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call-me-aesthetic · 4 years ago

Text

If Twisted Wonderland was an American Public School

WARNING: There are some slight sensitive topics that are featured in here! Reader discretion is advised!

Part 2 can be found here

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts:

- That one preppy girl who takes all honors and AP classes 😑

- Wants everyone to know that he’s becoming a doctor one day for his strict parents or he’ll dishonor the family

- Reminds the teacher about homework, knowing well that he’ll get slander for it

- Complains about how he got a 90 on his test or a B on his report card, a try hard much?

- Wears a cardigan with thicc but cute glasses since he’s one of those people with can’t see shit on the board so he has to move to the front of the class

Ace Trappola:

- The SoundCloud rapper, that’s it

- “Wanna listen to my mixtape? It’s pretty fire, my guy.” 😩🔥

- You will not miss him BLASTING out some song on his Bluetooth speaker, that shit be echoing through the hallways

- Tells you to stop what you’re doing only for him to either sing horribly or do a backflip, thinking that he’s so cool

- Wears a Supreme jacket with AirPods and waves on his head

Deuce Spade:

- Assuming that he’s still a delinquent, he’s that kid with the most fucked up school record

- Not much of a bully but will still talk shit to your face without caring, might even throw stuff at you during a lesson and you would be the one getting in trouble instead of him 🗿

- If he ever gets mad, it would be overdramatic like kicking the desks, punching the lockers, or walking out of the classroom unannounced and everyone would look at each other wondering wtf happened

- Covers the entire desks with drawings of skulls and those “s” if you know what I mean

- Wears Champion hoodies, wants you to know that he’s broke and rich at the same time

Trey Clover:

- The guy that’s not really popular but everyone knows him since he’s in all their classes

- Most people might have a crush on him because he’s REALLY nice 😳👉👈

- Gives off “older brother” vibes based on the way he looks and acts, like offering you a ride home if you beg ask nicely

- Secretly bakes creme brulee but doesn’t want to mess with the flow so he sticks to the status quo

- Wears the school’s hoodie just because he thinks it looks good on him, and the fact that he doesn’t know what else to wear

Cater Diamond:

- Hot Cheetos girl 🥵

- Has a whole buffet of food in his backpack and will not hesitate to eat them during a lesson, no sharing either sorry

- Excuses himself to the bathroom or full on skips class just to film a Tiktok

- Has about 100 followers on Instagram Magicam and brags about how he’s famous

- Wears a Thrasher hoodie with large hoop earrings and his hair in a bun

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar:

- The kid who flunked their freshman year that also sort of vibes with new classmates

- Always gets mistaken as a teacher by people since he looks and sounds old

- Knows the lessons but still fails them anyways, didn’t really give a damn either 🙄

- Captain of every sports club you can think of, never actually plays but has a lot of knowledge on them

- Wears the school’s letterman from years ago since it used to be his brother’s and that he’s too lazy to buy a new one

Ruggie Bucchi:

- That one kid who NEVER has money for the book fair or any other school event

- Always has to ask his classmates for some cash

- If he somehow does, then he’s one of those kids who buys Diary of the Wimpy Kid or the World Record books

- If he’s feeling cheap, he’ll buy the “cool stuff” like the chocolate scented calculator or fruit snacks 😭

- Wears oversized hoodies and basketball shorts that are clearly hand-me-downs

Jack Howl:

- That one athletic kid who’s both scary good and competitive when it comes to school games like football or soccer

- Literally the best player on his team and without him, they’re trash as hell 💀

- Tries his absolute best to support his teammates without yelling at them for how dumb they are

- ��KICK THE FUCKING BALL! DO YOUR LEGS EVEN WORK?!”

- Wears the school’s jersey just to show off his “school spirit”

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto:

- The kid who sell snacks for “charity” but everyone knows he’s keeping the money to himself

- If you don’t have cash or try to negotiate with him, the only thing he’ll do is raise the price up

- “What do you mean you don’t have ten bucks? I can see it in your pocket.”

- Just bring nothing with you, he’ll doing anything to steal your stuff 🤭

- Wears a collar shirt with a tie and khakis that have pockets to keep his glasses and money in

Jade Leech:

- The kid who puts on a goody two shoes facade but is actually a stoner

- Only does “safe” drugs like vape but occasionally smokes weed, mostly in the bathroom or behind the school 🌬

- Can play it off and hide the scent when he’s high, teachers never suspect anything from him

- No one really cares to stop him unless he gets caught or something idk

- Wears clothing that either makes him look like a businessman or a junky, there’s nothing in between

Floyd Leech:

- The kid that’s plays basketball or volleyball just because he’s hella tall, and is actually good at the sports but doesn’t put much effort into them

- Always stays behind after gym, even though the teacher tries to make him leave for his next class 😬

- “I swear after this one shot, I’ll go to class.” *He never made that shot*

- Will jump you no matter who or where you are, and will get angry if you step on his new shoes

- Wears the jersey of any famous team with the latest pair of Jordan sneakers

Scarabia

Kalim Al Asim:

- VSCO girl at best, don’t lie to me now 🤡

- The only words he knows are “And I oop– sksksk.” and “Save the turtles.”

- Walks during a track meet while everyone else is running and sweating hard, the teacher doesn’t care either

- Doesn’t really do anything in gym but talks to his classmates and stands near the water fountain to refill his Hydro flask

- Wears tie dye shirts with cute scrunchies

Jamil Viper:

- That one quiet kid who everybody thinks is a serial killer but he’s actually not, I swear

- He just wants school to be over and spend the rest of his summer relaxing 😔

- Although he shouldn’t abuse his “power,” he‘ll move his hands in his pockets or backpack to make it look like he’s about to pull a weapon out.

- “Chill, I’m just grabbing a pencil.” *Everyone in the class started crying*

- Wears dark colored hoodies that intimidates people but are actually comfy

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit:

- The baddie popular girl ��💅✨

- Arrives to school late with a Starbucks in hand from his local Target

- Fixes himself every 5 seconds like reapplying his lipgloss or spraying Bath and Body Works cherry blossom perfume

- Uses acrylic nails and long hair extensions as weapons during a cat fight

- Wears a crop top with ripped jeans and those clout sunglasses

Rook Hunt:

- That creepy guy in the hallways who tries to get your attention, even if you don’t know him

- Scares people when he says, “Ayo, where my hug at?” 🥶💯

- Uses at least 10 cans of Axe body spray a week after gym class, which stinks up the locker rooms

- Waves at you if he passes your class, even walking into the room just to say hi

- Wears literally anything but always include a hat

Epel Felmier:

- The artist girl who just wants to be alone 🧑‍🎨

- Purposely draws in front of you but pretends like you’re not looking

- If you complement him, he’ll just brush it off and proceeds to diss himself

- “Thanks but I’m not THAT good at drawing, teehee.” *Insert Radio Rebel face*

- Wears a hoodie or a cardigan with big pockets to put his art supplies in

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud:

- I don’t even need to tell you who he is, y’all already know ahaha 🥴

- Sneaks a whole PlayStation in his backpack so he can play with it during lunch

- Is on his phone 24/7 even in class to the point where teachers don’t care anymore

- Tries to get people into anime but only to little success

- Wears a shirt of any anime character or that damn ahegao hoodie, girl bye

Ortho Shroud:

- The nerdy kid who’s known for destroying others at many games

- Plays classics like D&D, Yugioh, Pokémon, the whole shabang

- Daily Beyblade battles during recess with everyone surrounding him, the menacing aura radiates off of him

- Will steal your things if you lose to him but gives it back a week later cuz he’s sweet 🥰

- Wears light up Sketchers shoes and those Minecraft shirts you find at Old Navy

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia:

- The theatre kid who also goes to band practice, change my mind 👁👄👁

- Takes his role seriously when it comes to school plays and concerts, even if he gets casted as a damn tree or doesn’t go solo

- Remembers the songs and their lyrics to any musical you name, a really good singer at that too

- Plays almost every instrument, you definitely know this since you can hear him down the hallways during a test

- Wears a white button up shirt, black pants with fancy dress shoes, and top it all off with a fricking Rolex watch

Lilia Vanrouge:

- The weird guy who pranks people and vandalizes school property in every way possible

- If you ever get a textbook with a message that tells you to go to a certain page only for you to found a picture of a dick, yeah that was him 😒

- When using a Chromebook, he’ll leave a tab open on YouTube so when the next person uses it, pray that your ears will still work by tomorrow

- During lunch, he is a literal DEMON that mixes milk with chicken nuggets together and having the audacity to eat it too

- Wears an oversized raincoat or a windbreaker but idk wtf kind of things he has hiding underneath

Silver:

- That guy in class who consumes Monster energy drinks and falls asleep 99% of the time but somehow manages to pass the class 🤷

- Whenever he’s awake, he’ll talk to the teachers since he’s basically friends with them for some reason

- Writes his name out of boredom on any desk you sit on but in different places, sometimes around the corners or the sides

- Has a sixth sense because he’ll wake up if you try to draw on his face and if you did get something on him, it’s on sight

- Wears those colorful hoodies that zips all the way up to cover his face with a matching backpack, it’s pretty cool ngl

Sebek Zigvolt:

- That kid who literally knows everything about historical wars and will show it off during class

- Also has knowledge on weaponry, which has people questioning him but he’s just very dedicated on serving his country and people

- Knows how to fight and defend himself from a bitch since he spent his summer at a military boot camp, put respect on my man’s name 😤

- Honestly a great partner for a group project, actually does the given work but not the whole thing for you

- Wears anything that has camo pattern and chunky combat boots

I only made this because me and my friends were talking about our school memories so yeah. This is based from my experience so they might not be exactly accurate. Might even be a part two if you want.

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peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology · 4 years ago

Note

Hey love, was wondering if we could get some more mean girl x soft boy with Peter with promts 10 and 37??

Yes!! My favorite, of course, I made reader a Stark too cause spoiled rich mean girl with soft little Peter kills me. Hope you like it!

Requests are still open guys, you can use the prompts or just request whatever you want to, I write for Peter and Tom, love you guys xx

Full of Surprises

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark! Reader

Summary: Peter wants you to take him to a party, which ends up being nothing like he expected

Prompts

Masterlist

Prompt #10 - “I don’t think you’re down for the parties I go to pretty boy.”

Prompt #37 - “You wanna sneak out?”

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

It would be hard to summarize (y/n) Stark in any sort of brief, meaningful fashion, she was too complicated for just a few sentences. If Peter had to call her just a few things he’d say she was complex and charismatic. She could be a little bratty, she liked getting her way, but most people still liked her, they still wanted to be around her. She was glamorous, with her designer clothes and nice cars and the paparazzi, she held the whole Stark legacy in a custom made, diamond encrusted pink birkin. Peter didn’t get the appeal of the money or the popular girl front she had at school, he thought the real her was a lot more interesting.

In getting to know her he had found she was actually a lot softer than most people thought, she just took a bit to warm up to people. He couldn’t blame her really, he’d seen firsthand the way kids at school tried to get close to her just for the exclusive invite or a Twitter follow, so he understood her hesitation. What he didn’t understand was why she wanted to be popular and famous, why she liked it all so much. It was puzzling to him, but he found both sides of her equally endearing. Even dorky little Peter couldn’t resist the pull of her glamorous life, he couldn’t deny that part of him wanted to be closer to that side of her too. He wanted to be the boy on her arm at all the parties she went to, but he had to get out of his comfort zone to do that…

“Yo Parker, you riding with me?” (y/n) turned around to face him as their final class drew to a close.

He nodded, “Yeah, if that’s cool with you.”

“I was hoping you would, I need your help,” she winked, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she stood.

He followed after her, his brows knit in confusion, “What do you need my help with?”

“There’s a party this Friday, dad said I can’t go,” she rolled her eyes, “So annoying, anyways, I was going to ask you to cover for me. I’ll tell him I’m at your place studying or something and you just tell him I’m with you if he asks. I know you're a perfect little angel, but I’ll owe you so big and I promise you won’t get in trouble with him. Plus I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

“You don’t need to buy me anything, you know that,” he blushed, biting down on the inside of his cheek as he contemplated his next move, “There is, uh, something you could do for me though…”

“Oh really?”

He nodded, “I want to go with you.”

She paused right in front of the limo and raised a brow at him, “Seriously?”

He nodded, “Yeah.”

She laughed as she climbed into the car, apparently finding the suggestion to be the funniest thing she’d heard all week, “Peter it’s a party with people and dancing and alcohol, I don’t think it’s your scene.”

“Then I’ll sneak out.”

His cheeks flushed and he frowned, “I’ve been to parties, I want to go, you always have fun don’t you?”

“You’ve been to high school parties,” she rolled her eyes, “There is no way May would let you go to this kind of party.”

“You wanna sneak out?”

“I sneak out all the time,” he reminded, “I’m probably better at it than you.”

“Point taken,” she smiled brightly at him, “Okay, why do you want to go out to parties all of a sudden?”

He shrugged, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible, “I might as well give it a try, maybe I’ll like it.”

She hummed, contemplating what to do for a moment, “Okay, I’ll take you, but no dorky t-shirts.”

“What’s wrong with my shirts?” he glanced down at himself with a frown.

“Well I think they’re cute, but they aren’t really party material. In fact I don’t know if anything you have is…”

He blushed at the compliment, “I can just wear a plain shirt then.”

“I’ll pick something out for you,” she smiled, “My arm candy has to match me.”

“Okay, but I’m not wearing the Spiderman suit.”

“You’ll wear what I tell you too babe,” she patted his cheek, smiling while his blush spread up to his ears, “Pick you up at 8?”

“Y-Yeah, sounds good.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

As promised, (y/n) arrived at Peter’s house at 8 sharp, holding a garment bag and dressed in a knee length tan trench coat.

“That’s what you're wearing?” Peter cocked his head in confusion, looking her up and down before quickly adding, “N-Not that you look bad or anything! I-It's just not what I normally see you wear to parties and stuff…”

His mouth went dry and he could only nod as he took it all in, “Y-Yeah, you look great.”

“I’ve got an outfit on under it, I just didn’t know if May would be home,” she pushed the garment bag into his hands with a smile.

“She’s working late tonight, I told her we’re going to the movies,” he shut the door behind her, his whole face blooming red as she tossed the trench coat off.

“Great, I look hot don’t I?” she giggled, spinning so he could admire her full outfit, a baby blue cropped cami and a matching skirt that fell just above her knee. The skirt had a slit leading up her right thigh and the whole thing was covered in a slightly darker blue Louis Vuitton monogram.

“I know,” she smiled proudly before gesturing to the bag in his hands, “Well come on, promise you’ll look hot too.”

He swallowed and opened up the bag to reveal a blazer with the same color and print as her outfit, “You don’t expect me to wear just this right?”

She burst into a fit of laughter and shook her head, “No, I was thinking just some jeans and a white shirt underneath, but hey, if you’re really feeling yourself I won’t stop you.”

“No, no, tshirt and jeans sounds great,” he pulled the blazer from the bag, “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t keep me waiting,” she sang as he disappeared into his bedroom.

Peter was only gone for a second, returning almost immediately dressed per her instruction, “Happy?”

She nodded, “You look great, blue’s your color,” she stood, grabbing the edge of his jacket, “And red, and yellow.”

“You just listed all the primary colors,” he laughed.

“And I was right,” she moved up to his collar, flattening it out for him, “You for sure look best in yellow, but I know blue is your favorite, so I figured we’d wear blue.”

“Thanks,” he didn’t know how else to respond, “So what are we going to do there?”

“Oh come on Peter, you know what happens at a party,” she laughed, her hands moving up to his hair, tussling it slightly, “Didn’t you tell me you went to parties?”

He blushed, “Well one party, and it didn’t go great… I mean it can’t be anything that crazy right? Just like spin the bottle or beer pong or something?”

“Oh sweety,” she clicked her tongue before stepping away from him and slipping back into her coat, “If that’s when you’re hoping for then I don’t think you’re down for the parties I go to, pretty boy.”

He went wide eyed, “W-What do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” she smirked, “Ready to go?”

He nodded, his stomach beginning to fill with nerves, “I guess, I’m a little worried now though.”

“You should be,” she winked, “Not even Spiderman can save you from the night we’re gonna have.”

Her words had put Peter a bit on edge, and had him wracking his brain for every party he’d ever seen on tv. Once they got in the car he tried to drill her on the matter, but she only continued to tease him, never giving him a straight answer on anything, going as far as to tell him they were going to be summoning a demon at midnight. Something he had rolled his eyes at until they pulled around to the back of what Peter had to assume was some kind of club.

“(y/n) are you sure this is the right place?”

She nodded, “Yeah, it just looks sketchy from the back,” she flicked the car off and smiled at him, “Come on, you’re gonna love it here.”

He knit his brow in confusion as he followed her, “You sure about that?”

She rolled her eyes, “Yes, just come on,” she grabbed his hand and dragged him to the door.

He was hesitant as he followed her up to the large metal door, worried momentarily she might have been serious about the demon thing until she opened the door.

“Holy shit,” he swore as he glanced around the giant arcade.

She clenched her hands in front of her nervously, “What do you think?”

There was no party, not even close, in fact the only other people in the building were employees.

“I’m confused.”

She sighed, “I thought it was weird when you said you wanted to go to that party, I mean it’s not really your scene,” she glanced away from him, her normal confidence seeming to fade in an instant, “I don’t know, I kind of got to thinking maybe you just wanted to go because we were going together, and I thought that maybe you’d want to do something a little more personal so I rented out this old arcade,” she bit her lip, “I don’t know, maybe that was stupid, the party is real though, we can go to that instead if you want…”

Peter stared at her for a minute, trying to connect the dots, “L-Like a date?”

She nodded, “Maybe, I don’t know, it kind of seemed like that was the vibe.”

“No, no, no,” he grabbed her arms, stopping her from walking away, “I want to go on a date with you so bad.”

“So you rented a whole arcade?” he gaped.

“Oh come on Peter, you already know I’m excessive,” she groaned, “God, this was so stupid, let’s just go to the damn party.”

Her cheeks flushed, “You do?”

He nodded, “Yeah, I’m just a little shocked, you didn’t have to do this for me.”

“I didn’t really know what to do,” she fiddled with a piece of her hair, still unable to meet his eyes, “I mean you know I’m pretty sure of myself most of the time, but you make me nervous.”

“I make you nervous?” he went wide eyed while she nodded.

“I’ve never really liked a guy before, at least no this much,” she explained, “And I mean we can go to the party if you want still, but if you want this to be a first date I just thought something a little more special would be nice…”

A smile spread across his face, “There is nothing I’d like more than for this to be our first date.”

She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck, “We haven’t even started the first one.”

“Thank god, it would have been totally humiliating if you said no,” an airy laugh escaped her lips.

“There wasn’t a chance of that happening,” he assured, “I can’t really afford to rent out an arcade, but I’ll plan our second date okay?”

“No but you went through all this trouble, I figured you’d want another.”

She rolled her eyes, “You know Peter if this relationship is gonna work I think my ego is big enough for the both of us.”

He laughed and pressed his head to hers, “We’ll see how you feel after I kick your ass at every game in here.”

“There is not a chance in hell you’re winning even one game tonight,” she leaned in just a tad, “But I’ll tell you what, if you do I’ll give you a kiss.”

He smiled and pressed a quick kiss to her nose before pulling away, “You’re on.”

