#this time I’ve discovered yes Minister | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theboywithburninghands · 3 months

Text

Oh boy, who’s ready for more Arranged Marriage? No I mean seriously, I hope you’re ready. I’ve been planning this chapter for a while, at least one part. I hope it’s up to snuff, enjoy! @fernstarsblog

T/W: Implied homophobia, drug use, era-appropriate sexism

Primum Peccatum Ch. 11: She Gave Me Sleeping Powder

“Pomni, eccoti qua! The tailor got here half an hour ago, where have you been?”

Mirella hurried across the foyer as soon as her daughter entered the Shutnyk Estate. Pomni scarcely managed to get the door shut and locked before Mirella began to fiddle with Pomni’s hair.

“Good morning to you too, mother.” Pomni drawled.

“Darling, when was the last time you washed your hair..?” Mirella fussed.

“Yesterday afternoon, Zooble can attest to it. Before you ask, I was visiting Sister Ragatha and Miss Gangle.” Pomni twitched an eye and moved her head away from her mother’s hands. “Mother, please stop that.”

“I’m sorry, piccola, I simply want everything perfect for today. I think you’ll be delighted by the dress I picked out for you!” Mirella clasped her hands together and beamed.

“If you managed to select one that isn’t an affront to fashion, that is,” Pomni replied tartly. She told her mother five days ago and in no uncertain terms that she wanted a dress without any frills, in the figurative and literal sense. Pomni warned Mirella that if she tried to force her into a gown that made her resemble some kind of albino peacock, she would set the manor ablaze.

“Oh, pish-posh, just wait until you see it! I had the tailor bring along a facsimile for us! You can make any changes you like, it is your wedding after all!”

Pomni chewed her lower lip to keep from blurting anything out. Her wedding? Ha. This had been entirely her parents’ wedding since the outset. It just happened to involve her.

A few dividers were set up in the northwest corner of the dining room, Vladimir seated at the head of the table with the newspaper. Zooble stood off unobtrusively in the corner, hand and claw behind their back. They gave a slight nod to Pomni as she passed.

“Ah, the paper is here. Has the post arrived as well?” Pomni asked, trying to remain inconspicuous.

Vladimir looked up from the paper with a raised eyebrow. “It has. Were you expecting something, Pomni?”

“Yes, I… subscribed to another literary journal, I was expecting it today…” Pomni said, looking down. A lack of eye contact would have betrayed suspicion, but Pomni already abhorred locking eyes, so her gazing at the floor was hardly atypical.

“Eyes up darling, the tailor has everything prepared,” Vladimir said.

From behind the dividers, a fellow with an appearance like Pomni had never seen before stepped out. He was the shape of an alligator, but his body appeared to be composed of some sort of jelly, slightly transparent lime-green and yellow with a white underside traveling up the length of his jaw. He wore an impeccably tailored navy blue suit with a red pocket kerchief. He bowed politely.

“This is Mr. Gummigoo, Pomni!” Mirella said. “He’s half-shapefolk, half-beastfolk, isn’t that interesting? You so rarely see such a combination around New Hirnantia.”

“G’day, Miss,” he said. His accent marked him as from The Elsewhere Isles of New Hirnantia.

The Elsewhere Isles were an archipelago of around 75 islands off the southern coast of New Hirnantia that human settlers explored centuries ago. While some of the islands were uninhabitable deserts or jungles dense enough to keep even the most intrepid explorers away, the largest island, Lulilaloo, was a more temperate island populated by a race of beastfolk. There was, of course, a war for the land and resources. However, the beastfolk of the island proved themselves quite advanced, having discovered how to make explosives and crude metal through their millenia of alchemical research. As such, the New Hirnantian army only managed to colonize roughly half the island before exhausting their budget and manpower. The prime minister had no choice but to sign a ceasefire with the leader of Lulilaloo’s beastfolk tribes that prevented humans from encroaching any further on the island, but tensions remain high on both sides to this day.

“How do you do, sir?” Pomni curtsied.

“Mr. Gummigoo is a renowned tailor throughout the world, Pomni!” Mirella exclaimed. “You have no idea the strings your father had to pull to commission him for your dress.”

“I hope this isn’t too inconvenient for you, sir.” Pomni said.

“Pomni, eyes up and on our guest,” Vladimir chided.

Gummigoo held up a hand. “It’s no issue, Mr. Shutnyk. Miss Shutnyk, would you like to see your dress?” he asked.

“I would, yes. Thank you.” Pomni replied, keeping her eyes down.

Mirella made a delighted noise, causing her daughter to flinch.

“Right this way, please,” Mr. Gummigoo said, leading Pomni to the dividers. “I took your requests for simplicity to heart, but your mother was adamant I include a bit of flourish in the design.”

“To nobody’s surprise,” Pomni muttered.

“Indeed,” Mr. Gummigoo said, a laugh on the edge of his voice. “But, I believe I’ve reached a happy medium. Now, please keep in mind, dear, that this is just a facsimile. I’ll prepare the actual dress for you when I have your measurements and your complete approval.”

Gummigoo smiled and pulled away one of the dividers. A mannequin, headless and legless, stood on a wooden stand behind it, clad in a dress.

Pomni walked a bit closer. She knew next to nothing about dresses, as fashion didn’t interest her, so she hadn’t the slightest idea of the fabric, although one material was abundantly clear. The lower half of the gown was decorated with white feathers. Beginning with just a few solitary wisps, they gradually thickened to cover the entire bottom half of the dress. Pomni touched it. It was pleasantly soft.

“Pomni, ask before you touch,” Mirella scolded.

“There’s no issue, Mrs. Shutnyk. It’s just a facsimile. And it is going to be her dress, after all.” Mr. Gummigoo replied.

She looked at the top half of the dress. It was patterned with small, modest white pearls of fabric, lacking sleeves or shoulders. There wasn’t anything else. No unnecessary ruffles or bands or tassels. It was…

“…It’s very nice.” Pomni said after a moment. She looked at Mr. Gummigoo with a small but earnest smile. “It’s… I quite like it.”

Mirella clapped her hands in delight as Mr. Gummigoo gave a satisfied nod.

“I knew you would like it, piccola, I just knew it! You’re an artisan, Mr. Gummigoo!”

Gummigoo raised a hand modestly. “It’s my pleasure, Mrs. Shutnyk. Now, may I have a few moments with your daughter? I still need to do her measurements.”

“Of course, of course! Oh, I’m so thrilled Pomni!” Mirella threw her arms around her daughter, who managed one hand on her back in return. “Very well, come along Vladimir, let’s allow Mr. Gummigoo to work his magic!”

Vladimir folded up his paper and scoffed. “Magic, indeed. For the amount of crowns I’ve given that gentleman, those feathers should come from a pegasus…”

The two of them left the room, Zooble following suit after a moment.

“Now, it's my understanding that you dislike being touched.” Mr. Gummigoo said.

“That’s correct.” Pomni replied.

“Shouldn’t be an issue, if you don’t mind holding my tape measure. Can you please hold out your arms?”

Pomni did so, Mr. Gummigoo unraveling a whip of measuring tape and looping it around her torso.

“Put your hand here if you don’t mind,” he gestured to a spot on her side where the tape intersected. Pomni put her palm over the tape, Mr. Gummigoo making some notes in a ledger with a fountain pen.

“Mr. Gummigoo, may I ask you a question? It isn’t about my dress.” Pomni said.

“Certainly, although I’m afraid I don’t have much expertise in subjects outside of tailoring.” he replied. He adjusted the tape measure around her hips.

“...How many women have you done this for?” she asked.

“Hm… going on 300 now, I believe.” he said, motioning for Pomni to hold the tape while he made another note in his ledger.

“300, gracious,” Pomni said. “Well, another query, if you don’t mind. Out of those women.. How many of them were happy to be married?”

“A good amount of them were very happy. It is their marriage, after all.” he replied. “Some were so overjoyed they were in tears. And some-”

“Were simply in tears?” Pomni concluded.

Mr. Gummigoo glanced over his shoulder for Pomni’s parents or Zooble, then looked back at her.

“Yes,” he replied, continuing to take Pomni’s measurements. “A few were forced into unions with distant relatives, or with complete strangers, out of financial necessity. Some of them whispered to me, or even tried bribing me to get them out of the arrangement. Of course, there’s nothing a tailor such as myself could do.” he replied, morose.

“That is what happened to me. I’m being married off as a ‘favor’ to one of my father’s clients to get him out of debt. Not as though he deserves it…” Pomni grumbled the last sentence mostly to herself.

“The man you’re marrying is not your ideal partner?” Mr. Gummigoo asked.

“The man… I am reasonably content with the man. Everything else can sod off-” Pomni covered her mouth. “Excuse me. Everything else is… unpleasant.”

“‘Reasonably content?’ You’re condemning the fellow with faint praise.” Mr. Gummigoo said, smiling. He had her hold the measuring tape around her shin and made another note.

“Believe me, it’s an improvement over last week. I’d have seen him tarred and feathered then.”

Mr. Gummigoo coughed lightly.

“But… things have changed. He was forced into marriage just as I was, and I’ve met his family. His home life makes mine look like a jaunt through a field of flowers.” Pomni admitted.

“And what of his character?” Gummigoo inquired, looping the tape measure around her neck.

“His character is pleasant. Although, as I said, I’ve only known him for a week…” answered Pomni.

“I would spend the rest of your time before your marriage getting to know him. If you appreciate his character, perhaps he can become your ideal partner.” Mr. Gummigoo said.

“That is what I’ve been doing, some of it purposeful, some through happenstance. He is well-spoken and charming to a degree, but… he has many skeletons in his closet.”

“Unfortunately, that’s true of most of us,” Mr. Gummigoo said, jotting down the last of his measurements. “This country thrives on the philosophy of keeping all problems out of polite society.”

“‘One must have some pressure within oneself to truly change within their chrysalis.’ Liz Armitage. I agree, Mr. Gummigoo.” Pomni said.

Mr. Gummigoo closed his ledger and smiled. “I’ve never read her. But, I can tell you this. I believe people have told me more secret worries than most clergymen have heard. Because I’m just a tailor. I create wedding gowns, and then I’m never heard from again apart from my invoice. Who am I going to tell?”

Mr. Gummigoo set the dividers aside, putting his ledger and measuring tape into his bag and picking it up.

“People are expected to smile and bow in polite society, keeping all their pain on the inside until it starts to fester. I can tell you this, Miss Shutnyk. Pain is part of life, and we should stop pretending it isn’t. The day someone, a man, woman or otherwise, can admit they’re in pain to a complete stranger without the worry of being shunned. Then this country can start moving forward again.”

Pomni looked at Mr. Gummigoo, who bowed and smiled.

“I’ll have your dress ready in a week’s time, Ms. Shutnyk. G’day.”

“Good day,” Pomni replied.

With one last bow and smile, Mr. Gummigoo stepped out of the dining room, and out of Pomni’s life.

—

Pomni put on her sunhat, the black one. She intended on paying Jax Krolik a visit today. Mr. Gummigoo made a compelling point. Several compelling points. But most immediately, she should spend more time with her husband-to-be. There were so many questions that she hadn’t asked him yet. So many books to discuss.

She exited the estate, crossing her mother’s flower garden and heading up the road to The Rooker Estate.

“Pomni!”

From further uo the road, an orange rabbit in a purple dress waved, carrying a brown wicker basket draped with a red and white blanket.

“Kali! Hello!” Pomni smiled and went over to Jax’s sister-in-law. Unsurprisingly, Kali hugged her, but, also unsurprisingly, she didn’t mind. A warm, sweet smell came from the basket.

“Let me begin by saying that I’m so very sorry for yesterday… I did want to warn you about Jax’s father, but you were already so frightened…” Kali put a hand to her own cheek and looked off guiltily.

“It isn’t an issue, Kali. I was braced for something unpleasant to happen already, truthfully… Jax told me about Boone.” Pomni nodded to the basket. “What have you got there?”

“Ah, I brought over the leftover tea cakes for Jax! I took them home with us last night, it would be a shame to waste them.” Kali chirped, taking the blanket off the basket and showing off the baked goods within. They had been warmed and re-dusted with powdered sugar. “Would you like one?”

“Yes, I would… I haven’t eaten this morning.” Pomni took one, forgetting to ask if she could first. Her mother would have slapped her hand.

The two women sat beneath a nearby pine tree, taking care to shift any pinecones aside before being seated. Pomni had a bite of her cake. It was just as delicious and tart as it had been the previous night. It tasted even better knowing that she could savor it, not having to worry about Drexl or Boone. It still sat like a weight in her stomach, but that would just make her feel more full after missing breakfast.

“These really are wonderful… Zuzanna is a wonderful chef.” Pomni said, brushing some stray powdered sugar off her cheek with her knuckle.

“Isn’t she? I think her cooking is half the reason for my… girth.” Kali put a palm on her soft stomach.

Pomni scoffed and shook her head. “Don’t be silly. Plumpness just shows that you have enough to eat, and that’s something to be thankful for. Besides, you’re perfectly attractive as you are.”

“Oh, listen to you! You should write a book with that silver tongue of yours.” Kali had a bite of a cake, her face pink and smiling. Pomni finished hers, sitting full and content. She looked up at the sky through the pine needles. Gray light peeked through in faint glittery flashes.

“Oh, speaking of, have you had the chance to think about your vows?” Kali asked.

“I haven’t. Truth be told, at first I was just going to select a passage about love at random from one of my books… But, now that I’ve gotten more comfortable with him, I should look into it, shouldn’t I?” Pomni’s eyes remained on the sky.

“I’m delighted that you’ve grown to like him, Pomni. He’s a good man. He can be a bit sly at times, but he’s got a warm soul. Unlike his father.” Kali sighed, wiping her mouth with a handkerchief from her purse.

“Are Osvaldo and Boone alright? I hadn’t even thought to ask, how wretched of me…” Pomni replied, chewing her thumbnail.

“Boone will be fine. I know it may be difficult to believe, but that’s not the first time his father has grown upset with him,” Kali said with a smirk. “Osvaldo…Oh, Osvaldo, the poor thing. He’s such a sweet boy, but his father just wants a perfect copy of himself.”

“I do question why Drexl hasn’t tried marrying him off…” Pomni wondered.

Kali opened her mouth, then closed it. She thought for a while.

“Well, if you’re going to be part of the family, you may as well know. Osvaldo is only interested in men. He has been since I’ve known him at just 15 years old.”

Pomni looked at Kali, then down at the grass. “Ah. Well, I suppose that would make it significantly more difficult for him to be married to a woman, hm?”

Kali giggled. “Considerably. But now you understand why his father is so hard on him and less so on my husband…”

Pomni crossed her arms over knees. “What an odious little man… Things have been so difficult for Jax. I really had no idea. Even now that he’s out of that house, I worry his father will try and keep him ensnared. It’s no wonder he-”

Pomni stopped herself.

“It’s no wonder he..?” Kali asked, raising her brow.

Pomni thought a moment. Kali could be trusted. She may have even been the only one in this family that could be trusted to keep a secret, since she was away from Drexl’s grasp. Altonicus maybe, but… it felt better to confide in one of her sex. Besides, Kali trusted her enough to tell her about Osvaldo.

“You aren’t to tell your husband, but… Jax has a weakness for laudanum. I only found out three days ago, but… it is quite severe. I stumbled onto a bottle when I was looking for an alkalizer. He must have stashed it away for a trip like this. He takes it upwards of four times a day…”

Kali put a hand to her mouth and looked away.

“I’m dreadfully sorry I’ve burdened you with this, but I needed to tell someone. He told me he became addicted when Boone threw him off of a bridge. I’m hoping to wean him off the awful tonic, but… I don’t know if I can do it alone. His father certainly won’t help. Perhaps you could help when the ceremony is over?”

Kali covered her face. Pomni immediately sat up straighter.

“Oh dear, Kali, I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have said-” Pomni began.

“No… No, I’m the one that should be apologizing…” The rabbit’s cheeks were streaked with tears.

“What? You haven’t done anything, Kali…” Pomni looked around, hoping no one else would come along and see them.

“Yes I have…Pomni, It was me. I gave him opium.”

Pomni’s eyes widened slightly. “Kali..?”

Kali wiped her eyes and sniffed. “Jax was in so much pain after he broke all those bones, and the pediatric tonics that Alton had for him did no good… They weren’t meant for that level of pain, but he wasn’t allowed to administer opium to a 17 year old…”

Another chain of sobs broke through. “I only gave him enough so he could get some sleep at night… I didn’t know it would be so addictive… I found him in Alton’s drug storeroom after his arm was taken out of the sling, sweaty and wide-eyed, digging around for it… I didn’t want Alton to find out and Allfather forbid Drexl found out… I’ve been giving him some to keep the withdrawals away for 4 years…”

“Why haven’t you told anyone?”

“I have!” Kali shouted. “I’ve told the Gray Sisterhood in confession for years now… I even told the one on this island just so I could have someone new to cry to… Alton would divorce me if he ever found out, and I could be arrested for giving opioids to a minor…I-I just wanted him to be able to sleep…”

Pomni put a hand to her mouth. The day of the downpour. Why Kali went to the church and why Sister Ragatha looked so upset when Pomni first saw her… Why Jax was out looking for her, he might have been paranoid Kali would tell someone… the whole reason she came to the island that day in the first place, to give him-!

“Oh, Kali…” Pomni said.

This only made the older rabbitwoman cry harder. Pomni hesitated for a moment before wrapping her arms around her.

“I’m a fiend…” Kali sobbed.

“No, Kali, you’re not… You only wanted to help…”

Kali sobbed into Pomni’s shoulder. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

“Shhhh… Kali, it’s going to be alright… Don’t cry… .” The gentleness in Pomni’s voice surprised even herself.

Pomni looked at the Rooker estate, rubbing her sister’s back.

“I’m going to help you fix this.”

#the amazing digital circus #funnybunny #jax x pomni #tadc pomni #tadc jax #oh no cringe #tadc zooble #tadc gummigoo #tw homophobia #tw drugs #tadc arranged marriage au

22 notes · View notes

whimsicaldragonette · 1 year

Text

ARC Review: The Unlikely Heir by Jax Calder

Preorder

Add to Goodreads

Publication Date: August 24, 2023

Synopsis:

What happens when the Prince of Wales falls in love with the Prime Minister? My boring life working in an insurance call center in sunny California just took an unexpected turn. Thanks to my misbehaving relatives, I’ve leapt from obscurity to royalty as the new heir to the British throne. But my welcome in England is about as warm as the weather. I arrive to discover a country horrified at the thought of an American version of Prince Charming and ready to revolt against the monarchy. I vow to my grandmother, the Queen, that I will do everything possible to help her save the crown. Unfortunately, royal life isn’t easy. From bewildering traditions, traitorous friends, and malevolent swans, the only thing I’m succeeding in is providing entertainment for the tabloids and social media trolls. And then the broodingly handsome Prime Minister, Oliver Hartwell, bursts into my life. With his meteoric rise from poverty to the most powerful man in the country, Oliver understands my current plight. Innocent messages of support turn into late-night chats—and unexpected feelings. But there’s one major problem. The royal family must remain politically neutral at all times. So how can I keep my promise to save the monarchy when I’m falling in love with the Prime Minister? A forbidden romance filled with humor and drama featuring a bumbling Prince of Wales and a stern yet dashing Prime Minister, with a love that could transform a nation.

My Rating: ★★★★★

*My Review and Favorite Quotes below the cut.

My Review:

I picked this up because the cover and synopsis were cute and because I desperately needed something to fill the void left after finishing the new Red White & Royal Blue movie. And this was absolutely perfect. This a deliciously swoony slow-burn romance, with Callum, unlikely American heir to the British throne, and Oliver, Prime Minister of the UK, sloooooowly falling in love over nightly text messages that evolve into phone calls that evolve into video calls and then more. I loved Callum, with his bumbling but cheerful approach to life, his random facts and obsessions, and always seeing the magic in the small things and trying to make people's days brighter with every conversation. He was so genuine and likeable and good. He occasionally reminded me of a golden retriever lol. I also loved Oliver, with his passion to improve the lives of the common people and his witty comebacks and political savvy. He was so serious all the time - it was nice to see Callum making him laugh and relax. Would this absolutely bonkers political scenario ever happen in real life? Hell no. Did I care? Absolutely not. It worked because the heart of the story is Callum and Oliver falling in love. I was 100% there for them falling for one another and in some sense the political trappings of the story were secondary to that. Yes it was amusing, and it certainly caused plenty of conflict and provided the forbidden relationship angle, but I'm not going to nitpick historical or political details. Why would I? I loved this too much. I flew through it in a day and did absolutely nothing else I had planned to because I couldn't tear myself away from it. To be fair, when presented with an epistolary novel, especially a slow-burn in the form of text messages, I'm almost guaranteed to like it. There have been a few notable exceptions, but only a few. Callum and Oliver, however, are the heart of this novel and their personalities and interactions are what drew me in and kept me hooked. This is absolutely a new favorite and I will be checking out the author's other works asap. *Thanks to Booksirens and NetGalley for providing an early copy for review.

