to you and whispering like it was a big secret no one else should tell.

Curiosity killed the cat, you had seen Andie’s reaction to the mention of her father, had seen her tense and run off. That didn’t seem like the typical “Daddy’s girl” the girls had been referring to but before you could ask it was Sal who beat you too it. “We shouldn’t talk about Andie behind her back. It’s gossiping. Andie wouldn’t like it, and neither do I.”

“Oh come on Sal!” Chloe began, “even you have to admit that Andie gets everything she wants! She never has to work for it”. You could already detect some odd system of hierarchy. All you knew was you didn’t like it, it made something pull in your stomach. Your conscience telling you it wasn’t right. Yet you couldn’t pull away. It was Andie they were talking about.

You watched as Sal’s eyebrows rose, eying both girls. It seemed he was the mediator of the group, the moral compass. “So what of Andie is given everything? Money and gifts aren’t everything girls. And I wouldn’t joke about Andie’s father, it’s not easy being a bell” he stated, his shoulders deflating like he knew something. A glint in his dark eyes. You willed yourself to follow him back to the desks. Waiting beside the boy as he breathed. Simple sigh, he chucked softly, “sorry about the girls. They think they know everyone’s business.” You were about to say something when he spoke, “Andie was right about you. You have a kind heart” he spoke, moving to lay his hand on yours. You could feel your heart race, your cheeks red. No one had ever said that before. “Takes one to know one Sal” you spoke. The smile on his face was victory enough.

As if summoned Andie had appeared through the threshold, school uniform on and tired blue watercolored eyes taking in the classroom, you tried to school your features when you caught sight of her, giving her a small smile, and you felt your heart aching when she only eyed you before walking to Chloe and Emma. You could feel your heart pummel in your chest. But as soon as you felt your eyes get teary the chair squeaked against the floorboards. Andie bell had sat next to you. You of all people. You could see Emma and Chloe let out a huff, obviously wanting Andie to sit next to them.

“Hiya y/n” she let out, her smile wide as it had been when she left your house. You had smiled back, just as wide, but Andie caught your eyes drifting back to Chloe and Emma, eyes staring daggers at you, as if you had stolen their best mate. “I wouldn’t worry about them” Andie whispered, “I sat with them all last year and it didn’t do me any good. Thought I’d sit with you for a change”.

“I’d like that very much” you uttered.

“Good. Because I like you y/n” she said so matter of factly. The words made your cheeks heat up. Andie bell liked you. What a privilege your eight year old mind thought.

Andie had a glint in her eye, the kind that made your stomach twist and your innocent mind twist with fascination, she was a character that was for sure. You had seen the way Chloe and Emma has stood up the minute that Andie had walked in. Like some toppled toy soldiers standing up at attention at the first sign of the commanding officer. Andie had only eyed them as she passed, stopping to say something to Chloe, you had been to far to hear, but it obviously left Chloe with a sour expression on her face. You knew from your first introduction that Andie came from a toxic house, you had met a lot of them moving around so much. But none of them had taking a liking to you, no matter how hard you had tried, expect Andie.

Andie eyed you with her wide childish eyes, “you know mum told me that I should start hanging out with nicer girls. Chloe and Emma are all good and well but-“ Andie halted, her jaw set in a square. Tiny brain trying to make out a sentence. “Your kind. We could use a bit of that. How would you like to join our group y/n?”.

Now looking back you almost wish you could drag your eight year old self back and tell her that this group was not what you had thought it was. That this group would one day leave you high and dry. Dump you like wasted trash in the bin. That it would hurt just as much coming from the eight year old blonde who had looked at you that day like you were an Angel from heaven. Perhaps she had, but those days were gone now.

Andie’s invitation was simple. her eyes wide and pleading. You nodded, and just like that, you stepped into her orbit. In class, she claimed the seat next to you, her pencil case spilling over. “Oops,” she’d say, brushing her knuckles against yours. “Clumsy me.” You found you didn’t mind how many times it would fall into your desk, in fact you wished it had happened more. It was a confusing thought. You remember asking your parents about it on the car ride home. Your dad had nearly stepped on the gas pedal too hard, and your mum had eyed him like they knew something you hadn’t recognized yet.

Andie’s brashness was legendary. She wielded sarcasm like a sword, her words cutting through the air. But you saw beyond the armor—the tremor in her hands when someone mentioned her father, the way her laughter sometimes cracked at the edges. You were surprised when she would eye you with soft eyes, her words far more kinder and softer which was different from the standoffish Girl who had fallen of her bike.

Chloe and Emma eyed you with suspicion, their accents dripping with skepticism. “What’s so special about you?” Chloe would ask, her freckled nose wrinkling. “Andie’s never been this clingy.”

Andie’s soft spot for you was evident. She’d slide into the seat next to you during classes, her elbows brushing against yours. Emma scowled from across the room, but Andie ignored her, whispering secrets to you instead. “Did you know,” she’d say, “that the periodic table is like a giant puzzle? I’ve cracked it, you know. Hydrogen and helium are the corner pieces.” That alone had almost surprised you, Andie didn’t seem like the type of student to study hard. But she had. Sometimes all night. Anything to get away from her parents fighting in the other room and perhaps she had done so because she had seen you looking at the periodic chart a little too long during library hours. You were clever as well. Andie didn’t understand the feeling, she’s never felt it before. This feeling in her gut that made her want to please you.

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Andie, stop geeking out.”