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winnix85 · 4 years ago

Text

About Lewis Nixon’s mother Doris Ryer Nixon (Mrs Stanhope Nixon)

Source: mostly from old newspapers and digitized documents (I can’t guarantee the accuracy because they are fragmented information. I will just put it out there for someone may find some interesting useful backstories).

Doris Ryer was born on Oct 1 1894.

Her father Fletcher Ryer was a wealthy pioneer agriculturalist in California. He owned 6,600-acre (27 km2) ranch on Ryer Island, which was named in their honor. Because Doris was his only heiress, this ranch all went to Doris and then to Lewis Nixon III and ultimately to Grace Nixon. It's an agricultural (instead of livestocks) ranch. They grew crops, fruits and vegetables such as wheat, milo, safflower, pears, apples, cherries, grapes, tomatoes and asparagus. They produced such large amount of asparagus that Doris's mother, Mrs Ryer was nicknamed Asparagus Queen back then. This farm is still up and running today, managed by Clarence Hester from 1950s to 1990s (Nix' war buddy, the regimental S3, the one who wrestled with Dick in that photo), after him by his son Thomas Hester.

Doris was educated at Madame Payen's school in Paris from 1906 to 1914 (her entire high school).

Fletcher Ryer died an early death in 1911 (when Doris was about 16). Doris was close to her mother Mrs Blanche Ryer. Mrs Blanche Ryer, though very charming, married very very young. As a pretty, attractive, wealthy widow she determined to ensure that her daughter Doris have a brilliant "bellehood" as a girl. She took Doris to tour around the world. For example, in Sep1913, they traveled to Russia to present Doris at the court of Tsar Nicholas II (Very inconvenient timing, I have to say).

Doris was very sweet and attractive, with pretty black eyes. Her mother has always been most ambitious for her handsome daughter. She aimed to marry Doris to British aristocracy. Doris was presented at Buckingham Palace in 1914, wearing "a white satin princess gown embroidered in pearls and brilliants". Mrs Ryer has had her eye on several members of the British aristocracy for Doris, "but this cruel war, of course, smashed all of her well-laid plans to smithereens." She has to stoop so low to choose from American heirs.

Doris married Stanhope in Jan 1917 in New York at Church of Heavenly Rest. Their wedding was the social event of the year. Guests from coast to coast attended Nixon-Ryer wedding.

The bride's costume was soft white satin, made in combination with pearl embroidered net. She worn a lovely veil, the same that had been worn by her grandmother at her wedding, which was held in place with a band of diamonds. Her only other ornament was a necklace of diamonds with a large pear-shaped diamond pendant, the gift of the bridegroom.

Because the father of bride has died, she was given away by governor of New York Charles S. Whitman. Among those in attendance were the Brazilian ambassador and Argentine ambassador.

After the wedding the new couple went to Bermuda for honeymoon and then they lived at 52 East Fifty-second Street NYC (but later moved to 46 East 65 Street). In 1920 census, the household of the new couple included Stanhope the head of the house, Doris the wife, Lewis the one and half yr old old baby son, and a butler and 3 maids. They also have a suburb house at 167 Grange Ave, New Jersey (a 20-room estate, equiped with oil burning hot water heat, a 4-car garage, servants quarters, a boat house and a stable).

After marrying off her daughter to the Nixons, Mrs Blanche Ryer re-married in 1920 to Clifford Erskine-Bolst, a British conservative party politician. Mr Erskine-Bolst was elected to the British House of Commons in 1923 and again in 1931. To help him win the election, she made generous donations to King George's Hospital in England. She campained hard for him, making speeches and appealing to the constituency in the South Hackney district.

In 1920s, mama Doris bought a villa at Riviera France from the late Grand Duchess Anastasia of Russia. She lived there until her death in 1939 (This villa went to Nix. But he didn't like living there, too much hassle to open the house. He prefered to stay at the hotel Cap Estel. In 1950s he leased it to the Kennedys).

Doris and Stanhope seemed to be ok in 1920s. They attended social events together and traveled to England together. After Lew, they had a baby boy in 1922 (who tragically died in 3 months. Doris' mother went to New York to be with her.) Then they had Blanche Nixon in Aug 1924 (also born in NYC). While living in NYC, it seems little Lew was often spending time with his grandfather. Grandpa often took him to play at central park. For example, he took Lew to that model yacht regatta in central park when he was 7, and to skate in central park in Jan 1927 when lew was 8. In 1927, Doris took 2 yr old Blanche to France to visit her mother, but she didn't take Lew (maybe he was too naughty?). Anyway, Doris took Blanche to see grandma almost every year but Lew was only with them on one visit when he was 10 yr old.

Doris appeared to be lonely and out of place in the social circle of New York. Here is a social note about her in 1929: "A remarkable girl with her embroidery frame, actually engaged in a simple, normal occupation in a land where the atmosphere is charged with hang-overs, gambling-losses and mistrust. Nobody around here looks twice at a woman with mauve hair like Madame de Roch, or at a man with ear-rings and a bracelet on his ankle. But let a girl take out a half-finished centerpiece and commence embroidering and every lorgnette in the crowd is whipped into place."

At the end of 1920s, Doris seemed to be so unhappy to live on the east coast anymore, and she still regarded CA to be her real home. Stanhope sold their house in New Jersey and bought a new house in Montecito (also a mansion with a large stable and everything). In the 1930 census they were living at 180 Cold Spring Road, montecito, CA (Stanhope, Doris, Lewis (11yr), Blanche(5yr), and a French governess, and 2 servants). Lew attended boarding school at Cate School in Santa Barbara.

In social notes in 1930s, Stanhope and Doris mainly attended social events in CA (Santa Barbara and San Francisco), they also travel to New York to visit Mr and Mrs Lewis Nixon Sr.. The family traveled a lot, not only back and forth between east-west coasts, but also trips abroad. Doris always took Blanche with her, but Lew traveled on his own even when he was as young as 15 yr old. It appears that Doris and Stanhope's relationship has gone sour in 1930s. For example, in this 1934 social note: "The Stanhope Nixons will spend the Christmas holidays with his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Lewis Nixon. Mr Nixon will return to California on Jan 1, and Mrs Nixon will sail for Europe to spend six months on the Riviera with her mother." (almost as if Doris was running away from Stanhope and hide in France after briefly met him on Xmas day. Meanwhile 15 yr old Lew was at boarding school in CA).

In 1940 census, Doris and Blanche were still living at 180 Cold Spring Road, montecito, CA (with a housekeeper, a cook and a maid). Stanhope was no longer in this household. Maybe they have separated. Lew was also not in this household for he has left for college.

Among the CA high society, Doris was a all-around likable person: "Doris is always bubbling over with enthusiasm, her joy of living and her wit making her a welcome guest at any affair". She was very enthusiastic about opera (and art events in general, such as oriental dance). She attended the openning of Opera Season at San Francisco every year (usually with Blanche, and she will grab Lew when she can catch him). In 1940, she offered a prize for the "Best one act play" to stimulate interest in the Lobero Theater of Santa Barbara. She also went to see excellent plays in New York when it's in season and made some witty comments about the remarkable fashion trends in New York: "The only lavender and old lace that you see today is on the individual--the lavender in the tinted hair, and the lace on the dainty unmentionables."

After the Pearl Harbor Attack, Doris turned from a socialite to a civic leader. In 1942 she became the national vice-president of the American Women's Voluntary Services (AWVS) (and during ww2). The AWVS recruited and trained women to harvest crops, do nurse works, driving trucks and sell war bonds. She encouraged women to show more interest in international affairs. She also founded Guide Dogs for the Blind in 1943 (primarily to help the blinded veterans) and she made generous donations. In addition, she was the state commander of the California Cancer Society.

The AWVS duties kept her so busy, she has to relinquish her box at the opera house. She only had long enough time to have a toasted chicken sandwich for lunch. She put generous amount of English mustard on her sandwich. When her friends cautioned her not to put too much, she said:"If it puts me out, I will be a most excellent subject for the first aid class I am about to attend, and we will all find out how much we know!"

In the summer of 1945, Doris and Stanhope finally divorced (Stanhope even filed counter-suits seeking divorce on the grounds of desertion). They divorced in August, and Stanhope married "the Blond" in September 1945.

In June 1948, Doris died at home (944 Chestnut Str San Francisco CA). She had a stroke (and she always had hypertention). It seems her death was an unexpected sudden death because one month before she was still traveling around France with her daughter Blanche. Her will dictated to split her legacy equally between Blanche and Lew. She also left generous amount of money to employees such as housekeeper, secretary. For a former maid, she gave her $225 monthly for life.

#doris ryer nixon #Doris Ryer #Mrs Stanhope Nixon #She was a wonderful person #Generous kind and funny #lewis nixon #band of brothers

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thetierdslytherin · 4 years ago

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Its nice to have a friend Spencer Reid x reader

So this is a Spencer Reid song fic based on its nice to have a friend by Taylor swift. and I saw someone else to a songfic based on this song for another character and i felt inspired. there’s mention of bullying and divorce but other than that just a fluffy fic.

Mostly gender neutral reader x Spencer but at one point the reader wears a dress

School bell rings, walk me home

Sidewalk chalk covered in snow

Lost my gloves, you give me one

"Wanna hang out?"

School was finally over as the bell rang signaling the end of the day my teacher said something but I didn't hear her. No, I'm too excited to get home. It's the first day of winter break and I couldn't be more excited. I didn't really see the point of kindergarten and most of the kids are mean.

Anyways my mommy lets me walk home by myself alot of the bigger kids do and it's only a 10 minute walk to my house. I finally stop running just outside of the school yard where a lot of the kids color and draw on the sidewalk too icy to do it now which reminds me i'm not supposed to run because I could get hurt.

As I look up to continue my walk home I see a kinda frail looking boy with crooked teeth and glasses too big for his face, ah Spencer he's not in my class with me but I know him cause a lot of the kids tease him and hide his stuff. I don't really know why but my parents say if you don't have anything nice to say don't say anything at all. Besides, I don't know why they do it all he really does is sit by himself and read.

He doesn't have any gloves on or a hat and it's snowing and I'm cold with my gloves and coat so I know he is too, maybe he doesn't have any. It's not really common to snow in Las Vegas but it's probably because the kids hid them from him. I run up to catch up with him. It's not that hard, he's not exactly moving fast, he doesn't seem really excited to get home, maybe he doesn't have anything to do.

“Here take one of mine” I hold out one of my gloves to him so at least only one of his hands will be cold. He looks at me like he's expecting me to tease him or snatch the glove away at the last second but I guess he deems me trust worthy enough and takes it putting it on his furthest hand.

“t-thanks i’m s-spencer”

“I know i’m y/n you lost your gloves right?” I know the kids took them but I don't want him to feel any worse about it.

“Yeah I did thanks” he still looks really cold so I grab his hand closest to me and try to interlock our fingers so both his hands will be warm. He kinda flinches at first but then seems to accept that I'm not gonna hurt him.

“So you won't be cold Spencer”

We walk for maybe a minute in silence before I get another idea

“Wanna hang out?”

Video games, you pass me a note

Sleeping in tents

It's nice to have a friend

(Ooh)

It's nice to have a friend

(Ooh)

I'm now i'm second grade and Spencer is in third and ever since that day we've been best friends and do practically everything together and this is the first year without him in my grade and I miss him a lot but we still hang out everyday after school.

“C’mon Spencer it won't be bad I promise my parents are right inside and if you want to go you can but could you please try it”.

I'm referring to spending the night in a tent in my backyard.Sleepovers were a common thing for Spencer and I especially with his dad having left I think that's why he likes being over so much it lets him forget for a little while.Earlier this week I learned Spencer had never been camping due to his thing with germs but after a lot of begging and secret planning on my part he agreed “okay y/n but if I don't like it we can go in?”

I nod happily and lead him to the backyard where everyday after school I've been cleaning it and setting up a campsite in the cleanest way possible. “Did you know that 77 million american households contain a member that camps and 81% of households in America say they want to camp more?”

“No, I didn't Spence, do you have any more statistics about camping for me?’ this is one thing I love about him he can tell you something about any subject you ask him it's because of his Eidetic memory.He found out he had last year and its super cool he can remember and fact I wish I had his memory some times.

I open the tent to reveal an air mattress with a bunch of blankets and some comic books my mommy bought earlier. It's not the big books like he likes to read but it's Marvel comics that I introduced him to a few months ago and we've been reading them together ever since.

“w-wow y/n this is so cool, did you know the hulk was supposed to be grey in the original comics but was changed to green after a mess up with printer ink?”

“No but i'd love to hear more comic facts”

He deserves someone to listen to him after everything with his parents and all the kids at school bullying him. I don't want him to ever feel alone.

Light pink sky up on the roof

Sun sinks down, no curfew

Twenty questions, we tell the truth

You've been stressed out lately? Yeah, me too

Something gave you the nerve

To touch my hand

It's amazing how two people who are in such different places in their lives can still love each other so much while Spencer is the only 16 year old I know with 2 phds working on another i'm still in highschool. Not from lack of hard work though i’m graduating this year 2 years early so I can go to cal tech to be with Spencer. If i'm being perfectly honest if not for Spencer I wouldn't be graduating early but I miss him too much to stay any longer. I'm sick of highschool boyfriends and football games and dealing with the same kids who bullied Spencer for being a nerd acting like we’re best friends just because I made nice with them.

Right now were on the roof of my house after a lot of convincing on my part to get him out here

“Why are we out here y/n do you know how many roof related accidents happen a year?”

“No but I'm sure you do dr.” I think my favorite pastime of recent is teasing Spencer.

He's saying something to me as I nod along but I'm not paying attention to what he's saying. No, I'm too busy staring at him.

He's really grown into his features he still has a boyish look about him but now his jawline is very defined and his brown hair goes just past his hair curling at the ends after a long day of hanging out the gel has worn out making his hair as messy as ever and he’s traded his glasses for contacts but i still think he looks for lack of better word beautiful either way. I know I love him, I've loved him since the first day I met him and over the years at one point I guess the feelings went from platonic to romantic but I don’t tell him. I don't have to I know i'll spend the rest of my life with Spencer Reid

“y/n y/n hello”

“Hmm, what were you saying Spence?”

“I-i’m sorry am i boring you y/n?” the worst part is he's not mad about it he looks upset like he feels bad for boring me.

“No never, i'm sorry I was just thinking”

“About what?”

“You” why did I say that but it's fine it has to be Spencer won't care but I don't want to see his reaction to my words instead focusing on the pink orange sky

“You know I love you right that i'll always love you”

I feel him grasp my hand interlocking our fingers and I let out a quiet gasp-but he heard it. We've only held hands twice our whole lives the first day I met him and after the goal post incident so this is well, completely out of character for him and our friendship.

“I love you too y/n”

Church bells ring, carry me home

Rice on the ground looks like snow

Call my bluff, call you "babe"

Have my back, yeah, everyday

Feels like home, stay in bed

The whole weekend

They call us stupid-young and dumb-that well be divorced in 10 years but we love each other and known each other our whole lives hes just been accepted into the BAU at 20 he has to move to Quantico. I'm gonna go with him I can get a job i've finished my degree there's nothing keeping me here.

“Let's get married”

“What?” it's rare that I make him speechless but this seems to do the trick.

“Why don't I love you and you love me. We've been dating for how many years now 4? I want to spend the rest of my life with you i've known that I wanted you in my life since that first day on the sidewalk I want to grow old with you and have kids and grand kids so why wait let's get married” I look up at him silently pleading with him to just agree with me.

“y/n 45% of marriages end in divorce and 20% of couples under 24 get divorced in the first year of marriage”. He’s cautious I don't blame him not after what happened with his mom and dad.

“Well this is one time i'm going to ask you not to trust the statistics. I may not know all the facts about marriage and life but i know us and i'd like to think that's enough. I don't want anything big just us we can go down to the courthouse and make it official”

He moves over to the couch where i'm sitting and grabs my hand “yes”

It wasn't anything big, him in the only suit he owns and me in a dime store wedding dress. The rings we have are cheap and the diamond in my hand may have been small but it means everything to me.

We didn't even tell our parents why his mom is institutionalized, his dad left and my parents don't approve of me leaving for Quantico instead its Spencer and I with 5 of our college friends. We both walk out of the courthouse as they throw rice at us-unnecessary but sweet of them-and get into his car driving off to go home. We aren't having a honeymoon unless you count moving to Quantico.

He picks me up and carries me through the threshold of the apartment as he sets me down I ask “can we do our vows I know we both agreed not to prepare anything don't worry I didn’t I just want to tell you some things and you don't even have to say anything back I just need to say it. Spencer I just want you to know how incredibly proud I am of you and all you’ve acomplised and overcome even the first time I saw you I could tell we were gonna be friends.I am just so thankful to have you here right now and for sticking with me through all of the chess matches and late night adventure and stupid boyfriends and what I guess i’m trying to say is thank you for always being you I love you.”

I look at him with tears in my eyes and with tears in his eyes too and he clears his throat “ y/n I will never be able to express how you have helped me over the years from school yard bullies to cal tech and my mom.And I know i'm not the best with words i'm better with analysis and fact but there is no fact or statistic that will let me describe how i'm love with you I am” I put one hand on the side of his face and pull him in for a kiss.

It's nice to have a friend

(Ooh)

It's nice to have a friend

(Ooh)

It's nice to have a friend

(Ooh)

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #childhood friends #comfort

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imyourliquor-youremypoison · 5 years ago

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A Girl’s Best Friend (Peter Parker x OC) - Part 9

Synopsis: Diamonds are man’s best friend- or dogs are girls’ best friends, wait… how does the saying go again?

Warnings: Family issues; Peter has a crush and it’s complicated; mention of assault; good dogs; College AU; aged up! characters; TONY STARK IS ALIVE AND WE ALL LIVE IN A HAPPY PLACE CALLED DENIAL

A/N: In this story, Peter has Tom’s dog, Tessa.The dogs in the story play a minor but key role.

Word count: 2.5k

Part 8 <<< >>> Part 10

MASTERLIST

Come Thursday, Emmeline walked into the library, reveling in the silent early hours when it was nearly empty except for Peter and her. This was even more true now because the Christmas holidays would start in two days, and most people had already gone back home to avoid the rush at the airports the weekend before Christmas.

She looked forward to these study sessions, they became part of her life in that sneaky way that things you start doing on a regular basis do. Sometimes they didn’t even talk much, but it was nice and comforting to be with Peter. He had a good aura, one that drew her to him. Emmeline wondered if the feeling was reciprocated – she thought he liked her, but it was always hard to tell, he was a bit on the shy side. At least, he never gave her reason to think otherwise. He never cancelled their plans, never said no when she suggested something, he was always on time when they agreed to meet somewhere.

Peter was always at the library before her, waiting at their usual table. Waiting or… sleeping.

With a wicked smile, Emmeline approached, finding Peter fast asleep on his open notebook, snorting lightly. She couldn’t help it, she slammed her books on the table next to him, startling him awake.

“I’m awake! I’m awake!” he exclaimed, shooting up and looking around him, panicked eyes. Emmeline laughed. “Oh, hi, Em. I was just… resting my eyes.”

“Oh, is that what they call it these days?” she asked, sitting down and placing a coffee in front of Peter.

She had stopped at Starbucks on her way here, and she was right to do so. Instead of commenting Peter’s state of dishevelment and obvious exhaustion, she let him take a sip and took a mental note to keep an eye on him.