Favorite Quotes:

“You need to cut your toenails,” I say because, you know, that’s an appropriate thing to say to the prime minister. “I’ve been wondering why my socks are suddenly getting holes in them,” he says.

---

“There is no magic to be found in the EU agricultural trade negotiations, trust me,” I say.

---

Herbert’s my usual go-to person for dress etiquette, but I’m not sure if even he would know how to dress when you’re meeting the prime minister for a suspiciously vague mission.

---

Maybe that’s what the prime minister actually is. School principal to the entire nation.

---

I never knew a kiss could feel like the truth.

#the unlikely heir #jax calder #arc review #m/m romance #queer romance #lgbt+ romance #gay romance #if you loved red white and royal blue try this #netgalley #booksirens #shilo reads #queer books

11 notes · View notes

sasaranomiya · 2 years

Text

Koukyuu no Karasu Volume 2 Chapter 4 - The Sweetheart Incense (Part 1)

Happy Boxing Day guys. Here’s the first part of the final chapter. Some things play out differently compared to the anime, so look forward to it

Thanks to all the kind people who bought me a Ko-fi!

Here’s my Ko-fi if anyone is feeling generous

Translation Notes

1. Handicapping in Go is a thing where the weaker player puts down handicap stones in order to give them more equal chances of winning (idk how this works since i know nothing about Go lol)

Previous | Index | Next

“——A beast?”

“Yes, that’s what I heard.”

Jiujiu answered while combing Jusetsu’s hair. When she woke up in the morning, she heard birds chirping awfully loudly in the woods outside, so Jiujiu went out to see what was going on. The eunuchs of the rokuboushi—the agency directly supervised by the emperor that cracked down on crimes in the inner palace—were going this way and that with swords in their belts and tense expressions. Apparently, the body of a palace woman was found in the woods. It was surmised that she was attacked by a beast, based on her wounds.

“They say that her throat was torn out, so what if it was a wild dog, or a wolf…or a tiger?”

“I don’t know about the mountains, but I don’t believe there would be tigers in an area like this. I’ve never seen wild dogs in the inner palace, but are there some here?”

“I heard that wild dogs would sometimes come in here. Before, there was a eunuch who died after he got bitten by one. His wound got infected and he suffered terribly…”

Jiujiu’s face was pale as she trembled.

“Which palace was the deceased palace lady from?”

“It seems that they still don’t know yet. They’re in the process of asking around in each palace to see if there are any missing palace ladies.”

“…I wonder if that palace lady was trying to come here.”

Did she come to ask for a favor from the Raven Consort and was attacked by a beast?

Jiujiu was looking at Jusetsu’s face in the mirror.

“No, I think she must have been chased by the beast and ran all the way over there.”

She hurriedly said, as if trying to be considerate. Jusetsu stared into the mirror. Her clouded-over face was reflected in it. It was an unreliable and helpless face. She straightened her back and tried her best to make a hard expression. The mirror was octagonal with the back decorated with mother-of-pearl. Green turban shells, amber, tortoiseshell, and lapis lazuli were used to depict flowers and birds. Tracing the edge of the mirror with pale fingers, Jusetsu narrowed her eyes at her own face. Not her face, but her hair.

“Is my hair still fine?”

“It’s fine. It’s beautiful black hair.”

She was checking to see if the color had faded from her dyed hair. Jiujiu didn’t know Jusetsu’s circumstances, but she didn’t try to inquire too deeply. Since the decree to capture and kill members of the Ran clan had been abolished by Koushun, Jusetsu would no longer be killed if it was discovered that she was a member of the Ran clan. But that didn’t make her want to return to her original silver hair. It was obvious that it would be troublesome if she did.

However, the fear of death that had been whittling away at her body was now gone. This was brought about by Koushun’s efforts to save Jusetsu, even if only a little. She no longer woke up every morning with the leaden despair of having to survive through another day. Her heart was just a little lighter and warmer.

“I’m going to go out wearing a eunuch’s uniform today.”

“Yes, Niangniang,” Jiujiu said and began to tie her hair up instead of the two rings. “Are you really going to go out?” she asked worriedly. “Even though there might be wild dogs out there?”

“Those are most likely active at night. The palace lady was also attacked at night. Besides, we can’t go out at all if you keep talking like that.”

“Aren’t there a lot of days when you don’t go out? Why do you have to go out only at a time like this?”

“I don’t know when that Winter Minister will retire.”

She was about to visit Setsu Gyoei. She had already learned the hard way that going out in a palanquin was too ostentatious. But it would also be too conspicuous to go out in her consort’s garb. It would have been best to disguise herself as a civil servant, but with Jusetsu’s appearance, even if she dressed in men’s clothing she would only look like a boy before his coming-of-age ceremony. That was why she decided to dress up as a eunuch.

“And, you’re only going to take Onkei with you, aren’t you?”

Jiujiu was miffed.

“Weren’t you the one worried about wild dogs?”

“If it’s dangerous for me, then it’s dangerous for you too, Niangniang. …I can’t ask you to take me with you because I don’t want to be a burden on you if something happens, though.”

She said sulkily, pouting. As she was talking, her hands were quickly tying her hair up into a topknot. Behind them, Xingxing was meekly closing its wings. That was rare. It always rampaged around whenever Jusetsu was about to leave the palace. It didn’t even try to go out of the curtains, but simply listening to what was going on around it, as though afraid of outside enemies.

When she stepped outside in the pale-gray eunuch robes, she could still hear birds chirping and flapping their wings impatiently restlessly from the woods.

“…Do they still not know which palace that palace lady was from?” she asked Onkei, who was accompanying her.

“No, they know now. She was from Jakusou Palace,” he replied.

Jakusou Palace, huh, Jusetsu murmured. That palace had been weighing on her mind for a while now.

“Was she trying to come to Yamei Palace?”

“It’s still unknown.”

Since she was a palace lady, Jusetsu recalled the woman who had visited before. The palace lady who begged her to bring the dead back to life. The scent of sweetheart incense clung to her. Her face was covered with a veil of thin silk, so she couldn’t tell, but what was the color of her ruqun? In the first place, that palace lady——.

“…”

Jusetsu, who was pondering this while walking, turned to Onkei.

“Does that palace lady not normally use sweetheart incense?”

Onkei looked puzzled. “I’m not sure about that. The smell of blood was too strong last night, so I wouldn’t——” he then quickly closed his mouth. But it was too late.

“Onkei, were you the one who found the body?”

It wasn’t surprising if you thought about it. He was Yamei Palace’s guard, after all.

“…Yes,” The look on his face that said, oh no, affirmed it. “I found her while making my rounds.”

“You should have come to me with that news.”

“It is not something you should hear about, Niangniang. It was a horrible-looking corpse, after all.”

“Is it true that her throat was ripped out?”

Onkei frowned. “Who heard of such a thing?”

“Jiujiu found out about it.”

When she said that, Onkei looked troubled. “That girl is a bit too curious. She isn’t a bad girl, though.”

“Then it’s fine as long as she isn’t a bad girl.” Onkei laughed a little. He was surprisingly expressive once he got used to someone.

“I heard that it was the work of a beast, but what of it?”

“From the wound, it is unmistakable that her throat was torn out with teeth. However…” Onkei hesitated. “It didn’t look like the fangs of a beast like a wild dog or wolf.”

“You mean a beast without fangs? Would such a beast attack people?”

“Even monkeys have fangs. Or——”

Onkei stopped speaking as if he was afraid to voice his thoughts. Jusetsu stroked her lips. Humans also have canines.

It can’t be possible, she thought.

“There was one more suspicious thing. There was a lot of blood around the body, but not much from the wound on her neck.”

Jusetsu put her finger on her chin and thought for a moment.

“…So, you mean that she died somewhere else and was brought over there?”

“Perhaps so. If that’s the case, a closer look will reveal traces. It was too dark last night to tell.”

Were the eunuchs walking around in the woods because they were investigating that?

“In any case, please refrain from going out alone, Niangniang.”

“Jiujiu wouldn’t allow that anyways.”

Onkei’s expression relaxed. “Indeed, Niangniang.”

Please listen to that girl, he said.

Somehow, she felt that Onkei had become as fussy as Jiujiu.

When they arrived at Seiu Temple, there was already a visitor there. It was Koushun. There was a table set up in the outer corridor, and he was playing Go with Gyoei. Judging from the fact that the board was made of rosewood with inlays on the sides, and that the Go pieces were colored red and navy blue with flowers and birds, this board was brought by Koushun. It was still before noon, but it was rare for him to be in a place like this.

“Unusually, court council ended early today, so I came here.” Koushun read the look on Jusetsu’s face and answered before she could ask. Jusetsu peered at the board.

“Is Gyoei holding back?”

Gyoei, who was playing with the navy blue stones, was in an inferior position.

“No, no, by no means. His Majesty is very strong.”

Gyoei seemed to be speaking his true thoughts. He groaned as he stroked his beard.

“I’ve been taught by Eitoku since I was a child.”

“Ah, Prime Minister Un has defeated a Go master once.”

Jusetsu sat down on a chair brought over by an acolyte and loosened the collar of her robe. The outer corridor was shaded and cool, but she was sweaty from walking so far.

“I’ll have to give up the game for lost. How about you play a game, Lady Raven Consort?”

Jusetsu glanced at the board and frowned. “I am no match for him.”

“Ho. Are you not skilled at Go?”

“I was taught by Reijou, but I never won. Going easy on someone was a foreign concept to her.”

“I had played against her frequently, but she always gave it her all, didn’t she?”

Gyoei narrowed his eyes in nostalgia. He seemed to be seeing Reijou on the other side of Jusetsu’s face.

“Which one of you was stronger?”

“Well now. I believe I won 123 games, lost 105, and tied 15 games.”

He remembers it well, Jusetsu thought as she stared at Gyoei’s face. He stroked his beard and averted his gaze. He turned back to the board, picked up a blue stone, and placed it back in the Go bowl. One by one, carefully. His profile stated that he refused to talk about Reijou any further. Jusetsu could tell that for him, Reijou was someone that brought both nostalgia and pain.

“…You say you want to retire, but what are you going to do after you leave? Are you going to return to your hometown?”

Gyoei was single and didn’t have a residence outside the imperial palace. She wondered if he had a place to go after he left here.

“My younger brother runs a business in town. He is an oil merchant. I’m going to be staying with him. Well, I’m sure even a senile old man like me would be of some use to him.”

He said easily and held out the bowl of Go stones to Jusetsu.

“Lady Raven Consort, how about you put down some stones and then play? Yes, just five stones. Then, wouldn’t you be able to match against His Majesty?” (1)

He was talking about placing stones on the board in advance and having Koushun go easy on her.

“I refuse,” she said sullenly, and Gyoei laughed.

“I suppose you inherited that competitive spirit from Lady Reijou.”

He put his hands on the table and slowly stood up. “I’m a little tired as well, since I haven’t played against His Majesty in a while. Please allow me to take a break for today.”

Pushing the bowl into Jusetsu’s hands, Gyoei returned to his room from the outer corridor. He then walked out of it, accompanied by an acolyte. Jusetsu glared at the bowl and reluctantly sat down across from Koushun.

“I don’t mind if you put down five or nine stones,” Koushun said, his tone relaxed, and Jusetsu furrowed her brow.

“I have no need for you to hold back on me.”

“Is that so. Then let us have an even game.”

That meant that no stones would be placed as a handicap. Jusetsu furrowed her brow even more.

“…Just three…I’ll only place three stones…”

Koushun laughed at Jusetsu’s frustration. “That’s fine. Do as you like.”

――The result was, of course, that she couldn’t win with only three handicap stones, and it still wasn’t any good when she put down five stones for the next game. Koushun’s nonchalant air was hateful to her.

“You give up too quickly,” Koushun criticized every move played by Jusetsu. “You immediately give up as soon as you’re at a disadvantage. You have to persist more.”

“What’s the use of having persistence for something like this?”

“You’re bitter when you lose.”

“Be quiet.”

They returned their stones to their bowls for another game. Jusetsu quickly put them in, but Koushun put his in slowly, one by one. Just as he put away his stoned and took one in his hand, Ei Sei rounded the corner of the outer corridor with two or three eunuchs behind him.

“Dajia, it’s time for you to return.”

“Ah, is it already time?”

Koushun put the stone back into the bowl and put the lid back on it, then stood up. He was quitting while he was ahead. He looked down at Jusetsu. “If you want to play some more, I’ll play with you again,” he said.

“I will never play you again.”

“Then, play with Ei Sei,” Koushun looked at Ei Sei. His face said, “I have no choice if that’s an order, but I refuse,” so Jusetsu also said “No.” When she refused, Ei Sei looked dissatisfied. What was she supposed to do here?

The eunuchs put the Go board into a wooden casket. It was a beautiful container inlaid with colored ivory. Giving it a sidelong glance, Jusetsu asked Koushun a question.

“…Do you know about the palace lady who died near Yamei Palace?”

“Yes, I’ve heard,” Koushun nodded. “The eunuchs are hunting for the beast in the inner palace right now. You shouldn’t wander around outside too long either.”

“I heard that the palace lady was from Jakusou Palace.”

“She was,” he said, then turned to Jusetsu. “Was she someone you knew?”

“No…”

Even if the dead palace lady was the woman from that night, there was nothing Jusetsu could do. However…

“If you learn her name, let me know. I’ll burn a silk feather for her. She’ll be able to cross the sea without getting lost.”

Silk feathers were bird feathers made of paper. They were used for mourning. Koushun looked at Ei Sei. “Her name was Jo Sei,” Ei Sei replied. She asked him the characters for her name and kept them in mind.

“Did Jo Sei use sweetheart incense?”

She asked him, and received a curt answer. “I don’t know.”

“Sweetheart incense? Isn’t that the incense burned for a loved one? It smells like lilies.”

Jusetsu was surprised that Koushun knew that.

“You know about such things well.”

“I’ve heard about it before. The Magpie Consort scents her clothing with that incense.”

“——What?”

The Magpie Consort scents her clothing with that incense?

No, perhaps it wasn’t so strange for a consort to scent her clothing with sweetheart incense for the emperor. However, Jusetsu felt strangely uneasy. It was as if the sense of uneasiness was creeping up on her with a shadow on its back.

“…I heard that the Magpie Consort is unwell. Is that still the case? I remember that you went to visit her before.”

“She isn’t getting better. I’ve often sent envoys to see her when I couldn’t visit her myself, but apparently, she is confined to bed.”

He looks after his consorts more conscientiously than I expected, she thought briefly, but she was more concerned about the Magpie Consort’s condition.

“Is it a long illness?”

“It isn’t an illness. No, perhaps it can be considered an illness. She’s too depressed to eat or sleep properly.”

“Is that not—very serious?”

Sleeping and eating were foundations of life.

“It is a serious issue. The consort’s family member died recently. She has been like this since.”

“Died?”

“Yes. Her older brother. I heard that he was healthy, but he fell off his horse and was injured in a bad spot.”

“…”

The dead and the sweetheart incense. Jusetsu recalled the woman from that night who requested the resurrection of the dead.

“If she does not recover soon, I will send her back to her parents’ house to recuperate. The Kin clan—ah, the Magpie Consort’s name is Kin Keiyou, and her father’s name is Koukei. He’s the assistant minister of the Palace Secretariat. As a member of the cold faction, I had wanted to welcome his daughter as a consort.”

“Cold faction?”

“To put it frankly, they are a clan with no connection to the Un clan.”

He really did say that in a surprisingly frank manner. In other words, he wanted to use the Kin clan as a check on the Un clan.

“It would be better to return her to her parents than let her die unnecessarily in the inner palace.”

She said, and Koushun started to walk down the corridor. Jusetsu walked next to him. Behind them, the eunuchs followed, reverently carrying the wooden casket. When they reached the temple, Gyoei was waiting for them along with the acolytes to see them off.

“Take care on your way back.”

He spoke a set phrase and bowed.

“Take care of yourself as well. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

Koushun admonished, and Gyoei let out a light laugh. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I’ll be careful.”

Koushun was about to head towards the palanquin when he turned to Jusetsu like he just remembered something.

“You…” He took a look at Jusetsu’s sash. “You aren’t wearing that thing?”

He seemed to be trying to be ambiguous by using “that thing,” but Jusetsu and Koushun both understood what he was referring to. The glass fish figurine. Jusetsu looked at his waist. His transparent glass fish figurine was hanging from his sash. Jusetsu’s was still tucked away in her cabinet.

“Did you not like it?”

“That’s not the case.”

Koushun fell silent. He was expressionless, but somehow, he looked sad. Jusetsu couldn’t stand it any longer and quietly continued.

“…It would be troublesome if I lost it…”

Koushun was silent for a moment and looked at Jusetsu.

“I see. Then I’ll make something you don’t have to worry about losing.”

“What——”

“A wood carving can be recreated right away even if it’s lost. In that case, I suppose a flower would be better than a fish.”

He seemed to have remembered that Jusetsu had wanted a rose as a wood carving before.

“I don’t need it.”

Jusetsu turned him down, but Koushun was unmoved, saying, “There’s no need to be reserved.” Before Jusetsu could say anything more, he got into his palanquin and left the gate. As they exited, Ei Sei looked at her for a moment, then quickly looked away.

“Lady Raven Consort.” As Jusetsu watched the procession leave, Gyoei called out to her. When she turned around, she saw that the acolytes were gone, and only Gyoei was by her side. Onkei was standing off to the side.

“Pity and love are two different things. Do you understand that?”

Jusetsu’s brow furrowed at those sudden words. “What are you talking about?”

“I hope you will remain ignorant of the words I’m speaking. Though I suppose it would be of no use to tell you not to get any closer to His Majesty.”

“Tell that to Koushun. He is always visiting me as he pleases.”

“Because His Majesty is a compassionate man. Do not forget—‘The Raven Consort must not desire anything.’”

She was frequently told this by Reijou herself, not to mention Gyoei.

“I know.”

“Desire breeds suffering. When you are consumed by it—that is when a monster will be born from within you.”

Her breath caught. A monster.

A monster in Niangniang’s eyes…

She recalled Ishiha’s words.

Taking no notice of the frozen Jusetsu, Gyoei bowed and turned on his heel.

“Whenever you feel lost, please remember my words.”

After a few final words that sounded like a farewell, Gyoei returned to the temple. When Jusetsu came back to herself and tried to follow him, he was already gone. She was left alone, feeling like she had been thrown into the air. ——No, she wasn’t alone. Onkei had walked up to her without making a single sound.

“Shall a palanquin be prepared for you, Niangniang? You look pale.”

No, Jusetsu shook her head. “I’m fine. I can walk back.”

It was easier to not think about things when you were moving your legs. Jusetsu headed for the gate. She glanced at Onkei.

“I’m glad that you are here.”

When she let slip her true feelings, Onkei only gave a small smile.

After returning to Yamei Palace, Jusetsu asked Onkei for a favor.

“I want you to look around inside Jakusou Palace. Especially the Magpie Consort’s condition.”

Onkei immediately left the palace. He was a shrewd and careful man, so he would probably return with information after a while.

Jusetsu entered the palace and called out for Jiujiu.

“Before, the palace lady dropped a piece of thin silk when she left. Bring it out.”

Jiujiu brought the silk from another room. Jusetsu brought her face to it. It still had the scent of sweetheart incense on it. She unfolded it and felt its texture. The material was remarkably light, and it laid smoothly against her skin. It was carefully woven with the finest raw silk threads.

“I’ve had the same thought when I touched it for the first time, but this is too high quality to belong to a palace lady.”

“Now that you mention it, it is.”

But there are also wealthy palace ladies, Jiujiu added.