But you loved it—the way Andie’s eyes sparkled when she talked about her hamster Roadie, the way she shared her lunchtime sandwich without hesitation often sneaking an extra Jaffa cake just for you. She wasn’t mean to you like she was to Chloe and Emma. Instead, she’d pass notes during maths, doodling random thoughts and questions. She’d ask you questions about what you thought of her outfit, would gleam when you would say she looked wonderful.

Outside of School you and Andie would meet each other by the sycamore tree. “You really weren’t lying when you said it was big” Andie had spoken, her blonde brows raised as she eyed the tree. “You mean you haven’t seen it?” You asked, chuckling. How had Andie not seen it after all these years of living on Hogg hill?

Andie could see your confused amused eyes and she only chuckled sardonically her usual hint of cruel ness left out as she eyed you, shrugging her shoulders. “I guess I never was a much of an observer” her reply was.

“You want to climb it with me?” You asked, grabbing Andie by her shoulders. Excitement bursted out of your veins and the thought of being so high up in the air with Andie Bell. Andie was never afraid of anything, you had known her for a while now. She was the queen bee of the group, confident, alarmingly confident. You had seen her dig sharp mean replies to Emma and Chloe like it was the most easiest thing in the world. So it confused you when she eyed the tree with less than enthusiastic eyes.

“I think we would be much safer on the ground. Less likey to break a bone…or a nail” she commented.

Behind that comment had been fear. You knew that. With soft eyes you came closer to the girl, your shoulders brushing.

“It’s alright to be scared” you spoke. “Being scared means your human. My mum always says that being scared is like a superpower” you laughed. You had never thought that true, till now.

Andie had eyed you with wide unbelieving eyes. Her signature smile on her features.

“Everything in that sentence was wrong. How is being scared like a superpower? If anything being scared is a weakness”.

You knew she believed her words. Was it her father who had told her that? You hadn’t met her father yet. He seemed far to scary, too quiet for your liking. Like he was watching, observing. Your father had met him. “Jason Bell offered to take me golfing next week. He seems like a kind bloke.” But you had seen how his daughter reacted to just his name alone and right then in your eight year old mind you had tagged him as dangerous.

In the end Andie Bell had climbed the tree with you. It didn’t take much hackle, and you were surprised when she had climbed even faster than you. The tree was high up and you could tell from the way Andie’s fingers clung to the bark, her nails digging into the tree trunk with a true fervor.

You watched her gray eyes take in the scene. The wind was soft this time of day. The birds flying past. Little Kilton was no longer a mystery. Andie could see everything. Could feel everything. The sky which was a darker cloudy color. The surrounding woods nearby, the old farmhouse that was deserted that in a few years would become infamous to her.

“Are you still scared?” You has asked.

Andie had scoffed, “why would I be scared? I’m only a few hundred feet of the ground! My father would kill me if he saw me up here this high” Andie spoke, her eyes taking in the view from bellow.

You settled in next to her. Your shoulders brushing hers. Andie’s fingers had made their way down to lay next to yours. Inches apart.

The silence had been what you remembered the most. Pure silence. Nothing but the wind and the soft sounds of Little Kilton bellow. Andie was different up here. With you. The silence seemed to awake something in her.

“My dad never hits me”. The words hit you like a freight train.

“What does he do then?” You asked, watching as Andie’s eyes began to tear.

“He-I know he loves me. Mum says he does. But sometimes I’m not so sure. Sometimes I think he’d rather be somewhere else.”

“Sometimes I think I’m not good enough. Doesn’t matter what marks I get on an exam, he’s always angry. Always quick to yell. He says such mean things. Cruel things. He thinks it doesn’t hurt me…but it does. I try to brush it off, to remember he loves me. But…sometimes I can’t”.

You don’t pry. You hadn’t noticed Andie’s fingers had inched closer and closer to yours till they were touching. Your stomach lurched and you immediately could feel your cheeks flush. It took a second but Andie wiped her tears.

“What was it you were saying? About scared being a superpower?” Andie changed the subject.

You let your eyes look bellow, watching as both your feet dangled of the branch, feet upon feet of air bellow.

Andie looked down too, her eyes widened, her fingers gripping yours a little tighter.

You licked your lips, “does it scare you?” You spoke, eying bellow. Gravity and the tree were all that stopped you two from tumbling down.

Andie nodded.

“Good. My mum told me that’s good. Because your heart is beating so hard..you can almost feel it in your palms. Blood and oxygen is pumping though your brain, think of it like rocket fuel” you laughed. “Right now you can run faster and fight harder. You can jump higher than you’ve ever jumped! It’s almost like you can slow down time. I’d wager that the scariest girl up here is you”.

Andie had laughed. “Chloe and Emma would agree with you”.

You must have sat up on that three for hours. Just you and Andie. You spoke of your time in London. How the streets were always crowded and the kids in your school weren’t any better. You spoke of your grandparents, how your gran always made the best Yorkshire pudding. Andie had smiled at that, saying she was pretty sure her gran made the best Yorkshire pudding.

It was only when a small voice from bellow caught your attention. Andie’s eyes had trailed down and suddenly she sighed, “it’s almost supper time. We’ve been up here for hours. We better get down and wash up”.

You nodded, not quite ready to go down back to real life. Back home. You could tell Andie thought the same. Could see it in the way she took one last look at little Kilton. “Thanks for this” she spoke.

“I’ve never had a friend like you before”.

You smiled, your little heart beating in your chest.

“I’ve never had one quite like you either Andie Bell”.

You let Andie go down first, following behind. It was only when your trainers hit the ground that you noticed the small blonde who had been calling Andie from bellow. You almost laughed. Andie had described her little sister well enough to you. You knew she loved her, no matter how oddly she showed it.