“’m sorry,” he mumbled, pushing back his hair with a sigh after setting down the cup. “Long days, short nights.”

“I brought the notes you asked for,” she told him, pulling a pile of papers out of her bag. She had printed them for him and changed the layout to make it easier to read. “We can go through them together if you're up to the task,” she said, eyeing him carefully. He looked a total mess.

He rubbed his face without looking at her, eyes focused on the papers already.

“Of course, I'm up to the task, that's why we're here.”

Emmeline furrowed her brows but nodded nonetheless, thinking it was better not to argue. Peter made an admirable effort to stay awake and concentrated on their work, she gave him that, but there was no ignoring the way his head dipped and his eyelids fell a little as though they weighted a ton. But what pushed Emmeline to speak up was the bruise she saw on his arm, peeking out of his sleeve when he reached to grab the book to her right.

“Peter, what's this?” she worried, yanking back the sleeve to uncover the big purple bruise. It covered his entire forearm; it must hurt like a motherfucker. “How did you get this?”

He shook her hand off and pulled the sleeve down before she could take a good look at it, immediately denying that it hurt and stuttering out some lie about falling in the tub. She knew he didn't have a tub. The knot of worry forming at the back of her throat wasn’t new; she had spotted bruises before. She never said anything because Peter didn’t look in pain, and she knew some people just bruised easily – but this one was bad.

“We should take a break. You should go back to your room and get some more sleep; we can always meet up this afternoon.”

“No, I made you come here early, I can't ask you to come back tonight. And Tessa will be wide awake and think it's time for her walk.”

That last part sounded like an excuse; they both knew Tessa was a huge couch potato.

“It's not your fault if you're tired, Peter. Anyway, I offered, you didn't have to ask. I can dogsit Tessa this morning. I don't have class until noon.”

It was obvious she was going to win because Peter clearly did not have the energy to argue. He relented after another minute of protesting. The dark circles under his eyes causing lines of worry to appear on Emmeline's forehead. Something was wrong. Something has been wrong for a while but she thought he would sort it out eventually.

“You seriously look like you’re going to pass out. I’m walking with you,” she told him, not accepting no for an answer.

She put his belongings into his backpack and wrapped a hand around his elbow, the way she usually did. She knew he liked it: he always sported this look of pride whenever she walked at his arm. She liked it too.

They walked out of the building arm in arm.

“I feel so dumb for making you come here for nothing,” Peter grumbled, rubbing his eyes to stay awake.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. With Bella still at the vet, there’s not much to do at my place. I’d rather hang out with you and do nothing than stay there all alone,” she confessed, offering him a heartfelt smile.

Peter’s knees almost buckled.

“Why are you so tired though? Is something the matter?”

A flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes and he looked at his feet, but Emmeline’s grip on him didn’t waver and the steadfast support she provided prompted him to open up to her. It was only fair after all, he had been trying to get her to be more honest about her feelings for months, it would be hypocrite of him to not do the same.

“I have nightmares. I wake up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat and can’t fall back asleep.”

Not even Ned knew that. He wanted to be honest about why he had those nightmares, but she didn’t ask, probably having sensed that it was personal. Private people tended to not pry into other people’s lives, and that was a huge relief at the moment.

Truth was, he didn’t really want to talk about the fact that this time of the year reminded him of his uncle Ben. He died shortly before Christmas when Peter was 16. It was always difficult for him, this time of year. It would always be. Coming back late from his missions didn’t help either.

However, Emmeline was smart enough to figure it out on her own. He had told her about his dead parental figures and if she gave it a bit of thought, she would guess why he couldn’t sleep these days.

They finished their walk in amicable silence, and Emmeline took Peter’s keys to open the door. Tessa was still asleep, not even waking up when they walked inside.

“Looks like you won't need my services after all,” Emmeline chuckled, watching Tessa sleep quietly. Bella tended to snore, which was why she didn’t sleep in Emmeline’s bedroom.

When she turned around, Peter was already lying on his bed, arms spread open, sighing in content.

“I’m never getting up again,” he vowed, making her laugh.

Feeling playful, Emmeline dropped her bag and kicked off her shoes before lying down next to him, her head resting on his arm.

“I admit it’s pretty comfy,” she hummed. “Is that how you lure girls into your room, Parker? I’m amazed it works!”

“Shut up!” Peter scoffed and wrapped his arm around her head, trying to cover her eyes. He only succeeded in making her giggle as she wriggled away. He dropped his head on the pillow again, thinking that he liked hearing her laugh. He wanted to make her laugh more. “It only works on the really gullible ones.”

She snorted this time, and he felt her body rumble with laughter.

“Aren’t you going back?” he eventually asked, having stopped bothering her and let his arm rest on the bed again, allowing her to lie on it if she wanted.

“What for? I quite like it here,” she hummed, closing her eyes and making herself at home.

“I don’t know. Study? That’s why we meet up every week,” Peter mumbled, feeling himself slip into unconsciousness.

“Maybe I’m just using it as an excuse to spend time with you.”

Peter’s tired brain barely processed what she said before he dozed off. There were no more words exchanged between them, only peaceful silence, and the delicate touch of her fingertips on his open palm. Peter fought to stay awake just a while longer to enjoy this fleeting moment with her, but his eyelids were too heavy. He drifted off to sleep with Emmeline still lying beside him, wishing she were closer.

Emmeline was happy to have Bella back, the reunion was an emotional one. It was now the last weekend before Christmas. Columbia was empty, the shopping streets were buzzing with people. This year she bought a tree. She didn’t really know why, she wasn’t much into celebrating Christmas, but this year she wanted to try something different.

And maybe it did have something to do with Peter, maybe not.

There were only two things tainting her mood. The first one was silly, really. She hadn’t seen Spider-Man in a little while although he hadn’t said anything about not visiting anymore. Then again, perhaps he was busy this time of year, like everyone else. Everyone else except for her, it seemed.

“Do you miss him?” She turned to Bella who lifted her head when she was being talked to. Sometimes Emmeline wondered if she understood what she said. “Yeah, me too.”

The second stain on her lighthearted mood was the customary Christmas speech given by mister mayor himself, live on TV, and which required the presence of the entire family apparently. Emmeline loathed these occasions, where she had to play pretend, act like the perfect little daughter. Her parents even hired a stylist to make her look the part.

Her skin crawled just thinking about it. One of these days she would have to rebel and not come. But not this year – her father was trying to her re-elected, and if she did anything, anything at all, to jeopardize his chances, there would be hell to pay. She still hated this masquerade, and she hated herself for playing along too. There was no solution that satisfied everyone in this scenario.

She was saved from her own thoughts by her phone.

From Peter: I just finished my part of the assignment. Can I send it to you for proof reading?

She smiled, already typing out an answer when she received a follow-up message.

From Peter: and to make sure I didn’t completely bullshit it. The chapter about boundary value problems is still a bit obscure to me.

To Peter: Gotcha. I’ll send you my part too so we can both give each other feedback.

He sent her a gif of Jake Peralta saying ‘noice’ as an answer, and she shook her head, putting down her phone. Emmeline went to her room and opened her laptop to send him her work – it should be ready to send at this point, she had a fairly decent grasp of the subject and had proofread it a couple times already.

She did not want Peter Parker to think her stupid and refused to leave a single silly mistake in her work, and that was the truth. Emmeline liked Peter, more than she anticipated and perhaps more than she would like to. Her life was complicated, and she was complicated, it didn’t feel right to drag him into it.

Bella barked to get her attention then. When her eyes landed on her alarm clock, Emmeline realized it was already half past lunch time for Bella. She stood up to fill Bella’s bowl while her phone buzzed away on her bed.

From Peter: hey, what do you say we go out later? For coffee or whatever you’d like?

From Peter: Do I sound desperate? Be honest. I feel like I do. Please say yes though

Another moment later, it buzzed once more.

From Peter: It’s a date btw

“What do you want me to say?” Ned asked Peter, sighing through the phone for what felt like the hundredth time since the beginning of their conversation. It wasn’t without reason either, Peter was quite the rambler when he was anxious. “I know you’ve been friends for a while now and she’s cool, but if she hasn’t answered by now, well… you’ve got your answer dude.”

No, he refused to accept that explanation. As long as she hasn’t answered, there was still a chance, right?

“Maybe her phone died, and she didn’t see the messages,” Peter argued, full of hope and denial. He had been telling himself just that for three hours now, nearly convincing himself too.

“Get yourself together, man!” Ned shouted. “Have some pride! Chicks don’t want no sissy!”

Peter held the phone away from his ear and looked at it with a perplexed frown before putting it back to his ear.

“Did I hear correctly? Is this the way you talk now?” Peter asked, frowning to himself, amused though confused.

“Trying something new.” Peter could practically hear his friend shrug.

“Stop then. It doesn’t work for you,” Peter told him. Better to be honest, Ned would thank him later.

“Noted. But I stand by my word, girls like confidence, be confident! You’re freakin’ Spider-Man, the chicks dig it! Girls have posters of you!”

“Still not working,” Peter groaned, rubbing his face with his free hand. “But I hear you and I’ll try.”

“I’ll get it right, you’ll see,” Ned laughed. “Alright, gotta go, Noobmaster69 is back online. Got ass to kick.”

They both hung up and Peter slid his phone back into his pocket, shaking his head after this weird conversation.

“Noobmaster69?” he repeated, still a bit confused about… well, everything to be frank.

He just spent the whole afternoon trying insanely hard not to look at his phone and focus on the work she had sent him for review. It was good. Like, it was solid, they won’t have to worry about passing this class, and no thanks to him. It was too late to take back what he had sent her though, and even if it were possible, he wouldn’t know how to make it better.

If he had paid attention in class instead of alternating between sleeping and staring at her in awe, maybe he wouldn’t be in this position? He only had himself to blame. Then again, time spent looking at her wasn’t wasted in his opinion.

The second his phone buzzed in his back pocket, Peter whipped it out so quickly he almost dropped it – and wouldn’t that just be his luck?

From M: Alright, it’s a date. Nothing comes to mind but I’m not difficult. Meet me at the fountain in Central Park at 6pm?

In a bout of joy, Peter jumped to his ceiling, scaring Tessa in the process. He stayed upside down while typing his answer and wondered if it was the blood rush that made him dizzy or something else.

Reblog to save a writer

Tag list: @justanothercynicalgenzkid @of-virtuoso

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idrawstuffidk · 5 years ago

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Dereliquit Deum (a Creepypasta)

Oh boy, I don't really know where to begin with this, honestly I didn't think I'd ever be able to do this for a long time, but it's been 20 years, and I think I'm safe. I hope I'm safe. Anyway, my name is Micheal, age 35, and this is a story about my childhood “friend”. It all started when I was 5 years old, or at least, that's when I remember it starting. My mom told me it started more, when I was 2, but I haven't talked to her in 10 years so I don't remember the specifics. Wow, that sounded assholish of me. just, let me explain, and no, she isn't dead. According to my mom, when I was 2 I would stare at the fireplace, and I just wouldn't stop no matter what they did. They'd try to get me to move but i’d just sit there, cross legged, staring at the fireplace. Sometimes I would turn my head a bit in confusion, my parents eventually got used to it, until I turned three. When I was three, my mom claimed she’d see me at the fireplace on the last day of every month, just before midnight, just staring. The entire year she was scared by this but, again, got used to finding me and bringing me back to my bed. It wasn't until the last night of December, when we were celebrating New Years, that I burst into tears. My mom asked me what was wrong and, according to her, I asked her “why didn't you save the little girl, mommy? She’s scared.” My mom was, naturally, terrified and confused, but apparently after a few minutes I calmed down. my mom said she’d never forget what I said next. I looked up at the ceiling and said “it's ok now mommy, she’s safe in the light”. My mom was obviously freaking out over her devil child, but my dad told her that it was ok, because I'd just seen a soul ascend into heaven (which wasn't really wrong) and that it was late so I had to go to sleep anyway. My mom was kind of comforted by that, and for two years, nothing happened. When I was five, it got worse. Much much worse. I was sleeping on the couch, since my room was under renovations and my bed had been disassembled (I needed a bigger one). When I heard whispering coming from the fireplace. I was still young and didn't really assess the danger of the situation, as well as that, I was half asleep and not very scared in the moment, so I looked up. There. Standing in front of the fireplace, she was staring right back at me. To give you an idea of how she looked, she was tall, probably 7 feet, her head almost touched the ceiling, she had greasy, straight black hair that reached her shoulders, and a single lock of white hair in the front that was longer than the rest. She had a white bowling hat with a silver ribbon on it that looked like it would fall off at any second, a white sweater overtop of a black button up with a white bow tie, and a black leather corset overtop of all that. She had a black pleated skirt that almost reached her knees and black and white striped leggings, ending in silver shoes. As well as this, she had a huge black and white bi-coloured umbrella with a silver handle that was behind her. But her face, her face is what stood out to me. Porcelain pale skin and 3 silver diamond marks on her face, one on the bridge of her nose, and one under each of her eyes, going along her cheeks. Her eyes were a light, dull blue that stood out against all, the blacks and whites. There wasn't any blush on her face, only one solid colour throughout. Like an amateurly painted porcelain doll. She looked human, but something was off. Like she was either trying so hard to look human that she did something wrong, or she wasn't trying hard enough. She looked at me and smiled, the smile looked wrong, just because it was too perfect, fixed, like a doll’s. She looked at me and whispered again, this time I could properly hear what she said. “Dereliquit Deum”. She asked me for permission to stay, and I, being the tired little kid I was, just sleepily nodded and said “ok” before falling back asleep. For the next few days she followed me from a distance, silently when I was with other people. But when I was alone she'd be much closer and talk more. and I didn't really mind for some odd reason. I did, however, pick up on a few of her behaviours. She always seemed to stand on her tiptoes, and I don't recall her ever really walking, just being there when I looked behind me. As well as this, her umbrella was always leaning against her but I don't think I ever saw her pick it up. She told me a lot of things, and I'd always remember chatting with her, but not what was said as far as “small talk” goes. I’d only remember specific facts and a few key phrases. I think those were the things she wanted me to remember. One of those phrases were “Dereliquit Deum”. She said it a lot, and I never asked her what it meant. I asked her what her name was after, probably, a week of her following me around. She looked at me, smiled that fixed smile of hers and responded “Relicta Per Deus” (and I'm guessing how that is spelled) I always called her “Reli”. Reli would follow me around day after day, and had followed me around for about a month when she said her first words to me while I was not at home, I don't remember what she said, but I know she distracted me just long enough to stop me from crossing the street, where I would have died as a cement truck ran its red, and would have killed me. when I told my mom (who had, up until the point, believed Reli was just my imaginary friend) she told me that maybe Reli was my guardian angel, sent to protect me, and the words I couldn't remember was because she was speaking in an angelic language I was incapable of comprehending. And for a long time I believed it. She couldn't have been more wrong. After about a year of having her around, she started to say different things to me. I’d go about my day and suddenly my mom would be shouting at me to stop, i’d look down and a knife would be in my hand or my hand would be inches from the window cleaner. I would have no memory of even reaching for these, or going to the room they were in at all, it was as if I had blacked out entirely. And Reli would be silently standing a few feet away. Not stopping me, just… looking disappointed. This went on until my mom was sure I was being possessed, and brought in a priest to cleanse the house. Weird thing was, Reli was nowhere in sight this whole time, but the priest did say he sensed something malevolent by the fireplace. He couldn't sense a demon, but he did lead a prayer and told us that it was all he could do. So the blackouts continued for a little while longer, until I was about 7 years old. Then they suddenly stopped. I do remember sometimes telling Reli rings like “but that's really bad” and “no! That's dangerous!” But I never remembered what she said before that. It seemed to me like Reli was trying to get me to kill myself, but eventually I got old enough to not fall for her tricks, but i’ll never be sure. That was when Reli started getting much more violent in he attempts. I remember one occasion in particular, I was walking to my room following dinner, and I could hear Reli’s breathing behind me. Then I heard a loud crash and jumped out of the way. The bookshelf in the hall had fallen over and had nearly crushed me. I'm positive Reli pushed it, and even at the time I was pretty sure she did, though I wasn't as sure as I am now. That was just one of the many instances I have of Reli trying to kill me, I'm sure I could find more if I think hard, but I really really don't want to. It continued until I was 10, then, it stopped. Reli started to show up less and less, she’d only show up to try and kill me, but her attempts became more and more clumsy and dejected, like she knew she had already lost, but was hoping by some miracle she would win. Eventually I stopped seeing her altogether. It wasn't until we were moving out when I was 12 or 13 that I saw Reli for the last time. I was exiting my room with my last bag, and she was waiting for me. I would have run, hell, I wanted to run, but I didn't. She looked sad, and as terrified as I was, I didn't think she would hurt me. She knew she had lost, I doubted she would try again. She just looked like she had something to say. “Just ask your mother, she’ll tell you everything. One day” was all she said, and then she turned to walk away, whispering for one last time “Derelequit Deum” And with that, she disappeared in a blink of an eye. I ran as fast as I could to get out of the house, terrified as you can imagine, and she didn't follow me. I never saw her again. But that isn't the end of the story. I was so afraid that I didn't think to ask my mom about anything, but I never forgot those words, I guess she just really wanted me to remember them. When I was 25 I had been in college for a bit of time, and I was taking a class on Latin for my specific major, the professor was reading out of a Latin text to use as an example for the grammar used, when they used to term “Dereliquit Deum”, I asked what that meant since we hadn't learned it, and they told me it meant “God left”. That's what reminded me of all of this, so I asked the professor at the end of the lecture what “Relicta Per Deus” means. They were confused, but told me it means “abandoned by God” Every day, she would tell me that God left, when I asked what he name was, she said she was abandoned by God. At this point I decided enough time has passed and I had to ask my mom about Reli. She refused to say anything at first and we ended up having a screaming match over the phone but eventually, she cracked. I don't think I'll ever forget what she said. “When I was only 12, my 10 year old sister, Susanna, fell into the fire on New Year's Day and died. I begged her not to leave me, it wasn't until I knew that you saw her that I realized she was still there, and told her she could go. The demonic… thing that's followed you around your entire early life, I'm so sorry, it was my fault she targeted you, the only reason I saved you all those times was because I was watching you like a hawk, knowing it was there. I didn't say anything, I didn't try to get rid of her because I was scared she would hurt me too, I'm so sorry” Then she hung up, to be fair, the only reason I know the whole thing was because my calls are recorded, I listened to the recording probably 20 times because I was so shocked. Still, I was confused. So she knew she was there but, how was this all her fault? Sure, I was kind of angry she didn't try to get rid of it but I still didn't know what it was, or what that little girl, my aunt, I guess, had anything to do with this. Confused, I composed a post, describing the situation, what happened, what she looked like, and everything, and posted it, Asking if she matched up with maybe some sort of myth or legend from another culture. Wondering if there were other people who might know more about her. It didn't take long to get a response. I'm just going to copy and paste the text she sent me here, I think she summed up the gist of it. Micheal- From your description I can only imagine that “Relicta” is a Solum, it's a creature from Latin origin that remains a myth in some Latin based cultures. They’re dark creatures that are born when a child’s soul ascends to heaven. They represent the evil in the dead child, that stays on earth, while the soul lives on. They are eternally dead and hollow, incapable of positive emotion, they only feel cold, alone, and spite. Solum’s stay in the area that the child died, they are tied to that area and cannot leave unless they have tied themselves to another child. The reason for this? They want to kill all the children in the area to create more of their kind, so they aren't alone. They feel as though God has betrayed or abandoned them, and because they cannot ascend to heaven, they try to make more of their kind so they can suffer as well. This is why they are sometimes confused as guardian angels, because they want the children to die where they are, not anywhere else, because then the new Solum will not exist in the same area as they do. I'm going to tell you this because I do not believe you are 100% safe now, Solum’s can shapeshift, they do not have a solid form, they can appear as an animal, a family member, even a bug on the wall, they can always be there, but they're especially good at hiding. Children above the age of 10 typically do not create Solum’s, and adults definitely do not, so while you might think you are safe now, you have to understand, Solum's are vengeful, spiteful creatures. Even if they know that they won't gain a companion, they sometimes seek out revenge on the ones that escaped them. Just because you aren't in that house anymore doesn't mean that she hasn't tied herself to you, she could still be lurking, waiting to strike. At any moment. Remember this, if you ever do see her, Solum’s are weak creatures, they can inflict a lot of damage but can't take much themselves, especially if it is using the thing that killed the child that created them, if you see her, I suggest using a lighter or match to fend her off. I wish I could tell you more, but that's all I know. Regards, I edited out her name to protect her privacy, but yeah, that's what she said. I would say that's the end of the story, but it isn't. A few nights ago I had a dream about Reli, she was screaming at me, surrounded by flames, begging for me to help her. I ran to her, I don't know why, and grabbed her hand. She never touched me as a child, just stood by me. She was cold and clammy, like a dead person. I woke up in a cold sweat and, for whatever reason, decided I had to check on my childhood house. So, at 4 in the morning, I drove over 3 hours to my childhood house. Don't ask me why, I don't know. I just felt like I had to. But when I arrived at the property I was stopped by a policeman. He asked me what I was doing, so I told him I used to live here and was sent to retrieve some things left in the house (complete lie, I know), He apologized and told me that the house had burned down, no discernible cause, at about 3:00am. I convinced myself it was just a coincidence, and managed to have a small chat with the policeman, that's when he told me something very very odd. He said that they heard a woman screaming from inside the house, despite the fact that all the family was outside. They thought it was an intruder so they sent in Firefighters to get her out. But while they were searching for her, she suddenly stopped screaming. No body was found. I asked him what time she stopped screaming. He said a little before 4:00am. I don't know why, but I couldn't bring myself to drive home that morning, I stayed in my childhood town all day and a motel at night, finally taking all the back roads home in the morning. I’m sure it was just a coincidence, I know I should be happy, she’s probably dead, or too weak to hurt anyone now. But I still can't stop thinking about how her clammy hand felt in mine, how she stopped screaming the second we made contact, how the wind behind me sounds so much like breathing. How when I saw the remains of that house I was so sure I could see an umbrella in the rubble. I'm sure it's nothing, but my brain keeps telling me she isn’t dead. Relicta can’t be dead. And if she isn't attached to that house anymore, well, that family didn't have any children.