Jusetsu thought back to the woman on that night. She was dressed in a palace lady’s uniform and covered her head with this silk. And from the moment she entered to when she left, she never once bowed to the Raven Consort.

Not even once.

Was it because she was too distraught? However, would a palace lady, who had etiquette training drummed into her, not even bow to a consort when she came to ask her for the desperate favor of resurrection, all because of her emotions at that time?

“What’s wrong, Niangniang?”

Jiujiu asked, seeing her grip the silk with a difficult look on her face.

“…It’s nothing.”

Jusetsu told Jiujiu to put away the silk, and then went to her cabinet to take out the inkstone and an inkstick. She also prepared some pieces of colored hemp paper in the shape of a bird feather. This was a silk feather. In the past, they were made of cotton cloth, and in even older times, they were made of bark fiber. That was how long they had been used in mourning. After grinding ink and picking up a brush, she wrote “Jo Sei” on a piece of paper. It was the name of the dead palace lady.

Jusetsu took a flower-shaped silver plate with legs with her and went outside. She went down the steps and placed the plate on the stones. Her hand went up to her hair and she realized that she wasn’t wearing her peonies because she was dressed as a eunuch. She turned her palm up and held it out in front of her, and a pale pink color shimmered. Petals formed one by one, and in an instant, it became a peony. Jusetsu clamped the flower between her hands and blew on it. When she let go, small pink fragments fell onto the plate and turned into a pale flame.

The colored paper with the name written on it was burned in the fire. A feather-shaped piece of paper with no writing on it was also thrown into the fire in the same way. The paper burned quietly. Jusetsu held her hand out over it. The pale red flame rose up and coiled around her fingers. The flame wasn’t hot. It was faintly warm. She gathered the flame in her hand, squeezed it tightly, and opened her hand. A small bird flew out of her hand. A small bird that was translucent, light red, and sometimes flickered like flames.

The bird flapped its wings high and fast, crossed the woods, and eventually disappeared from sight. It would lead the soul of the dead palace lady to the other side of the sea. As long as she hadn’t become a ghost.

When she returned to the palace with the silver plate in hand, she found Jiujiu cleaning the table.

“Did you burn the silk feathers?” Jiujiu said, the colored paper in her hands. “For mourning the dead palace lady?”

People, not just the Raven Consort, burned silk feathers for mourning. The practice of turning the flame into a bird that would lead the soul was something only the Raven Consort could do, though.

“Shall I change your clothes, then, Niangniang?”

Jiujiu opened the curtains. Jusetsu pinched the robe between her fingers.

“It’s much more comfortable, though, this outfit.”

A eunuch’s uniform was very easy to walk around in. However, Jiujiu scolded her. “You mustn’t.”

“You look lovely in those clothes, dressed like a man, but I think you look best in ruqun.”

“Is that so? …I see.” Jiujiu said that with such force that Jusetsu had to obey. It was better not to go against Jiujiu in situations like these.

As she changed behind the curtains, Ishiha, holding Xingxing in his arms, came in. It seemed that he had been giving it a dust bath.

“You haven’t gone to the woods, have you?”

The beast that killed the palace lady hadn’t been found yet. “No, Niangniang,” Ishiha replied.

“I was behind the palace. Xingxing doesn’t want to go to the woods either.”

“Hmm…?”

Jusetsu gazed at Xingxing, who was faintly visible through the curtains. This mystical bird had been docile lately.

When she finished changing and stepped out from the curtains, Ishiha was kneeling and looking down.

“Is there something the matter?” she asked him. “No, Niangniang,” he responded, his face was slightly red.

“You were in the middle of changing, so he couldn’t raise his face,” Jiujiu said.

“Oh, so that’s it?” Jusetsu said, and got an exasperated face in return.

“Niangniang, you need to learn to have a little more shyness.”

Shyness, Jusetsu murmured. She had enough discretion to change behind the curtains, though.

As the people around her increased, there were more new things to learn. Rather than it being troublesome, it was interesting to learn new things.

“There’s no need to feel shy in front of us servants, but it would be a problem for His Majesty. Niangniang, you used to change clothes without hesitation even when His Majesty is present.”

“I did? I don’t remember.”

Really, Niangniang, Jiujiu grumbled. That was when Onkei entered from the kitchen. Kougyou was behind him as well.

“That was quick, Onkei.”

Onkei bowed to Jusetsu. The movements were brisk and beautiful, as one would expect from a subordinate of Ei Sei.

“As ordered, I have been investigating the people around the Magpie Consort. I am still in the process of doing so, but I want to give you a brief report.”

Mm, Jusetsu prompted him to continue.

“For the past few months, the Magpie Consort has been laid up in bed. It is said that she is depressed because her older brother died suddenly. Now, she only has a few attendants to take care of her, and no palace ladies or eunuchs are allowed to approach her. However…”

Onkei closed his mouth like he had changed his mind.

“What is it?”

“Apparently, she has taken a liking to one eunuch and only keeps him close by her side. They say she has breakdowns when he leaves her.”

“That’s…”

Even for a favorite eunuch, it was somewhat bizarre.

“He is a chi’er who has recently entered the inner palace. He is around twenty years old. I couldn’t exchange words with him, but I’ve been able to confirm his face.”

Onkei turned to Kougyou behind him. Kougyou held out the paper she was holding.

“I described his features and asked her to draw his likeness,” Onkei said and showed Jusetsu the paper. “His name is Hou Shougetsu.”

When she saw the portrait, Jusetsu felt like she had been punched in the chest.

This face.

Long black hair and a beautiful face that no one could ever forget once they saw it.

Owl.

It was the face of the young man she had seen that night when Wulian Niangniang roamed around outside. The one who made her feel a trembling fear from the bottom of her heart.

Jusetsu recalled feeling the same fear at the Jakusou Palace pond. Was that because this man was in the palace?

“Do you know this face?”

Jusetsu couldn’t respond when asked by Onkei. She barely managed a slight nod. Onkei’s eyes sharpened.

“…After the arrival of this person, the Magpie Consort began to keep the people around her at a distance more and more. And sometimes there are strange noises coming from inside her room.”

“Strange noises?”

“Like something is being slurped…and moaning sounds as well.”

Before she knew it, Jusetsu was clasping her hands together. She didn’t know what this all meant, but she had a very bad feeling about it.

“I think there is something going on with Shougetsu and the Magpie Consort. I’m going to look into them a little bit now.”

After saying only that, Onkei bowed and made to leave.

“Wait.”

She called out without thinking. She was confused at that. She didn’t know what she was about to say. She was just thinking that she had to stop him.

Onkei was waiting for Jusetsu’s words.

“No…’tis nothing. Just, don’t pursue it too far.”

“Understood.”

Just as he had done when he came to the palace, Onkei left without making a sound. Jusetsu looked again at the portrait left behind and swallowed. What was this inexpressible uneasiness?

――The sun set, but Onkei didn’t return.

Previous | Index | Next

#koukyuu no karasu #koukyuu no karasu 2 #shirakawa kouko #translations

30 notes · View notes

alittlebitoftruthcan · 1 year

Text

‘Osho, is all esotericism nonsense?’

Viramo, yes! It is an escape from reality into fantasy. People are thinking about heaven and hell, and they don’t know who they are. And there are people who are describing detailed maps about heaven and hell. In the temples there are maps available, and these maps are very ancient. Man came to know maps of the earth only recently; just three hundred years ago man discovered that the earth is a globe. Maps of the earth have been made only within the last three hundred years, and maps of heaven have been there for at least five thousand years. But it is easy because you are free to make your own map; nobody can refute it because it is only a question of fantasy and imagination. Jainas have their maps, Buddhists have their maps, Hindus have their maps, and they are all contradictory.

One man came to see me, a follower of Radhaswami and he said, ‘Osho, what do you say? Our guru has said that there are fourteen heavens, and our guru has reached the fourteenth. And he has also said…’ He had brought the whole list: Rama has reached only up to the fifth, Buddha and Mahavira have reached up to the seventh, Christ is only up to the fourth, Mohammed up to the third, Kabir, Nanak, they have reached up to the twelfth—and their own guru has reached up to the fourteenth. The fourteenth is called SACHKHAND—the true heaven. He asked me, ‘What do you say about it?’ I said, ‘Your guru is right—I know him!’ He said, ‘What do you mean?’ I said, ‘Because there are FIFTEEN heavens and I am in the fifteenth! And he is always asking me, ‘Osho, somehow carry me to the fifteenth!’ Your guru is in the fourteenth—I know him!’ He became very angry. He said, ‘What are you saying? You have reached beyond my guru?’ I said, ‘If he can reach beyond Buddha and Mahavira and Krishna and Christ, what is wrong in my reaching beyond him? And when there are fifteen, what can I do?’ I told him, ‘The name of the fifteenth is MAHASACHKHAND—the GREAT land of truth. Your guru has reached only to the true land, I have reached to the GREAT truth!’ These fools go on talking about all kinds of nonsense.

Esotericism is just an escape from reality; it is a kind of madness.

The psychiatrist was very pleased with Sean’s progress. ‘You’re doing fine, Sean,’ he said soothingly. ‘You’ve improved much more than Barry. He’s going around telling everyone he wants to buy the Bank of Ireland.’ Sean suddenly grew very excited. ‘Oh, the ruffian!’ he shouted. ‘I’ve told him a dozen times I won’t sell!’

It is a question of insanity and nothing else—people talking about hells, how many hells there are. Hindus think there are three, Jainas think there are seven, and there was a contemporary of Mahavira, Sanjay Vilethiputta was his name—he must have been a man just like me; I love that man—he said, ‘Seven? There are seven hundred! Your Mahavira knows nothing! He may have only penetrated up to the seventh so he is talking about seven, but I have traveled the whole way. There are seven hundred, and there are also seven hundred heavens to balance!’

A man went to visit a madhouse and started talking with a madman. ‘You seem sane enough to me, why are you here?’ he asked. ‘Well, to tell you the truth, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I like children.’ ‘What’s wrong with that? I like children too.’ ‘Really? Fried or boiled?’

Once upon a time there was a guy called Urinjibhai Morarjibhai Desai who had become the Prime Minister of India. He was very esoteric. He was inaugurating direct telephone-links between heaven and hell. He called heaven first and talked to Saint Peter for about ten minutes. After that he called a few old friends who had gone to hell and talked to them for a few hours. When he had finished he called the operator to ask the charges of the calls. ‘The call to heaven cost 780 rupees,’ said the operator. ‘The call to hell was fifty paise.’ ‘My God!’ Urinjibhai Morarjibhai Desai said. ‘Why do prices differ so much?’ ‘Well, it’s simple, sir,’ stated the operator. ‘The call to heaven was long distance, while the one to hell was only a local call!’

Yes, Viramo, all esotericism is nonsense—except Almasto’s esoteric questions. She has again asked. She says, ‘Osho, can I ask a few more esoteric questions?’ I love her esoteric questions—they are REALLY esoteric!

First: How many Gandhians does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Almasto, five. First of all Urinjibhai Morarjibhai Desai to hold the lightbulb, and the other four to turn the table he is standing on. This is called non-violent Gandhian revolution! Second: How many communists does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Almasto, two. One to screw in the lightbulb and one to pass out pamphlets. Third: How many Jews does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Almasto, three. One to call the cleaning woman and two to feel guilty about calling the cleaning woman. Fourth: How many EST followers does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Almasto, a roomful. They take turns as the leader tells them what rotten and worthless bulb-screwers they are. Nobody is allowed to leave to go to the bathroom while the screwing is in progress. Fifth: How many Indian mahatmas does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Almasto, four. One to screw in the lightbulb and three to complain about how much better the old bulb was. Sixth: How many BRAHMACHARINS—celibate Hindu monks—does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Almasto, two. One to screw in the lightbulb and one to keep his knee from jerking. Seventh: How many journalists does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Almasto, two. One to screw in the lightbulb and one to give it a surprising twist at the end. Eighth: How many student radicals does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Almasto, three. One to screw in the lightbulb and two to insist it be turned further to the left. Ninth: How many union electricians does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Almasto, thirteen. One to get the lightbulb, one to get the lightbulb to the screwer-inner, one to screw in the lightbulb, one to hold him steady, one to flick the switch to test the lightbulb, one to make sure that the other bulbs in the room will need fixing, one to supervise, one to shout, two to take a coffee break, one to eat lunch, one to nap, one to plot the best way of breaking into the apartment at night. And the last: How many Californians does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Almasto, seven. One to screw in the lightbulb and six to share the experience.

— Osho (Philosophia Ultima)

#osho #jokes #esoteric #spirituality #levels #consciousness #heaven #hell #imagination #madness #almasto #lbotca

2 notes · View notes

mxanigel · 1 year

Text

Cut to the Feeling

an Attack on Titan (Shingeki no Kyojin) fanfic

Chapter 11: Encroaching Darkness [or read from the beginning]

Hange confirms their theory regarding the nature of the Walls. When the Survey Corps receives devastating news about a breach in Wall Rose, Erwin orders Hange to lead a force to Ehrmich, the last place Shion wants to go.

Rating: M

Relationships: Levi Ackerman/Original Female Character(s), Levi Ackerman & Hange Zoë, Hange Zoë & Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags: They/Them Pronouns for Hange Zoë, Hange Zoë Being Hange Zoë, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Canon Character Deaths, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Spoilers, Friendship, Banter, Swearing, Angst, Love and Loss, Asexuality Spectrum, Levi Ackerman Is Obsessed With Cleaning, Levi Ackerman Needs a Hug, Falling In Love, I'm writing this because it's taken over my brain, Literal Sleeping Together, First Kiss, eventual Levi Ackerman/Hange Zoë/Original Female Character(s), Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse

Snippet below the cut:

Though her hands stay busy, Shion’s thoughts take a dark turn. A breach in Wall Rose just as they discover how little they know about Titans, about the Walls themselves… is humanity doomed after all?

It’s selfish, but she wishes Hange had been ordered to Trost instead of Ehrmich. She doesn’t want to return home. Last time was a disaster: “If you were strong enough to succeed in the Survey Corps, you wouldn’t have been hurt in the first place. Yet you insist on refusing my generous offers to join the Military Police. And now you want to go back? Despite all I’ve done for you? How did I raise such an ungrateful child?”

Somehow, she still feels obligated to send her mother a brief letter after each expedition, or perhaps it’s spite that drives her to declare her continued survival. It certainly isn’t out of hope to impress the person she could never please, and she’s careful to avoid information that could be weaponized against the Survey Corps—

“Tell Squad Jonas to bring your mount. I need you to drive the wagon we’re taking with Minister Nick,” Hange says.

She grunts an acknowledgment.

“Shion?”

“Eh? Ah, yeah, got it.”

Hange shoves their face into her field of view. “What’s wrong?”

“Things are shitty right now.”

“Yes, they are.” They tilt their head. “But I think something else is bothering you. Am I wrong?”

#attack on titan #attack on titan fanfic #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin fanfic #Levi Ackerman #Hange Zoë #Hanji Zoe #OC: Shion Miller #polycule #eventual Levi Ackerman x Hange Zoë x OC #Female Titan spoilers #fic: Cut to the Feeling #OT3: what we have is each other #fic update #updated banner to showcase the trio <3 #I love them your honor

2 notes · View notes

booksandwords · 1 year

Text

The Boy in the Dress by Jonathan Butler

Read time: 8 Days Rating: 4/5 Stars

The Quote: You must tell Warwick's story — 'Mum' Butler (she died while Jonathan while writing this Warwick was her Uncle. If any line made me emotional it was this one, it was her death.)

Warnings: Homophobia

The first thing you need to know when reading this book is it is an investigation written from an assumption. The author, Jonathan Butler's assumption or familial belief that Warwick Meale was gay. There was no evidence. I could just as easily project my own sexuality onto him. Quite frankly that was extremely frustrating, especially because the author kept pointing out the ways ie saw himself in his great uncle. But yes this death did impact his life too. Warwick's homosexuality prevented Jonathan's mother from easy acceptance of him and his sexuality. His father's family had that generational homophobia I've honestly just come to accept. They'll all be gone soon anyway. His mother's diagnosis was hard that was just a painful disease. Jonathan does in the last chapter acknowledge some of the concerns I have with the book's premise, as does one of the interviewees. I do appreciate that he nearly acknowledged his naivete in the original now he has finished it.

This is not a bad book a does a good job to educate readers on some of the realities of queer culture in WWII but some of it was also nss (no shit sherlock). It does at times feel a little disjointed but that's kinda charming. It feels like what it is... someone's personal research project that they lost control of. There is an interesting writing style used. It is readable, with very short chapters. I think the longest I found was about 20p most would have been under 10. It combines two narrative writing styles in a single chapter. One is written almost from the prospect of being there at the time, though not 1st person. The other is J relaying the facts he discovered as they were relevant. It's quite a captivating way to read the story. Even if I did occasionally lose track of who the players were, there are a lot of them.

I like the conclusion that Jonathan comes to with the three cases he raises. They feel like almost the three options for Warwick's death. Though there uses some wriggle room on all three. Jack Lloyd's conclusion feels particularly stereotypical and disappointing for the family. His senseless death is excused because of gay panic. Even if sexual encounters at the time were slightly more fluid than people would like to think. We are talking about virile young men in their prime for the most part, what do you think was happening?

Have some comments and quotes.

I think this is book for those with an interest in queer history. But for those with an interest in military, it feels like it could add a whole other dimension, especially those younger readers.

There is a bibliography available online for those with an interest. I was entirely unsurprised to see serving is silence included and referenced in this.

Tom and Clyde and written in a way that makes you kinda what to know what happened to them, we do find out. We find out about most of the major players.

Look no further than Australia's Defence Minister Peter Dutton who, in 2021, scolded defence personnel for celebrating the International Day Against Homophobia, Biphobia, Interphobia and Transphobia. He ordered his department to stop pursuing a 'woke agenda'. — I really hate Peter Dutton. The thought that he may become our opposition leader now Scott Morrison has stepped aside distresses me greatly.

But what made the blood of many Australian men boil, more than anything else, was the Americans' relationships with Australian women. The Yanks were paid considerably more than the diggers and had nicer uniformer and a certain way with women - they knew how to dance and how to charm. — I mean can you blame them? The Americans were the peacocks with the finer plumage and women needed to make their nests somehow. Hard to do in the post war period.

History has a very real impact on people today. It's shaped how I see the world And so much our history would be lost without the nations archives. — My librarian self loves this quote. It is a joy to see someone acknowledge their societal import.

As a child I found it soothing to gaze at that image of a boy in a dress, It offered me hope that maybe I wasn't so different. The older I got, the more I struggled with an alarming feeling growing inside me, a feeling I couldn't name at the time. It was an urge to wear my sisters' clothes, play with dolls and be free of typical 'boy things': — This is the importance of Warwick to Jonothan. I think s many queer people have someone like this. But few have someone so close to them, so biologically connected.

#military #queer history #book review #lgbtq #the boy in the dress #jonathan butler #warwick meale #tw homophobia #read 2022 #ktreview #booklr

2 notes · View notes

tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 2 years

Video

undefined

tumblr

Throwback to that time almost exactly a year ago, when I was coming to the end of the the Britcom list I’d made as of then. This was a long initial list – it was anchored by the long-running panel shows: QI, Mock the Week, 8 Out of 10 Cats, Catsdown, Taskmaster, WILTY, and beginning-of-the Amstell-era to present (as of then) Never Mind the Buzzcocks. It also had shorter panel shows that focused on people I’d come to know and like due to those longer panel shows – Jon Richardson’s Ultimate Worrier, Frankie Boyle’s New World Order, Insert Name Here, Duck Quacks Don’t Echo, Was It Something I Said?, Argumental, Big Fat Quizzes, Comedy World Cup, and Alan Davies: As Yet Untitled. It had some other topical shows, like The Last Leg, Russell Howard’s Good News/The Russell Howard Hour, and The Mash Report.