Becca Bell stood staring at the tree in wonder, blonde waves looking like she had just awoken from a nap. Her arms eagerly holding a small hamster in her soft fingers. The hamster looked calm, didn’t put up a fight. Perhaps he had known it wasn’t going to help.

“Andie! Mum wants you home for supper! That tree looks high! Did you almost fall off? Can I climb it?” Becca chatted of like a broken record. You couldn’t help but laugh at her cute little face.

Andie dusted her pants trousers, eyes on alert as she spotted what was lodged between her little sisters hands. “Becca Elizabeth Bell what have I told you about taking Roadie outside his cage!” Andie began, taking the hamster from her younger sisters hands, you watched as the little creature huddled into Andie’s warm hands.

Becca didn’t at all seem bothered by her sisters antics, you assumed she was use to her outbursts and spurts of emotions. She only shrugged her shoulders, “I know what you told me Andie but you should have seen the poor little things! He was thrashing against his bars like mad!! Mum let me take him out because his chattering was making her ill”.

“Is this your special friend Andie!! The one you told mum about? Are you the girl who helped Andie after she fell off her bike? I’m Becca!! I like candy floss and I have a hamster named Toadie!” She squealed of, making you smile. You adored her already.

“Pleasure to meet you miss Bell!” You shook her hand, and she smiled, blushing. “I like you. All of Andie’s friends are quite rude to me. Except Sal. I like him. Do you know Sal?”.

“I do. He’s a very lovely person. Very kind”.

“Can you teach me how to climb that tree?? Ooh! Can you play a game of what time is it Mr wolf?? Andie never plays with me” at this the small blonde loved forward, her eyes mischievous, “She’s a bit of a sore loser! Hates losing”.

You hid in your laughter. Andie had caught on and immediately took you by the hand, putting enough distance from her little sister, “y/n has no time to play childish games with you Becca. She’s my friend! Not yours!”.

You would have loved to hear those words if were not for the fact that Becca looked hurt. Her blue eyes had dropped and her bottom lip trembled. You slowly unhooked your hands from Andie’s. Giving her a pointed look.

“No need for a cry Becca” you began, instinctively you reached out for her, pulling her to your chest. Becca immediately wrapped her arms around you, “so you’ll play with me then?” She looked beyond happy.

You smiled.

“Of course! And Andie will play too, won’t you Andie?”

She just grumbled.

[atmosphericradar]

Homelessness is a problem across American cities right now because the systems of society and governance currently in place are striking downward at homeless people.

Here is an example of a small project to extend some basic sanitation services to the homeless people of Seattle, WA (a historically left-leaning major city in the USA): installing some public hand-washing stations.

Here is an article from the Seattle Times trying to identify why a $100,000 community project to install less than 50 public sinks, started in 2020 to help combat the pandemic, yielded only 5 installed sinks as of early 2023.

"It was with urgency that council members approved the $100,000 for the street sinks, based on a cheap and easy-to-install prototype by the Clean Hands Collective — a group formed in 2020 of architects, University of Washington professors and students, and a then-middle-school-age student who teamed up with Real Change, Seattle’s street newspaper. The design uses plants and soil to filter gray water.

An original pitch by the Clean Hands Collective estimated $100,000 could pay for 63 sinks.

Later, after the money was awarded between Clean Hands’ and a more high-tech design, the two groups estimated closer to 43 sinks."

This is a slam dunk project for the city! It's cheap, it's feel-good, and it helps vulnerable people during a time of crisis. Remember that most public places with washrooms and restrooms closed their doors during the Pandemic. These public sinks are intended to provide a temporary solution for homeless people unable to access previously-available sanitation services. In November of 2020 this was an easy political win, so of course the City signed on.

What happened? Well, the City abandoned the public sinks project, letting it slam directly into the wall of bureaucracy that currently impeeds an untold number of other grassroots public works infrastructure projects.

Firstly, the City took six months to actually provide any of the allotted $100,000. Seattle Public Utilities (under then-Mayor Jenny Durkan) "wanted to open up bidding to more people, expand the scope of the project to include things like food waste disposal, and address concerns such as ADA compliance, greywater disposal, and tripping hazards, among a long list of other issues," according to this article published in the South Seattle Emerald. All of these stumbling blocks are common in US politics: feature/scope creep, opening the project to additional bidders, and safety concerns & ADA compliance. The last thing in that list is the most reasonable, IMO.

But the first two are classic American Political Bungles. There's a pandemic, and homeless people in the city are also dying of various other preventable diseases. So instead of moving forward on a cheap and good enough sanitation solution, the City wastes time by: looking their gift horse in the mouth by asking for an additional solution to another unrelated problem, and also by asking around for other organizations to propose a competing solution. And the City did find another competitor: the City directly asked a makerspace in South Lake Union, Seattle Makers, to propose a design. Seattle Makers proposed a more expensive sink design, which successfully won the bid and got 40% of the total $100,000 project money.

OK, so it's now May of 2021. This $100,000 quick-fix public sink project now has two separate volunteer-driven feel-good organizations making two separate sink emplacements (one of which is signifigantly more expensive), and no sinks on the ground after six months. At least the sinks are ADA compliant? Sure, but the cheap portable restrooms that the city has also been deploying during the pandemic (aka "portapotties" or "sanicans") are not ADA compliant. The City is imposing restrictions on this lightly-funded volunteer project that the City won't hold itself to! Rules for thee, not for me.