#Creepypasta #my oc #Creepypasta oc #Creepypasta story #original story

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haydensmarin · 5 years ago

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meet HAYDEN JUDE MARIN, he has been living in milton for three months and is generally known around town for being charming and manipulative. the twenty seven year old, is apparently a night club owner but you didn’t hear that from me. when i think of him i think of: the warmth of the sand under your bare feet, a flirtatious comment followed by a wink, ‘u up’ texts, the smell of freshly baked bread. - tommy martinez, cismale, he/him as written by pepper, 23, est, she/her.

BIO ; cancer tw, death tw

Hayden was born and raised in Santa Barbara, California where he happily spent most of his childhood by the beach. He was raised solely by his mother, Rosie Marin, who did her very best to bring him up on her own despite his father’s purposeful lack of involvement. Rosie owned a small local bakery (aptly named Rosie’s) that she and Hayden lived above. Hayden’s childhood was peppered with memories of waking up to the scent of fresh bread, pushing up onto his tiptoes to ice cupcakes, and of course, always being the most popular kid in his classes because his mom brought the best snacks. Hayden and his mother had just nearly enough to get by most of the time, but Hayden grew up very loved and very happy. His mother made sure of that at the very least.

Unfortunately, Rosie was diagnosed with lung cancer when Hayden was just ten years old. She fought hard against the disease for two hard years before she unfortunately passed away when Hayden was twelve. In all honesty, Hayden has never really quite gotten over his mother’s death. At the time his mother was quite literally all he had. He never knew his overly religious grandparents (who disowned Rosie for having a child out of wedlock) and he had no aunts or uncles that he knew of. All he really grew up with was his mother, and watching her die for two years was incredibly hard for him, and after her death he felt that for the first time in his life he was truly alone.

To everyone’s surprise, but especially Hayden’s, after his mother’s death his father got into contact with him through his godmother who Hayden was staying with at the time. Shockingly enough despite his total absence for majority of Hayden’s life, Hayden’s father wanted to take Hayden in. Hayden was very much against it, considering he had never met his father and was reasonably rather upset with him for abandoning both him and his mother. However, Hayden’s godmother thought that living with his father would be best for him, not only considering that it may be Hayden’s last chance to have a relationship with a parent but also because Hayden’s father, Raphael, was very well off. So despite his (very vocal) protests Hayden was then sent to live with his father, which quickly became a very sour arrangement.

It became very clear very quickly that Hayden’s father wanted nothing to do with him. He spoke to Hayden only when necessary, seemed to forget his son was there most of the time, and left on business trips near constantly. Eventually Hayden learnt (through some rather sneaky eavesdropping) that the only reason his father had taken him in in the first place was to please Hayden’s stepmother. Apparently, Cheryl, or ‘Cherry’ as she insisted everyone call her, was practically begging Raphael for a baby, and seeing as Raphael had very little time or desire for having a child he decided that having a twelve year old around was better than an infant. Hayden was hurt to learn the truth about his father’s desire to take him in, and even attempted to run away in a fit of anger. But he was very quickly found by some of his father’s security and brought back to his father’s expansive home before he could get very far, and every attempt following the first resulted in much of the same thing.

Eventually Hayden gave up on running away. His father was rarely home long enough for Hayden to demonstrate how much he loathed him anyways, and within the walls of his father’s home Hayden was at least clothed and fed. He resented his father and longed to run away back to his godmother’s home but unfortunately his father’s home was a long way away from Santa Monica.

So Hayden started to build a life for himself where he was, and that life started with school. Even without being the kid in school who’s mom brought the best snacks, Hayden was still quite popular in school, and for the most part that was due to baseball. Hayden had always played baseball, ever since he was young and his mother used to bring plates full of orange slices to his peewee games (the Marins had always been a baseball family. Screw football or hockey, if it wasn’t on a baseball diamond they didn’t care about it). Hayden also had the good fortune of actually being very talented. So when Hayden tried out for catcher on his high school team he got the position very easily, and was even bumped up to first string to boot. Although some of the upper year students weren’t particularly happy about a freshman making first string, a lot of the colleges were. Hayden’s talent was noticed and sought after from the time he was about halfway through his sophomore year, and his near prodigy level skill was even featured in some local sports magazines and the local newspaper. Despite knowing that the magazines likely wouldn’t have cared about Hayden’s skill if he wasn’t going to one of the most well known private schools in the state, Hayden’s ego still inflated a bit at the recognition.

For a few years that’s all Hayden’s life was. Playing baseball, hanging out and partying with friends, and occasionally having to deal with his father and stepmother when the situation called for it. It wasn’t the best life, and Hayden wasn’t exactly happy but it was all Hayden really had, so he did his best to make do with it. In all honesty at that point the thing that made Hayden happiest was his team. While Hayden’s home life was broken, his team helped him find the community he craved. Playing baseball and being part of a team made Hayden feel that he belonged somewhere, like he was wanted somewhere, and Hayden clung to that sensation gratefully.

But when Hayden was about halfway through his junior year things rapidly went downhill. You have to be a level 10 friend to unlock what happened there because I honestly don’t think Hayden has talked about it since the night it happened, but basically all you need to know is that a series of events happened one night that led to Hayden basically being thrown out of his home that very same night and disowned, full stop.

Hayden’s only saving grace was that his father was too proud to let his son live on the streets. Raphael set Hayden up with his own apartment near his school, and paid for Hayden’s rent and expenses. However, he did so without communicating with Hayden even once, and it was very clear that Hayden had essentially been disowned. When Hayden was eighteen the money stopped, and Hayden moved out of the apartment. Hayden and Raphael haven’t really talked since.

Hayden got into university on a full baseball scholarship, despite all the chaos. He leaned heavily on his chosen family, his baseball team, throughout that difficult interim between being kicked out and graduating, and during that time he threw himself into baseball with such vigor and intensity that he impressed more than a few of the scouts circling around him. He ended up choosing NYU because it was the school that was the farthest away, and although Hayden didn’t want to be far from his hometown and his mother’s grave, he did want a fresh start away from his father and Cherry.

Hayden university experience was unremarkable but very significant to him. In fact, the fact that it was mostly unremarkable is what made it so special to him. For the most part, Hayden was pretty close to completely happy. He became captain of the baseball team his second year, made lifelong friends in his team and his frat, and eventually achieved his ultimate goal, getting recruited onto a professional baseball team in his junior year. Hayden graduated early with a degree in business, proud of his accomplishments, and finally feeling as if he was breaking through a barrier of tragedy through his life. He was finally approaching his happy ending.

But of course it didn’t last. Hayden played for the New York Yankees for almost two years, (and was damn good at it too) before he injured his shoulder in a game. The injury was serious enough that his future in baseball seemed to just sudden became nonexistent. In a moment, a split second really, all of Hayden’s dreams that he had just barely reached suddenly crumbled in his hands. Disappeared into fucking nothing. It was like god had it out for him. Hayden didn’t take it well.

After the doctor’s final diagnosis (a solemn gaze behind wire rimmed glasses, a fucking clipboard that Hayden wasn’t allowed to see, stainless steel, the smell of death, god Hayden fucking hated hospitals), Hayden stayed in New York because even if he wasn’t living out his dream, well he had nowhere else to go. He went on a bit of a bender though. Drinking, partying, drugs, girls, guys – you name it, Hayden indulged in all of his vices in an attempt to find comfort. Some friends he made through the years tried to get into touch with him (and some very notably didn’t) but Hayden never really did much more than go through the motions with any of it. ‘I’m fine’ quickly became an automated response, one he didn’t even have to think about, one he would give whether drunk or high or completely and utterly lost– Because he was. He was fine. Anyone who thought differently could get fucked.

Hayden bought the club on a whim. His time in the league meant he had more than a bit of money saved, and since the place was for sale and Hayden liked to party, he figured it was a no brainer. He’s owned the place for almost three years now, and it’s actually been surprisingly successful. Hayden’s status of ‘former baseball player’ was enough notoriety to get people to show up, and the fact that the place was actually more than decent kept them coming. Hayden treats the club like more of a hobby than an actual business, too busy with his extracurricular activities to have more than a passing interest in it but… it’s fun. And well. It’s not like he has anything else to do.

He lived by himself for a while but honestly Hayden is a big extrovert, he hates being alone, and living by himself in the huge ass loft he used to own just made him feel more lonely. So he responded to the first ‘roommate wanted’ ad he could find and just so happened to room with a girl he went to college with. It was a weird coincidence that later led to Hayden giving Kitty Dixie a job as a bartender at his club, which pretty quickly led to the both of them running the place together. Despite the fact that Hayden would rather die than admit it, he gives a shit about her so after the fire he not only gave her to time off she needed but also took the very first vacation he has ever took from the Omnia to come to the funeral with her and help her get settled. He has now been in Milton for about three months and he’s still super intrigued by the whole place?? Goes around flirting with suburban moms, and attending their weird ass festivals, and confusing small town people with his general city behaviour. He’s happy to be near the beach again but it lowkey makes him miss his mom big. Yeah I’m gonna stop rambling now but yes that’s Hayden.

PERSONALITY / HEADCANNONS ;

Hayden, is as the kids say… a fuckboi, probably

He is very loyal, like he cares a lot about his own but anyone outside of his circle he’s kind of indifferent to. Like he’s friendly, and almost pleasant but like… he does not really care about them yk, there’s a distinct lack of like sincerity in the way he treats his friends vs randos (or even ‘friends’)

Morally grey to the max

A very good liar, who lies often. Can be very manipulative but he doesn’t have a reason to be lately, so he mostly just manipulates business partners.

LOVES messing with people. It’s like crack to him

Very sarcastic

Will sleep with anyone he’s attracted to tbh. Bisexual, and very comfortable with it by now. Used to be kind of iffy with it when he was playing professionally, but now that he’s got no chance of ever being a pro again and the paps have pretty much left him alone he gives no fucks.

Actually pretty clever, hence the whole actually being able to own a successful business thing.

Might bake for you if you’re nice to him and he’s actually really freaking good at it like he learned from his mom, and honestly baking highkey reminds him of her so he doesn’t do it too often.

Lowkey his dream is to go back to santa barbara and run his mom’s bakery (his dad sold the place but hayden bought it back as soon as he had the money) but since he kind of considers himself a failure and disappointment to his mom at this point his bitch ass doesn’t think he deserves to yet, so he’s staying in new york for a while, and now milton for a bit too.

Is almost always on business calls with his employees or business partners because running a club remotely is a lot harder than you think???

Hates hospitals with a passion. Would rather die than go to one willingly. When Hayden is sick he just voluntarily suffers.

Oh, and Hayden’s club is named Omnia and friends get in for free so feel free to hit him up for a good time if you’re ever going to New York

WANTED CONNECTIONS ;

i would love a bromance for hayden honestly that would be fun

a godsibling! hayden used to be v close to his godmother so this could be fun too

someone who he has a bad influence on? someone who’s a good influence on him?

one night stand! honestly since hayden is just gonna be in milton for a while he is just having a good time, so hit your boi up!

fwbs or ewbs because again,,, what else is he doing here

a secret fling could be a fun thing to play out!

a hateship. like they bicker all the time and they really wanna wring each other’s necks, just give me some good old fashion animosity.

maybe an ex that he was dating during his time playing professionally (can be f/m/nb) that Hayden ended things with when he got his injury and moved to New York? Fun drama potentially

omg that reminds me i have a headcannon that Hayden dated the first and only person he ever loved in college and they broke his fucking heart so if anyone wants to play that out and dive head first into some angst with me then lemme know.

a sibling like relationship, an ex fwb, someone he’s the wingman for, idk everything give me all of it please and thank!

TAKEN CONNECTIONS ;

kitty = work wife / flirtationship / friend from college

#h.m. | bio.

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et-in-cinerem-reverteris · 5 years ago

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Class of 1953 - Chapter 3 - Hand In Glove (5.3K)

"Phil looks back up at Dan. Despite the storm getting worse, they both remain motionless, looking at each other. Dan’s eyes are fascinatingly deep and dark; moody against the backdrop of a thunderstorm and the billowing leaves of the tree behind him and Phil just wants to shut his eyes and lean in and-"

When Dan bashfully asks Phil to come shopping with him one weekend, Phil takes the opportunity to do a bit of probing on Dan's mysterious exterior. With the help of Oscar Wilde and a nosy lesbian, he finds out a lot more than he had originally set out to.

Read on AO3 !

Or down below ;)

Phil looks down at the scrap of paper in his hand.

11a.m. 19 Nov (saturday!)

parks road plane tree

opposite big doors!!!

He checks his wristwatch for the umpteenth time. 10:55. The blue ink on the crumpled note is smudged and clumsily applied, which is fair, Phil thinks, considering the surface on which the writer placed his pen on that night just over a week ago.

“Are you seriously so forgetful that you need me to write it down?” Dan had teased, growing increasingly hysterical under a mask of playful exasperation. “Okay, fine. Fetch us a pen and I’ll write it down for you.”

Dan had asked Phil to turn around so that he could use his back to write on. The pen tickled and made Phil squirm like a child, which made both of them laugh so hard that they were sure they’d disturbed at least a hundred students. Before parting ways, Dan had timidly asked Phil whether he wanted to go out shopping with him the following weekend - but only because he was already going out, of course, and Phil had agreed in an instant but only because he was also already going out, of course, so he may as well… for convenience’s sake…

Of course.

Now, just over a week later, the pair of them are meeting up to hit the town to pick up various bits and bobs before the Christmas crowds get out of control.

Phil looks around at Keble’s eye-catching red brick facade - a refreshing change from Oxford’s trademark limestone walls. He squints as the sun shines out from behind the plane trees, raising his hand as he does so to shield his sensitive eyes from the glaring light. The different coloured stones are arranged into diamonds, dots and dashes, just like morse code. How curious.

He checks his wristwatch again. 10:57.

Punctuality is not normally one of Phil’s virtues, but another unexpectedly early awakening had led him to spontaneously leave the college gates at 10 o’clock to go for an early morning walk. Down Turl Street, left at All Saints Church, past Magdalen College and through to The Grove - a large, grassy park that had become Phil’s location of choice for when he needed to calm his nerves. He had tried to relax by admiring the deer and feeding them acorns, but all of his thoughts anxiously meandered back to the problem of his first out-of-college meeting with Daniel.

Ever since they had last said goodbye to each other, the young English student had been obsessively mulling over the meaning behind some of Dan’s more ambiguous lines from that night.

“...in the past people took the mickey out of me for being a “pouf”...”

Phil knows exactly what the word “pouf” means. Synonyms include “queer”, “gay” and “homosexual”, which are all terms he might use to describe himself, were he to be so brave. The real question lay in whether or not those derogatory statements had any deeper meaning than just fleeting insults, and this, he had decided, was something he would have to do some investigating on.

“Hullo!”

Phil’s daydreaming is cut short by his enigmatic companion striding toward him, and is struck by how smart he looks. Clad in a long, black, double-breasted coat, with a silk scarf tied around his neck in a jaunty knot, and a dark grey fedora, complete with a pheasant’s feather, sitting on top of his chestnut curls, he radiates elegance, class, and sophistication.

“Daniel! You’re looking very dapper today!”

“Hmm, well,” Dan starts, looking around with squinted eyes. “I thought I may as well get dressed up for the occasion.” After a second passes, he looks at Phil with a smirk. “So, where are we off to then?”

“Err, I thought you were the one who wanted to go shopping first?”

Dan raises an eyebrow, before quickly adopting a more neutral face. “Oh, I was going to, but nevermind about that. I um, I’m not anymore.”

“Right.”

The pair begin walking in silence down Park Lane, towards Oxford’s central shopping area.

“Anyway, where are we off to?”

“First of all I’d like to stop by Blackwell’s to collect a book that they’re holding for me.”

“Okay.”

“Then I need to see about buying a bicycle.”

“Oh, we can pop over to Cowley Road for that, Raleigh have a shop there at number three hundred and eighty-seven.”

“Perfect, that’s that one sorted. After that, I thought we could try a cafe for a spot of lunch. What do you think?”

“I think that sounds splendid,” he grins.

Parks Road is fairly long, giving them plenty of time to break the barrier of small talk and ease into a more meaningful conversation, which, on this occasion, has turned to the subject of going home for the holidays. Phil is able to glean that Dan is dreading going back to his family in Wokingham, which a small town just outside of Reading that he hates as it reminds him of the years he spent there at a Catholic boarding school called The Oratory. In Dan’s words, The Oratory was “hell”; full of “dickheads" who picked on him “constantly”, leaving him with a “deep seated anger” which “permanently resides” in him at a constant simmer. At first Phil feels upset to hear that Dan had such an unhappy childhood there, but quickly succumbs to the laughter invoked by the unrelenting stream of side-splitting anecdotes served alongside the tales of his youth.

