#gammon's not sure if he should laugh or not

[evillious-trash]

tw: kind of explicit? mentions sex idk Nemesis and Gammon keep getting asked if they're a couple, to the point they get asked it by an interviewer, and this happens:

Interviewer: Are you *sure* you're not a couple? Nemesis: I would never have sex with Gammon. That's gross Gammon: yeah ew. no offense Nem Nemesis: I did however have sex with his brother multiple times Gammon, who was not expecting that: Nemesis wtf Interviewer: someone cut to commercial! someone cut to commercial!

[mads-weasley]

Epiphany Pt. 2: Out of the Woods

Lewis Nixon x Reader

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: here's chapter two, guys! thanks to everyone who responded to the first part! y'all made my day! without further ado, enjoy! hbo owns the rights, and this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Summary: Operation Overlord is upon Easy Company, and the brave paratroopers get their first taste of war.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: mentions of death, blood

Hundreds of tents lined the muddy fields surrounding the Upottery Airfield in preparation for Operation Overlord. (Y/n) found a dry spot amongst 2nd platoon and laid out all of her supplies. Looking at the various grenades, mines, and other random items, she groaned. “How am I supposed to put all of this in a pack? It’s ridiculous!”

“Tell me about it! ”Joe Toye scoffed from her right, staring down at his pile. “I’ve got a three-day supply of ‘K’ rations, chocolate bars, charms, candy, powdered coffee, sugar, matches, compass, bayonet, entrenching tool, ammunition, gas mask, musette bag with ammo, my webbing, my .45, canteen, two cartons of smokes, Hawkins mine, two grenades, smoke grenades, Gammon grenade, TNT, this bull, and a pair of nasty skivvies!”

Perconte rolled his eyes, tired of Joe’s rant. “What’s your point?”

“Come on,” Toye fumed. “This stuff weighs as much as I do! Probably twice as much as (y/l/n).”

“Yeah, yeah,” she chuckled as Joe continued.

“I still got my chute, my reserve chute, my Mae West, and my M-1.”

Frank got up and walked past the group, calling over his shoulder with an amused expression. “Where are you keeping your brass knuckles?”

“I could use some brass knuckles,” Toye sighed, sitting back on his heels.

(Y/n) finished readying her pack and attempted to lift it over her shoulder with a grunt.

“You and me both, Joe,” she gritted, failing the first few tries.

The fourth time, it weighed considerably less, and she was able to wobbly sit it on her shoulder without tipping over. A proud smile grew on her face, but when she turned and saw who was there, her lips formed a fake pout.

“Nix, you know I could’ve done that by myself?”

The officer laughed, his bright smile making an appearance. “Sure, I thought watching you fail three times was enough.”

Realizing he just admitted to watching her, he shifted from foot to foot and cleared his throat. “Two years. Two years of training led us here. Crazy, right?”

“Yeah,” she murmured, looking around at all her fellow soldiers. “I can’t believe it’s been that long.”

“Well, time did seem to crawl by when we were with Sobel.”

“Absolutely. I still remember his dumbfounded face when Luz impersonated Major Horton. It was the best day of my life.”

Vest came by with pamphlets, handing them to every soldier, announcing they were from Colonel Sink.

“George,” (y/n) called. “Can you do Sink?”

“Does a wild bear crap in the woods, son? Uh, sweetheart?” He corrected, cringing. “Doll? Your majesty? Great and mighty (y/n)?”

(Y/n) raised her eyebrows at him, smirking. “Nice try.”

Cracking a smile, he held up the paper and began reading it as the Colonel. “Soldiers of the regiment, tonight is the night-,” his voice lowered, becoming serious as he continued. “-of nights. Today, as you read this, you are en route to the great adventure for which you have trained for over two years.”

The message hung in the air as each paratrooper took it in. They were going to war. The realization washed over (y/n) like a bucket of ice water, and her mind flashed with the faces of the men she’d come to call brothers. 

Don, George, Skip, Alex, Frank, Lip…

It could be the last time she saw some of them.

“Hey,” Nix smirked and pointed at the various mohawks Lieb had given some men, oblivious to her anxiety-ridden mind. “I think you should try that hairstyle.”

She rolled her eyes and playfully smacked him on the chest. “Whatever.”

When he didn’t reply, she followed his line of sight to Lieutenant Meehan, who stood atop a jeep. ”Easy Company! Listen up! Gather around me.”