Now it comes time to deploy the sinks. Except there are rules on where the sinks can and can't be. As the South Seattle Emerald reports: "The Clean Hands Collective hired a contractor to work with the seven district-based councilmembers to identify appropriate sites for 63 sinks — nine in each council district — but the City now requires the sinks to be near a storm drain and a fire hydrant, which knocks many sites off the list. “If we’d known these specifications [from the beginning], we could have saved a lot of work and money,” McCoy said." If the City truly wanted these sinks deployed ASAP, they would have presented these restrictions to the organizations building and deploying the sinks at the start of the project, ideally during the bidding process they demanded occur, so that the organizations signing on have the clearest possible idea of what they are signing up for.

And you had better believe it doesn't stop there, because according to the earlier Seattle Times article: "organizers have not installed one sink on city land due to strict permitting requirements and “outright anti-homeless sentiments.”" That's right, the City refused to allow the sinks on any City-owned land as of early 2023! The same government that paid for these public-access sinks to be installed won't permit them to be installed on public land!

As a result of this, all of the deployed sinks are on private land. And both sink-making organizations are having trouble finding additional landowners who are willing to host the public sinks (shocking, I know).

There have been other hurdles as well. Real Change claims that the City required: "every site had to receive an individual permit, versus receiving a blanket permit that could work across sites." This follows the trend of the City obstructing its own project. Seattle Makers ran into an issue with insurance: "Jeremy Hanson, director of Seattle Makers... spent the first several months getting appropriate insurance so he could haul the sinks and large amounts of water. He also had to get the sink design approved by Seattle Public Utilities." Note that these "first several months" occured after the City's six-month post-approval rigamarole. And why couldn't the city send insured tow trucks or City-owned maintenance vehicles to move these sinks? Surely that would be a better use of time and money, both of which are at a premium as people are dying.

What does the City of Seattle have to say about all this? A lot, and very little. Firstly, the City as an organization clearly understands the need for such facilities. According to the Seattle Times: "[the City] stood up six sinks around the city, separate from the street sink program. And today, the city currently manages three shower trailers and eight hygiene stations." So the City was deploying it's own hygiene project in parallel.

This begs the question of why the City invested in this community-driven public sink project in the first place, if they planned to deploy their own facilities? In the same Seattle Times article as above, the paper reports:

"Jamie Housen, spokesperson for [now-Mayor] Harrell, said he sees this delay as evidence that city-led implementation would have worked better than community-based implementation.

“The city’s staff are equipped to site and install this kind of facility,” Housen said, “as they did when they used their ongoing experience with hygiene programs to quickly deploy portable toilets, sinks, showers and laundry facilities for flood victims in South Park earlier this year.”"

Fuckers! If the City has the best ability to install these public sinks, why isn't it doing anything to help install them??? This was supposed to be a cheap and fast-deploying temporary relief measure! The City is the one holding up the process for years via red tape and denying use of public land!

As of early 2023, Seattle Makers "have four sinks that are built and looking for a home," and Real Change said "a few sinks are built and sitting in storage, waiting to be installed." But it's doubtful the city will ever allow them to be installed. It appears as though Seattle spent $100,000 on optics, then got cold feet and strangled the project. Gallingly, the City also went so far as to deploy 6 of its own sinks, despite the fact that the community project had built sinks available to deploy! In theory and practice this is a good thing, but the City imposed onerous restrictions in order to subdue it's own homeless aid response, from more than 40 sinks down to just 11. And this is just sinks!

Seattle is commonly touted as one of the most progressive cities in America, and its citizen community might embody that, but the City itself certainly does not. It refuses to help homeless people, and it refuses in the most Neoliberal way possible. If it truly cared, it would lift the bureaucratic barriers to helping them. It could clearly deploy all kinds of emergency sanitation services to the South Park flood victims; but those people were homeowners.

Governments should enable the community to help the community. The people of Seattle want to help the homeless, but the City won't let them. I can only imagine what cities with less progressive reputations are doing to their homeless people.

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

I’ve been seeing Dead Boy Detectives around a lot lately but I don’t know much about it, so if you want to tell me about it I’m very interested! I’m also curious about the story Came up from that lake of fire. (And I always love to hear about your original work!) 💚

Dead Boy Detectives is a a delightful show about the ghosts of two British teenagers who run a detective agency where they help their fellow spirits tie up any unfinished business so they can move on. It shares a lot of DNA with your classic monster-of-the-week show (I'm one of the 5 people on Tumblr who has never watched a single minute of Supernatural, but I hear a bunch of people who were involved in SPN are also involved in DBD.)

What sets it apart for me personally is the characters. As is typical for Netflix, there are only 8 episodes, which often hurts characterization in these type of plot-heavy shows, but each character seems like a fully fleshed person with their own goals, fears, and rich inner lives. Even characters who would be nothing but comic relief or plot devices on other shows, like the man who is really a cursed walrus or the grumpy goth butcher (my beloved Jenny) are given depth.

Also, the main characters, Charles and Edwin, have an absolutely fantastic relationship. Whether you see them as platonic, romantic, or something in between, they're the most important person in each other's lives and it's really sweet and beautiful.

I highly recommend it (with the caveat that the first episode has lots of clunky dialogue and exposition, especially in the first half. I promise, it gets better.)

Anyway, it's eating my brain and now I can't stop writing fic about it, so here's a snippet of the next chapter of Came up from that lake of fire under the cut!