It also had fictional stuff. I re-watched a lot of old stuff I loved while I was growing up: Flying Circus and the four Monty Python movies, How to Irritate People, Fawlty Towers, Ripping Yarns, Blackadder, Brass Eye, Mr. Bean, Yes Minister/Yes Prime Minister. And some not-quite-so-old stuff that I’d also enjoyed watching in younger years: The Inbetweeners, the Mitchell and Webb sketch shows and Peep Show, and of course, my favourite show since I was a teenager, The Thick of It. And I watched a bunch of sitcoms and sketch shows that were new to me, also largely based on people I’d discovered via panel shows: Not Going Out, The Mighty Boosh and Luxury Comedy, Starstruck, Feel Good, Ghosts, everything else Armando Iannucci has done (I’d always loved The Thick of It and In the Loop, couldn’t believe I didn’t decide until 2020 to actually find more of his work and get into Time Trumpet and those year summaries and On the Hour/The Day Today/the rest of the Alan Partridge content), Derry Girls, Grandma’s House (I had a while after my friend died in February 2021 when I’d almost finished Buzzcocks and decided to deal with my breakdown by watching everything else Simon Amstell had ever done, also there was a lot of The Clash and Nirvana involved, so if your friend ever dies suddenly of a brain aneurysm during a pandemic I recommend Simon Amstell and The Clash and Nirvana), GameFace, Nathan Barley, The IT Crowd, Moone Boy, Miranda, Garth Marenghi’s Darkplace. That’s what I can think of off the top of my head; there were plenty more than that. Plenty more in all these categories.

I watched the collected stand-up DVDs of Josh Widdicombe and Joe Lycett and James Acaster and Russell Howard and Jon Richardson and Lee Mack and Sarah Millican and Sean Lock and Simon Amstell and Frankie Boyle and Daniel Sloss and Rhod Gilbert. I reread my Douglas Adam books (Hitchhiker’s Guide series, Dirk Gently ones, Last Chance to See, The Salmon of Doubt). I bought and read (or listened to on audiobook) a bunch of comedians’ memoirs, like Lee Mack and David Mitchell and Jo Brand and James Acaster and Stephen Fry and Sandi Toksvig and Alan Davies.

So like I said, big list. That one took me from March 2020 until October 2021, after which I made a new list and got to work on that one. But with my first list, I had this general plan that it was all building toward one show. I needed to finish every other show on the list, and then I would have enough of a foundational understanding of the general Britcom landscape to fully appreciate that one. And that show was… Hypothetical. Because I put together the beginning of this list by watching Taskmaster, picking out my favourite people from it, and looking up what they’d been in a lot. From that, I made that list and said, “Well there are hundreds of episodes of many shows on here, but the world did just end, so I guess I’ll have time to get through it.” And I was right.

As I went through the list, I added more to it. And since I finished that first list and started my new one, I’ve branched out. I’ve found more older shows that were not among the things I watched as a kid (French and Saunders, Absolutely Fabulous – which my dad did try to introduce me to as a kid but I never got into it, The Vicar of Dibley, go forward a bit to Smack the Pony, I just decided I wanted to find out if any women existed before 2008). I added some sitcoms that were made and starred in by people I liked, from old ones like Spaced and 15 Stories High to newer ones like This Way Up and Josh and The Dutchess. I finally made myself watch Meet the Richardsons, despite having difficulty reconciling the Jon Richardson onto which I project everything with the Jon Richardson who exists now. Then I also bought Jon Richardson’s book, to remind myself of the 2010 version of him onto which I like to project. I added some more recent panel shows that featured people I liked, like Question Team and Unforgiveable and Rhod Gilbert’s Growing Pains. But more than that, I expanded into slightly less mainstream stuff, like stand-up shows that were not on DVDs, a fair bit more stand-up no matter where I could find it, audio stuff, the whole Stewart Lee thing. And I got into The Bugle in March 2022 and immediately decided I’d never be interested in anything except The Bugle ever again.

So I feel like my initial plan basically worked. I had to start with that first list to have the foundation, to get to know the whole landscape of comedians and pick out the ones I liked, so I could then go find further work by those people. If I hadn’t started with the long-running mainstream stuff, I wouldn’t have known where to start with anything else. And the thing about the panel show circuit is it’s so small and self-referential that the more of it you’ve seen, the more you appreciate it. So I had the general idea that I should start with the broadest shows, and then I’d go into the narrower shows already knowing the people involved, so I’d appreciate them more.

That was the plan. And the plan for that initial list that took me a year and a half was that I would knock everything off it before watching Hypothetical, and that way I’d have this one show that I’d go into with full knowledge of all the people involved. I stuck to this, timed everything pretty well by watching a few things at a time in ways I’d planned, trying to have one long-running thing and one short-running thing going at a time. About a year and a half after I’d started this, I was almost done the list, and I really wanted to watch this fucking panel show. I’d chosen to save Hypothetical for last because Josh Widdicombe and James Acaster were two of my favourites on Taskmaster, and when I was first looking up those favourites after first finishing what had aired so far of that show in April 2020, I was excited to learn they hosted a different show together. I now realize I can see James and Josh together in lots of places, but at the time, a crossover event with my favourites from multiple Taskmaster seasons seemed like a rare thing that was worth saving.

So I was almost ready to finally watch Hypothetical, but I wasn’t quite done the rest of the list. I had one thing left, and that’s a BBC 6 Music radio show called The Russell Howard Show. Or called The Russell Howard and Jon Richardson Show, unofficially at least, depending who you ask. It was a whole thing. Everything on that show was a whole thing. It was a 90-part radio drama about a tragically star-crossed relationship, a great love doomed by little things like the personalities of both people involved. It did ruin my life for a little while. I think this year that the end of the first run of The Bugle messed me up – while that one was at least run by two basically psychologically functional people. The BBC radio drama had like 1.5 of those at best.

I’ve checked my folder, and all 90 episodes come to just over 126 hours of audio. I planned to finish my short running TV shows at the same as the long-running radio show, but I underestimated how long the radio show would go, so I ended up with nothing left on my list but Hypothetical and quite a bit of radio show left. I thought… I’d like to have something modern and mainstream and, frankly, not a heartwrenching commentary on lives torn apart by mental health struggles, to balance out this fucking radio show. And surely it won’t hurt anything to start Hypothetical a little early, right? I wanted to make sure I was familiar with all the other Britcom before I got to that one, but I’d done that. This one radio show from 2006-2008 (Jon stayed on with Matt Forde and rotating guests until 2010, but I cut it off as soon as Russell left in July 2008 because I could not bring myself to listen to anything that happened after that, the one thing I know happened is that in the first post-Russell episode Jon chose I Can Do It Without You by the Kaiser Chiefs as the first song and Jesus Christ you fucking drama queens) shouldn’t have anything that would be relevant to a TV panel show that started airing in 2019. Nothing I’d learn from that radio show would add to my enjoyment of Hypothetical.

But I told myself I’d made a plan and I’d stick to it, and honestly, I was so drawn into the radio show that as much as I might think I wanted balance, I wasn’t really able to get into anything else until I finally saw its ending, for better or for fucking worse. So I spent some time doing nothing but listen to that radio show, every day, sometimes pretty much all day, while I did yard work on my grandparents’ large rural property because I was staying there at the time. I went back to that house recently, and just seeing the driveway made me remember spending hours and hours and hours picking up apples from that driveway while listening to Jon and Russell snipe at each other. Lovely memories.

Finally, I finished the show. I got to the last episode. Jon and Russell sniped at each other until the end. They discussed their favourite songs. That was somehow enough to turn into a fight, with Jon complaining that Russell spent too much time singing Rufus Wainright. Matt Forde, who’d started joining them in the last few months of episodes because I guess they figured if they introduced him early then they could replace Russell with him and that would just be fine, asked them to try to be slightly professional because the nation was listening. And then the last episode ended. I sat in my grandmother’s chair and watched the sun set over the ocean and felt way too emotional about a radio show from almost 15 years ago. I went up to my grandparents’ loft and got drunk and played a lot of songs by Kate & Anna McGarrigle, because they’re a wonderful Canadian folk music duo that I’ve loved since I was very young, and Kate McGarrigle is Rufus Wainwright’s mother, and that’s just a weird connection between my Canadian folk music and this Britcom show. There’s not normally much overlap in my two favourite niches.

Anyway. I finished the radio show. And the next day, I finally put on Hypothetical. It was a great show. Was it worth a year and a half of build up? Okay, nothing is quite worth that. But it was fun. I knew almost every guest on it, and knowing something about them already made me appreciate their humour more, so my plan had, in fact, worked. I thought that was nice. The very first episode was like a Taskmaster crossover: James and Josh hosting, and guests Rob Beckett, Jessica Knappett, Liza Tarbuck, and Tom Allen. Representation from seasons 1, 3, 7 (x2), and 6, plus one person who will almost definitely be on Taskmaster in the next few seasons, right? Episode 3 was all Taskmaster: Josh and James, plus Sara Pascoe, Lou Sanders, Nish Kumar, and Ed Gamble. Representation from season 1, 3, 5, 7, 8, and 9. This was exactly what I’d wanted in April 2020, when I’d first made that list! Fun Taskmaster crossovers! But I’d seen them all on so many other shows so I got more of the references!

Then I got to episode four, featuring Romesh Rangathan, Rosie Jones, Kerry Godliman, and Matt Forde. And that is the source of the above clip. It validated all my thoughts about how I should stick to the plan of doing all the required reading before getting into anything. Because I would absolutely not have understood the significant of this without that fucking radio show. It was a running theme of that show that Jon and Russell were both mildly obsessed with Mark Lawrenson, and when he started joining them, Matt Forde shared their obsession. I know so much shit about Mark Lawrenson, just because Russell Howard and Jon Richardson and Matt Forde told me about him while I picked up apples at my grandparents’ house in summer/fall 2021. I know he was a very significant figure in the lives of those three men, and apparently for quite a few other people in those days. Maybe still, I don’t know. I don’t know anything about Mark Lawrenson since 2008, except that he wants to poison the England football team. But I know a lot about him from then.

And that allowed me to get that joke on that 2019 episode of Hypothetical in ways that would have gone way over my head otherwise. Basically, for reasons that are grounded in over a decade of history, it is really, really fucking funny that Matt Forde failed to know a basic fact about football person Mark Lawrenson’s life. Really funny. He’s sort of dedicated his life to knowing that sort of thing. I mean, I guess he’s mainly dedicated it to knowing about the Labour Party, but after that, the next biggest thing he’s supposed to know is Mark Lawrenson.

Anyway, that’s what I have to say. I just rambled for a long time and now I feel like I should have a better way to end it than this. I documented that whole journey on this blog while it was happening, but to the people I’ve just gotten to know on here in the last few months - hello, that’s how I got to where I am now in my Britcom journey. And here is a clip from Hypothetical that is incredibly fucking funny. Enjoy.

12 notes · View notes

fangroyal · 2 years

Text

10 first lines tag game

Many thanks to @hey-flynn for the tag! 🥰It’s been a long time since I’ve done one of these! Unfortunately, I didn’t publish anything in 2022, and I also haven’t really been writing anything at all for over a year now. I know it’s just one of those things - life stuff, taking a break from writing - but sometimes I get down about it. It was really nice to be tagged in this, though, and, like...essentially remind me I’m still a writer even if I’m not writing right now, lol! So thank you, it’s really appreciated! 🖤

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to, but I went ahead and ordered these from most to least recent!

“Draco Malfoy exited the lifts on Level Two amidst a flurry of bright purple memos, all zooming down the long corridor of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, bound for the Auror Offices.“ (I Will Follow You into the Dark, Drarry, NC-17)

“"Unbelievable," Ron muttered to himself.” (Plumage, Dron, NC-17)

“Weasley really looked amazing tonight.“ (An Inconvenient Attachment, Dron, NC-17)

“Draco Malfoy was no stranger to the way living purely Muggle could dull a wizard's senses.“ (In Plain Sight, Snaco, NC-17)

“Kingsley Shacklebolt had, upon officially taking the position of Minister for Magic several years prior, instituted an 'open door' policy throughout the organization, requiring that all office doors remained open during operating hours, except in the cases of private meetings or other special circumstances.” (Signed, Sealed, Delivered, Dron, NC-17)

“"I'm going to bloody kill you when this is over."” (Pass The Salt, Brother Dear, Sirius/Regulus, NC-17)

“It was a particularly chilly evening in early October, and the streets of Knockturn Alley were quiet.“ (The Black Adder: Knockturn's Caped Crusader, Dron, R)

“"Who all's gonna be there tonight?"“ (In The Closet, Snupin, NC-17)

“It was around three-thirty on Christmas morning when Sirius woke with a start, a feeling deep in his gut that something wasn't right.“ (The First Christmas, previous Jily, unrequited Prongsfoot, R)

“Twenty minutes have passed since the clock struck midnight on January 1, 1979.“ (Moony, Lily, Padfoot, and Prongs, Jily and Wolfstar swinging lol��, NC-17)

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent wip's and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

As I said, I’ve not written much of anything at all in the past year or so, lol. But these are snippets from WIPs I still have an attachment to and hope to return to at some point in time. Most of them don’t have set-in-stone titles yet, so I’ve just left descriptors in the parentheses!

I’d also like to note that I, uh.......write pretty non-linearly most of the time, haha! So very few of these (if any at all) are actual first lines for these stories. More likely just whichever random line happens to be at the very top of the doc currently.

“"Yes, I'm here to learn how to cook," Malfoy practically spat, his jaw clenching rhythmically behind his scowl.“ (Dron - Ron gets into teaching Wixen cooking classes, and Draco becomes one of his students, much to Ron’s surprise)

“The first time Draco saw the Golden Trio again, it was at a dinner at the Burrow.” (Dron - was meant to be for a prompt from Annchen for last year’s Crack!Fic Fest, but as I said...not writing much at all in the last year, lmao - Ron is, contrary to my usual headcanoning of him, a TERRIBLE cook that constantly causes chaos, much to his boyfriend Draco’s chagrin - oh, and of course there’d be food sex 😜)

“Of all the things that could've ― and should've ― killed Harry Potter in his lifetime, somehow the prospect of a vampire's bite had never crossed his mind.“ (Drarry - was meant to be for a prompt from @veelawings for last year’s Fangfest, but as I said...........😂 - Harry’s a vampire, and Draco discovers, quite spectacularly, that he’s a Veela in the middle of a sparring class)

“So much blood kept pouring out from between his lips, Ron was scared he would choke. He helped Malfoy sit up, resting his back against the nearest wall, even as he whimpered and struggled.” (Dron - was meant to be my self-prompt for last year’s Ron/Draco Fest, buuuuuuttttttt ^^^^^^^ - Ron and Draco are Auror partners - Draco gets turned into a vampire on a raid, is let go from the Ministry, and disappears - Ron doesn’t see him again until a couple years later when he’s sent on a mission to investigate mysterious deaths happening around the Wixen-creature neighborhoods)

“The air rings with the crack of a Beater's bat.“ (Dron - was meant to be for a prompt from @veelawings for the 2021 Quidditch Fest, but etc. etc., looool - Ron and Draco are playing on the Chudley Cannons together and keep getting into fights - their manager sends them on a wilderness retreat in order to work out their differences before the next big match)

“"Potter," he says. The 'p' pops distinctly in his mouth, and suddenly Harry feels transported back ten years, and it takes everything in him not to scowl.“ (Drarry - originally from a prompt by @jalesidor - Draco is an artist, and Harry is sent to him to have his portrait painted to be hung in Hogwarts for the ten year anniversary of the Battle)

“Friday night at the Dragon's Head was packed.“ (Dron - what I for so many years felt like was gonna be my magnum opus, but haven’t worked on in literally forever, lmao - where do I even begin...Fred (who lived in this story) and George open a sex shop that sells dildos modelled after the Weasley brothers’ cocks - Draco buys Ron’s, Ron finds out and is intrigued, and thus begins a series of secret hookups while they try to sort out their true feelings for each other)

“Oliver Wood remembered with vivid clarity the exact moment his professional Quidditch career came to an end.“ (Flintwood - originally from a prompt by @mxrcusflint - Marcus and Oliver are rival youth Quidditch coaches)

“The very last thing Draco had expected that fateful morning was to find Harry Potter on his doorstep.“ (Dron - HP Love Island with Dron endgame)

“Tweek's parents were fucking nuts, but it was better than Harbucks. Pete hadn't had to pay for his own coffee for his last two years of high school. He'd really been living the dream.” (CuRed from South Park - adult, and estranged, Mike and Pete are forced to navigate a conformist zombie apocalypse together)

Like @hey-flynn, I’m not sure that I have ten people I could comfortably tag for this! Haha! I’ve been so out of the loop, it feels like, for the past year or so. I only even started regularly using my Tumblr again super recently, so.....I’m gonna go ahead and just tag the following people! If you’ve already done this one, or don’t feel like doing it, please feel free to ignore. 😅

@veelawings, @danpuff-ao3, @braingray, @mildredmost, @maesterchill, @jalesidor

#first lines tag game #fangqueen writes fanfiction #fangqueen speaks

2 notes · View notes

montanababe7 · 2 years

Text

Posted this in 2022🙏🏼🙌🏼🥹🥲😭

But God. I don’t know any other way to start this post. The articles I posted below are what I could relate to just several Sundays ago.

I had an encounter with Jesus that still just stops me in my tracks. I don’t expect anyone to read this with a dry eye, nor do I think you’ll be able to.

You see, I thought I was permanently and emotionally broken- and that was just how things were. I didn’t know that Jesus could completely free me from my cptsd.

Let’s go back to 2008. I had joined an internship that left me emotionally scarred and broken for at least one decade.

Fast forward to 2022-The next moment…is what brings me to my knees I’m so thankful to Jesus. Jesus asked me audibly if I wanted to be made whole. He asked me this at least three times…if not more🥺. My first time thought was, ‘yes, of course Jesus. But if you heal me of my cptsd; who will I be?’ He responded back immediately, ‘that’s not what I asked you. I asked you if you wanted to be made whole. It was a command. Not a question. Do you want to be made whole?’

I said, ‘yes, Jesus😭. I’m done being broken and angry on the inside all the time. I just want to stop hurting.’

Seconds later, but I’m sure it was instantaneously, I saw myself back at go ministries international-a part of where my cptsd was stemmed from. I was all alone in the woods….just done with everything. It was during the com m unison game the core leaders had instigated. It was pouring outside. I had found a perfect rock. Jesus spoke to me again, ‘I sent someone right then to stop you from attempting to end your life. The timing could not have been more crucial than you’ll understand. The person I sent over; had no idea they were part of saving your life. I worked through them to rescue you.’

Jesus than showed me another scene. He asked me..’do you remember when you were so depressed and a su icidal when you were sneaking showers so no one would know what you were planning? I sent my guardian and ministering angels to you at that exact moment just as you had the r a z o r poised at your arm and they took those things out of your hands-saving your life. You had simply thought right than that you just changed your mind. Nope, there was a war going on for your destiny. Little did you know just how close you were to end ing your life right than.’ I, of course am bawling my eyes out at that point. I could feel years of pain, heaviness, and heartache melting away. It wasn’t a small trickle of emotions; it was a flood. I wept as I had never wept before.

Jesus spoke something else to my heart. He said to me, ‘My beloved daughter Jessica, you have spent years removing the spiritual grave clothes off of others; revealing a gorgeous gown or tuxedo for others. It’s beyond time that the spiritual grave clothes come off you too. It’s time for you to really live.’ In that moment, I started seeing chains ⛓ being broken in the realms of the spirit.

Jesus asked me another question. He said, ‘it’s time you stop hating your mom. She was parenting you out of her own brokenness. You must fully forgive her. The pain and hurt that you’ve held onto over the many years-has been destroying you. Let that pain go. Forgive her. Love her from a distance.’

I turn to mike and tell him, ‘I’m not hurting anymore. I don’t feel angry any more. Jesus just now healed my cptsd. Completely. The pain is gone.’

There’s a softness around my eyes that I haven’t seen in quite some time. Ok, it’s been years. I don’t need to keep walls up anymore. I can be free to feel and not shut down.

I’ve been weeping more than I ever have. But, in a good way. I no longer feel the need to hold back my tears or to prevent myself to cry. I’m finally my age at 35 and not as someone who’s ancient. I feel younger in a good way. Jesus has done this. He’s done all of it.

So when I say-but God. I mean every word of it.

Jesus saved me. It’s that simple. I am here

For a purpose. I’m still learning and discovering what it all means. But. Now, I am

Whole. Jesus can do the impossible in your life, too. I know this to be true…because he’s done it in mine🥺

Love you all,

Jessica.

https://themindsjournal.com/9-ways-beautifully-broken-girl-loves-differently/

https://themindsjournal.com/what-it-means-to-fall-in-love-with-a-girl-who-is-beautifully-broken/

0 notes

live-the-fangirl-life · 3 years

Text

The One After Rowan Says Aelin

The Court - Throne of Glass x FRIENDS - Fic Series

S5, E1 : The court deals with the aftermath of a catastrophic slip-up.