As Dan narrates another amusing episode, Phil’s attention slips away from the stories and instead drifts towards the orator himself. Slowly, subtly, Phil starts to realise how charming Dan is, how witty and articulate his words are, how his natural sense of humour and great story-telling abilities could turn a book about drying paint into a Penguin Classic. While Dan laments about how the boys at his school made fun of him, Phil’s gut wrenches with anguish. How can a man so gentle and kind have been tormented by such heartless idiots? How can this poor soul have forgiven the beasts who were so mercilessly picking on him? How on earth could bullies take pleasure in beating down a boy who is so mild and agreeable that he likens himself to Winnie the Pooh? He looks on as the beaming boy laughs at his own stories. If Phil hadn’t been crying tears of laughter, he would have been weeping tears of sorrow.

After turning right at the Bodleian Library, the pair finally reach Broad Street. Blackwell’s Bookshop is easily recognisable by the cobalt blue exterior, guarding an attractive array of books, plays, letters and diaries for students to both ponder and argue over. As the pair step inside, a brass doorbell rings gaily.

“So, what is it you’re here to pick up then, Mr. English Literature?”

“It’s a 1890 copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray , posted all the way from America. I put in an order through a collector’s magazine and they’ve been holding it here for a few days.”

“Blimey. How much is that costing you?” Dan asks with a hint of ridicule in his voice.

Phil sighs as they navigate through the shop, passing by bookshelves that run from floor to ceiling. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“Oooh no, I very much do,” he teases. “Go on then, out with it! How much?”

Phil turns back to face Dan, who can’t resist making a guess.

“Ten bob?”

He shakes his head.

“More? Christ! Twenty bob?”

“Up.”

“...Twenty-five?”

“Down.

“Twenty-two?”

The guilty party nods silently.

“ Twenty-two shillings? For a musty old book?” The corners of Dan’s mouth turn upwards with a mischievous smirk. “Well, I suppose it is Oscar Wilde.”

“Exactly,” replies Phil curtly as they approach the counter. “Now shush for a moment.”

Dan rolls his eyes at the shushing, skulking off while Phil hands over an inordinate amount of money for a rare book about 19th century homosexuals. When he has obtained his precious cargo, he finds his companion browsing the shelves of the fiction section. Now, he decides, is a good time for a bit of probing.

“Do you read much?”

The brunette continues to scan the bookshelves.

“Not that often unfortunately, but I have a few favourite authors I return to.”

“Such as…?”

A moment of silence.

“Lord Byron, for one.”

“Good choice! Great poetry, and a fascinating life too.”

“Mmmm. He definitely got up to some shenanigans on his Grand Tour.”

With lots of young men, Phil thinks. He decides to probe further.

“Anybody else?”

Dan slips him a quizzical look before picking up a random hardback and flicking through it.

“T. S. Eliot.”

“Another good choice!”

“How about you then?” Dan queries, seeming irritated. “Who’s your favourite author?”

Phil merely holds his recent purchase up to his face, peeping out from behind the cover.

“Ah,” Dan smiles, and Phil feels the tension melt away. “I suppose I should have guessed.”

After making their way through the maze of shelves they eventually locate the exit. As Phil walks through the door that Dan kindly holds open for him, he notices the other man take in a deep breath.

“So, on the subject of our friend Oscar. What do you make of his trial?”

Phil looks back at Dan with the panicked face of a deer in the headlights. Wilde’s trial, or trails , are still a risky topic sixty years later. Although he has a hunch about why Dan is asking about his opinions on Wilde, these are still untested waters. If Phil has read too much into Dan’s favourite authors, placed too much emphasis on the abuse hurled at him by the boys at The Oratory, focused too much on Dan’s meticulous sense of style and theatrical mannerisms and soft hand that felt surprisingly affectionate as it touched his, then this could all be over for him. This could be the start of rumours that destroy his life, exclusion that breaks his heart, and loneliness that turns it cold.

Phil’s hands are cold.

He’s starting to wish that a certain pair of palms would offer to warm them up.

Sod it. He may as well give it a try.

“I think it’s a crime,” he begins. “I don’t understand how somebody could be so... vindictive. To take a man to court for an act which hurts nobody, affects nobody, and is only the business of those who are involved, is utterly inhuman. Oscar Wilde was one of the greatest literary, classical and philosophical minds that this nation has ever seen, and yet he was put in prison and left to waste for what?! Gross indecency? It’s an outrage. So what if he had written books and poems about…,” he shrugs, “homosexual love? Those writings were works of art. It is stupid, ignorant and close-minded to take issue with it,” he finishes with a huff, having worked himself up a little bit too much. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to rant.”

As they turn left onto High Street Phil takes a nervous look at Dan, silently praying that he’s not about to be met with an icy stare. Instead his face is glowing, smiling feebly, eyes locked onto his in a state of awe.

There’s a short silence as they pass various shops.

“I dare say that I agree.”

“Hmmm.”

Silence falls again like a heavy blanket. The atmosphere isn’t uncomfortable, nor is is born out of having nothing left to say. Instead, it is the kind of serene and peaceful quietude that occurs when two individuals unexpectedly reveal a tender and intimate part of themselves, and are left to wordlessly contemplate their newfound solidarity.

“I’ve grown awfully hungry,” Dan pipes up, breaking the quiet. “I want to show you this adorable little cafe just down the road. Let me take you there, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. It’s ever so quaint.”

A minute or so later they arrive at a decadent-looking tea room. As they come into the warmth. Phil is immediately taken aback by the marble pillars, chandeliers and wood-panelled ceiling that decorate the large, luxurious venue. A bustling atmosphere is full of students neglecting their work in favour of an early lunch and retired couples sharing overpriced sandwiches. Following a short wait at the front of house, they are taken to a four-man table tucked into a corner with a view of the courtyard outside.

“Here’s a fact for you - this was the first coffee house in England,” Dan declares as he shucks his jacket and sets his fedora down onto the table. “Just popping to the little boy’s room, I won’t be a moment. Take a look at the menu, choose anything you fancy. It’s on me,” he announces, followed by a wink.

Phil watches Dan fondly as he snakes through the tables, observing the man’s heavy gait and sloped posture. Quite a juxtaposition between the eloquence of his articulation and gentle face, he decides. But before he can ease into his chair and relish the few minutes he has to process the day’s events thus far, a familiar voice suddenly cries out his name.

“Philip! Fancy seeing you here old chap.”

Bursting into view come John and Mary, who promptly set down bags copious bags of shopping on the now over-crowded table.

“Morning all” Phil beams, pulling out a chair as his friends sit down either side of him and shuffle up ridiculously close. “What brings you to The Grand Cafe this fine morning?”

John takes off his leather jacket and hangs it on the back of his chair. “We’ve just been out shopping, haven’t we?”

“Mmm, I can see that,” Phil retorts flatly. “But what for? Anything in particular?”

Mary opens her handbag to reveal a miniature tawny-coloured box, which she sets down on the wooden table before sliding it over towards Phil.

“It’s for the wife” Mary proclaims, holding her hands to her face as she smiles. “It’s our one-month anniversary next week, so I thought I may as well treat the old girl with something special.”

John sighs. “Mary, I’ve already told you that you can’t have a one month anniversary ! The word comes from the Latin ‘annus’, meaning year, and ‘versus’, meaning ‘return’. Get it wrong one more time and I’ll tell the Oxford dons to barr you from ever studying English again!”

Mary scoffs. “For God’s sake John, you’re starting to sound like your husband!” she jests, rolling her eyes towards Phil as she turns to him for a reaction. Preferring to avoid the conflict, Phil instead takes a look inside the box to see what could be for Mary’s “wife”.

The hinge of the top lid pops open, and concealed in the white satin lining is a gold ring. Adorned with a sizeable green stone surrounded by a cluster of several smaller, clear gems around the edge, it twinkles attractively under the dazzling lights of the cafe as he turns the bo from side to side. Phil doesn’t know much about gems and jewelry, but he has a feeling that this must have been fairly pricey. And such a pretty ring! But who for?

“Come on Lester, back me up here. You know how to speak Latin. I know I’m correct, aren’t I?”

“Uhh, yeah, you’re right,” he stutters, blinking in confusion. He examines the box again. “Who’s this ring for though?”

Mary and John exchange a look.

“I-It’s for Beth, obviously,” the black haired woman explains as if Phil were an idiot for not understanding. “What other special woman do I have in my life?”

Beth? Special woman?

“Come on Phil! Don’t tell me you had no idea!” she laughs, blushing as she folds her arms and scoots in further still. Phil can feel the embarrassment creep over him. Mary? In a relationship with...Beth?

“We’re the same, me and you.”

Mary’s words from secondary school come flooding back to him. So that’s what she meant! But that means she knows that Phil is-

The ring is quickly snatched away and pocketed by its owner, who has begun to look slightly sheepish.

“Anyway, enough about this old thing. So, what are you out and about for?”

“Oh, I’m just er, running some errands with Dan.”

“Ahhhh, Daniel! How charming. I’m glad you two are finally getting to know one another.” Mary locks her fingers together to use as a chin rest, which, over the years, has come to signify that somebody has suddenly become the object of great interest.

“W...what do you mean by that?”

Mary’s head sinks lower as she gives Phil ‘a look’.

“Darling, Daniel thinks you’re the bee’s knees . He hasn’t shut up about you ever since he first caught a glimpse of your pretty little face when we had our first ever lecture together.”

First ever lecture? But that was back in October. Dan , talking about him , and for over a month - before they even met?? Phil traces his mind back to the day where he emerged from a lecture hall talking to Mary about how nasal their new professor’s voice was - or was this the professor that kept sneezing? Regardless, Dan probably caught sight of him then. But to have noticed Phil so early on, and only have approached him a few weeks ago? Has he seriously been doting for that long?

Electric blood courses through Phil’s veins as his brain runs a hundred miles a minute. Dan. Talking about him. To Mary. Secretly. For weeks. Tempting theories flirt with Phil’s brain.

“...what do you make of Wilde’s trial?”

“Not that I’m... stalking you or anything”

“... come and sit down here with me…”

Phil has never been more bewildered in his entire life, despite everything now making perfect sense.

Mary and Beth are...together.

Bill and John are probably also together.

Mary is a... homosexual .

Mary has known that Phil was also a homosexual ever since they first met.

Dan and Mary have (somehow) become friends.

Dan has become... �� interested in him.

And Mary has known about it all this time.

He shifts absent-mindedly in his seat, still staring at the floor with a blank expression. Despite these revelations, Phil wishes - he wishes he was even allowed to wish - that everything about Dan was now leading itself to one alluring conclusion, down one inevitable path, but the path is twisted and covered in leaves and bracken, and the bracken , Phil remembers to the tune of Du Maurier’s Rebecca , “the bracken had entered into an alien marriage with a host of nameless shrubs, poor, bastard things that clung about their roots as though conscious of their spurious origin. A lilac had mated-”

He begins to imagine Dan and himself as vines interlaced around each other and-

“Phil? Hello?”

He stifles a choke.

“Are you alright? You went very pale, and then very red. I hope you’re not having hot flushes. You’re too early to be going through your menopause.”

“Menopause?”

Mary cackles. “Ah, my humour is lost on both you. Anyway, look sharp, Dan’s here.”

He raises his head to see Dan weaving his way through the tables once again. The sleeves on his white shirt have been rolled up, and his tie is loosened slightly. All Phil can do is sit and stare with his cheeks a shameful shade of scarlet.

“‘Ello ‘ello ello! What a pleasure to see you here!” he beams at Mary before turning to John. “Hullo there, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Daniel, pleased to make your acquaintance.” As the pair shake hands, Phil melts at the charm of Dan’s genteel formalities. This man, who is so handsome, so well educated, and so polite and witty and well dressed, thinks that he, Philip Michael Lester, is the “bees knees”? He’ll have to ask Mary for details later.

Lunch is a spectacle and a half. It emerges that Dan’s family is wealthy, very wealthy - more so than Phil’s, he is borderline aristocratic - and he offers to pay for every sandwich, cake, biscuit, every cup of exotic tea and coffee, and later every glass of expensive champagne that the waiters bring out on lavish trays. Dan woos their company with tale after tale, joke after joke, and by the time John checks his watch and reminds Mary that they really should get back to their dormitories before three o’clock, Phil finds himself fixated on Dan, eyes following him as if he were the second coming of Christ. Bills paid, jackets donned, bags arranged and door drunkenly stumbled out of, the quartet part ways as the sunshine dips behind the horizon and the temperature lulls itself back to freezing.

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

After arriving at Raleigh on Cowley Road, the two students spend an hour or so wandering around the shop and making up characters for each of the bicycles by imitating their imagined personalities with various voices and poses. By the time they’re threatened with being locked inside as the shop closes for the day, the pair of them have finally decided on a bike for Phil to buy. Or, as it turns out, for Dan to buy for Phil. All £30 worth. The curly-haired boy had insisted, claiming that the Clubman Model 25 was the best bike in the entire shop, and that it would be an early birthday present, and that his parents had given him far too much money to spend over Michaelmas, and besides, he wanted to buy it for him, so that was that. Phil had first coyly protested, then seriously protested, until he let himself be spoiled by this increasingly confusing man who was now offering to pay for his expenses. Maybe it was the champagne. Maybe it wasn’t. It was probably the champagne when Dan insisted they both sit on the bike and ride it home together.

“Dan, this is not going to work, I’m telling you.”

“Oh, don’t be such a bore! Hurry up, get on! It’ll be getting dark soon and it’s too far to walk. You have no choice” he announces, triumphant as he puts Phil’s book inside a leather bag attached to the back of the bike and swings a leg over the navy blue frame.

“I don’t see how I’m going to fit on here. This isn’t a tandem bicycle.”

“It’s easy!” he assures with a gratified smile. “My brother and I used to do it all the time when we were young. If you sit down on this part of the seat, put your feet on the lower frame here , and hold onto this bottom part of the handlebars, you’ll be absolutely fine.”

Remaining dubious, Phil shuffles over to his recent purchase before staring long and hard at it, trying to figure out how to avoid cracking his head open within thirty seconds of liftoff.

“Stop dilly-dallying you wet rag. Look, do you want some help getting on?” Dan reaches out a hand and touches Phil’s forearm reassuringly, causing his arm to seize up.

“No! No, I’ll be fine,” comes his embarrassingly sharp reply. Damnit. They’re going to have to sit very close for this to work without them both dying.

“Okay, how am I supposed to do this again?”

Dan shuffles back on the seat before patting the front part with his right hand. Trying to suppress his nerves, Phil swings his left leg over the bike and grips the bottom part of the handlebars as told, except perhaps slightly more firmly than need be.

“Like this?”

“Yes, except that you’re forgetting the most important part.”

“What?!” he cries a little too loudly as he starts to get impatient.

The intimacy of having Dan sit only a few centimetres behind him is starting to have an adverse effect.

“Bottom on seat! Then we can set off.”

Phil really has no reason to huff, but agitation makes him. God. If only he weren’t so awkward and obvious.

“Chocks away!” Dan cries, and suddenly he senses movement behind him as the boy begins to pedal up the pavement and across onto the road.

“Aagghhh!”

“Stay calm Philip! You’ll be safe in my hands,” Dan shouts against the howling wind. Hearing those words spoken so closely to his ear is enough for Phil to settle down and keep mum, gazing around at the empty streets that they cycle by. The sky’s blue hues have faded to a cool evening grey, with dark, speckled clouds stretching across it. Breaking the silvery sheet is crisp tangerine strip where the setting sun illuminates the horizon, peppered by bursts of soft, glowing clouds that streak across the skyline. Nostalgia bares its warm hug to him. It feels like the family holidays that Phil used to go on when he was a child, where each day came to a close in the back of the family motorcar, staring out of the window at the spectacular sunsets best observed on winding country lanes over endless fields. He feels at home. He feels safe.

Out of tiredness, or, dare he admit it, out of relaxation, Phil has subconsciously leaned backwards enough for his spine to be pressed up against Dan’s chest. He’s not sure quite how it happened... but it has. Earlier on in the day he might have leapt forward and apologised. But now? Now he’s too sleepy to react, and anyway, at this point he just can’t bring himself to worry about this sort of thing anymore. Dan’s not complaining, and there’s nobody around to see it happen.

They cycle past the empty shops and illuminated houses until they pass Magdalene College and reach the High Street again. This time it’s dark, and the Christmas lights decorating the shops have slowly begun to turn on.

“This is pretty isn’t it?” Dan hums behind him, voice surprisingly low and mellow in contrast to his comparative bellowing at the cafe earlier on.

“Mmmmm.”

“I love Christmas - it’s one of my favourite times of year. I love getting festive when December starts, with all the lights and mince pies and scented candles. I do find it stressful shopping for people though. I always feel like I’m going to put my foot in it. And of course there’s the part where everything begins to get horribly fake and commercial, but I don’t particularly want to think about that at the moment if I’m honest. Everything is all too perfect right now.”

“Mmm.” All too perfect.

“I’m considering joining the choir this year,” Dan continues. “I haven’t sung in a choir since I was about thirteen. I do miss it occasionally. Ah well. We’ll have to see.”

The shop displays sparkle as they sail past - newspaper vendors and tea rooms and tuck shops and travel agencies all closing in preparation for Sunday.

“So you can act and sing?”

Dan’s laugh is short and shaky. “I suppose I can. Luckily there’s no singing in this play that’s coming up though. God,” he exhales, “I don’t even want to think about the damned thing.”

“Why, has something gone wrong?”

“No. Well, not really.”

There’s a brief silence.

“The problem is is that I’m beginning to get rather stressed about it the whole ordeal. There’s only a couple of weeks left until we’re meant to be performing, but I’ve got a lot of work to complete for Music and rehearsals are starting to take up a lot of my time, and to make matters worse this sodding roommate that I’ve got keeps taking up my side of our study room and I’m not too sure that he really likes me anymore and I just…,” he sighs, “I don’t know. It’s an intense period, to say the least.”

“Hmmm.”

Phil turns his attention back towards the shops as they make their way towards his college. As they cruise down the High Street, the faint sound of music begins to waft through the cars and chatter. It gets louder as they cycle onwards, until they come up to a bakery where a small brass band stands outside in the cold, playing a tune that Phil knows well but can’t name. There’s a small crowd gathered outside, and as the song finishes, people cheer.

“Dan.”

“Mmm?”

“If you’re worrying about Christmas shopping, why don’t you come with me? I was planning on going on the first weekend of December. I’m a master at choosing presents for people, so I’m sure I’ll be able to help. And I’d be happy to. I owe you for today.”

“Oh...than-”

“And about getting work done for Music - you could always use my room. It’s not very large but it does have a lot of desk space, and I don’t have any pesky roommates that would get on your nerves. Just ask. I won’t say no, I mean, how could I? You’d be very welcome. Tell the porter you’re here to see Phil at room seventeen, staircase nine, and he’ll let you in.”

The other man doesn’t say a word. As they cycle down the narrow path into Catte Street, across the cobbled square host to the 18th-century Radcliffe Camera and down Brasenose Lane with its high walls, a soft drizzle begins to fall from the gloomy, blackening clouds. Dan clears his throat.