“You know, Esther is certain to have collected a large variety of magical items during her long life, including books,” Edwin says. “Something in that house is sure to be of assistance during our search for the Deathless.” A woman browsing through a rack of blouses turns to stare at him and Edwin remembers that this isn’t the type of thing a living person can say out loud while standing in the middle of a thrift store. “In that… in that television game we’re playing,” he adds quickly. “I know how you enjoy your television games, Crystal.” “They’re called video games.” Crystal shoves a stack of shirts into his hands. “Here. Someone must have just donated all their grandpa’s clothes. They’re perfect for you.” “You jest, but I’m not impressed by modern fashion.” Edwin studies the shirts with a critical eye. “I am.” Charles emerges from the dressing room, wearing a red t-shirt emblazoned with the name of a musician Edwin has never heard of and a pair of tight-fitting jeans. “What do you think, mate?” Edwin does not look down at the jeans. “Very modern.”

WIP Ask Game

[bellewintersroe]

Ronald Speirs x reader

Part 3! This should be better than the last part and less of a filler chapter?! I hope anyway.

Anyway, surprise surprise, sorry not sorry, this is smutty asf. Idk what’s wrong with me atm but whatever, I just need to write this whilst I can!!

Tw - 18+, sexual references, sex unprotected AGAIN lmfao, whatever, dirty talk, let’s just see what I end up writing.

Jenny keeps dreaming about Ron, now there’s no distractions with war, she finds the tension between the two of them too much and some how they end up in an office together… talks about fraternising ensue between the pair.

“You’re so good… so fucking good at that.” Ron whined, bucking his hips further up into my own. I was riding him, my hand pressed to his chest as his head dropped back, overwhelmed by the pleasure he was experiencing. He was beautiful, so overwhelmingly perfect, and he just oozed sex appeal.

“Keep riding me like that.” A soft spank was left on my ass cheek, my hips quickening their assault and my knees ached for release. “That’s it… cum for me Jenny, cum all over me.”

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna c-“ gasping, my eyes burst open, scanning around the room wildly. My heart was thumping against my ribcage and my momentary confusion was soon dissolved when I remembered where I was and what had just happened.

A stupid dream, another one. About Ron as well, god, these stupid wet dreams had to stop, what was I, a 14 year old boy?? Glancing around my own room, I was grateful I had my own space, able to not disturb any of the other girls from their slumbers.

As I slumped back down into the bed sheets, I couldn’t help but feel the aching of my core between my legs, sighing, I crossed my legs and attempted to ignore the sensation. I was becoming obsessed with the idea of being around Speirs, I hated it, another few days had passed and I just couldn’t clear my mind of all the nasty thoughts I had about my commanding officer. We could be dishonourably discharged, punished, locked up- even though the war was drawing to an end, the methods of punishment were still severe. My hand didn’t slip anywhere near my underwear this time, I just couldn’t give in to the thought of ruining mine and somebody else’s life. It was easier for me to think that when I wasn’t around him, when he was there, I felt compelled towards him. Fuck.

The following day, I’d spent my day off in the confinements of my bedroom. I’d had a relaxed morning, desperate to avoid the exact same guy I was also desperate to see again. The only time I’d ventured out was to go on a gentle stroll around the lake to meet Betty who would be waiting for me somewhere around the waters edge. It was tranquil, peaceful, I enjoyed myself. That was until I’d bumped into a group of men from a company I didn’t realise. They’d been drinking, and for the most part the majority just smiled and walked past me, but two guys towards the back of the group began nudging one another, sneering towards me. I knew better than to react, so I continued walking past them, praying nothing else would be said until they decided to steer directions and walk up at either side of me. “Hey, pretty, what’s such a nice dame like you doin’ walking all alone?” “I’m meeting somebody.” I politely responded, forcing a smile as I continued my quick pace to my destination. “Oh yeah, who? Your boyfriend?” The other one responded as I simply forced an awkward laugh. “Shut up, Frank, she’s obviously not taken if she’s walkin’ around here alone.” “Uh- I actually am.” I lied, crossing my arms over my chest defensively as I waited for my answer to get rid of them. “Oh, really? What’s his name?” “Where is he?” I winced at their questions, ignoring them again and continuing to walk forwards. I was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the interaction, especially with both of them being on either side of me. “You don’t speak very much do you?” The one I assumed was called ‘Frank’ questioned, almost stepping in front of me so I had to step around him. That’s where things got weird. Just as I stepped around this ‘Frank’, the other guy stepped straight up behind me, seeming to find it appropriate to place a hand on my lower hip. “Get off me!” I snapped, brushing his hand off and yelping in surprise as I turned around to face the two of them. “Hey!” A third voice erupted, bellowing from across the dusty track. As I turned over, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The moment couldn’t have been any more awkward than if it tried, but of course Speirs had witnessed the whole thing. “Oh great, who is that? Your boyfriend?” The first man leered as I watched Ron practically push straight past the second guy, snatching the other man’s arm. “Touch her again and I’ll break your fuckin’ arm. Both of you what’s your name and company? You’ve got nothing better to do than harass women, huh?” Woah. Even I was intimidated by Ron’s act of dominance. The men learnt the hard way not to mess with me again- or Captain Ronald Speirs. I’d never seen him in such a bad, bad mood and I didn’t know where to look when he and the two men’s commanding officer were practically telling them off like school children. As if the exchange couldn’t get anymore awkward, the men were fully escorted away to be dealt with, both their heads hung sheepishly low. Their commanding officer apologised to me once again before following the disgraced pair with a harsh stomp in his step. “You ok?” I was squinting watching the pair being practically arrested, my face only relaxing when I looked back over to Speirs. He was calm now, he wasn’t all pissed off and protective, even though I found that charming that he’d stand up for me, the way he was so soft now made me feel something deep within my chest. Something other than lust, oh no-

“I’m ok… thank you sir, I should go and find my friend.” “Where are you walking to? I’ll walk with you.” He swallowed as I averted my gaze from his. “To wherever my friend is, sir, Betty’s waiting for me somewhere.” “You don’t have to call me that, you know.” He muttered, beginning to walk besides me as I looked back up to him curiously. “Call you what?” I slowly asked, looking over his jawline that had a slight layer of stubble growing on. The afternoon sun was creating an orange glow across his profile, and I began to find myself admiring him in the most stupidest of moments.