Once Easy was fully gathered, he continued. “Now, the Channel coast is socked in with rain and fog. High winds on the drop zone. No jump tonight!”

Grumbles broke out from the men as they looked at each other in disbelief.

“The invasion has been postponed. We’re on a 24-hour stand-down. Drill sergeants, take charge.”

(Y/n) looked up at Nix as he lit a cigarette, shaking her head with a groan. “Great.”

“What?” He shrugged. “Can’t put up with me for another 24 hours?”

“You know what? You’re insufferable, Nix.”

JUNE 6th, 1944: UPOTTERY AIRFIELD

The channel cleared the next day, and the jump was back on. (Y/n) removed her helmet and grabbed the grease paint from George’s outstretched hand. 

“I hate this stuff,” she grumbled, twisting off the cap.

She felt someone take the small can from her hand and recognized the culprit by their low chuckle. 

(Y/n) turned to face him with a playful scowl. “Why are you so immature, Lewis?”

“Lewis?” He gasped, a hand flying to his chest. “Oh, I’ve really done it now.”

Her scowl broke as she shoved him lightly. “Shut up.”

“See, I think you’re overthinking this,” he stated, holding up the tin. “All you have to do is get a glob,” he scooped a few fingers into the can. “-And rub it on your face, like so.”

To (y/n)’s dismay, he quickly reached out and smeared the paint down her cheek with a proud smirk.

“See? Voilà.”

Mouth hanging open, she snatched the can from him, hardly concealing her newly formed amused smile. “I hate you,” she deadpanned as she started toward the rest of her platoon.

His hand reached out and grasped her wrist. “Hang on. Let me fix it.”

“Fine,” she huffed.

Lew knew her well enough to see that it was taking all her willpower to keep the corners of her lips from curling into a smile. He thought it was an admirable attempt, but he could see straight through her. 

What he didn’t expect was her glare to drop completely when he lightly tugged her closer by her wrist. An unreadable expression passed over her face, and Lew discovered he might not be able to read her as well as he thought. 

Peering down at her, he softly brushed her (y/h/c) flyaways from her face before leaning down to be at eye level with her. (Y/n)’s breath hitched slightly at the gentle touch, and she looked up to meet his eyes. 

“Don’t make me look like a raccoon, okay?” She whispered, nervousness flowing through her veins.

With a nod, he got some paint on a few fingers and cupped her jaw with his other hand before making lines across her forehead and cheeks. Tilting her face up softly, his touch trailed down her nose down to her lips. Nix’s gaze stayed there for a moment, swallowing thickly as he noticed their curve and the slight pout they were shaped in.

‘It would be so easy to lean in and…stop,’ he caught himself.

“Uh, all done,” he murmured, dropping his hands to his pockets.

(Y/n) blinked, coming down from the high of his touch. “Thank you,” she replied, her gaze locked with his. “Do you need any help with yours?”

Snapping out of his daze, he smiled bashfully. “I’ve got it.”

A few seconds later, Dick approached them, all geared up and ready to go. “It’s time.”

D-Day had begun.

Staring at the solemn faces of Skip and George across from her, the endless possibilities of what could go wrong flooded her mind as her stomach began to churn.

What if their stick blew up?

What if she was captured?

What if she was killed?

(Y/n) looked up at the sleeping man beside her, admiring his face in the dim light of the plane. Her eyes followed the curve of his nose down to his parted lips as soft breaths passed through them. Even covered in grease in a dark C-47, he was still breathtaking.

What if he was killed?

When they first met in that putrid-smelling mess hall in Toccoa, (y/n) never would have guessed what would become of the pair. The mysterious aura that first drew her to him was quickly wiped away after a few months, revealing a kind, but complicated, man who was sometimes too smart for his own good. 

He was there to vent to when Captain Sobel revoked her weekend pass because her hair was “too long,” and was simply always there to support her. Through the new COs, new bases, and even new countries, he’d been a constant. Over the last two years, he’d been there for her, and she realized that if anything happened to him, she wouldn’t know what to do.

Sure, she was close with the other men in Easy, especially 2nd platoon, but those relationships were… different. Her heart didn’t skip a beat when George Luz or Chuck Grant walked into a room. Their smile didn’t cause heat to rush to her cheeks. 

He was her best friend. There was no other way to describe it. 

But do best friends look at each other the way they do?