“Thank you, Phil,” he begins in a low voice. “Seriously. I shall have to take you up on that offer. When can I come over? Would next Friday be okay?”

“As I said, any time.”

“Are you sure I wouldn’t be disturbing you?”

“No, not at all. Dan, I’m offering. I wouldn’t have done so if I didn’t want to.”

“Okay,” he mutters, finally surrendering.

Turning onto Turl Street, Dan slows the pace to a halt as Phil disembarks. They walk in silence as they approach the gargantuan entrance to monumentous 14th-century college building.

“Well, here we are,” Dan announces.

Phil leans against the cold, carved, limestone walls that slant towards the dark wooden doors. He looks back at Dan, who holds the bike with one large, strong hand. The bike’s angle seems to have cornered him in this small nook, but Phil tries not to think about that. Instead, he looks up at Dan. The boy’s curls are slightly disheveled under his grey fedora, and his coat is covered with a haze of tiny raindrops. A satisfied smirk sits on his lips, and in the low light Phil can see that his dimpled cheeks glow a faint shade of pink.

“Thank you for today” Dan begins solemnly.

“It was my pleasure. Plus you paid for most of it anyway!”

“Hah! I guess did. Well, I suppose I should give this back to you and trot along back to Keble.” There’s a hint of resignation in his voice. “Come on, go inside. You’ll get soaked if you stand out here any longer.”

The frame is icy as Phil takes hold of it, raindrops spattering onto his wet hands as the downpour becomes stronger. Phil looks back up at Dan. Despite the storm getting worse, they both remain motionless, looking at each other. Dan’s eyes are fascinatingly deep and dark; moody against the backdrop of a thunderstorm and the billowing leaves of the tree behind him. Those eyes study him with equal interest, flitting over his neck and jaw, making Phil want to just shut his eyes and lean in and-

Dan, as if sensing the tension, closes his lids with a smile and takes two steps back.

“See you next week, Phil!”

Turning his shoulders away, he strides around the bike-wall alcove, exiting that little bubble that had just been created.

“Cheerio!” he cries, saluting as he marches off back to his own college.

Phil shivvers.

Ah well. Maybe next week.

#my writing #phan #phanfic #phanfiction #phandom #Dan and Phil #dnp #dan howell #phil lester #amazingphil #danisnotonfire #daniel howell

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haydenmarin · 5 years ago

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( samuel larsen | cismale | he/him ) ——— well well, if it isn’t hayden marin coming out of apartment 5.1. i always think of the sweet smell of nicotine clinging to worn leather, the vibration of bass through your rib cage, and the bittersweet freedom of giving up when i see them, don’t you? anyway - i heard the twenty five year old moved out to new york seven years ago to go to school and become a baseball player. that must’ve gone nowhere because they now work as a club owner; maybe that’s because they’ve a tendency to be calculating, libertine and sarcastic. i guess they could’ve been someone… — [ pepper | 23 | est | she/her ]

heyo all, i’m pepper, twenty three, she/her pronouns, and i’m always late dfkjdfkj as you can see, like i literally had everything prepared beforehand i don’t know how i’m still late... honestly rip. a bit about me i guess, i am still waiting for fergie to come back from her hiatus (because no song goes as hard as fergalicious, that’s a fact), i still don’t really understand what tiktok is and i’m okay with that, i’m addicted to pinterest and atm i’m really craving some fries. okey doke, now that that’s over with i’m super excited to PROPERLY introduce you to my trash son hayden! here are some stats on him, here is his pinterest board, and here is his playlist! down below is hayden’s bio which is hella long sdkjdskj i’m so sorry i wrote up a short form but i liked his full bio better. if you read absolutely ANY of it i love you okay.

CANCER TW, DEATH TW

BIO ;

Hayden also moved into 5.1 on a whim just over three years ago, mostly to make sure there were people around him in case he happened to drop dead one day yk, a precaution. He lived by himself for a while before that while he was in the league and after his injury but honestly Hayden is a big extrovert, he hates being alone, and living by himself in the huge ass loft he used to own just made him feel more lonely. So he responded to the first ‘roommate wanted’ ad he could find and now here he is. He honestly has enough money that he doesn’t need to be there, but he likes the company so he’s sticking around.

PERSONALITY / HEADCANNONS ;

Hayden, is as the kids say… a fuckboi, probably

Morally grey to the max

A very good liar, who lies often. Can be very manipulative but he doesn’t have a reason to be lately, so he mostly just manipulates business partners.

LOVES messing with people. It’s like crack to him

Very sarcastic

Actually pretty clever, hence the whole actually being able to own a successful business thing.

Might bake for the roommates of 5.1 if they’re nice to him and he’s actually really freaking good at it like he learned from his mom, and honestly baking highkey reminds him of her so he doesn’t do it too often.

Hates hospitals with a passion. Would rather die than go to one willingly. When Hayden is sick he just voluntarily suffers.

Oh, and Hayden’s club is named Omnia and friends get in for free so feel free to hit him up for a good time.

WANTED CONNECTIONS ;

i would love a bromance for hayden honestly that would be fun

a godsibling! hayden used to be v close to his godmother so this could be fun too

someone who he has a bad influence on? someone who’s a good influence on him?

one night stand! maybe they didn’t even realize they were going to be living in the same apartment complex at first but then they found out and it was like oh shit

fwbs or ewbs

a secret fling could be a fun thing to play out!

a hateship. like they bicker all the time and they really wanna wring each other’s necks, just give me some good old fashion animosity.

someone who frequents his club maybe, perhaps he’s always kicking them out or perhaps they’re always partying together.

maybe an ex that he was dating during his time playing professionally (can be f/m/nb) that Hayden ended things with when he got his injury and moved to New York? Fun drama.

Some friends from college would be cool too if anyone went to NYU.

TAKEN CONNECTIONS ;

dolly = little sister he never wanted / soft spot

kitty = work wife / flirtationship / friend from college

jac = ex fwb / ride or die

art = bad influence / haaaave you met ted?

juliette = good influence / in house nurse

chris = bromance / friend from cali

#h.m. | intro.#dreamed:intro #this took me way too long considering the bio was already written up like?? why am i like this

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monstersdownthepath · 6 years ago

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Spiritual Spotlight: Teshallas, the Primordial Poison

True Neutral Psychopomp Usher of Aging, Poison, and Venomous Creatures

Domains: Healing, Magic, Repose, Scalykind Subdomains*: Restoration, Alchemy, Psychopomp, Venom

Concordance of Rivals, pg. 18

Obedience: Drink a diluted preparation of poison; a single dose of poison is sufficient to prepare five such draughts, and the dilution grants you a +5 circumstance bonus on your saving throw. Alternately, allow a venomous creature to bite you. Benefit: You gain the ability to sense toxins within 20ft of you, as if surrounded by a constant Detect Poison.

(*IMPORTANT NOTE: The Subdomains are my best guess; Subdomains are not listed in Concordance of Rivals.)

Drink up!

This Obedience is similar in many ways to Charon’s own alternate Obedience in which he demands you imbibe drugs to damage your mental ability scores, in that it absolutely sucks to perform day after day. The +5 bonus you get to resist the effects of the poison is often enough to keep you from suffering its effects, but there’s always a chance that you get crunched and are forced to hobble around with broken stats for a day or so. This isn’t even mentioning that poisons are expensive, and even though you can get five uses from a single dose, the cost will still be a deep mark in your pocket every week.

... Unless, of course, you have access to the books Ultimate Equipment and/or Potions & Poisons, which gives us access to the safer and, most importantly, cheaper options with which to poison yourselves in the form of the Gelidburn Oil (2~6 damage a round for up to 4 rounds; 75 gp a dose), Drow Poison (unconsciousness for 2d4 hours; 75gp a dose), Oil of Restfulness (unconsciousness for 1d3 hours; 90gp), and finally, the ULTIMATE thrifty poison: Pupil’s Friend, at a whopping 30gp a dose and causing naught but a bout of sickness for up to 15 minutes. Pupil’s Friend is also harvested from a mold that’s easily cultivated in any dark, moist space, such as a terrarium kept inside a Bag of Holding, potentially eliminating its cost altogether!

Drow Poison and Oil of Restfulness are also both pathetically easy to create, should you not want to go through the rigamarole of waiting for your mold to grow. “Wait a second though,” you may ask, “those poisons knock you out for hours! Isn’t that worse than stat damage?” And you’d be right! It’s a terrible way to start your day! But a perfect way to end one. Remember that your Obediences can just be done whenever you want, not just at the crack of dawn. Take a sip of Drow Poison or Oil of Restfulness just before you lay down to sleep each night and meditate on the sensations it causes you in the brief time you’re allowed before slipping into dreamland, waking up 8 hours later with 16 more hours of your power boost left before you need to do it again. It’s also one of the best ways to hide your Obedience from prying eyes, because who’d get suspicious about someone taking a sleep aid every night? They may be concerned for your health, but not suspicious.

Or you could skip all of that and just have a venomous familiar (or party member) bite your arm. Harder to hide or to justify, but notice that the Obedience doesn’t say that they have to inject their poison! It’s probably scummy to really take this one to the letter so hard, especially because the implication is that they inject you, but you know how I operate; I like loopholes!

As for that benefit, boy it’s been a while since we’ve seen a benefit that wasn’t a +4 to one stat or another, huh? And it’s a decent benefit, to boot! Not good, mind, but decent, especially since Detect Poison is a cantrip with a range of Close, so you can just scan over every 5ft cube you come across from a safe distance away. This ability does little more than save you a few actions to do so, since its 20ft range practically puts you on top of the toxin anyway. That being said, the fact it can sniff through walls (provided they aren’t too thick) will let you detect some hidden traps, stealthy enemies, and even invisible, poisonous attackers, which keeps it from actually being lumped into the Bad Benefit category. Plus you can detect poisoned food and drink without offending your host, which may be important. The niche uses for its ability to narrow down what poisons you’re encountering can also come in handy!

Boons are gained slowly, gained at levels 12, 16, and 20. Servants of the Monitors, though, can enter the Proctor Prestige Class as early as level 8. If entered as early as possible, you can earn your Boons at levels 10, 14, and 16. You MUST take the Monitor Obedience feat, NOT Deific Obedience. Monitors grant only a single set of Boons.

Boon 1: Serpent's Kiss. Gain Polypurpose Panacea 3/day, Touch Injection 2/day, or Sands of Time 1/day.

Polypurpose Panacea is an adorable little spell with a variety of small, flavorful effects and very little use in the average storyline, especially in combat. I would take it during downtime or a lighter session but wouldn’t use it for much anything else.

Touch Injection lets you store an extract, an elixir, a potion, or a poison within a harmless pocket space in your hand, letting you instantaneously jam it into someone you make a successful touch attack against. With a duration of 1 hour per level it’s fully possible to keep a valuable potion hidden from prying eyes only to unveil it when it’s needed, or to keep a lethal poison tucked away for a specific target... But, ironically, it’s actually more useful in combat than for covert operations, because any poison contained inside has its onset changed to immediate, so whoever you slap with it gets to feel the effects instantaneously.

Also it changes the poison’s delivery method to ‘touch someone,’ eliminating the need to shank your victim, trick them into eating it, or making them breath it in, which has its value. Though I’m not a fan of getting close to my enemies (being primarily a squishy caster player), I’m always for making poisons more viable, even if they do get expensive and impractical later on (unless you’re an Eldritch Poisoner Alchemist). I also still enjoy the idea of holding a particularly powerful extract or potion in there to be unleashed at the right moment.

I’ve discussed the uses of Sands of Time before in Charon’s article, so go refresh your mind with that. Long story short: it’s a bad spell to have most of the time since some creatures have hard-to-guess or completely nonexistent age categories. The flexibility of Touch Injection and the general cute usefulness of Polypurpose Panacea make them more useful than Sands.

Boon 2: Breath of Life. You may cast Restoration 1/day as a spell-like ability.

Perhaps even more boring than stat increases, we have the technically-healing spell Restoration.

That being said, having a FREE Restoration, even at 1/day, is incredibly valuable despite how dull it is. Restoration cures ALL ability score damage, all drain to a single score, all fatigue and exhaustion, AND all temporary negative levels. It’s best used at the end of the day just before you all go to bed to clear off everything someone has suffered in one go, but whatever you do don’t try and use it in combat unless it’s needed to desperately save someone’s life, because it takes 3 rounds to cast.

I say it’s so valuable, by the way, because of how much money this ability will save in the long-term. Restoration normally costs 100gp to cast, but if you pour 1000gp into it instead you can also scrape one permanent negative level off the target. Note that this is described on the actual spell card as “(diamond dust worth 100 gp OR 1,000 gp, see text).” The ‘or’ is the operative conjunction here, because with some spell-likes (such as Gate and Planar Ally) you still have to provide the monetary cost because it’s not listed as a material component. The 1000gp Restoration requires is explicitly a material component, and thus as a spell-like you don’t have to pay it.

Given how often higher-level monsters use ability score damage/drain and negative levels, this ability will save you thousands of gp and other resources over the course of your career. I just wish it were Greater Restoration instead, because..

Boon 3: Wonders of Age: You no longer take ability score penalties from aging and cannot be magically aged. Any penalties you may have already incurred remain in place, however. Mental ability score bonuses still accrue, and you still die of old age when you reach the end of your natural lifespan.

... Teshallas’ final Boon is unbelievably bad.

For reference, a great many other deities grant you eternal youth as a side-effect of their Boon’s true benefit, and still others who grant you eternal youth do so while also giving you eternal life. Teshallas does neither of these things, and doesn’t even have the decency to reward your service by undoing any age penalties you may already have (which would be against their whole domain, but y’know).

This is just a huge slap in the face for anyone wishing to work with the Primordial Poison and hoping for a potent blessing once you’ve reached level 16. Hell, in most sessions? This won’t even matter since you’re not likely to be roleplaying long enough for your characters to age to the point they take penalties. This is basically a blank Boon. This is a third Boon that’s worse than the second Boon, which should NEVER happen.

If I were DM, I’d just scrap this whole thing and replace it with something more befitting a god that claims to be responsible for the mortal aging process in the first place. Or, at the very least, I’d slap on a secondary benefit to make it more attractive. I dunno--maybe a boost to mental ability scores, or forcibly (and permanently) aging someone, or something. Bleh.

You can read more about them here.

#Spiritual Spotlight #Neutrality Notes #Pathfinder #Dungeons and Dragons

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aglaiaxc · 5 years ago

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hello friends !! i’m so excited to be here and i can’t wait to meet all of you and plOT. anyway, my name mara, i’m 22 and i live in the est timezone. below the cut is more info about isabelle margot phillips aka aglaia! i’m still trying to figure her out but hmu if you wanna plot or like this and i’ll shoot you a message! alright lets go straight to the bullet points.

✧·ﾟ( aglaia+ naomi scott + cis female ) 𝒎𝒂𝒎𝒎𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒂 !! have you seen ( isabelle phillips ) around ? ( she/her ) have/has been in kaos for ( several months ). the ( twenty five ) is a ( diplomat ) from ( london, england ). people say they can be ( ambitious ) but maybe that’s not too bad ‘cause they can also be ( loyal ). whenever i think of them, i can’t help but think of ( white roses, a lover’s sigh, the rush of adrenaline that comes with a victory ). ·ﾟ✧ ( penned by mara, 22, est, she/her ).

biography:

Rena Alexandria Phillips (née Patil) – a retired worldwide famous model – and James Harrison Phillips– the CEO of Phillips Publishing – were both ecstatic when they found out they were expecting their first child. James always wanted children, but Rena convinced him to wait for a little because her career as a model just had taken off and she didn't want to jeopardize that because she got pregnant. So, almost four years after they got married, Rena and James welcomed their first and only child; an adorable and healthy baby girl that they decided to name Isabelle Margot Phillips.

And born she was, her birth revered and hailed as a blessing among the masses, and none bowed at her feet more honestly than her father. She was the daughter of a man who built an empire and a woman hailed as the rebirth of Aphrodite – and Isabelle was twice as important as the both of them put together. A princess in her own right, Isabelle was born to family beloved by her city, a darling with raven-colored hair and eyes so alluring they made diamonds weep.

When Isabelle was only six months old, her mother got a job offer that she couldn't refuse, but it would require her to pack her bags and leave for London –her hometown – for a full year. It took some convincing on Rena's part, but eventually, she managed to change James's mind and the whole Phillip family packed their bags and left New York to live in London. Once they arrived, they settled in a ginormous mansion that belonged to Rena's ancestors, and there they lived for the next 23 years.

Isabell's mother's career made her more and busier, and, by the time Isabelle was 8, the two barely spent two weeks together before Rena had to fly to another country to be in someone's fashion show. Once she turned 10, her father made the decision to enroll her in the best boarding school in London; he claimed that he wanted his daughter to have the best education money could provide, but in reality, he didn't want to raise her all on his own.

It was on the boarding school that Isabelle started hanging out with various people; everyone immediately recognized her, or should she say… knew her mother and father. All the girls wanted to hang out with her in hopes that, someday, she'd introduce them to the gorgeous and extremely famous Rena Phillips; meanwhile, the boys wanted to spend time with her because she obviously had her mother's genes and long legs and was the daughter of James Philips, an empire maker. She was beautiful in the most natural and expected of ways, always finding a new home somewhere among her niche of admirers. The people, they wrapped around her like vines on a home and kissed her forehead with the same kind of certain softness of sunlight at dawn.

It was terrifying, the seemingly infinite power of her privilege, the extravagant arrogance that came glittering like emeralds and diamonds. She lived a life fit for the princess. Her mouth practically bled silver and the marrow of her bones turned to ichor long before she would even get the chance to say this wasn't what she wanted; she never had a chance and not once ever questioned it, the Phillips girl. She was from a family of god-builders, of empire-makers, and it didn't matter that her father chose to practice editing and publishing instead of becoming a banker – he was still one of them, so she had to be too. From her father, she got her name, the epitome of age-old power and prestige, and from her mother, she got her good looks and cunning personality. Even as a small child, they knew she would be beautiful, capturing the hearts and souls of all those who had the privilege of gazing upon her. But as she slowly began to go from girl to grown, she felt that she was too much a porcelain doll collecting dust on a shelf and not the unstoppable force she would later will herself to be. She was a part of a dynasty, classically spoilt like she ought to have been, but she hungered for more, for something to love, for something to set her heart on fire.

Being surrounded by beauty, glory, magnificence, adornment, and opulence, she couldn't imagine a life without those things. During her time in boarding school, she made a name for herself, besides being known by her beauty and the Phillips name she was a gifted scholar. Isabelle was incredibly and wickedly smart; history and politics were her two favorite subjects. She was class president, skilled horseback rider, belonged to the debate team and was known as a member of the Model UN. Not to mention, she was also known to throw the best parties around.

Life after graduating from boarding school seemed like a hard task, yet Isabelle was up for the challenge. She wanted to find and built her path, and not be that porcelain doll collecting dust on a shelf. She disliked the idea of things coming easy for her; because of that knowledge, Isabelle Phillips decided it was time to become the woman who was a force to be reckoned.

facts:

Isabelle is twenty-five years old, single and always ready to mingle.

She loves to have different lovers. Isabelle can’t commit to one person, not because she does not know how to but she is rather scared of the idea.

Having well knwon parents, has made it difficult for her to find someody who would want to be with her and does not have any other political/private agenda.

She is a diplomat for the United States of America, she was born in NYC but raised in London. She has dual citizenship, American & British.