“Just call me Ron.” He gently told me, kicking the dusty dirt below him. His words made me smile, the softness of them surprised me, before I then, of course, panicked that we were suddenly having a one on one conversation. “Okay… S- Ron.” I let out a soft breath of laughter at how normal it felt coming from my mouth. I’d only really called him that once before, and that’s when we slept together in the Eagles Nest. “I’ll have to get used to that.” I admitted. “I think I see your friend.” Ron then responded as I glimpsed up to see Betty waving me over. “Oh, yeah. Thank you for standing up for me earlier, I appreciate it.” Ron’s lips twitched half up as his eyes remained fixated on my own. “You let me know if anybody bothers you again.” Nodding, there was something a lot more innocent about the exchange compared to all the others we had. It felt pure, and it filled me with a sense of warmth. “Thank you, sir.” I quickly spoke, walking backwards, get still facing him. “Ron!” I corrected, before scurrying off to where my friend was.

* ”Then fourteen hundred you can report back to me that it all went smoothly in there.” Winters explained to me as we walked side by side towards battalion headquarters. Winters was busying everybody up, giving them ways to escape the war, whilst half of us nurses had been treat unfairly, he’d managed to get me out of a night shift by going down to a children’s hospital for the morning and visiting there. “Perfect, thank you so much, sir, I appreciate it.” I turned up to the red headed man with a smile on my face. “Good, you’ll be good help in there. It seems slightly more… alive than the night shift does.” “You’ve got a good point there.” I chuckled, entering the building to where a few of the other nurses were gathered around with our superiors. The majority of us had been fixed up with a good reasoning to get us off this unfair treatment, Winters wouldn’t have us being used unfairly.

The only space there was, was besides Captain Speirs at the back, as I walked over I smiled gently, swallowing the lump in my throat at the sight of him. I figured it would be substantially less awkward considering our interaction earlier, I hoped so anyway. Throughout the whole meeting I was only half listening, Ron’s arm would brush up against mine every now and then, and out of the corner of my eye I could see he was so close. If I stepped just the slightest bit closer, we’d be touching, to an outsider it looked normal, but to us it felt like there was something else completely different happening. Maybe that’s what he wanted, to play some kind of game, like cat and mouse. It was dangerous, so risky in a room full of all these people, but I liked the thrill of it. It felt like my breathing was uneasy, I swear he could tell, with one small glance to the side he’d be able to watch over my every movement.

Fidgeting, I moved my hand behind me, to rest on the table, but my fingers had brushed over his warm ones, and if I wasn’t crazy I swear I felt the nudge of his hand against my own. I remained completely still after that, feeling like a prey in that room under a predators beady eyes. Captain Speirs was so close to me, there was barely any room for small movements without grazing over one another. Worst of all, I wanted him to touch me- I wanted to touch him. After all the dreams I’d had about him…

There was a short film to be played, about the army nurses going into Japan. Exactly not what I wanted to think about, the impending threat of war not being over in the pacific somehow seemed even more daunting than everything we’d gone through in Europe. I switched my mind elsewhere, Ron. Avoiding listening to such statements such as ‘suicidal enemy’, I instead glanced down to the darkness that surrounded us in that small room. If he or I were to touch one another, nobody would know. He could probably slip a hand right up my dress and it would all be concealed by the darkness of the room. Sighing, I purposefully inched my hands ever so closer to him. Whilst I didn’t think he noticed, he did rest one hand on the table, the side closest to me. Stopping my movements, I glanced down to my left, making it a little obvious what I was doing. He must’ve noticed, copying my actions and gazing down to where my hand lingered before back up to the short film once again. For a moment, I thought he didn’t like it, so just as I went to retrieve my hand I was shocked when a simple finger ran over mine. A smile grew on my face, it was good it was dark in there because the footage was nothing to be smiling about. I felt his finger tip dance over the skin of my fingers, then my hand, before daring to reach behind me and stop at the tables edge. The small action drove me crazy, I think Ron knew it as well. When the lights were back on both of us acted like nothing had happened, despite the fact I was still breathing in manual mode, I semi ignored him, not knowing what to take from that situation.

Later that afternoon I was doing a few physical exams of the men for their records. I didn’t mind them, they passed time and I usually just got to spend time with the men I’d grew close friends with. It was 7pm, however before I’d got to the last man. “See you later, Alton, can you send in the next guy?” “Sure, I’ll catch you in a bit.” He winked, leaving the room as I ticked off a few more things on the paper before hearing the door shut quickly. “Oh, Captain Speirs, sir.” Scraping back my chair, I moved to stand at attention. “It’s fine.” He was quick to settle the formalities, handing me his papers over. “You’re here for a physical?” I asked dumbfounded as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Yes.” He responded, looking at me like I had two heads. What else would he be hear for? Stupid, stupid.