Fic Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Sex

7038 words

*******

“Repeat after me,” instructed the minister, standing before the bride and groom. “I, Rowan…”

“I, Rowan,” the silver-haired man repeated.

“Take thee, Lyria…”

“Take thee, Aelin…”

Shocked gasps spread through the chapel as it took Rowan a moment to realize his mistake. Eyes flying wide, he gripped Lyria’s hand tighter who was staring at him in disbelief.

“Lyria. Lyria.” Rowan emphasized with a forced chuckle.

Stunned, the minister leaned toward Lyria before asking hesitantly, “Shall I go on?”

From her seat a few aisles back, Aelin gaped as she listened to Rowan. He said her name. Her name.

It had to mean something, right? A groom doesn’t just same the wrong name during his wedding for no reason, right? Did he still want her? Love her? Like she loved him?

“He,” Aelin stuttered, leaning forward to whispering the ear of the woman sitting in front of her, “he said Aelin, right? Do you think I should go up there?” The woman didn’t pay her any attention, focused on the scene at the head of the chapel.

The minister was still waiting on Lyria to respond as she tried not to meet the eyes of people looking on with surprise and pity.

“Yes, yes, do go on.” She decided, forcing a calm expression over her humiliation and anger.

The minister nodded and announced, “I think we’d better start again. Rowan, repeat after me. I, Rowan…”

Rowan cleared his throat and said, “I, Rowan,”

“Take thee, Ly-ri-a” the minister dragged out the woman’s name as if speaking to a child.

Rowan shot an exasperated glare at the officiant but looked down at the brunette and repeated, “Take thee, Lyria.” She glared at him and forced another chuckle from his lips as he turned towards the guests and joked, “Like there’d be anybody else.”

Even Aelin cringed at the horrible attempt at humor, but it was no match for the way Lyria was glaring daggers at him.

“As my lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, till death parts us.” The minister continued.

“As my lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, until death parts us.” Rowan leaned in closer, “Really, I do. Lyria.”

People were still muttering as the minister asked for the rings.

“Lyria, place this ring on Rowan’s finger as a symbol of your bond everlasting.”

Rowan flinched as she jammed the ring forcefully onto his finger.

“Rowan, place this ring in Lyria’s hand as a symbol of the love that encircles you forever.”

“Happy to.” He chirped and gave her the ring.

Aelin, and everyone else, watched what seemed to be a train wreck unfolding as the minister declared, “Rowan and Lyria have made their declarations and it gives me great pleasure to declare them husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

People visibly winced as Rowan bent to kiss Lyria and she turned away from him only allowing him to brush his lips against her cheek. She escaped down the aisle, refusing to grab Rowan’s outstretched hand.

Aelin thought she heard Lyria mutter Just keep smiling to Rowan as they passed by.

Fenrys was standing next to Lorcan near the other bridesmaids and groomsmen. He nudged the taller man in the ribs and quipped, “Well, that went well.”

Lorcan glared down at the blond and rolled his eyes, “It could’ve been worse,” he suggested sarcastically, “he could’ve stabbed her.”

***

Aelin stood with Elide, Lorcan, and Fenrys in the lobby of the reception hall as they watched Rowan try to coax Lyria out of the bathroom she’d locked herself in. They could hear her shouting at him through the door.

“You’ve ruined everything!” she called out, furiously, “This is a nightmare! My friends and family are out there! How can I face them? How can you do this me?”

The group cringed as other guests look toward the scene.

Fenrys watched them a moment before asking, “No matter what happens with Rowan and Lyria, we still get cake right?”

Lorcan snorted as Rowan tried to open the door again, “All right Lyr, you take your time sweetie. I’ll be right out here.” He plastered a fake cheerful smile on as he noticed his friends watching him with pity, “She just fixing her makeup.”

“I hate you!” Lyria screamed through the door.

“And, I love you!” he called.

Rowan walked back towards his friends. Fenrys, trying to lighten the mood, teased “Man, bad time to say the wrong name, huh?” He wiggled his eyebrows even as Rowan fixed him with an incredulous glare.

“Thanks, Fen,” Rowan muttered as he clipped Fenrys on the back of the head. Then Rowan sighed and looked around at the depressing reception hall and tried to put on a happy face that came across as more of a grimace. “People should be dancing; this is a party!” Rowan whirled back towards Fenrys and urged, “Come on Fen, dance!”

Fenrys looked around at the empty dancefloor and his friends waiting patiently as he tried to dance in the music-less space for a moment before giving up and walking away.

***

Across the room, Lyria’s mother answered her ringing phone.

“Yes? Who is this?”

“Uh, hello, this is Rowan Whitethorn’s personal physician, Dr. Shifter.”

In New York, Lysandra cringed at the obviously fake accent she was attempting but pushed forward. After making Fenrys keep his phone on during the wedding ceremony and hearing Rowan’s horrible fumble, she was trying to help them fix the situation. To her and Aedion’s disappointment, they couldn’t attend the wedding due to Lysandra’s pregnancy; she was due any day now and was instructed not to fly. So, she’d have to help with damage control from across the pond.

“Who?” the older woman asked.

“Yes,” Lysandra insisted, deepening the ridiculous accent, “I’ve discovered Rowan forgot to take his…” she trailed off and Aedion prompted brain medicine, “brain medicine.” She winced at how horrible of an excuse that was, “uh, now without it, uh, in the brain of Rowan, uh women’s names are interchangeable, through…through no fault of his own.”

Lyria’s mother sighed, exasperated, “Oh my Gods, Lysandra.”

Lysandra winced again, her fake accent was as horrible as she thought.

“No, not Lysandra, Dr. Shifter.” Lysandra insisted and then exclaimed, “Oh no! You have it, too!”

The next thing Lysandra heard was the dial tone as the woman hung up.

***

Elide stood by the buffet table, filling her plate when she felt Lorcan come up next to her.

“Hey,” He said in a low voice.

She glanced up at him to find him already looking at her, “Hi.”

He looked apologetic, almost nervous, in a way he normally wasn’t, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Wow, uh, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but, I know we had plans to meet up tonight and,” he stumbled over his words again as they both flashed back to the night before.

Lorcan opened the door to his hotel room to see Elide standing there.

“Hey, El, what’s up?” he stepped aside to let her in. Lorcan watched as she looked around the room, identical to her own, he was sure, and turn to face him.

He blamed it on the jetlag and the craziness of the day, but he couldn’t stop himself from admiring her. She was beautiful, and intelligent, and funny. She was also one of his best friends. Normally, he pushed down any feelings that weren’t ‘best friend’ feelings—feelings that made him want to throw caution to the wind and kiss her.

“Hey,” she said, looking at him through her lashes. “Is Fenrys here?”

Lorcan shook his head and saw relief flash across her face as he said, “Last time I saw him, he was heading out the door with that one bride’s maid and a bucket of strawberries.”

Elide raised a brow and snorted. “Sounds about right.”

He hummed in agreement, “You okay? You’re not still thinking about what that idiot told you, are you?”

That idiot being the stumbling, drunk man who’d bumped into Elide, spilled half his drink on her, looked at her and then her dress that she adored, and declared the stain an improvement, before walking away and leaving her to replay the insult in her head.

She snorted again, but it lacked any amusement. “What? You mean the jibe about how I looked better covered in scotch?” she sighed and looked away, “Whatever. I was obviously wrong about this dress.”

She looked down, but he grunted his disagreement, making her glance back up.

“What?” She questioned, confused at the look he was giving her.

“Ignore him,” Lorcan insisted, “I mean, you were the most beautiful person in the room tonight.” He told her, immediately wishing he hadn’t said that because that didn’t sound like a ‘best friend’ feeling.

But, instead of looking at him weirdly, she stepped closer and her eyes were…hopeful?

“Really?”

He cleared his throat but closed the distance between them, “Are you kidding? You’re the most beautiful woman in most rooms.”

Elide surged forward and kissed him.

It was perfect, it was Elide, it was—

“Whoa,” Lorcan pulled back and stared at her in disbelief, “What’s going on? You and I just kissed! You and I are kissing?” his brain couldn’t catch up.

“Well, not anymore.” She mumbled.

He searched her face, “How drunk are you?”

She offered him a smile, “Drunk enough to know that I want to do this. Not so drunk that you should feel guilty about taking advantage.”

Even through her quip, he could see the sincerity, and something else, something he couldn’t pinpoint, in her eyes.

“That’s the perfect amount!”

Then their lips connected again, and hands were moving, and suddenly they were on the bed.

Elide leaned back and Lorcan hovered over her as she broke away and said, “You know what’s weird?”

“What?” Lorcan trailed kisses down her neck and she shivered.

“This doesn’t feel weird.” She breathed.

He removed his mouth from her skin and looked into her face. She was right, this didn’t feel weird. It felt right.

Grinning, they both leaned back in and enjoyed a very satisfying night.

The next morning, Elide woke up in a hotel room with a large, warm body pressed against her. She smiled, thinking about what she and Lorcan did. And did. And did. Turning in his arms, she found he was already awake and watching her.

“Good morning” she yawned

He smirked, “G’morning.”

They spent who-knows-how-long lazily kissing until a loud knock sounded at the door.

Panicking, Elide’s wide eyes met Lorcan’s and she ducked beneath the covers just as Rowan barged into the room.

“I’m getting married today!” she heard from her position tucked into Lorcan’s side, the blankets soon becoming suffocating.

Lorcan’s hand snuck under the cover to rest in her hair as he slumped down in the bed, trying to make it less obvious that Elide was there. “Morning, Whitethorn.”

Elide heard Rowan close the door as he left and she popped back up, her hair in complete disarray, as she glanced at a now smirking Lorcan “Do you think he knew I was here?”

She’d left to get ready for the ceremony soon after that. Just before she needed to get to her seat, Lorcan casually found her and pulled her aside. Clearing this throat, he said, “What we did last night was...” he trailed off, not knowing what to say.

“Stupid.” She offered.

“Totally stupid.” He agreed, nodding.

“What were we thinking?” She asked, fixing the sleeve of her dress.

They lapsed into silence a moment, neither looking at the other, before Lorcan asked, “I’m coming over tonight though, right?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.” Elide confirmed and subtly winked as she walked to her seat.

Lorcan kept talking, drawing them both back into the present, “I’m kind of worried about what it might do to our friendship.”

Elide sighed, “I know,” She glanced around and asked him worriedly, “How could we have let this happen?”

She didn’t regret the previous night, if anything, it was the fact that she didn’t regret it that alarmed her. She valued her friendship with Lorcan so much and hoped that whatever this was didn’t mess that up. Even though they both seemed to thoroughly enjoy themselves, a fact she was reminded of as he added, “Seven times.”

She allowed a smirk and she saw it mirrored on his own mouth.

“Well, you know, we were away…” She tried to justify.

Lorcan nodded eagerly, “In a foreign, romantic country…”

Elide hummed in agreement, “I blame London.”

“London,” Lorcan grunted disapprovingly.

They looked at each other for a long moment before Elide said, “So um, while we’re still in London,” Elide watched as Lorcan raised a brow, waiting for her to continue, “I mean, we can keep doing it right?”

Lorcan suppressed a grin. “Well, I don’t see that we have a choice. But, when we’re back home, we don’t do it.”

Elide nodded, though part of her didn’t want to think that far ahead, “Only here.”

Lorcan stepped closer to her, towering over her shorter frame, “You know, I saw a wine cellar downstairs—”

“I’ll meet you there in two minutes.”

Elide didn’t miss the wide smirk he flashed her before he disappeared around the corner.

She counted to one hundred and was just about to follow Lorcan out when Aelin rushed up to her side.

“El, I have to ask you something,” Aelin said desperately.

As much as Elide loved Aelin and wanted to help her, she knew Lorcan would be in the wine cellar now waiting for her to join him.

“Now?”

Aelin didn’t catch the impatience in Elide’s question. “El, Rowan said my name up there. I mean, come on, I can’t just pretend that didn’t happen, can I?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” This was definitely a conversation she wished they were having any other time.

Aelin urged Elide for advice, “Elide, what should I do?”

“Just, uh, do the right thing.”

“What?” Aelin asked, clearly upset Elide wasn’t giving her her full attention.

Normally, Elide would be offering advice and suggestions, making sure Aelin didn’t do something too insane, but at the moment she couldn’t keep her mind from wandering back to the night before and the feel of Lorcan’s hands on her, as she babbled, “Toe the line, thread the needle, Think outside the box!”

Elide tried slipping away but Aelin stopped her again, “Whoa, wait,” Aelin sighed, “I think I’m just going to talk to Rowan about what he thinks it meant.”

Elide halted and turned back towards her friend. “Aelin, wait” the blonde met her eyes, and Elide said regretfully, “No, he’s married. Married. If you don’t realize that, I can’t help you.”

Aelin closed her eyes and nodded, “Okay, you’re right,” as Aelin opened her eyes Elide offered a small, sad smile. Her smile dropped as Aelin whipped around and finished, “You’re right, you can’t help me.”

Elide rolled her eyes but finally left to find the wine cellar. She wandered for a little while before she found the cellar, but no Lorcan.

Making her way back to the reception hall, she saw him back at the refreshment table.

“Where were you?” she hissed, “We were supposed to meet in the cellar.”

“Forget it, that’s off.” He told her under his breath.

“Why?” Elide asked incredulously

Almost as if he heard her question, Lyria’s very drunk father wandered into the hall and slurred loudly, “The next tour of the wine cellar will plan in two…in two minutes.”

Elide cringed and shared a nod with Lorcan as Fenrys walked up to them with a large steak on his plate.

“Fen,” Elide demanded, “what are you doing? You promised Lysandra you wouldn’t eat meat until she had the baby!”

Lysandra, ever the animal lover, had been a vegetarian for as long as Elide had known the woman. To Lysandra’s horror, one of her pregnancy cravings was meat, and as much as she tried, she couldn’t help but give in. After an almost meltdown, Fenrys offered to abstain from eating meat for the duration of her pregnancy so that she could and, as Lysandra’s argument, no additional animals would be harmed. When Elide tried to question why Fenrys was doing this and not, say, Aedion, Aedion cut her off before Lysandra could hear the suggestion.

Fenrys looked between Elide and his steak, “Well, I figured we’re in another country, so it doesn’t count.”

Elide met Lorcan’s eyes and they shared a secret grin

“That’s true,” she conceded.

“The man’s got a point,” Lorcan agreed.

***

Aelin found Rowan hovering outside the bathroom door.

“Hey,” she said gently.

He startled but offered her a small, strained smile, “Hi.”

“Sorry things aren’t working out so well.” Aelin winced, unable to think of anything better to say.

Rowan shook his head and forced a laugh, “Oh no! It could be better,” he nodded and then looked towards her anxiously and asked, “but’s going to be okay, right?”

Aelin hated this. She hated having to stand here with the man she was desperately in love with and reassure him that his marriage to another woman would be alright. And as much as she honestly doubted it—because what woman wants to hear her fiancé say another woman’s name at the alter—Rowan was first, and foremost, her friend.

“Oh yeah!” She said as cheerfully as she could manage, “Of course, I mean, she’d gonna get over this, you know?” Aelin hoped not but refrained from saying that given Rowan’s dejected face. “I mean, so you said my name, you probably just said it because you saw me there. If you’d have seen a hawk in the window, you would’ve said, ‘I take thee, hawk.’

She internally cringed but Rowan nodded, reassuring himself.

Aelin went on, “You know it didn’t mean anything, it was just a mistake.” She pressed closer and allowed a sliver of hope to show in her eyes as she asked again, hoping he would disagree with her, “It didn’t mean anything, right?”

After a second’s hesitation that she may have just imagined, Rowan’s brows furrowed and he insisted, “No! No, of course, it didn’t mean anything.” He glanced towards the door then back to Aelin. “I mean, I can understand why Lyria would think it meant something, you know, because…because it’s you…” he trailed off and Aelin briefly saw highlights of their relationship flash before her eyes.

The museum dates, the love confessions, the times with their friends. She saw them break apart and mend back together. She saw a new friendship bloom, and her own feelings of love resurface even as he found happiness somewhere else.

She cleared her throat, bringing herself back to the moment, “Right.”

Stepping closer to the closed door, Rowan yelled “It didn’t! It didn’t mean anything!”

Aelin was prevented from saying something stupid as Fenrys approached and told Rowan, “Rowan, hey man, the band’s ready outside for your first dance with Lyria,” Fen trailed off as Rowan glared at him.

“Oh, oh, the band’s ready?” Rowan asked with fake interest. “Well, I—we have to do what the band says,” he whirled on Fenrys and shouted, “I don’t care about the stupid band!”

Fenrys shot Rowan an annoyed glace and wiped his face, “You spit on me, man.”

Rowan muttered a sorry before Fenrys asked, “Lyria is kind of taking a long time, huh?”

A memory surfaced in Aelin’s mind and she laughed, “You know, when I locked myself in the bathroom at my wedding,” she paused as the horrid image of Arobynn appeared but faded away as she looked back at Rowan, “it was because I was trying to pop the window out of its frame.”

The guys chuckled at the thought of Aelin maneuvering an outrageous wedding dress through a window.

“Had to get the hell out of there, you know?” she chuckled, too, before all three of them abruptly stopped and whipped their heads around to the bathroom door.

Oh shit.

“Lyria!” Rowan banged on the door, “Lyria, I’m coming in.”

Rowan threw the door open and he, Fenrys, and Aelin took in the empty bathroom, open window, and curtain flying in the wind.

“Well, look at that,” Aelin observed, “same thing.”

***

Elide and Lorcan escaped the reception hall amidst the chaos of a missing Lyria. They hastily made it to Elide’s room, hands clasped the entire way as Lorcan pulled her down the hall.

Laughing, she opened the door, fully ready to haul Lorcan towards the bed, but froze as she caught sight of Aelin sitting on her bed.

“Oh my Gods, Aelin! Hi.” Elide yelped, feeling Lorcan stumble into her as he froze, too.

He cleared his throat, “Oh, hey Aelin.” The fake calm tone he used to mask his irritation sounded too high for his ears, enough so that Aelin raised a brow at him before shaking her head and dismissing him.

Aelin didn’t wait for either of them to say another word as she exclaimed, “Rowan said my name. Okay?” She moved to sit on the edge of the bed with a slightly frantic look in her eye. “My name. Rowan said my name up there, that obviously means that he still loves me!”

Aelin looked back and forth between Elide and Lorcan desperately hoping one of them would validate what she said, but they stared at her in silence. She rolled her eyes and huffed a breath, “Fine, don’t believe me. I know I’m right.” She pointed a finger at the pair before running a hand through her hair, “Do you guys want to go downstairs and get a drink?”

At her inquisitive stare Lorcan said, “Yes, we do,” and as Elide shot him a look, he added, “But, we have to change first.”

Elide nodded vigorously, “Yes, I want to change. Why don’t you go down and get us a table?”

Aelin looked at her weirdly, but nodded as Elide told her, “We’ll be down in ten minutes.”

Lorcan subtly squeezed her shoulders and corrected, “twenty minutes.”

Lorcan didn’t miss the quick, approving look Elide shot him, or the subtle wink that Aelin was too preoccupied to notice.

The blonde hummed in agreement and grabbed her bag, “Okay, sure.”

Just as Aelin was about to leave, the phone at the bedside table started ringing. Answering, she asked, “Hello?”

Lorcan stifled an irritated groan.

“Oh Lys!” Aelin faced Elide and Lorcan as she settled down into the bed, “It’s Lysandra.”

“Great,” Elide mumbled and forced a smile as Lorcan didn’t hold back his next annoyed grunt.

Ignoring Aelin’s conversation and taking advantage of her distraction, Lorcan leaned down to say into Elide’s ear, “Hey, why don’t we go change in my room?”

She turned towards him with her brows furrowed, “But my clothes are—” her brows shot up as she caught the dark gleam in his eye, “Oh.”

At her answering smirk, he grabbed her hand and pulled her from the room.

***

Once Lorcan made sure Fenrys wasn’t in their shared room, he pulled Elide inside and locked the door.

His hands gripped her hips, pulling her towards him as her hand found its place in the collar of his shirt before wrapping around his neck and pulling him for a searing kiss.