Isabelle has a dual degree in International Relations & History from Georgetown University. Quickly after her graduation, she applied to become a diplomat.

Isabelle decided to build and make her path; her parents wanted perfection. She never wanted to be a model like her mother, and the idea of being the next CEO of Philips Publishing sounded promising; however, she wasn't in love with the idea. The time in boarding school allowed her to study with sons and daughters of well-known diplomats. She was drowned to the notion of a Diplomats work. Which is to protect their home country's citizens, repair relationships between nations, and create lasting bonds that help them shape foreign policy. Isabelle wanted something of her own, and this was her path; she has a strong calling for this field of work.

Her mother does not approve, but Isabelle never cared for her acceptance. As long she had her father's who had also chosen his path, then she was content. She has a better relationship with her father than mother. Her mother always placed her career first and not once ever tried bonding with Isabelle. While her father was an active figure in Isabelle's life.

Isabelle knows how to speak, spanish, french and arabic.

Isabelle has only been on the island for several months, she was stationed here by the State Department and Kaos, Greece wasn't exactly her first option however she gladly accepted the task. In a way she was drawn to the island.. and fate seemed to be kind towards her. She is only supposed to be here for the next three to four years. After that, she is supposed to relocate to a new country.

Isabelle feels drawn to Kaos, in the several months she has been here she consider this island as a second home, and she can't imagine leaving this place any time soon. For now, she is making the best of it.

Enjoys the beauty, glory, magnificence, adornment, and opulence life and can’t imagine a world where people aren’t blessed by such. However, this is what motivated her to reach out of her comfort zone and explore the world, see what truly is happening and find a way to make it better.

She is loyal yet quite ambitious young woman.

PINTEREST BOARD HERE

i’m still trying to figure her out but hmu if you wanna plot or like this and i’ll shoot you a message!

#kaos:intro #hope you enjoy learning about isabelle

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sims3morgans · 6 years ago

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Siblings Interview Tag

I was tagged by @dreamsongsims Thank you! It was fun to write dialogue for Olwyn and Bethan, I’ve not done that before because of the style of my blog. I got a little bit carried away, hope you enjoy!

Tagging: @simcatcher

Interview under the cut...

The following is part of the transcript of an interview with the Morgan Sisters, following the publication of Olwyn Morgan’s second book. Under her pseudonym Octavia Morrigan, Olwyn has had incredible success but has until refused all calls for media interviews. She agreed to this one for International Sisters Day so long as her sister Bethan could join us.

1. Which one of you is the older sibling?

Bethan: That would be Olwyn.

Interviewer: Do you remember a time before Bethan came along Olwyn?

Olwyn: I do, but only just. My earliest memory is watching my parents renew their vows when I was a toddler. After that I hadn’t long aged up into a child when Bethan was born – so I haven’t got many memories without her.”

2. What do you like about your sibling?

Interviewer: Bethan, would you like to start?

Bethan: Sure. Okay so the first thing you need to know about Olwyn is she’s kind. And patient. I’ve seen that my whole life, she’s been the perfect big sister, balancing me out – I’m a little more abrupt I guess. But as I’ve got older I’ve seen she’s got a wicked streak too. She kept her success as an author a secret but played with us by buying expensive presents… I knew my prom dress was hella expensive but I couldn’t prove it! Oh yeah, so she’s generous too.

Interviewer: And you Olwyn?

Olwyn: Bethan is patient in her own way too. When we were children she tried hard to help me out of my shell, I was so shy you see. What I really admire in her though is the way she feels things so deeply. I can remove myself form my feelings a bit, but Bethan really feels whatever she’s feeling. Love, hate, loyalty… it’s wonderful.

3. What annoys you about your sibling?

//Bethan glances at Olwyn, she’s grinning.//

Bethan: Olwyn?

Olwyn: Bethan can be a bit… well sometimes she….

Bethan: I’m a bit much!

Olwyn, smiling: Exactly. When a family friend was living with us, back when we lived in Bridgeport.

Bethan: That ****.

Olwyn: Bethan! You see? Well sometimes she feels things so deeply she actually makes the situation worse. A***** (name redacted) was being unpleasant to me personally, but the three of us shared a room. The smart thing to do was to swallow our feelings so we could rub along in those small quarters – Bethan took against him and created an atmosphere.

//Bethan rolls her eyes and leans back in her chair.//

Bethan: A***** (name redacted) was a ****. Whatever. You know what annoys me about you Olwyn? You’re too easy going. You forgive people, and let them walk all over you. If I ever see A***** again, he won’t know what’s hit him.

4. Describe your sibling(s) with three adjectives.

Bethan: Olwyn is serene, kind, and unaccountably humble.

//Olwyn appears touched, her hand on her chest.//

Olwyn: Thank you. I would say that Bethan is earnest, adaptable and loyal.

5. What is your sibling’s/siblings’ biggest talent(s)?

Bethan: Oh that’s easy, she’s an amazing author! I loved her work even before I knew she was the one writing it.

Olwyn: Thank you Bethan, it was quite tough listening to you speculate about the plot for the sequel, you had it all so wrong! But anyway. Bethan’s biggest talent is her ability to see the diamond in the rough. She does it at work, finding scrap to turn into art, but also in people. She’s see’s inside people instinctively, and often brings out the best in them just by being herself.

//Bethan’s mouth drops open.//

Bethan: I… Olwyn. I… that’s beautiful.

//Olwyn shrugs.//

Olwyn: It’s what you do.

6. What is your sibling(s) really bad at?

Olwyn: Bethan can’t always see very far ahead. She lives in the moment you know? She can be so fixated on doing what she’s doing the consequences escape her.

Bethan: Oh so you’re bringing up the swimming thing again…

Olwyn: I…

Bethan: Okay, I swam too far out into Bridgeport River. I was having fun!

Olwyn: Bethan it’s all water under the bridge.

//Bethan pauses, then grins.//

Bethan: That was terrible. Right, okay so Olwyn is really bad at gardening. Mum and Dad, their whole livelihood is gardening and Olwyn’s been trying to help them since she was a kid but they’ve never had the heart to tell her how bad she is at it!

Olwyn: They all look the same! How you can tell a shoot from a weed…

7. Do you have nicknames for each other?

Bethan: No not really. We don’t do that in our family I guess. Olwyn would you..?

Olwyn: Yes I agree. Both our names are quite short so we’ve not needed to shorten them further, and silly nicknames… no – it’s not for us.

8. What’s one thing you can do that your sibling(s) can’t?

Olwyn: Bethan’s not really at home in the kitchen. I can cook quite well, I do a nice ratatouille. Which is just as well we eat a lot of vegetables. We were quite poor for a long time you see, sometimes we only had the vegetables we’d grown ourselves to eat, for weeks at a time. You learn to make the most of what you have.

Bethan: I paint – I don’t know if Olwyn’s ever picked up a paintbrush! I did a few for her side of the bedroom because she was going to be satisfied with bare walls.

9. Did you get along when you were younger?

Bethan: We did. We’re fairly different Sims, but we got along very well.

Olwyn: We had to I think. Our bedroom in Bridgeport was so small… any arguments could have got nasty. Maybe being so different was our saving grace, less conflict?

10. What is your funniest childhood memory of your sibling?

Olwyn: Bethan was a treasure trove of funny moments, I think she put it on a bit to lighten tension. When we were both children, she had this signature pratfall off the climbing frame at school – cracked me up every time!

Bethan: Looking back, there’s loads of moments where Olwyn was being really funny but in her understated way you know? I think for me it’s when we were both teens and we had this really nasty teacher for music class. Neither of us are musical, so she was pretty mean to us. Olwyn would insist in smiling sweetly and saying “See you next Tuesday” to her after every lesson. Cracked us all up, because we weren’t sure whether the good girl Olwyn knew what she was saying! Mrs Bridey wasn’t sure either – her eyes would bug out!

Olwyn: Oh I definitely knew what I was saying.

11. Are you closer now or when you were younger?

Bethan: Physically obviously we were closer when we were younger. Not living together does limit things! I miss Olwyn’s cooking, and chatting over breakfast… but we’re still close.

Olwyn: I think we have that kind of relationship where you might not see each other for a couple of weeks, but when you do it’s like you’ve never been apart. We’re not brittle, we’re sisters and friends and no amount of time apart could change that. We’re young adults now, and making our own lives, and we’re confident enough in our relationship to give each other the space to do that.

Bethan: Ugh, Olwyn you always say things so nice!”

Olwyn: I am a wordsmith Bethan!

12. Did you compete with each other?

Bethan: Nope.

Olwyn: No, not really. We built each other up.

13. Which one of you is more likely to turn out like your mum or dad?

Olwyn: Well neither of us is particularly interested in vegetables…

Bethan: Olwyn! She means like, emotionally and stuff.”

Olwyn: Oh of course. Well we’ve both inherited a strong sense of family being important from them. Of sticking together, and helping each other out. Financially, emotionally, we’re a team.

Bethan: Right. Olwyn’s got it in one – family is more important than anything. Than money, than fame… it’s everything.

14. Which one is most likely to have a big family?

Both at the same time: “Bethan.” “Olwyn.”

//The sisters look at each other, both surprised by the others answer.//

Interviewer: Hmm, moving on…

15. What is one thing about your sibling(s) that has changed as you’ve gotten older?

Olwyn: Bethan where’s her hair down sometimes now. It’s been in a ponytail since she was old enough to reach behind her head to tie it up! But I guess she’s also more secure in herself. You seemed to want to prove yourself when we were younger Bethan, you still have drive and ambition but the edge to it has softened.

//Bethan nods.//

Bethan: I guess I can see that. I was desperate to help the family with our finances, then I was desperate to make a connection with a boy – any boy! I think the urgency wore off both those things, and I was much happier for it.

And you Olwyn, I think you’ve found your niche. In Bridgeport you never really fit in anywhere, but here in Appaloosa Plains you’ve found friends and - oh I dunno. You just really seem to belong here.”

16. Who’s better at math?

Olwyn: Bethan.

Bethan: Yep, definitely me.

17. Who is more pessimistic and who is more optimistic?

Bethan: We’re both optimists, but it comes out differently I think. Olwyn finds the silver lining in any situation, so is happy to sit in it even if it’s actually not that great. I look at a situation and look for ways to make things better, or move things along at least.

18. Is there anything you don’t like doing together?

Olwyn: I don’t think we’ve ever gone drinking together, I’m not sure if it’s because Bethan and I don’t want to or just haven’t…

Bethan: Hey that’s right! And a lot of our friends overlap. Weird.

19. Which one of you do you think will get married first?

Olwyn: Bethan, things are looking pretty serious with her and Calvin..?

Bethan: I’m not sure we’re there yet!

Olwyn: Bethan, you have matching tattoos.

Bethan: Yes but… well he hasn’t asked. And I don’t plan to. Getting married is just so – I mean I love him but… It’s so public! You’ll probably get swept off your feet and marry someone within a season while Calvin and I are still figuring things out.

20. Lastly, how often do you argue?

Olwyn: Not often.

Bethan: Only about the big things, we don’t stress the small stuff. We get that from our dad, he’s pretty easy going.

Olwyn: Whereas mum...

Both laugh

#sisters #interview #sims3morgans #sims #sims story #sims storytelling #transcript #sims 3 #sims 3 screenshots #sims 3 story #ts3 #ts3 simblr #simblr #sims questions #sims q&a

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ofstassi · 6 years ago

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*james charles vc* good morning kitty girls ! i’m violet & after a few months of being highkey Stressed over coll*ge she ( me ) is Finally back from the dead :) this is a mess so i apologize for what u guys are About to witness, but be sure to click that like button & subscribe if you wanna see more videos ! but seriously plot with me ple ase ok anyways

a SCARLETT LEITHOLD lookalike was strolling down broadway street in their orange prada leather flame wedge heels. anastasia “stassi” deniro just had a birthday bash for her twenty-second birthday. she has been living in new york city for twenty two years. i hear she tends to be gregarious at parties, but also kind of covetous.

FULL NAME: anastasia ( resurrection ) lucille ( french origin of light ) sage ( wise one ) deniro. NICKNAME(S): annie, stassi, stas, stasia, anything her close friends & family can come up with, she’ll love. AGE: twenty two. DATE OF BIRTH: september 21th, 1996. ASTROLOGY SIGN: virgo. GENDER: female. PRONOUNS: she / her / hers. SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual. LANGUAGES SPOKEN: english, french, italian, greek, some spanish. OCCUPATION: actress, 2019 miss universe contender. BIOLOGICAL PARENTS: aldo nathaniel arthur deniro & scarlett baccouche-deniro. SIBLINGS: aurora deniro ( twenty-six ) & atlas deniro ( twenty-one ). PET(S): gracie ( shihtzu ) & baby ( toy french bulldog ). CHILDREN: none. RELIGION: roman catholic. DRINK / DRUGS / SEX: yes / no / yes. HEIGHT: 5′10. RIGHT/LEFT HANDED: ambidextrous. TATTOOS: none ( at the moment ). POSITIVE TRAITS: gregarious, perceptive, audacious, quick-witted. NEGATIVE TRAITS: covetous, controlling, obstinate, snarky. NOTABLE HABITS: tying her hair up in a bun when she’s focused, fleeing the country when conflict within herself arises, unable to hide her facial expressions. NECESSITIES: green tea latte, lucky pen, lavender, 2 diamond-encrusted cartier bracelets ( gifted by her father ). LIKES: fighting, pastel blues, macarons, traveling, architecture, knowing all the answers. DISLIKES: small spaces, losing, anything orange flavored, the smell of gasoline. NET WORTH: 18 million.

𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚛𝚘.

the story of the deniros was easily depicted as nothing short of a classic fairytale ; nathaniel was next in line to run his family’s long-standing business worth more than you could put into words, while scarlett baccouche, the daughter of two british politicians was also a woman in power many learned to fear. given their elite statuses, it was no surprise to anyone when they had enrolled into columbia university, one of the most prestigous colleges in the country ; though the story of how they’d become enamored with one another had started with a hatred that had only melted the forthcoming years. it was what one would consider a true love story as they graduated, professed their vows, & conceived their first well-anticipated child, aurora deniro. it only took a couple years for the deniros to calculate the birth of their next child, & to settle down & begin their empire ; or as most would put it, a family.

on october 21st, 1996, anastasia lucille sage deniro was born. she was the second, yet not the last child to arrive, meaning her place in the home was that she was a middle child. it had its perks, obviously —— not reigning the full responsibilities of what it meant to be the first & oldest child, or not being taken seriously as most younger siblings struggle with. see, from the very beginning of her life, stassi was well aware of the fact that she wasn’t a child, and she didn’t want to be treated as such ; the female figures in her life such as aurora & her mother ( even their maid, diana had landed a fond place in stassi’s heart ) were the girl’s inspiration growing up, & thanks to their strict upbringing, they were raised with class & were put on a pedestal that expected nothing less than perfection.

stassi was five years old when she had asked —— or more so, begged her parents to compete in pageants ( only the most prestigious ones, of course ). while her mother didn’t take much convincing as her & little stassi had grown to share many loved interests such as acting, her father was apprehensive about the decision. but because the main factor besides beauty for pageants were intelligence, he agreed, though it resulted in him piling that much more pressure upon her for schoolwork & of course, to win so it wouldn’t disgrace the deniro family name. whatever child worked hard, stassi worked 100 times harder, thanks to her brilliant work ethic ; she managed to skillfully juggle her schoolwork alongside the additional business classes her parents had given their three children, the acting classes, her private ballet & jazz lessons 7 days a week for the talent portion, & the countless hours of tailoring her custom-made outfits ( with her input, of course ) it wasn’t a shocker to anyone when she was crowned little miss new york.

by sixteen, the pressure had only multiplied as she grew older, striving for nothing but the best. she was preparing for the miss world competetion rounding up another win at nationals. high school was supposed to be the best years of your life, yet she turned down any youthful opportunity as a means to please her parents. that is, until a fellow classmate introduced her to adderall ; the tiny, magical pill that enhances your focus, granting you more hours of the day to pass your tests with flying colors & maintain your social life, because who needed sleep ? flash forward to her senior year, where her life was crafted to perfection —— she held the title of miss world that year, got accepted into columbia on a full scholarship ( not that she needed it ), had the perfect jock boyfriend on her arm & friends that were on top of the hierarchy with her, class valedictorian: the only thing was she became reliant on her pills.

it was prom night when the realization had dawned on her that the bubble encompassing her perfect life was made of glass. when it came to the deniros, the extent of her social life was partly a double life. while she wasn’t nearly as bad as her brother, she wasn’t exactly an angel, either ; stuffing silk pillows under her duvet to cast the illusion of a sleeping stassi if diana or her older sister, aurora, would check up on her that night, adorning an innocent white lace dress to her parents only to hike it further up the moment she met up with her peers. she learned it was a skill of hers, keeping secrets.

popping pills had managed to become one, too, which is why after winning prom queen & attempting to get belligerently wasted, she hadn’t even felt the effects of the alcohol in her system. stassi woke up in a secluded hospital room with her parents beside her, along with a nurse. her blood work revealed that she’d gotten severe alcohol poisoning & had she not passed out, a few more drinks & she would’ve overdosed from the mix of adderall.

due to the fact that this was anastasia’s first slip-up, as disappointed as they were, the anger had faded just as soon as it arrived. & given the recent events with atlas’s friend along with her acceptance to columbia, rehab wasn’t a suggestion —— it was her only option. she’d go to a private rehabilitation center during the summer while her parents covered it up on her records & the deniro family would have to convince everybody that she was just visiting her grandparents in spain: it was a family secret that stassi had to take to the grave.

now, she’s twenty-two years old, currently enrolled in columbia as a business major for the sake of maintaining her role in her parent’s good graces, despite the fact that she’s not interested in helping take over the family business while she’s training for the 2019 miss universe pageant. for the past two summers, when she wasn’t in spain, she was in paris for some time to herself, where she met an owner of a small boutique where there were items such as trinkets, custom-made dresses, etc.

somehow, it inspired stassi to create her own boutique/shop in multiple cities but new york first, especially when she carries the knowledge on how to turn a business into an empire: her own empire. it may be a small one now, but it was a break from the constant approval seeking that was practically instilled in her ; and at least it was hers. she even went to spain over winter break to hint the ideas to her grandparents, just now returning to the city & avoiding her parents so she can delay telling them that she isn’t interested in running the family company alongside her siblings like they dreamed of. after all, it was her parents’ approval that mattered most.

𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚜 & 𝚏𝚞𝚗 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚜.

ok hi i’m keeping this long & short

because stassi’s a pageant girl, she was bound to cross paths with honey boo boo when her reality tv show was kicking off, & now she’s stassi’s sworn enemy even to this day

ik they aren’t even in the same age group but fun fact stassi fought children & she still does tbh i hate her

she’s basically an angel in front of her parents but like ?? really different to her friends/people she hates ??

definitely doesn’t have a filter, she doesn’t cuss that much bc “it’s not ladylike :)” but she for sure speaks her mind & she can actually be really mean without meaning to be

she snaps really easily too omg i just imagine her being all cute & smiley & doing a complete 180 the next

she’s definitely stronger than she looks just know that

fully obsessed with dogs like next level obsessed she needs help

also a really big perfectionist if you couldn’t tell ?? please imagine her penthouse being all white & spotless & i know she arranges shit in other people’s houses out of habit

she’s basically monica geller, caroline from tvd & louise from bob’s burgers all wrapped up in one person

it’s honestly such a cursed combination i’m telling u guys she really is the spawn of satan

she’s a momma’s girl though 💗 she loves her dad ofc don’t get me wrong but they get along better when he just buys her gifts skdjsks

also !! i loosely based her off of one of my rly old charas emmie & i have a pinterest for her here if you wanna see what she’s kinda sorta like

i’ll probably make my own for stassi but u know for context

also stassi’s aesthetic 100000%

i’m still fleshin’ her out, so it’s a whole mess but i’m so excited to develop her & i hope you guys don’t hate her guts yet ! i promise she’s nicer than i described, but i do have some plot ideas ( i’m just too lazy to list them help me ), so pls plot with me i’ll do all the work i promise

#wealthyhq:intro #I JUST REALIZED I DDIDNT TAG IT

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musicprincess655 · 7 years ago

Link

“He’s hiding something.”