“Oh, yeah, of course.” I shook out of my awkwardness, glancing down to the papers on the table. “So you passed your physical exam by miles… you feeling okay in general?” My eyes widened seeing his physical scores. He was one of the top men, fastest, strongest- no wonder he was now the commanding officer. Ron nodded with a slight pout. “Okay, good.” I pushed the papers to one side, grabbing the stethoscope from the side. “I’m gonna just listen to you heart and breathing, take some blood and then I’ll start examining, come sit over here.” I nodded as he awkwardly took a seat in front of me. I smiled gently, moving over and pressing the stethoscope on his skin, under a loose gap in his shirt. Everything was fine, heart, lungs, but what I felt more awkward about was telling him to strip. “Um, if you just go behind the curtain and undress for me, same as always.” I avoided all eye contact, pretending to busy myself with a pen that I couldn’t find a home for. When I glanced up I noticed Ron attempting to undo his shirt right in front of me, my eyes widened. “Oh no, sir, you gotta go behind the curtain.” My hand landed on his as our eyes met for a brief few seconds. “Oh, okay.”

Within moments Ron was undressed and I was a blushing mess, of course he had his underwear on, but seeing him like this when we weren’t in a sexual situation made me al flustered. “You can come sit back down.” I watched as he sat back in front of me and I began examining, feeling his glands for any sign of bother, there was nothing.

“How much of this are you gonna do?” Ron then cleared his throat as I looked back up, my hand still rested on his chest. “How do you mean?” “As in… what else do you have to examine.” “oh, nothing private.” I sheepishly spoke. “That’s a man’s job, not mine.” An awkward giggle escaped my lips as I pressed over his chest, feeling for any abnormalities. I’d moved in closer, our knees knocking slightly, as I shuffled in my hair hearing him exhale gently. “You got any more after me?” Ron then questioned, my eyes lifting to really recognise how close we were. “No, you’re my last of the day.” My voice came out, barely a whisper as he nodded, a half smile growing on his face. Bashfully, I fluttered my eyes away, my heart rate taking off at a million miles per hour. Once everything was checked, sight, hearing, breathing- Ron was fine, but I however was left completely flustered, a literal mess, I was overheating as well. “You’re all done, everything’s fine.” My hand ran off his shoulder, standing back up from my chair, to push it back to where I got it from. “It is?” Ron spoke as I nodded. “Perfect, yeah. No surprise you got some of the top scores for your fitness earlier.” Ron sheepishly shrugged it off as I picked on the wooden table nervously as he stood up once again in front of me. “Don’t do that.” He winced, a hand covering mine. My gaze directed straight up to his, head tilting back to fully catch sight of him.

“Sorry.” My voice came out weak, like a whisper. “You said I was your last check up, right?” His voice lowered as I nodded, anticipating where this was going. His hand was still on mine, and we’d began to close the gap between us. “Yeah, last of the day. I got more tomorrow.” I averted my gaze one again, seeing him nod from the corner of my eye as his hand slipped off mine. Without thinking, I chased after it, my hand resting back in his again. “Ron, wait.” I stepped closer, borderline freaking out when I realised what I’d just done. Ron’s brows furrowed slightly, his free hand coming up to caress into my hair and over the side of my neck.

“You should go relax tonight.” He muttered, tracing his fingers across the sensitivity of my scalp. “I’m fine.” I sighed into his touch, hearing him hum out before moving closer to fully end the gap between us. Ron kissed me once sweetly, and again, before I felt myself practically dive on him. Shit, I couldn’t help it, I couldn’t get enough of him.

My fingers dug into the bare skin of his back, deepening the kiss as I couldn’t decide whether to yank on his underwear or his body to get even closer to me. The close proximity all day had ruined me, I was already aching desperately over him, and it was so wrong, in a physical exam with one of my superiors. But shit, I couldn’t help it. When my hands fell to his underwear, pushing on the band, he borderline pushed me back onto the desk, body toppling onto mine whilst pushing up my skirt. “I need you.” I admitted. “I just need you to fuck me.” The words came out bolder than what I expected. His fingers snapped at my underwear, stretching them down as he kicked at his fingers, lubricating my aching pussy before I pulled him by the ass into me. From the lack of foreplay I was still a little tight, but god I needed more of him, the second he entered me I let out a relieved sigh, feeling his arms wrap around my body to pull me close. His thrusts began, quick and harsh, filling me up in the way I’d needed. The sexual tension between us couldn’t be contained, and it always came to this in the most sneakiest of times. “Fuck me, sir.” I sighed out, keeping my voice on the low seeing as there was most likely people outside the door. Ron huffed with each thrust as he fucked into me, making the the table jump and move with each pump. He took a few harsh, slow thrusts, before giving it to me exactly how I wanted. One of his hands guided down to my clit, rubbing fast circles over my core as I covered my mouth with one hand.

Ron, knocked this hand away with his chin, attaching his lips onto mine as he groaned into the kiss causing me to scratch at his back harshly. “Please, please- like that, I’ve needed you so bad.” I admitted as he panted out, quickening his pace as he was encouraged by my words.

“Can’t stop thinking about you- about this.” He whispered back, grinding his hips right up to mine now as I let out a yelp maybe a little too loud. His words went straight to my chest, a warm swell filled me up and it caused me to scratch at his back more, Ron letting out a growl at the sensation.

It wasn’t long before I came crashing over the edge, babbling away as Ron moaned into my ear. “Cum all over me, fuck, that’s it.” He growled, biting down on my shoulder as his movements became choppy and strained. “Fuck.” “Cum for me, sir, fuck, I want it so bad.” With one last whimper from me, Ron pulled out and unloaded his seed onto my thighs, his high following mine shortly after as we both laid there breathing heavily. He was collapsed onto me, his cum rubbing up all over us uncomfortably. Grimacing, I glanced down as he followed my eyes. “Oh.” With that he was yanking tissues out of the box, wiping me clean before he did himself. I sat up on the table, still coming down from my high as Ron turned back to me, reaching forwards to do up my buttons. “So, is this becoming a regular thing now?” He practically smirked as my eyebrows raised. “I don’t know is it?” I straight up asked.