Lorcan wound a hand in her hair and pulled back enough to look at her in her dress, “El, you look—”

She smirked, but said, “No time for that,” and went back to trying to get his shirt off. Their hands roamed each other’s bodies hungrily until a loud knock sounded at the door.

They pulled away as Fenrys’ voice called out, “Hey, dude,” Lorcan closed his eyes and released a slow breath, trying to reign in his fraying temper, “let me in. I’ve got a girl out here!”

Lorcan swore as he heard giggling from the hallway, and glanced at Elide whose hair was now fluffed from where his hands had run through it, and her dress that was scrunched at her hip.

“Well, I’ve got a girl in here.”

Fenrys scoffed, “No you don’t, I just saw you go in there with Elide.”

Elide huffed and Lorcan said through gritted teeth, “Well, we’re…we’re hanging out in here.”

“Look,” Fenrys insisted again, “Which one of us is gonna be having sex in there, me or you?”

It took all of Lorcan’s willpower not to reach through the door at throttle Fenrys as he growled menacingly, “I guess I’d have to say you.”

***

Realizing that neither of their rooms were going to grant them any privacy, Elide and Lorcan went to the one place they knew wouldn’t be occupied tonight.

The honeymoon suite.

“Do you really think this is okay?” Elide asked. As much as she wanted to rip Lorcan’s clothes off and climb on top of him, she suddenly felt guilty about using Rowan and Lyria’s suite. Not that they would be using it.

As if hearing her thoughts, Lorcan muttered, “Well, Rowan and Lyria aren’t gonna use it.”

“I know, I just—” she bit her lip and looked around, “I don’t know if I feel right about this.”

Lorcan stopped trying to remove the excruciating number of throw pillows and walked towards elide. “El, El, El,” he murmured, grabbing her face in his hands, “this is the honeymoon suite.”

“Exactly.” She retorted.

He rolled his eyes, “This room expects sex.” He chuckled at her raised brow but said, “The room would be disappointed if it didn’t get sex. All of the other honeymoon suites would think it was a loser.”

She snorted, “You’re an idiot.” The insult did have any of her usually bite.

He grinned, “Maybe, but I’m an idiot you want to fuck. And now we have an unoccupied room.”

Elide rolled her eyes but grinned back, “Okay.”

“Okay.”

They’d just reached the bed when the door flew open and Lorcan barely contained a long string of curses.

“Lyria?” Rowan called, his eyes scanning the room.

Elide shot Lorcan a look and asked Rowan, “You haven’t found her?”

Rowan groaned, “No, I’ve looked everywhere!”

Lorcan, very helpfully, responded, “Well, you couldn’t have looked everywhere or else you would’ve found her!”

Elide almost pitied Lorcan for being on the end of Rowan’s glare.

“I think you should keep looking,” she suggested, drawing Rowan’s attention back.

“Yeah,” Lorcan nodded, “for about thirty minutes.”

“Or forty-five,” she quickly suggested.

Lorcan’s eyes flashed to hers and a wicked gleam shown there as he said to Rowan, without taking his eyes off her, “in forty-five minutes you could find her a few times.”

Elide grinned but quickly schooled her features as Rowan turned back in her direction.

“No,” Rowan insisted, sitting down heavily on the bed, “For all I know, she’s trying to find me but couldn’t because I kept moving around. No, from now on, I’m staying in one place. Right here.”

Elide nodded, “Well, it’s getting late.” She shot a look at Lorcan and he quickly followed her to the door.

“Yeah,” he added, “we’re gonna go.”

“Actually, do you guys mind staying here for a while?” Rowan asked, looking pitiful and so unlike his usual self.

“We have to get up early and catch that plane for New York,” Lorcan argued.

Rowan sighed, “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Elide stared at Rowan a moment and had an internal battle with herself. Should she be a good friend and support Rowan when he’s upset and hurting…or should she escape and have the best sex of her life.

Groaning at her apparent conscious, she glanced at Lorcan and tried to convey that they weren’t about to skip out now. He sighed heavily but nodded almost imperceptibly.

“But,” he said through gritted teeth, “we’ll stay here with you.”

Rowan visibly brightened. “Thanks, guys. I really appreciate this.”

***

They stayed like that for hours, Rowan eventually falling asleep across both Lorcan and Elide, keeping them in place and awake despite their exhaustion, desire, and exasperation.

Lorcan groaned and dragged a hand down his face, “We have to leave for New York in an hour.”

Elide sighed, “I know,” she glanced at Lorcan and then at the doors to the suite. “I’ve been eyeing those doors; they look pretty soundproof, don’t you think?” she asked hopefully.

Lorcan winced, “We can’t do that that’s insane. I mean ‘A’ he could wake up,” his eyes flicked down to Rowan who was totally passed out, then back to her, “and ‘B’ you know, let’s go for it.”

She grinned and they both tried to carefully remove themselves from Rowan until a knock pounded and Rowan shot up and stumbled off them.

“Lyr? Lyria?” He asked, still half asleep, “Lyria?” Rowan ran out of the room and through the suite to fling the door open. It wasn’t Lyria, just her parents.

Her mother leveled a look at Rowan, “No, You can forget about Lyria, she’s not with us. We’ve come to get her things”

“Wait,” Rowan stammered, “where—where is she?”

“She in hiding,” her father answered, “She’s utterly humiliated. She doesn’t want to see you ever again.”

“Hey, you guys, check this out, a whole cart was just left—" Aelin sauntered in with tiny bottles of hair products in her hands but froze as she looked between Rowan, Lyria’s parents, Elide, and Lorcan.

“Goodbye, Whitethorn.” Lyria’s father said

“Hold on!” Rowan insisted, stopping the parents from leaving, “Look, your daughter and I are supposed to leave tonight for our honeymoon, now you,” he took another breath, “you tell her that I’m gonna be at that airport and I hope that she’ll be there too.”

Rowan ran a frustrated hand through his hair, making the ends stick up, and explained, “Yeah, I said Aelin’s name, but it didn’t mean anything, okay?”

Aelin tried her best not to let her shattering heart show on her face as she slumped into a seat at the back of the room.

He continued, “She’s just a friend and that’s all!”

She knew Rowan wasn’t trying to hurt her, Hellas, he had no idea that she was still in love with him—he was just trying to get his wife back. Gods. His wife. How could Aelin be so stupid?

She felt Elide and Lorcan sink into the chairs next to her and Elide’s subtle, comforting hand on her back.

“She’s just afraid,” Rowan kept saying, “Now just tell Lyria that I love her and that I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else. Please, promise me that you’ll tell her that.”

Aelin blocked out any other conversation.

***

Elide was tired. She was exhausted from staying up all night having to deal with distressed grooms, interrupting friends, and runaway brides—if she was being honest, Elide wasn’t all that upset over the last one. She kind of hated that Rowan married Lyria, she’d never gotten a good vibe from the woman, not to mention everything that was still between Rowan and Aelin…

Sitting next to Lorcan on their flight home, she leaned in close to rest her shoulder against his arm and smiled a bit as he turned towards her.

“You know,” she said, “maybe it’s best that we never got to do it again.”

He made a noise of agreement even if she could’ve sworn she saw disappointment in his eyes.

“Yeah, it makes that one ti—night special, I guess” He almost said time but corrected himself because they did it way more times than just fucking once. A smirk played at his lips as realized, “Technically, El, we are still over international waters.”

Her eyes lit up and she grinned as she maneuvered out of her seat and told him, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, maybe I’ll see you there?” She asked coyly. Elide had taken half a step before turning back with a worried glance at him, “Airplane bathrooms are tiny, are you going to fit?”

Lorcan leaned back and smirked fully, “I’ll fit.”

She scoffed at the way his eyes darkened—it was obvious he wasn’t talking about the bathroom—but walked back there anyway.

He leaned over to watch her walk away and caught her sly wink as she slipped into the bathroom, before facing forward and coming face to face with Fenrys who’d taken Elide’s seat the moment she was gone.

“Gods,” Lorcan jumped, “what?”

“Can I ask you something?” Fenrys asked, oblivious to the growing anger emanating for Lorcan at another instance of being interrupted from his time with Elide.

“No,” Lorcan grunted and was about to get up when Fenrys grabbed his arm and dove into a conversation that Lorcan entirely blocked out.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there desperately wanting to meet Elide but being trapped in a mindless one-sided conversation, his only reprieve being the small liquor bottles he’d charged to Fenrys’ ticket.

Fenrys suddenly stopped talking as he glanced over Lorcan’s shoulder. Turning, Lorcan winced as he met the livid eyes of Elide

“Elide,” Fenrys commented, “wow, you’ve been in the bathroom for like a half-hour.”

Elide’s eyes narrowed further and Lorcan tried to look apologetic as she bit out, “I. Know.”

***

When Elide, Lorcan, and Fenrys arrived back at their building Lysandra and Aedion were waiting for them in Elide’s apartment.

After the hellos and hugs, Lysandra stepped back and narrowed her at Fenrys.

“You ate meat!” She accused.

Then she turned towards Lorcan and Elide who watched her with wide eyes, “You had sex!”

They sputtered, “No we didn’t!”

Lysandra scoffed at Lorcan, “I know you didn’t, you have the personality of a shoe, who would want to hook up with you?” She gestured at Elide, “I was talking about Elide.”

Elide forced a laugh, “What? Lysandra, I did not have sex.” Elide brushed off the claim as Aedion gave her a funny look.

Lysandra shook her head and sighed, “This pregnancy is throwing me all off.”

Lysandra and Aedion said their goodbyes, and then Fenrys walked across the hall to his own apartment, leaving Lorcan and Elide standing in Elide’s kitchen.

“Well, we certainly are alone.” Elide said, unnecessarily.

Lorcan nodded, “Yeah, uh, good thing we have that, ‘Not in New York’ rule.”

She hummed noncommittally.

“Listen, I uh,” Elide tried to put her scrambling thoughts into words, “I just—that night meant a lot to me, I guess I’m just trying to say thanks.”

Lorcan cleared his throat and stepped closer to her, “Oh, yeah, you know,” She looked up as he stumbled over his words, “that night meant a lot to me too.”

They stared at each other for another long moment before Lorcan nodded at the door and said, “All right, I gotta go unpack.”

“Okay.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.” She watched him leave and waited to hear the door across the hall open, but the click of the door handle never came.

Lorcan stalked back in and slammed her door behind him.

“I’m still on London time, does that count?” He asked wildly

Elide was already flinging herself at him, “That counts!”

Then she wrapped her legs around his hips as he lifted her and carried her into her bedroom.

***

Aelin was making another lap around the airport, hoping to hear some updates about her flight. In her mad dash to show up at Rowan and Lyria’s wedding, she had bought the first ticket she could to London and hadn’t worried about her return flight. She didn’t think it would be such a struggle to fly home.

“Aelin!” A deep, familiar voice called out.

She stopped and turned to see Rowan sitting alone in an almost deserted waiting area.

“Rowan, hi.”

He stood up and met her halfway, his face scrunched in confusion “What are you, uh what are you doing here?”

“Oh, well,” she adjusted her bag on her shoulder and flashed him a smile, “I’ve been on standby for a flight home for hours. I’ve become very familiar with the airline staff.”

He nodded

“So,” she glanced around, “no sign of Lyria, huh?

“Not yet.” Rowan shook his head.

“What time are you supposed to leave?”

As if on cue, the speakers crackled as an announcement called, “This is the last call for Flight 1066 to Athens. The last call.”

Rowan made a face and answered her, “Pretty soon I guess.”

Despite her feelings about Lyria, the very last thing Aelin wanted was to see Rowan so dejected and heartbroken.

“I’m sorry,” she said as gently as she could.

He sighed and sat back down as Aelin took the seat across from him

“I just, I don’t understand,” He scrubbed his face with his hands, “I mean, how can she do this? You know, am I… am I like a complete idiot for thinking that she’d actually show up?”

“No, you’re not an idiot, Rowan. You’re a guy very much in love.” Aelin sighed.

He snorted, “Same difference”

She cracked a smile and he matched it.

The voice over the speaker rang out again, “All ticketed passengers for Flight 1066 to Athens should now be on board.”

“I get it!” Rowan snapped at the invisible voice, then sighed again, “Well, that’s that.”

Aelin couldn’t watch this anymore. “No, you know what, I think you should go.”

“What?”

His face snapped up and Aelin looked into his earnest, pine green eyes as she told him, “Yeah,” she nodded, “I think you should go, by yourself, get some distance, clear your head, I think it’d be really good.”

He looked skeptical but Aelin thought she saw an ounce of relief. “I don’t—I don’t know.”

He looked at the gate attendant still at the check-in desk and Aelin knew he wanted to.

“Come on Rowan, I think it would be really good for you,” She urged, hoping the trip would make him feel better and he would come back seeming more like himself—like the Rowan she knew.

He was nodding, trying to convince himself, “Yeah,” he eventually said, “I can do that.”

“Yeah!” Aelin agreed, trying to hype him up.

Rowan grabbed his bag and looked back at her, still frustrated, “I can’t even believe her,” he chanced another glance around the terminal as if Lyria would materialize in front of him, “No, you know what, I am, I’m going to go.”

“Good!”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Right!”

“Right.” Rowan took another step before turning to face her once more, “Thanks, Aelin.”

She smiled at him, glad that he was getting some of his happiness back that had abandoned him the previous day.

“Okay,” she said again and opened her arms to give him a hug he enthusiastically returned. “I’ll see you back at home if I ever get a flight out of here,” she huffed and began to turn away.

“Well...no, never mind.” Rowan shook his head, dismissing whatever he was about to say.

Aelin tilted her head, she scrunched her brows in confusion as he gave her a sheepish grin, “What?”

Rowan looked between her and the gate attendant, “Why don’t you come?” at her shocked silence he plowed on, “I—I have two tickets,” he waved them in front of him, still wearing that boyish smile she loved so much, “Why not?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she trailed off. Aelin wanted nothing more than to say yes, but Rowan was offering her the second ticket on his honeymoon trip for gods’ sake. But as she kept looking into his hopeful face, she felt her resolve and guilt crumbling. “Really?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’ll be great,” he insisted, handing her one of the tickets. “You can lay on the beach and read, and I can cry over my failed marriage,” he chuckled, “See? Already making jokes.” the smile he forced was more of a grimace.

“Rowan, I—”

“No, really,” Rowan stepped up to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. She tried not to lose focus as she felt his warmth sink into her. “Please, Aelin,” he said, looking more vulnerable than she’d seen him all weekend. “Gods, I could use a friend right now, and you’re one of the best.”

“Wow,” Aelin took a breath. She could accept. She could go to Greece with Rowan for a week and support him and enjoy herself. “Okay. Uh, yeah, yes! Yes, I can do that.”

“Really?” his smile widened and so did hers.

“Really.”

They walked to the gate attendant and handed her their tickets. After a disapproving glare for their timing, she opened the door and waved them through.

Rowan readjusted his bag and paused, “Oh, wait, I forgot my jacket. You go on, I’ll be right there.”

Aelin flashed him a happy smile and nodded, walking onto the plane.

Rowan quickly jogged back where he’d been sitting, picked up his jacket, straightened, and met the eyes of his runaway bride.

“Lyria.” he breathed.

She looked between him and the gate looking distraught and Rowan realized that she must have seen Aelin go onto the plane. His eyes flared, understanding that Lyria must have thought everything with he and Aelin had been intentional. And it wasn’t. It wasn’t...right?

She scoffed and made to turn away, but he stammered, “Oh no, no, no, no! No!, Lyria!” He frantically looked between Lyria’s retreating figure and the gate that Aelin had walked through to the plane where she was waiting for him.

Cursing every god he knew, he chased through the airport after his wife.

***

Aelin enjoyed first class. She didn’t fly it often, but when she really wanted to treat herself, she would. This flight was no different than she remembered. She settled into the seat, keeping the window spot open for Rowan, and ordered them both a drink from the flight attendant. She figured they could both use one after this insane weekend.

Glancing out the window, Aelin noticed that the airport appeared to be moving.

She jolted in her seat. The airport wasn’t moving. She was. The plane was.

The plane was leaving, and Rowan wasn’t on it.

“Oh, my Gods,” Aelin muttered in disbelief as she sat on a plane departing for what should’ve been Rowan and Lyria’s honeymoon. “Oh, my Gods.”

*****

Taglist:

@acourtofsnakes @allthebooksunderthemoon @astra-ad-mare @becarefuloflove @bisexual-genderfluid-loki @booklover41802 @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @danibutterr @doubt-less @emily-gsh @enormousbooklover @foughtconquered @fromthelibraryofemilyj @hakunamatatazz @i-have-but-one-brain-cell @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jorjy-jo @lemonade-coolattas @mariamuses @mayhemories @midsizewitch @miserablesmusings @morganofthewildfire @nehemikkele @rowaelinismyotp @rowansfirebringer @sayosdreams @sheharahu @sleeping-and-books @stardelia @story-scribbler @superspiritfestival @surielandiareendgame @swankii-art-teacher @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @ladygabrielli1997 @moodymelanist @realbookloverproblems @gracie-rosee @julemmaes @yesdreamblog @the-regal-warrior @rowanaelinn @thestoriesyoutell @autumnbabylon @sunflowermoonshinewrites @wrathscannoli @backtobl4ck

148 notes · View notes

ilovefinncole · 3 years

Text

The Runaway

Summary: While Michael is locked away in jail in Boston for smuggling opium, Gina is having the time with her life having an affair with Oswald Mosley, and when Ada agrees to meet her in London she discovers the affair, and threatens to tell Michael. But the only thing for Gina to do now is run away with Oswald.

Characters: Gina Gray, Michael Gray, Oswald Mosley, Ada Thorne, Karl Thorne, Elizabeth Younger, Diana Mitford, Jack Nelson and Tommy Shelby.

Word count: 3,416

Warning(s): English is my second language, smoking, sex, swearing and drinking, spoilers for Ep1 and EP4.

Published: 24th March 2022

Author’s note: This is my second time writing for any Peaky Characters and after the last episode I decided to carry on the Gina and Oswald affair story, it had me hooked but I absolutely hated it. I always thought how would both Michael and Diana would react to the affair, so I decided to write a fic for my idea. Enjoy x

It was 5am, fucking 5am and Gina was fucking Oswald fucking Mosley the Minister of Lancaster, she was having an affair with him being Michael’s back while he is in prison.

“Midnight fucks 5am.” those where Michael’s last words to her, the last time they saw each other when she visited him in prison. Those words go round and round in her mind.

Gina didn’t mean to hurt Michael and neither did Oswald mean to hurt Diana but they both did it anyway. And the question is why did they do it.

Gina moans in bed, “Stop it Oswald please, you know we really shouldn’t be doing this. Michael will be out soon, you should get back to Miss Mitford.” Gina says.

Oswald stops and gets off of Gina, “Your right Gina I better go, but this was fun we should do this another time. Maybe Friday?” He suggests.

Gina smiles, “Yes Friday, goodbye Oswald.” She says, “Goodbye Gina.” He says, they kiss in bed, Oswald gets dressed and leaves they smile at each other softly.

Gina stresses as this is going to hurt Michael as well as Diana if they both found about the affair.

The next day, Gina set aboard a boat to take her to Boston she was going to visit Michael in prison.

When she arrived, she had a smug look on her pretty American face only because she was guilty of the affair with Oswald, and he was too. He couldn't bare to face Diana after he got back from Gina`s so he stayed at a Hotel in Westminster. So he couldn`t see Diana, or even speak to her.

Gina was guided to Michael by the prison guards, she is wearing a black beret like the ones all the women wear in France, a red long coat, a grey dress with short sleeves and black shoes, and red rounded sunglasses just for an effect.

She wanted to look like for her husband even though she is hiding a dark dirty secret, which could ruin there marriage forever.

“Johnny, what is it?” Michael said, standing around his cell, like a lost soul, he had nothing better to do these days, with being locked away in jail in Boston, he sulks and moans all day long.

“Its your wife Michael, Gina she`s come to visit you.” Johnny said, he`s Michael`s personal prison guard. “Fuck, send her in.” Michael said, with inhaling a cigarette. He was nervous he hadn't seen her in weeks.

Two prison guards opened the doors then opened up his cell, so him and Gina could finally see each other and they could sit down, and talk at the table.

Gina strutted into the cell, “Michael, how are you my love? I've missed you baby.” she says, putting her purse on the table, and walking straight over to him.