“Totally hiding something.”

“It’s my unending hatred of you both,” Jun told his sisters. “Now can you both fuck off?”

“Aww, Jun-chan!”

“You know we’ve just both missed you.”

And the thing was, he had missed them too. Jun loved his sisters, of course he did. But he was clearly studying right now, and he wanted to be left alone.

His oldest sister gasped.

“You didn’t meet a boy, did you?” Jun was completely sure he hadn’t changed expressions, but Mika knew his reaction anyway, because she always did. “You totally did!”

“He did?” Satomi asked, delighted. Jun had always been closer to her, probably because Mika was just so much older than him, already leaving the house by the time he was old enough to get close to her. “Jun, who do you think you are? You’re supposed to tell your loving big sister these things!”

“First of all, I’ve met a lot of people. Kind of comes with the territory of being in a new city,” Jun said. If he could just stay calm, they would – maybe – leave him alone, and he wasn’t studying for nothing. “Second of all, I don’t owe you my life story. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“What’s his name?” Mika asked.

“Is he hot?” Satomi continued. “Tell me I raised you with enough taste to pick a hot one.”

Jun dropped his head onto his textbook. They really weren’t going to back off, were they?

“His name is Yuuki Tetsuya,” Jun sighed. “He’s model hot. He plays baseball.”

“He doesn’t look like some meathead jock, does he?” Mika asked doubtfully, but Satomi waved her off.

“No, baseball players are usually more lean muscles, and have you ever seen their asses?” she gushed. “They’re always tight from all the sprints. You could bounce a coin off them.”

“So if we’re done objectifying people…?” Jun trailed off, but without much hope either of them would get the hint.

“How did you meet?”

“Have you confessed yet?”

“What’s he look like?”

“Let me talk!” he growled. They both stopped talking at once, looking at him expectantly. “We’re not dating. I haven’t confessed anything. I’m not even sure he likes guys.” At the twin unimpressed looks he got for that, he grudgingly continued, “it’s an affront to men everywhere if he’s not at least bi.”

“But what’s he look like?” Mika insisted. “I’m not ready to trust Satomi’s word that he’s not some meathead jock that doesn’t deserve you.”

“Hang on, I have a picture,” Jun said, scrolling through his phone.

The last time they’d hung out before Jun left for winter break, Yuuki had pulled him into a one armed hug and snapped a picture of both of them, half hidden in their scarves from the winter cold that had blown in. Jun had yelled at him for it, but he’d also insisted on being sent the picture.

He looked away from his screen to see Mika and Satomi staring at him.

“What?”

“You have a selfie with him?” Mika demanded.

“Friends take selfies together,” Jun defended himself. “He’s the one who took this.”

“I can see his arm holding the phone, yeah,” Satomi agreed. “He totally wants to bang you.”

“You don’t even know him!”

“Don’t have to,” Satomi said, tapping Yuuki’s face. “Look at how he looks. How he’s smiling with you.”

“His mouth is hidden in his scarf, how can you even tell?”

“Because I have eyes, and I can see his.”

“He’s a cutie,” Mika said. “Tetsu-san. I approve.”

“Does he go to Seidou as well?” Satomi asked.

“No, he’s human,” Jun told them reluctantly, because every word he spoke was more potential future blackmail material. “He goes to Meiji.”

“Ooo, a smart boy!” Mika squealed. “What’s he study?”

“Classical literature.”

Mika and Satomi groaned, twin tones that were just close enough to be dissonant.

“If you don’t marry him I’m disowning you,” Mika threatened.

“If you don’t marry him I will,” Satomi continued. “He’s perfect. You think he likes women too?”

“I have no idea what he likes,” Jun said. “I haven’t asked.”

“Use context clues!” Mika snapped. “Your brain is for more than taking up space between your ears!”

“Or just confess!” Satomi suggested. “You don’t even go to the same school, you can just cut him out if it goes badly.”

Jun had been content to let them continue the conversation at their own pace, but he was cutting it off right there.

“I’m not going to do that,” he said, sharper than he intended, but also just the right level of harsh. Mika and Satomi shut up immediately. “I like being his friend. If…when, fine, when I confess, I’m going to make sure we can still be friends if he doesn’t feel the same.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t be angry,” Mika offered. “He looks like a decent guy.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure the gay part won’t bother him whether he likes me or not,” Jun said. “The werewolf part might, though.”

Mika and Satomi looked at each other. The silence was uneasy.

“You haven’t told him you’re a werewolf?” Satomi asked, voice uncomfortably small.

“Of course I haven’t told him,” Jun said. “I didn’t want to send him running screaming.”

“He might not,” Mika said. “He might like you for you anyway.”

“Like Takumi did?” Jun regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. “Mika, I…”

“Don’t.” She took a steadying breath. “I know you didn’t mean it to hurt. It still did, though.”

“I’m really sorry,” Jun said, not entirely sure how they’d gone from playing around to fucking up so bad. He knew better than to mention Mika’s fiancé. Former fiancé. Former because she’d hid the truth for years, and only proven why she was right to hide it when she finally told him. “I shouldn’t have said that. Takumi didn’t deserve you if he didn’t want you like you are.”

“Damn straight,” Mika said. She bravely didn’t let her tears fall. “You understand that not everyone hates us, right? There are still some people that are fucks, but it’s 2018. The Shape of Water came out. Monster fucking is mainstream.”

“And what if the monster would rather cuddle?” Jun asked.

“Then the werewolf better realize he’s not a monster and has words to ask to cuddle,” Mika said. “Don’t sit up here all break feeling sorry for yourself. You’re not helping anything.”

“I’m not…” But he kind of was. “I do actually have to study. Give me an hour and I’ll come listen to all your work stories.”

“You’ll like the one about the businessman from a competitor I wrapped around my finger and then broke,” Mika said, accepting the olive branch for what it was. She and Satomi left Jun to his work.

Which wasn’t really much better, if he was honest. He’d been kind of hiding from his sisters, sure, but now that he was focusing in his limited time, the stress settled back in.

Because he had to take exams almost as soon as he went back to school, only a month left after break. And as he was now, there was absolutely no way he was passing practical magic.

His grades in every other subject were almost an insult, after that. Over ninety percent in all of them, and a rare perfect score – seriously, who got a perfect one hundred percent in a university class? – in Takashima’s class since she reset for the second semester.

And none of it would mean anything if he failed practical magic.

He probably wasn’t supposed to take this many books home with him, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He had every theory book that looked even remotely promising. There had to be something, something. He had power inside him, he could feel that. There had to be a way to use it.

He jumped from book to book, skimming through, looking for anything that could be useful. A chapter on lunar cycles and their effect on spellwork caught his eye. He started reading more in depth. He’d had an idea that the lunar cycles, since they had such an effect on his own magic, would possibly offer him a solution, but had so far found nothing.

Because, as it turned out, there wasn’t much people knew about the way to use lunar cycles in combination with practical magic. Sure, it was well documented how they could be figured into theoretical spell setup, but actually incorporating them into practical usage? Jun hadn’t managed to find any sources yet.

This book was more of the same. It knew the lunar cycles had some effect, but no one had apparently seen any reason to find out what that effect actually was. Which meant it was useless to Jun.

He slammed the book shut with a growl and a lot more force than strictly necessary. There had to be some way out of this, he was sure of it. He couldn’t accept that he was fucked.

“Mom?” he called down the hallway, emerging from his room. Mom poked her head out of the kitchen.

“What’s up?” she asked. “You look upset.”

“School is hard,” he said, shrugging it off.

“I’m sure it’s not because you picked a course that’s never been possible for one of us.” Her sarcasm was gentle, but Jun flinched anyway.

“What do you know about how we can use the lunar cycles to use magic?” he asked. Maybe there was some secret werewolf lore that could help him, something they’d kept among themselves and never shared with witches.

“You mean how we shift?” she asked.

“No, I mean…is there any way we can use the lunar cycles to do anything else?” Jun asked. “Literally anything. I can work with anything.”

“Jun.” Jun hated that tone, because he couldn’t argue with it. It wasn’t trying to hurt him. It was trying to help, and somehow, that hurt more. “That’s not how our magic works, and I think you know that.”

“But what if it could?” Jun asked desperately. “Hasn’t anyone ever tried?”

“You’re naïve if you think you’re the first one to try.”

Jun looked down at his feet. She was right. In fact, part of what he’d looked for at first was a source from another werewolf trying to find out how to use their power like a witch. Obviously they wouldn’t have found a solution, but maybe they’d given him a starting point.

He’d had no such luck, though.

“You know there’s nothing wrong with you right now,” Mom said. “You’re not the same as witches, and that’s a good thing. Different kinds of magic are what keep this world running. It would be a pretty boring place if everyone was the same.”

“You know why I’m doing this.”

“So you can play in the big boy sandbox?” she asked sharply. “I’m going to tell you something that your sisters have never believed and you probably won’t either, but I swear to you it’s true. The people who hate you are loud, and they’re powerful, and they take up a lot of space. But they’re not the majority. And once you stop trying to look at them and see anything but what they are, you’ll look somewhere else and you’ll see there are a lot of people who’d rather love you.”

“Easy for you to say,” Jun muttered. “Look what happened to Mika.”

“Heartbreak is part of life,” she said. “It sucks, and it’s horrible, but once she has time to heal, she’ll see this means he wasn’t right for her. And she’ll go out, and she’ll try again, and maybe she’ll get hurt again, but maybe she won’t. And I think we’d both agree that would be worth it.”

“Getting hurt sucks.”

“Yes. But not everyone is going to hurt you. Look how I turned out.”

“Maybe Dad’s just weird,” Jun suggested. “Humans are like that, I hear.”

“They are,” Mom agreed. “I hear you have one of your own now.”

“You told Mom?!” Jun demanded. He could hear both his sisters laughing from the next room.

“Jun,” Mom said, bringing his attention back to her. “I see so much of myself in you. Stop chasing something you can’t have, and look around to see what you can.”

“What if I get hurt?” he asked. “What if he runs screaming?”

“What if he doesn’t?”

#tetsujun #juntetsu #daiya no a #ace of diamond #dna #my writing #magic au #cosa

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roguetatertot · 7 years ago

Text

Rules: Answer these 85 questions and tag 20 people

IDK who to tag. oAo

Tagged by: @kimievii

What was your last…

1. Drink: Coffee!!!!

2. Phone call: My mommy about some cute curtains she got for my Grandpa.

3. Text message: To my brother about my new modem.

4. Song you listened to: Something on Diamond City Radio in Fallout 4...but can’t remember which one it was.

5. Time you cried: Like two weeks ago when I saw something sad on Facebook about a dog’s final day, and then I cried into my dog (who wanted nothing to do with me at the moment....the jerk)

Have you ever…

6. Dated someone twice: Yep. My first boyfriend. He broke up with me on my birthday and then exactly one month later he came crawling back to me.

7. Kissed someone and regretted it: Nope.

8. Been cheated on: I’m like 95% certain my first boyfriend cheated on me.

9. Lost someone special: Do pets count?

10. Been depressed: What? Me? Depressed? HAH! (That’s sarcasm btw)

11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: Nope. I don’t like alcohol.

Fave colours

12. I was so obsessed with turquoise that I got entirely sick of it.

13. My old favorite color used to be red.

14. I really don’t have one right now I guess.

In the last year have you…

15. Made new friends: Sadly no.

16. Fallen out of love: Nope.

17. Laughed until you cried: While watching The Disaster Artist, I think.

18. Found out someone was talking about you: No, but I don’t care if people are anyway.

19. Met someone who changed you: Not in the last year, no.

20. Found out who your friends are: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

21. Kissed someone on your Facebook friends list: Nope.

General

22. How many your Facebook friends do you know irl: Most! I have a few internet friends on there that I’ve never met in real life.

23. Do you have any pets: Three cats, a dog, a turtle, fish, and I dunno if my 2000+ worms count in my compost worm tower?

24. Do you want to change your name: No way. I love my name. Although I would change my surname to be one of the traditional Irish spellings. It got hacked up and changed when my great grandpa came here from Ireland.

25. What did you do for your last birthday: My brother and I are two years and two weeks apart so we celebrated our birthdays together on my birthday. The family gathered here at my house and we ate our favorite childhood meal that my mom used to cook! And we had a huge black forest cake which was sooooo gooooood!

26. What time did you wake up today: 10:30ish

27. What were you doing at midnight last night: Beating Fallout 4 (sided with the Railroad). I feel like I should’ve sided with the Institute after all was said and done, but oh well.

28. What is something you can’t wait for: Getting the FUCK out of San Jose, CA. I absolutely ABHOR living here and want to move to Oregon or Washington. This city has gone down hill and is just one giant cesspool of trash and trashy people.

29. What is your favorite animal: It used to be pigs, but I got burnt out from all the piggy things people would give me. I really don’t have a favorite. I love all animals....except sloths. Ugh.

30. What are you listening to right now: I’m listening to my dog panting. We just got done playing fetch in the yard.

31. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: Yep! My grandpa’s name was Tom! Tom Tucker. He was a remarkable man and had some fantastic tales of his youth. He once was flying an airplane and thought he spotted a friend fishing down on some docks, so he dropped his cargo of tomatoes on him. Turns out it wasn’t his friend, but the mayor of the town. Oops.

32. Something that’s getting on your nerves: The city I live in. It’s so fucking noisy. Car horns, motorcycles, speeding vehicles, sirens....it’s all giving me bad anxiety as of late. I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t stand any loud noises, or really any noise at all now. Maybe I’m just getting old and grumpy. lol

33. Most visited website: I guess just google to google things. Or maybe Amazon.

34. Hair color: Right now it’s a mix of my natural medium brown with very faded blue and purple streaks. My hairdresser was sick when she bleached my hair and did my color, and so she didn’t do a good job bleaching it at all. It’s uneven and just.....icky right now.

35. Long or short hair: Having had all lengths, I think long hair looks the best on me. I love the ease of short hair, but my hair is so pretty that it’s kind of a waste to have it short.

36. Do you have a crush on someone: Actor Sam Heughan at the moment. But as far as someone I actually have contact with? No, no one. I’ve no interest in having interest, if that makes sense.

37. What do you like about yourself: I guess it’s my McGuyver-like brain. I can come up with some wacky solutions/fixes to issues or problems.

38. Want any piercings: Nah, I already have enough. In fact, I have three in each ear and I don’t even bother wearing earrings. They’re pointless.

39. Blood type: O+

40. Nicknames: Ziggy, Adriee, Adri, Sissy-Boo, my dad calls me Squirt, and my mom calls me Momma or Mommas. LOL go figure

41. Relationship status: Single and loving it

42. Sign: Pisces

43. Pronouns: she/her, although recently my dad called me Sir for some reason and I was like “Meh cool whatever.”

44. Fave tv show: Bob’s Burgers!

45. Tattoos: I really want one of my kitty’s paw, but I can’t afford it. Nor do I have a design in mind.

46. Right or left handed: Ambidextrous!

47. Ever had surgery: Yup. Microdisectomy on my lumbar spine back in 2009. I actually need orthognathic surgery, but that’s gonna be difficult to have done.

48. Piercings: Three in each ear, and my nose.

49. Sport: Hockey! Baseball is okay too.

50. Vacation: I really want to go to Scotland, Ireland, and basically all of Scandinavia.

51. Trainers: As in Pokémon or....?

More General

52. Eating: Nothing at the moment. Thinking about raiding my fridge soon.

53. Drinking: Watered down cranberry juice.

54. I’m about watch: IDK not in the mood to watch anything. I’m thinking about firing up Fallout again tho.

55. Waiting for: My workers comp case and Social Security Disability case to come to an end. It’s been going on for seven years and I’m just so over it all.

56. Want: To have my children’s books published. ; u ;

57. Get married: Ew gross no. I honestly can’t picture myself married anymore. That was something younger me used to daydream about, but now that I’m older and much more comfortable with myself, I don’t even entertain the idea. I don’t think I would ever trust anyone to fully love me anyway.

58. Career: Author. Hopefully a beloved and successful author of a children’s book series.

Which is better

59. Hugs or kisses: Neither, thanks. I don’t even really like when my family hugs me.

60. Lips or eyes: Eyes

61. Taller or shorter: I would hope taller, seeing as I’m short enough already as it is.

62. Older or younger: Older

63. Nice arms or stomach: I have a thing for arms.

64. Hookups or relationships: Neither.

65. Troublemaker or hesitant: Troublemaker. I love deviousness.

Have you ever

66. Kissed a stranger: Gross no.

67. Drank hard liquor: Yes but ew.

68. Turned someone down: Yep, especially when I worked graveyard at Walgreens. :T Got a lot of creepy men asking me out all the time. Shudder.

69. Sex on first date: Hahaha yeah right. I don’t even really like hugging on the first date. LOL About a year ago I went out on a date with some dude off OKCupid and as we were saying goodbye, he leaned towards me while closing his eyes and I just went “NOPE.” and got out of his car.

70. Broken someone’s heart: Probably.

71. Had your heart broken: Yep. Twice.

72. Been arrested: Not yet, but hey things could happen.

73. Cried when someone died: I cry when fictional characters die, so yes I have cried when actual people have died.

74. Fallen for a friend: Nope.

Do you believe in

75. Yourself: As in that I exist? Sometimes.

76. Miracles: I’ve been witness to a few strange things happening, so I guess so.

77. Love at first sight: Hell no, what am I, ten? Love at first sight is not real. It’s infatuation at first sight.

78. Santa Claus: I mean, why not? What’s the harm in entertaining the idea?

79. Angels: In a strictly mainstream religious concept? No.

Misc

80. Eye color: Hazel, gold in certain light.

81. Best friend’s name: Django, my doggie. <3

82. Favorite movie: Pan’s Labyrinth.

83. Favorite actor: Sam Heughan! Nnghgjkhsjdkghsd

84. Favorite cartoon: Toss up between Bob’s Burgers and BoJack Horseman.

85. Favorite teacher’s name: I guess it’d have to be my first grade teacher, Mrs. Little. When I was in the second grade, I would get horrible anxiety when there would be a project (like art or something). I’d cry for some reason, and the teacher got so frustrated with me that one time she kicked me out of the class. Mrs. Little was on a break at the time and so she took me out of school and drove me to her house while she did a quick errand (I’m pretty sure she called my parents and got permission first). She was nice to me and calmed me down. ; u ; Years later I saw her in a clothing store and she recognized me, and was so excited to see me. She told my mom that I was her favorite back then. <3

#ziggy's blah blah blah #thank you kimie #it's nice to be tagged #long post

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