“Well… seems like it.” He muttered as he pulled his underwear back up, my eyes averting from his still evidently hard bulge. The white briefs didn’t do much to conceal anything, let alone something that bi- “shouldn’t we be more… careful?” “what d’ya mean?” He dumbly asked as I snatched my underwear back off the floor, pulling them back up. “I mean… you know, careful. If somebody finds out we’re both done for.” Ron watched me speaking with an unreadable expression. “You’re my commanding officer, I mean.” I mumbled out, shrugging with an awkward kinda chuckle leaving my lips.

Ron cleared his throat and moved around to retrieve his uniform that was discarded on the patient bed. “Yeah, suppose so.” Suppose so? How was he acting so nonchalant about this? His laid back attitude confused me, I’d expected him to be slightly more uptight, concerned, or maybe that was just me deflecting my emotions on him. “We should, I mean.” Ron corrected as I nodded, nudging down my dress to flatten any creases. Once dressed, Ron inhaled sharply like he was about to announce something important, but it fell flat. “Hm?” I frowned, not knowing how to fill the awkward silence. “I’ll see you… on patrol, tomorrow.” He too seemed a little awkward. After the intensity of our love making, our mundane conversations felt weird and unfitting. “Oh, I’m not going. I’m in the hospital tomorrow morning, so… I won’t be there…”

“Really? Forget what I said then.” He shook his head, fastening the last of his buttons on his uniform. He looked so handsome stood there, all tall and brooding, if it wasn’t so goddamn awkward then I would’ve been overjoyed. “I’ll see you later then, sir.” I smiled softly, fixing all the crumpled papers on my desk which we had messed up previously. “See you.” With one last nod of a goodbye, he’d left the room. A good 10 seconds later I’d noticed he’d left his god damn tie. Fuck. I contemplated running up after him, but then I didn’t want to seem desperate if I did so. Maybe he’d come back for it? Or maybe not, it had been too long of me sat there contemplating for him to have remembered. I was overthinking to the next level, so I simply left the tie there on my desk, gathered all my papers and left the office which I probably could never look at the same again. I was in trouble, big trouble- with myself.

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Here is the link to the chapter before: https://www.tumblr.com/bellewintersroe/714888831358451712/ron-speirs-x-fem-reader?source=share

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Happy New Year BMT ❤️ I was wondering, given your focus of study, if you had any queer movies (or any media really) that you love and would be willing to recommend?

Hi @moonmoonloves and Happy New Year!

I remember I made a similar list last year, but I can't find it, so I did a new one 😅.

These are just a few of them, it's not very comprehensive. But I recommend searching for lists made on Mubi as well. They're quite good and you'll find a lot more. I took some inspiration as well because my memory is not that good.

I hope you'll watch and find interesting some of the films I compiled here.

My advice is to also look for other films made by these directors because some of them focused on similar themes in other films as well.

Todo sobre mi madre (Pedro Almodovar, 1999)

La mala educacion (Pedro Almodovar, 2004)

Cabaret (Bob Fosse, 1972)

Happy Together (Wong Kar Wai, 1997)

Lawrence Anyways (Xavier Dolan, 2012)

My Own Private Idaho (Gus Van Sant, 1991)

The Rocky Horror Picture Show (Jim Sharman, 1975)

The Hadmaiden (Park Chan Wook, 2016)

Je, Tu, Il, Elle (Chantal Akerman, 1974)

Maurice (James Ivory, 1987)

The Hunger (Tony Scott, 1983)

My Beautiful Laundrette (Stephen Frears, 1985)

Velvet Goldmine (Todd Haynes, 1998)

Tomboy (Celine Sciamma, 2011)

Stranger by the Lake (Alain Guiraudie, 2013)

The Swimming Pool (Francois Ozon, 2003)

Paris is Burning (Jennie Livingston, 1990)

Water Lilies (Celine Sciamma, 2007)

My Summer of Love (Pavel Pawlikoswki, 2004)

Tom at the Farm (Xavier Dolan, 2013)

Pink Narcissus (James Bidgood, 1971)

Beau Travail (Claire Denis, 1999)

A Song of Love (Jean Genet, 1950)

Rebel Without A Cause (Nicholas Ray, 1955)

O Fantasma (Joao Pedro Rodriguez, 2000)

Victor/Victoria (Blake Edwards, 1982)

Farewell My Concubine (Chen Kaige, 1993)

Scorpio Rising (Kenneth Anger, 1963)

Cruising (William Friedkin, 1980)

Kiss of the Spider Woman (Hector Babenco, 1985)

Breakfast on Pluto (Neil Jordan, 2005)

Brothers of the Night (Patric Chiha, 2016)

[themeasureofasim]

Meanwhile at the Smiths, the kids were playing chess for like 6 hours because Johnny wanted to win a game (I didn't remember that playing a chess game takes this long).

Lola was playing guitar in her otherwise empty room because Chloe's right, we're broke af.

Lola: Welcome to adulthood!

PT#9 kindly unclogs the toilet upstairs, because we can't afford a repairman.

PT#9: What kind of trash were you fed with at campus? You've lived here for only one day.

And Jenny spends some time teaching new commands to Woody. She and PT#9 are going on a trip to Three Lakes during summer holidays.

Jenny: You must take care of the kids while we're away. You're the only one I could trust.