“Gina, I`m alright just waiting in here like a dog, waiting for your fucking Uncle to get me the fuck out of here.” Michael said, they kissed. Gina squealed, “I'm so glad I came to visit baby, I have a lot to tell you.” Gina says.

“Oh yeah, then tell me baby. I want to hear it all.” He said, Gina took her coat off and sat, she also took off her sunglasses, now Michael can see her beautiful bright hazel eyes.

“Well firstly, Jack has spoken to some people and he will get you out very soon, honey. Your gonna come home, you`ll be reunited with me and Laurence again, he misses his daddy.” Gina says, she smiles nervously. “I bet he does, I miss my handsome little solider” Michael says.

Gina laughs and looks down at the ground, she doesn't know where to put herself, she is worried about telling Michael. “Is something wrong Gina?” Michael asks.

Gina is now worried, “No Michael, why?” she asks, “Well I just sense that something isn`t right with you, I mean your not your usual bubbly self, has something happened? Is it the devil well is it the devil? If he`s hurt you Gina I swear when I get the fuck out of here I`ll-”

“No stop Michael please, no it’s not the devil don`t worry about him he`ll be dead soon, but his daughter is though, remember Ruby she was at the funeral holding his hand. She died from tuberculosis, she was so young. Jack told me when he went for a meeting with the devil at his house, they were all in mourning. Its tragic.” Gina said.

“Oh how awful, that's very sad, anyway I don`t really care. I couldn`t give a shit about the devil and his family. So is there any other news that I need to know about?” Michael asks.

“No that's it honey, I cant wait for you to come home. Laurence misses you. every day I tell him stories about you, his little face lights up.” she says, “Me too, I miss you and Laurence all the time.” Michael says, they hold each others hands across the table.

They look at each other across the table, “Well that`s me done, Michael. I`ll see you soon and Jack will get you out, I promise” Gina said, she put her coat back on and her sunglasses. “Gina, we havent finished yet, please stay.” Michael says.

“I`d love to but er I've got to be elsewhere, sorry.” Gina says, she kisses Michael on his cheek, “bye Michael, I'll give Laurence your love.” Gina said. “bye Gina” Michael says as he inhales another cigarette.

“Oh, bye honey.” Gina says, she leaves and has a worried look on her face, she feels guilty and ashamed that she cheated on him. Michael goes back into his cell and sits down and inhales another cigarette, “Some day, some day I`ll get revenge on Tommy Shelby mum, I promise” Michael says to himself.

He is really saying it to Polly his mum, hoping that she is listening to him from heaven, he promises to get revenge on the people who killed her and this is exactly what Tommy isn't doing.

In Birmingham, at Ada`s house she is playing with Elizabeth her youngest child, her daughter that she had with the late Ben Younger, who was the head of Army Intelligence, but she never told him that she is pregnant with his daughter nor she was not in love with him.

He tragically died in a car explosion outside of Shelby Company Limited, they were very good friends, she did like him.

“Karl come on, lets go or you`ll be late.” Ada says, “I`m coming mum.” Karl says with carrying a bag he is going to stay at his friend`s house, six streets away. “Right lets go, now lets get you in the car my darling Elizabeth.” Ada says as she holds her in her arms, they smile at each other.

“Wait, Elizabeth is coming with us?” Karl says, “Yes she is, I think a ride in the car will do all of us some good.” she says. “Ok, come on Will doesn't want us to be late, he`s expecting me there in ten minutes.” he says.

“Alright bossy boots, we're coming aren't we Elizabeth, yeah” Ada says. She puts Elizabeth in the car in the front, and Karl puts his bag in the back and gets in the car.

“You know she won`t be with us for long wont you? They`ll take her off you and send me to another country. That thing almost killed us last week and we got another one thrown through that window, It almost killed Elizabeth and me. Will it ever stop? Maybe you can talk to Uncle Tommy about it, I`m sure he can spare you some soldiers.” Karl said.

He is bringing up the subject again, “Karl shut your mouth, your Uncle Tommy is very busy at the moment, he is grieving cousin Ruby and he doesn't even have any soldiers, only Peaky Blinders who do his dirty work for him, now stop your moaning so we can go.” she says, Ada is getting more and more frustrated by each day with her teenage son.

He doesn't stop moaning about Elizabeth and the bricks being thrown through there window, he allows Ada to drive. They get there in time, “Be good Karl, I`ll pick you up, same time next week.” Ada says.

“Alright bye mum, bye Elizabeth, Hello Will” Karl says, “Karl, mate you alright? Oh hello Ada, who`s this?” Will asks, he is the same height as Karl, he has blonde hair and blue eyes. “This is my other child Elizabeth, hello Will.” Ada says smiling at Karl`s friend.

“Well hello Elizabeth, she`s very cute Mrs Thorne.” Will says, “Thank you.” Ada says, “She isn`t as cute as me when I was her age” Karl says, “How do you know that Karl? You were only a baby.” Ada says, Will laughs. Karl gets his bag out of the back. He waves at Ada, and she waves back.

The boys walk into the house, happily and laughing and talking. “Boys, I just cant understand them, here`s a bit of advice Elizabeth never get into boys they`ll rip you apart, now lets go home, yeah?” Ada says, she drives back home.

At Tommy`s house, he is all alone writing a letter to meet with Oswald to discuss business with him, himself and Jack Nelson. He phones Ada, as she just gets through the door with Elizabeth in her arms, the phone rings.

“Oh who could that be I wonder Elizabeth, I've just got in.” Ada says, she puts Elizabeth down, she answers the phone, “Hello, its Ada speaking, who is it?” Ada says. “Hello Ada,” Tommy says, inhaling a cigarette as he speaks.

“Tommy its you, what do you want? I've just come home from dropping Karl off at a friend`s house.” Ada says, “I need you to go up to London Ada and see Gina, I've asked her to do something for me, its important Ada, please. I've got a lot of work here to do as it is. You`d be doing me a favor Ada.” Tommy says.

“Fuck Tommy, London. I havent been there since, well since Ben. Alright I'll go, I`ll go tomorrow, can Lizzie look after Elizbeth while I'm gone?” Ada asks. She isn`t happy by Tommy`s request

“Yes Lizzie can look after Elizabeth, just drop her round first thing tomorrow morning, then get a trail I`ll give you some money.” Tommy says, “No Tommy, I can buy my own fucking train ticket, I'm not a little girl anymore, I'm a strong independent woman, so keep your fucking money, now if you excuse me I`ve got to get Elizabeth sorted.” Ada says.

“Alright bye Ada.” Tommy says, he puts the phone down on her, “Bye Tommy Tom are you there, Tom, Thomas Tommy, oh he`s hang up on me.” she says. “Now lets get you sorted Elizabeth yeah.” Ada says to her.

After Gina gets back to London, after visiting Michael who is banged up in Jail in Boston, she puts on some jazz music and dances, she drinks till she drops, she opens about a dozen bottles of champagne, then all a sudden the phone rings.

Gina sighs and runs to the phone from the living room, “Hello Jack is that you? have you spoken to them about getting Michael out yet? please say yes Jack.” Gina says, thinking it is Jack on the other side of the line.

“Afternoon Gina, its Tommy or shall I say the devil, you and Michael do like that name don`t you? hmm” Tommy says, while inhaling a cigarette “Tommy, what do you want? I`m busy right now.” she says looking sheepish.

“I can`t come and see you tomorrow Gina, so I'm sending Ada, I've got something to do, you`ll talk business then she`ll leave alright?” he says.

“Ok, cool bye Tommy.” Gina says, “Bye Gina” Tommy says, she puts the phone down on him. “Hmm that bastard is going to get what he finally deserves death.” Gina says, she smiles and laughs to herself, so she carries on drinking and dancing all by herself in the living room.

At Oswald`s house that he shares with Diana, they sit smoking in the living room, “Darling when will our American friend be here? I can`t wait to catch up with him, its been weeks since we've last seen him.” Oswald asks.

“He`ll be here soon Oswald, yes it would be nice to catch up, that meeting was lame wasn't it and that IRA woman had a horrible mousy voice, I wanted to squeeze her voice box so her eyes pop out and she can never since again.”

Diana said, “Oh don`t be too harsh on her Diana, well the singing was dreadful I really wanted our American friend to block my ears.” he says, they both laugh, Diana inhales another cigarette.

“Mr. Mosley, Miss Mitford.” James, the head of Oswald`s house says “Yes James what is it?” Oswald asks, him and Diana turn there heads round and turn all of there attention on him. “Mr. Nelson is here, sir.” he says.

“Ooh goody, bring him in James. Diana are you ready?” he says, “Indeed I am Oswald.” they stand up holding hands while waiting for him to enter the room.

“I do love this house, you know its so colorful its so Oswald Mosley and Diana Mitford, I do love it. I miss this place, its like a second place to me, you know in American my dear Peter, we don`t have lamps like this there bigger and better no offence to my friends Oswald and Diana but America is better than England.”

Jack said, you could hear him before you could see him, he said this to Peter down the hallway, Peter opened the door, for him. “Mr. Nelson, welcome back we've missed having you here, how are you my man?” asked Oswald, he was pleased to see him back.

“My dear Oswald, hey I'm alright, how are you my friend? Diana your looking well beautiful as ever, how are you?” he asked, “I'm good thank you Mr. Nelson.” said Oswald, “Hello Mr. Nelson, thank you, we are very good, is there no Gina today? I thought she`d be here, I do love our little chats.” Diana said.

“I'm so sorry to let you down like this but there is no Gina today, she`s quite busy doing what I don`t know but I`m here.” said Jack, “Jolly Good I say” Oswald says, “Please do sit down Mr. Nelson, we really wouldn`t want you to wait on us hand and foot, like a footman now would we Oswald?” Diana says smiling.

“No we really wouldn`t, would you like a drink Mr. Nelson? We have champagne, Prosecco, wine or water.” Oswald says, “Ha water, Mr. Nelson doesn't want that darling, he`s not Thomas is he?” says Diana, Oswald laughs.

“Please do call me Jack, I'd prefer it.” Jack says, “Alright what would you like to drink Jack?” Oswald asks, “I would love to drink a glass of champagne Oswald” he says, “Of course, James get Jack a glass of our finest champagne please?” Oswald asks James.

“Of Course Sir” says James, he pours him a glass of champagne, “Ah thank you, your all too kind to me. Now lets talk business.” says Jack, Oswald lights a cigarette, “We shall.” says Oswald with a grin.

After the meeting is over, Oswald lies to Diana about going away, he is really seeing Gina in London as its Friday and he promised that he would come back and finished what they started

Ada gets out of a taxi as she is going to meet Gina for Tommy as he cant see her himself as he is too busy, “keep the change” she says to the taxi driver, “thank you miss, have a good day.” he says, “and you” she says.

He drives off and Ada looks up at the house, Gina sees her through the window and gets the house ready for her quite quickly, but Oswald is in the house

“Fuck Oswald, Its Ada she`s coming to see me because the devil cant, now hide before she sees you with me. She`s bound to tell Michael.” Gina says.

“What? the sister?” he says, “Yes the fucking sister, the smart one.” she says, “Alright I`ll hide” Oswald says, Gina doesn't answer him but they kiss. Gina walks out of her bedroom.

Ada knocks on the front door, Gina hurries and opens the door “Ada” Gina says with a smile, “Hello Gina, may I come in?” she says, “Oh yes, of course.” she says, “thank you, you look nice, I love that dress” Ada says, “thanks its new, please do excuse the mess I forgot you were coming.” she says.

“Well my house isn`t tidy either, Elizabeth messes the whole house up, there`s always paint on the walls and Karl`s clothes are everywhere, it looks like you've had a party in here.” she says.

“I've had a party for one, I'm getting quite bored these days with Michael locked away in jail and I'm all on my own, all I've got is Jack, no one else.” Gina says faking a smile.

“Oh well, don`t worry your not alone now are you, because I'm here.” Ada says, “Yeah you are.” Gina says. “I`m sorry I havent offered you a drink yet have I, what would you like to drink Ada?” she asks. “I`ll have some champagne please?” Gina says, “Of course I`ll get it for you now Ada.” she says.

“Oh, I don't have any I think I've got a bottle in my room, I`ll just go and look I`ll be back in a minute Ada.” she says, “Of course” she says, Ada sits and waits for Gina to come back with the bottle of champagne.

Gina walks to her room, and opens the door then closes it behind her. “Have you come back for round 2 Gina or shall we say round 3?” Oswald says.

“No I've come for fucking champagne, Ada wants it” she says, she snatches it off of his hands. “If she found out about this Oswald, then we are dead, the both of us, and if Diana every found out then you`ll be-” she says but is stopped by him.

“Oh relax Gina, Diana won`t find out because we both have our secrets, she`s got too many secrets and I've only got one secret and that's you.” he says, she laughs.

Ada hears Gina laugh from where she is sitting, “what is taking so long Gina?” Ada says, she goes to look for her, herself. “I do love you Oswald.” she says.

“And I love you Gina” he says, they kiss again and Ada walks to her bedroom and opens the door, and Gina and Oswald look shocked and nervous as Ada has just spotted them together.

“Ada this is not what it looks like we were only-” she says, “you were kissing him Gina, now I have come for my champagne but I guess I don`t need ant now, I`m not thirsty anymore. So I'll be on my way.” Ada says, looking unimpressed.

“Miss Thorne, please don`t tell Thomas about this, lets just keep it between the three of us” Oswald suggests, he is now worried that Tommy and Diana will find out. “And don't Michael, if you told him once he is out of jail he would divorce me and take Laurence away from me, please Ada don`t be a bitch.” Gina says.

“Hmm this is quite the scandal isn't it, I wonder how Tommy would like this, even Lizzie, even Diana and Michael.” she says, “No please don`t Ada, please” Gina says.

“Oh I will tell Michael, but I`ll leave it to you Mosley to tell Diana about this, I'm not impressed have a good day, I'll see my self out, oh and before I go you are a bitch Gina.” Ada says, smiling, she walks out of the house and gets into another taxi.

“This is all your fault Oswald, I`m ruined your ruined, were ruined.” she says, blaming him. “This isn't my fault Gina its ours, but you did ask for this sweetie.” he says, Gina sighs and crosses her arms like a little girl being banned from a sweet shop.

“We will have to run Oswald.” she says, “Yes we shall.” he says they kiss each other again.

“I will be the runaway.”

Tag list: @mrs-gray

21 notes · View notes

crispfencer · 3 years

Text

Here’s a transcript of the Attitude interview! Things in [___] are unintelligible to me, because the picture is quite blurry at times.

POP DUO ANT AND DEC - FORMERLY KNOWN AS PJ AND Duncan - are in the middle of what they would describe as a barney. Ant has just discovered that his best mate Dec has smoked all his ciggies. “Bloody hell, Dec,” mouths hard-man, skinny-head Ant, in his Geordie twang. “Where’ve all the fags gone?” Soft lad, Dec - who with his floppy fringe could easily pass for a Dulux puppy dog - momentarily tries to defend himself by insisting there was only one left. But when Ant throws the packet away in frustration, Dec comes over all sheepish and falls into a bit of a sulk.

If you witnessed this scene in a provincial nightclub you’d say they were just two young blokes having a typically laddish argument. But by the same reckoning, if you were to chance upon them in Old Compton Street they could easily pass as something quite different. Their queer appeal lies in this very contradiction: for all their laddish behaviour, Ant and Dec are, by their own admission, as camp as they come.

“Yes, I suppose we are quite camp,” giggles Dec, fingering at his silver ‘Stussy Old School’ ring, which he wears on the marriage finger of his left hand. “There’s a danger of disappearing up your own arse in this business and our approach is to have as much fun as possible. The way we do that is, now I think of it, a bit camp. But I quite enjoy that, though. I think it’s quite funny really.”

They have been described as a cross between Reeves and Mortimer and Zig and Zag. “And _____d Bert and Ernie from Sesame Street,” quips Dec. A remark made [to all] innocence, perhaps, but a couple of years ago a group of American fundamentalist ministers ‘outed’ these two lovable glove puppets as queer. Bert and Ernie were quite obviously gay lovers, they said. They cook and tend plans together and even share a bedroom.

Is this what really lies behind the cult that we know and love as Ant and Dec? The two 21-year-olds have lived together in their Fulham flat for a year. From what you can gather, their bachelor pad is like a location for Men Behaving Badly. They admit to talking about nothing but Kevin Keegan, footie, girls, music and takeaway pizza, and their idea of a good night in goes something like this: Eastenders, The Bill, chicken korma, chicken curry and two naan breads, Brookie, The X-Files and then a game of Soccer ‘96 on their Saga.

The walls are bare except for two calendars (Newcastle United and a girlie one), a Paul Weller Stanley Road poster and a noticeboard which is scattered with Post-It notes and phone numbers for cab companies, a curry house and Pizza Hut.

“I suppose it’s a typical twenty-year-old’s flat,” grins Anrt, his eyes sparkling. “There’s hardly anything in the fridge except a couple of Pot Noodles. I cannae be arsed to cook anything. I did try and make pasta last night but the rings on the cooker don’t work very well. It took half an hour and I thought I can’t be bothered with all that rigmarole. And the pans take too long to wash as well.”

As Ant details their domestic disasters, Dec watches on with a devoted look in his eyes. Ant [th_____] his spiky, tousled locks, may have a new harder-edged image yet he [lo_____] his slightly-younger mate with a near-maternal instinct.

Dec is dead messy [____] the youngest child of seven, he was brought up having his washing, ironing and cleaning done for him. Ant, on the other hand, for all his boasts of laddish ineptitude, more of a dab hand around the house. When he was eight his parents split up and his mum went to work, he was left to fend for himself. He made his own breakfast and dinner and ironed his own school uniform.

“I’ve always had everything done for me,” says Dec, brushing back his blond fringe, “and I can’t get out of that routine. So Ant has to do most things.” Ant issues forth a grunt and shouts: “That’s a shite excuse, that is!” Dec, he says, doesn’t even know how to work a washing machine and he just can’t see when the flat is looking filthy. To put an end to the housewifey arguments once and for all, the two lads thought about employing a cleaner.

“We saw this ad for a cleaner who charged £5 an hour,” says Ant, “so we thought we’d invite her round, tell her to do everything - washing ironing, dishes, hoovering, the lot - in an hour and then tell her to fuck off!”

They both think this is well funny and they crease up with laughter until they are bent double. They look and behave like two rascals that have escaped from the pages of The Beano and this, unmistakably cartoon-like quality is part of their charm.

In an interview they gave to pop-bible Smash Hits earlier this year, the boys admitted to being more than a little cack-handed - breaking cups, glasses, table, the sofa and sofa-bed - while they confessed to TOTP Magazine that they both enjoy gobbing competitions, watching the rudie channel on satellite TV, pissing in the bath (shock horror!) and Ant even went so far as to talk about his addiction to dropping his pants and doing moonies in hotel bars.

Although they have been happy in their flat, Ant and Dec say they are looking for something a bit more - you know - spacious. When they first moved in last October they tossed up to see who would get the big double bedroom with ensuite bathroom. Ant won and Dec sulked for two days.

“Since we’ve been there we haven’t made any friends in the block,” says Ant, with a look of mock surprise. “Everyone else is really boring. We’ve always got our balcony doors open, having a laugh. There’s one woman that just comes out and waters plants. We took one look at her and said, “Get a fuckin’ life!”

Again the boys break into big [_____] ated laughs, something they do loudly and often. They say that [____] the happiest they have ever been - more in control of their [________] and more relaxed about life in general. They’ve got a new album out early next year and they are even in the process of setting up their own production company. Yet their journey towards popstardom has been far from smooth.

Ant and Dec were born Anthony McPartlin and Declan Donnelly in Newcastle. Ant was born prematurely and had to be christened twice: once in hospital when everyone thought that he was going to die, and once again when he was well enough to be taken to church.

He had a happy childhood despite the fact that his mum, a clerical worker and dad, a plumber, split up when he was very young. Although people often ask him to describe the trauma of the divorce, he says he didn’t suffer at all; he knew exactly what was going on and handled it well: “It was happier in the house when dad wasn’t around,” he says.

He hated his comprehensive school which was, he says, quite rough: “It was shit,” he mumbles. At 13, just as he was experiencing the first inklings that life after school might consist of nothing but trips to the dole office, won a part on Byker Grove, the Newcastle-based kiddie soap.

Dec went to a single-sex boys’ school, an altogether more serious and academic establishment. The youngest of a large Catholic family, he trooped along to church every Sunday, and his parents, who used to run a pub, had high hopes for their theatrically-inclined son.

Cast as PJ and Duncan in Byker Grove - a kind of Geordie Grange Hill, which they starred in for six years - Ant and Dec became friends immediately. Yet it wasn’t until December 1993 that they launched themselves into the bitchy world of boy-pop. After a script called for them to perform Tonight I’m Free at the Byker Grove youth club disco, the boys released it as a single. It reached number 62 in the charts.

Undeterred, they hit the big time with Why Me? (number 15) and their dodgily-titled Let’s Get Ready to Rhumble (number 9). They were named Smash Hits/Radio 1 Best New Act of ‘94, nominated as Brit Awards’ BestNewcomers in ‘95 and their two albums went platinum.

Last year, the BBC gave the boys their own show - imaginatively titled The Ant and Dec Show - which came near to rivalling Pee Wee Herman for its subtextual anarchy. (The boys referred to Robson and Jerome as a couple of turds and one of their jolly japes consisted of shearing kiddies of their hair).

Success, however, has not come cheap, as both boys have experienced their first sour taste of the mind-altering drug we call fame. After a three-year relationship with actress Nicola Bell (who played Debbie Dobson in Byker Grove), Ant was astonished to find the break-up described in detail in a tabloid newspaper. “It got on me tits, that did,” he says “If she had been a girl who worked down the local chippy, no one would have been interested. It was only because she was on the telly as well. I suppose we split up because we were bored of one another - she changed and I changed and we just didn’t get on anymore. What more is there to say?”

Last year Dec split up from his girlfriend, Claire Buckfield (who starred as Jenny in the BBC ‘comedy’ 2.4 Children). “Professionally, my career was going great,” says Dec, “but personally that was the most unhappy time of my life. People would say to me that you can’t let anyone see your girlfriend because the fans might get jealous.”

“After a gig your girlfriend would have to lie down on the floor of the van and cover herself with bags. If she objected I would have to tell she had to do it, it’s my job. Now I look back, I think what a twat I was. I was such an areshole. I don’t care now if I’m seen out with a girl and if fans get jealous and stop buying our records, so be it. I’ve got to have a bit of a life for myself. I’m not public property.”

Their fans, however, think otherwise. After leaving a gig, Ant and Dec have to rush to their van in order to escape being crushed by sexually frustrated girls. “Fuck me! Fuck me!” the girls shout, as they bang on the windows with their firsts. The other day they were sent a letter which described in detail how this girl wanted to massage Dec until he gained an erection. Then, said the girl, as his penis gently touched her clitoris he would bring her to the biggest orgasm she had ever experienced. How old was this girl, I ask. “Nine,” replies Dec.

Another fan sent a letter to Ant which focused on her fantasy of capturing the pop duo, shagging them senseless and then feeding them a few titbits of food, just enough to keep them on the edge of starvation. When they were weak, she would take them into a forest, strip them, tie them to a tree and then whip them with her bra.

What inspires such devotion? “I haven’t got a clue,” says Ant. “They really believe they are in love with you, but they don’t even know me. They say things like I’d love to marry you and live with you, but they wouldn’t. I pee on the loo seat, and they wouldn’t like that. I leave the fridge door open and that would really get on their nerves.”

Part of their appeal, it has to be said, lies in their blandness. They admit to being all things to all men, women and children: “We’ve got the same sort of appeal as GMTV,” says Ant. For girls on the edge of puberty, the boys’ blankness, their plasticine-like ability to be shaped and moulded, willingness to please and be liked, acts as a comfort blanket in the topsy-turvy world of adolescence.

No matter how many times they reinvent themselves, no matter how raw and masculine they become, they remain essentially unthreatening. Picking up on this lack, teenage girls desperately try and fill the gap for them by talking dirty and writing filthy letters. Ant and Dec and boys like them are, in a sense, nothing but empty screens on which can be projected the normally unpublishable desires of the nation’s teens.

Lads, however, read them very differently. “They think because we’re in a boyband we must be gay,” says Ant. “I challenged one of them and asked him why he thought we were poofs. He said ‘because I saw you on the telly.’ ‘Oh, I see’ I [______] that must must mean that Eamonn Holmes [______] Kelly are are gay as well then. Does [________________] t shut him up.”

Although they’ve only done one gay venue - G.A.Y., “where we went down a treat,” says Dec - the duo have quite a large pink following. Are You Ready To Rhumble has been used as the closing anthem at London gay indie night Popstarz and, alongside the familiar female faces that turn up at their gigs, they are beginning to attract a small number of teenage boys who gaze longingly up at them.

Why they are a focus for gay desires is not hard to figure out. Not only are they young and good-looking but their sense of humour is ironic and at

[it just ends here??? I can’t find the page that would follow on from this]

…costume designer. At the moment, of the six producers they are working with on their new album, four are gay.

“A lot of gay people are very creative, which is why they work in this type of business,” says Dec, nervously stroking a minimal growth of stubble on his chin. “And we’ve grown up knowing a large number of gays. It doesn’t even raise an eyebrow with us anymore.”

But they couldn’t be - surely not - poofters themselves? “I’m not too rigid but I’ve always fancied girls since I was a little kid,” says Ant, without batting one of his deliciously-long, cow-like eyelashes. He has a girlfriend at the moment who is in the music business and who he met while touring. Gossips say she is no other than Deuce singer Lisa Armstrong. “And I’ve never even had that confused phase where you don’t know who you fancy.”

Dec, whe. Wrenched away from Ant, is not so adamant - he would, he says have no qualms about acting out the infamous gay [___] kiss that Byker Grove featured last [___]. Neither would he refuse the offer of [__________] character in a film, even if it [_________] pretend to have sex with another bloke. “Yes, I’d definitely have no problem with it. But I might be worried - not about kissing a man - but making it look real. But I think it would be something to get your teeth into.”

He loves potions and lotions, face masks, scrubs and so on and can spend hours thinking about what after shave to wear of an evening. “If I see Clinique, I buy the soap for men,” he confides, “and before I go out I ask people what scent I should wear.”

He was, despite all this, not called a poof at school. “I think it’s surprising, because I’m quite small and feminine,” he says, “and a lot of people do think I’m gay sometimes.”

If a lad came onto him he says he would deal with the situation the same way as if a girl he didn’t fancy suddenly launched herself upon him. He would, he says, make it plain he just wasn’t interested. He would not be prejudiced, though. After he played G.A.Y., a couple of guys came onto him and although some people from his record company got worked up about it, Dec told them to grow up.

He says that if he was a woman, he would probably go for someone like Brad Pitt, a rugged type, quite the opposite of me”, and it annoys Dec when people come up to him and tell him that he is cute. “It’s like, fuck off! I don’t want to be cute,” he hisses, “I want to be drop dead handsome, gorgeous.”

People assume that just because they are in the music biz, babes must be dropping at their feet. It just isn’t so, insists Dec. Has he got a girlfriend? “I’ve got lots of friends who are girls who I go out with, but nothing that is on the verge of marriage. It’s a bit difficult trying to have a serious relationship when doing something like this. There are always temptations and stuff.”

So what would tempt him? Could he ever… “I do find men attractive,” he says, “but not sexually attractive. I can see a bloke and think he’s good looking and I get on really well with our gay producers. But I don’t know if anything sexual would happen.” For a moment he looks confused and then says, “I don’t think so, but you never know do you?”

#fruity little smoothie #in short: oh boyyyyyyy #cris is talking tag

24 notes · View notes

thegreymoon · 3 years

Text

Monarch Industry

Is this a bad omen?

A portent of the dynasty collapsing?

***

Is it my imagination, or do Wang Lin and Wang Su look more and more like each other? I keep mistaking them for one another since Wang Su grew that beard.

It’s like they are related IRL.

***

I am so done with Zitan and Jin-er. I mean, I’ve been done with them for an age already, but every time I discover there is more to be annoyed about. Like, there she is, claiming that she loves Awu best in the world to weasel her way into going with him, yet she betrayed her, with him and for him! And he just buys it?? Where is the logic?? Tell me, where?? He knows everything she’s done! OK, not this last thing, but everything before that has been betrayal upon betrayal and you do not do that to the people you claim to love. Also, she’s been caught in a blatant lie! Has he gone completely insane? I mean, I know he’s stupid, but there is stupid, and then there is this.

***

Is she planning to murder Helan Zhen on their wedding day?

Yes, you go, girl! Kill him good! I approve!!

***

Did I mention I love Pang Gui? Easily one of the most competent characters on the show!

***

Her again 😫😫

When will she die already?

***

LMAO, he married the wrong woman 🤣🤣

***

Now we have to get through the improbable Hulan family drama 🙄 Please, Xiao Qi, where are you, come and rescue us from this nonsense!

***

He committed suicide?

***

Oh, Helan Tuo murdered him. Anyway, here for Helan Zhen getting whatever comeuppance comes his way. We can murder Helan Tuo afterwards, when Xiao Qi catches up to them.

***

And like a true moustachioed caricature of a villain, he can’t resist the final gloating monologue in which he confesses to his misdeeds and clears the name of our hero!

***

Is this finally bye-bye Helan Zhen? This entire episode was so ridiculous, I can’t even bring myself to be sad.

***

Oh, thank goodness! Finally!

Xiao Qi, baby, life is suffering without you!!

***

And he is still moping and being useless 🙄🙄

It’s hilarious how his ministers just grounded him like an unruly child.

***

This makes me so happy!!

Babies back together and going to Ningshuo!! I can already tell that this episode is going to be one of my favourites!!

***

I can’t believe we are trading Helan Zhen for Helan Tuo 😫 At least Helan Zhen was hot, this one is gross and annoying.

***

Can someone kill him already, please?

***

This poor traumatised child.

***

Yes, baby, you show them!!

I love it when he’s on the warpath!

***

Babies 🖤🖤

***

Pregnant, miserable and terrified.

Tell us, was it worth it?

***

LMAO 🤣🤣

The answer is yes. Starting with you.

***

I wonder if Jin-er’s child is even Zitan’s, or of the guy who raped her. I can’t really get a grip on the timeline because the subtitles are not the greatest. Has it been six months, or six months + six months (i.e. a year) since Awu was kidnapped?

***

Well, I feel like this is the end of that friendship 😢

Also, lol, the edict ended up right where it belongs, under their feet.

#zhou yiwei #zhang ziyi #monarch industry #mi spoilers #mi ep59 #mi ep60

14 notes · View notes

ginwhitlock · 3 years

Text

summary: JASPER/ BELLA. set in eclipse (but is so far from canon honestly all you need to know is that victoria is after bella). When Jasper snatches Bella away to Texas to escape a vampire’s hunt for the girl who killed her lover, Bella comes clean about her hearts unfaithfulness on an unsettling summer morning, in front of God and everybody.

fic type: oneshot, no explicit scenes

warnings: religious guilt, Bella’s weird brand of horny, cheating on Edward, oh and Alice just doesn’t exist— don’t think about it too hard

There was this openness in the air, something stirring from the west, saturating the cotton fields. A yellow eyed barn cat stood still in the morning light, it’s black coat shifting with the bite of ghostly mice. Whiskers twitching.

It was watching her, she was sure of it, like the pecan trees and the paddock mud and the mosquitoes. All beady-eyed and searching the brown haired girl, the one with crooked ankles and misaligned bangs that just barely kissed her cheeks in the late summer sun. She looked home grown. Wheat wild. A child of desert planes. And most importantly, she looked lost.

“I thought you’d still be sleeping by now.” A hushed baritone slipped from the screen door, it’s owner donned in dark royal denim and loose leather.

If it had been just months before, Bella would’ve rolled her eyes.

But she was different now. As different as Washington was to Texas. As different as evergreens were to red oak. She swore even the sweat didn’t smell right.

“Wanted to catch the sunrise.” There was a softness to her front teeth, the round of her molars quiet against one another. To whose ears she was catering to she didn’t know. And to be honest, she didn’t quite care anymore.

Bella made out a lazy nod from her peripheral, the shaggy haired man seemingly relaxed out here on the front porch of her judgement day, all tan and tall and scented like rolled tobacco.

Shut up, stupid girl.

Jasper murmured out a response, something about humans needing sleep and southern sunrises being worthy enough to diminish the former from its place on his immortal pedestal. There was a creak and a groan from the haint green floorboards underneath her before she found herself shoulder to shoulder with the two hundred year old soldier; a stray wind had blown through the shaved baby blond hair lining his chin in the slightest of ways. There was a caution light screaming out from his stature and the brunette girl had the painful urge to swallow it under her teeth and tongue. Soak it in holy water and hide it in her skin for him to find. Or rather, Him, if this stay was going to end like she thought it ought to.

He couldn’t feel that… could he? Stupid, stupid—

“The marigolds should be blooming about now, just west of the barn. They’re quite a bit prettier than Peter’s fields.” There was something off in the lit of his tongue, the way it flipped and rolled off his teeth. It came out… wrong. Forced. Like he was trying to be overtly kind. The way you talk to a frightened rabbit you clipped with the lawn mower.

Bella frowned something deep and turned nose at Jasper. “Why did you bring me here, Hale?”

With the question came a wince to his brow, a noticeable blow to his stature. He seemed to fold ever so slightly towards the young girl.

“Don’t— don’t call me that.”

Silence filled the unwalled prison of the porch like nothing else, the birds and wind seemingly gone to rest whenever the two entered into each other's space. Like worldly magnets, chess pieces that threw blows instead of diagonals. The quiet held them both. It held them together.

Bella Swan blinked slowly in an unknown apology before settling back on the blond with the stone facade. She waited for him to continue.

He sighed. “It’s safer here. Victoria wouldn’t come this far south without encountering things far worse than the likes of Emmett or Rose.”

“But this wasn’t Edward’s plan, was it?” Bella’s lashes were like rodeo announcers with their back and forth turns to the outlook of western Texas.

Jasper looked every bit of his one hundred fifty years as he laid a freezing hand on hers, their knuckles slotting together with unpracticed ease. “No. But it’s mine. And you’re gonna have to accept that.”

She refused to nod at the man with the thigh clenching, hard work mending, touch, for more than a second. She was far from the type of girl that would lay down and let the boys run out their wildest stupidities on her seemingly catastrophic life, but she felt almost resigned in Jasper's hands. There was a calmness between them she couldn’t place as artificial or not, the soft wool of contentedness slowly covering the surveyor-ship she felt stepping outside this morning. The stares of the flora and fauna turned internal. Fire burned in the pit of her stomach, on the nape of her neck, across the fragile skin of her cheeks where freckles started to show, and mostly, on the warming flesh of her hand where their hands met gently.

Maybe it was Edward looking onto them from a frozen forest hundreds of miles from here as he hunted a scarlet monster, discovering the hidden plumpness swirling around in his lover's chest for the brother he always worried about, but for all the wrong reasons.

Or maybe…

“Jasper, can I ask you something?”

His eyes were like serpents, glowing yellow under the copper wind chimes above them.

“Whatever you wish, Isabella.”

Swallow. Breathe. “When you were human… did you believe in God?”

A pause sliced the air in two. The cotton plants seemed to stop swaying. The feline vanished. A golden eyebrow fell to his browbone.

“Yes, Isabella. Yes I did.” His face was drawn, distant, like an old time movie screen was playing out on his stone eyelids.

Bella’s lips pulled at themselves with her front teeth. “Do you think He’s vengeful?”

Their eye contact sealed itself, his hand moving on its own accord up her hand to her wrist, cradling the small, delicate bones that allowed her to touch him— but not now. Not ever again.

“When I was a boy, my mama took me to church every Sunday at seven A.M sharp, and sent me to Sunday school after the service. I was the oldest, even then, and I had more responsibilities than just listening to the preacher ramble on about divinity and charity and sacrifice.”

Jasper's face was taught with memory.

“I had two baby sisters by the time I turned seven and they were the number one priority, you have to understand, Isabella. Ada and Caroline couldn’t have been older than three when the Leroy boy died sitting in the pew behind us… poor child got heatstroke in his wool britches and after that I started dressing the girls in the lightest things I could find and never waited long after the sermon to get back.”

Bella turned stormy under the weight of the seemingly young man's words, her eyes dropping from his own to study the way his fingers wrapped around her skin like a life jacket, one part caregiver and one part destroyer. Jasper's own hands seemed to start to tremor just slightly under her stare, or maybe it was from the wash of his own words.

He took a breath he didn’t need. “But. I started listening when my mother got sick, before the girls finished schooling. Started praying. A part of me was guilty that I hadn’t started before I needed something, that the reason I spoke to Him was for a favor, and a big one at that. I was making up for lost time, I thought. I was begging on my knees for anything. And I didn’t get it.

“They buried an empty coffin with my name on it under a white wooden cross after the army said I went missing. Caroline would plant violets around it in the spring, weed out the planters and start again in the fall. She’d leave me communion wafers in our family pew and have Ada try to talk with me through the minister.”

“I’m so sorry.” A true sadness settled in her bones, her seemingly selfish desire to have the question answered sat like a heavy stone in the out of her stomach. Her heart held out a warm woolen space for him and she silently begged he would sit in it, for his own sake.

He waved her off and took on a slight smile, something she had never seen from Jasper. Not in any capacity before that very moment.

She decided she would try to see it every chance she got for as long as he’d let her.

“I wasn’t a man of religious structure, Isabella, but. I was a man of faith. The small times I was allowed to watch over my sisters only reminded me of that, no matter how far down to hell I had reached, I still had faith in redemption.”

His teeth clicked together not unpleasantly. “But I haven’t answered your question have I?” There was a knowing-ness in his voice box and Bella wanted to drink it down like communion wine. She smiled back slightly.

He was beautiful when he sighed.

“I’ve done horrible things. Killed innocent people. Slaughtered children and mothers and lambs of God. I have worn blood on my hands like a second skin and not once during any of it did I feel remorse. But darlin,” his lashes fluttered like leaves, “not once did I think God wanted me to hate myself for what I had done. I think… He forgave me a long time ago, before I ever forgave myself. So no. I don’t believe in my brother’s vengeful punisher. Not today. Not in this lifetime.“ She’d never hear the ‘not with you’ fragment he had stuck in his mind.

She had to step back from him then, the vampire who had become all consuming to her chest and her heart and her fingers. The air was warmer in the space behind him but it almost didn’t matter, the warmth layering her skin was enough to burn through an air conditioning unit anyway. Bella’s hands found clumsy solace in her back pockets as she stared ahead at the rows of painful cotton buds waiting to be harvested. The blood almost pulled to her fingertips.

Teeth and lips found each other. “I don’t think I’m not going to get punished for this.”

Her words were concrete. Cement. Blacktop on a Kansas back road. They could’ve cut glass if she wanted them to. They almost did as he looked at her.

“For what, Isabella?”

Knowing bastard. Always. Knowing.

No trembling allowed now.

“For wanting you when Edwards away. When he’s in the same room as us. When he’s hunting the woman who's trying to kill me and you’re just standing there telling me not to be afraid of my own horrible heart… for betraying everything I’ve begged for since me and your brother met. I deserve to get punished for this, don’t I? Don’t you think?”

She was sweating now, cold droplets running down her back to her the soft slope of her ass. Her knuckles were popping against each other like fireworks and she thought she might faint right then and there, MONSTER written across her forehead in a bruise from the impact.

A scarred hand felt itself into its place under Bella’s chin and forced her rocking skull to finally glimpse the face she had been thinking of every moment she pulled her eyes away. Jasper Hal— Whitlock? And his clear midnight pupils branding her soul in a sinner’s blush. His lips formed a wonderful crook as he slowly pushed her flat against the ancient siding of the old farmhouse belonging to his long standing brother who looked like everything Jasper was except for his spirit.

She could die this way and she would face God with a smile.

“What I feel for you deserves no punishment darlin, but if you insist, I think I’d rather do the punishing than any divine power.”

His lips were light rosy steel against Bella’s own as the clouds started to stretch out infinitely behind his back, unnoticed by the interlocked couple in their wake. A soft moan escaped as felt the soft chill of a crucifix digging into her neck.

Maybe God would forgive her for this. Just once.

#my fic #mine #twilight #thetwilightsaga #fic #twilight fics #my writing #jasper x bella #jasperella #writing #fanfiction #vampire #twilight fanfiction #oneshot

32 notes · View notes