Her thoughts continued to run rampant for the next hour as the paratroopers got closer to their destination. To her left, Tab was deep in thought, as well, pulling at his bottom lip as he usually did when thinking. Pulling herself from her thoughts, (y/n) nudged him with her shoulder. 

“So, I heard you got a present from home.”

He dropped his hand to his lap and grinned as he fished something from his bag. “Yeah, courtesy of the Kokomo police department.”

Floyd showed her the revolver with a proud expression. “It feels good to have a little bit of home with me.”

“That’s great, Tab. I’m glad you’ve got support like that from home.”

“What did your folks have to say about you joining up?” He asked.

(Y/n) took a deep breath before answering, willing the memory from her mind. “They weren’t thrilled, that’s for sure.”

He elbowed her side gently with a chuckle. “Well, we’re all real glad you decided to join this mess. Who else is gonna keep all of us straight?”

Laughing to herself, (y/n) leaned her helmet back against the rumbling wall of the plane, wishing sleep would welcome her soon. Her eyes shot open after a few minutes when the aircraft shook with turbulence. Nausea crept up her throat at the movement, and she groaned at the realization she wasn’t going to get any rest.

Time seemed to stretch on forever sitting on the hard metal seat of the plane. Some of the other men started to rouse and have small conversations around her, but all she could think about was her parents. Could they stand to lose another child?

Tears burned her eyes as her mind replayed the moment they heard the news about Pearl Harbor and her brother’s fate. Her mother’s wails when she collapsed onto the floor beside the radio. The deep ache in her chest didn’t seem to go away with time, and she doubted it ever would.

(Y/n) was pulled from her thoughts by a gentle hand on her shaking knee.

“You’re gonna be okay, (y/n/n).”

Lew.

“Yeah,” she sighed, furiously blinking away her tears. “I’m not worried about myself, though.”

“Don’t worry about me, alright? Stay focused on yourself.”

(Y/n) smirked and raised an eyebrow. “What made you think I was worried about you, mister ‘yale know-it-all?’”

At that moment, Nixon was thankful for the dark plane, for she couldn’t see the flush that crept across his cheeks. “Only by the kind way you speak to me,” he retorted, rolling his eyes. 

Within seconds, his face became serious. “But I mean it, (y/n). Please be careful.”

“I will, Lew. You too, okay?” She replied, grasping his hand atop her knee.

Their conversation was cut short by the red light flashing on beside Dick. Nodding at each other, they prepared for what was about to happen.

“Get ready!” Lieutenant Winters yelled above the rumble of the plane. “Stand up! Hook Up! Equipment check!”

Following orders, they stood, hooked up, and started checking their helmets, followed by pulling on the harnesses of those in front of them. George stood between Nix and (y/n) in line, separating the pair.

“Don’t enjoy this too much,” George jeered back to her as she checked his equipment. 

Through his humor, she could see the fear that each of them felt. 

Dick’s voice filled the plane again. “Sound off for equipment check!”

“Ten okay!”

“Nine okay!”

“Eight okay!”

“Seven okay!”

Hearing her heartbeat in her ears, (y/n) attempted to push her fear deep down. 

“Six okay!” Chuck yelled, tapping her on the shoulder.

(Y/n) repeated the motion for George, shouting. “Five okay,”

“Four okay!”

“Three okay!”

“Two okay!”

“One okay!” Winters finished, looking out the jump door.

Within seconds, the cloud cover dissipated, and explosions filled the air, violently tilting the plane sideways. (Y/n) lost her balance and fell back onto her seat with a curse. Luckily, Chuck grabbed her harness and hoisted her back on her feet in front of him. 

As the plane continued to shake beneath their feet, she looked through the small window at the stick beside them just in time to see it get hit and go down in flames. Her mouth went dry at the sight, and she prayed that they wouldn’t share the same fate.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” Someone yelled at the back of the plane.

Lip turned behind him. “Does that light look green to you?”

The man didn’t get to respond as gunfire ripped through the plane, peppering him with shrapnel.

“I’m hit!”

Among the chaos, the green light flicked on, and Winters called out to them. “Let’s go!”

Without hesitation, he jumped out the door, followed by Gene, Lew, and George. Following Luz, (y/n) didn’t even look before pushing herself out the door.

The first thing she felt was the wind whipping at her equipment as she fell through the air. Anti-aircraft shells exploded around her, adding to the deafening cacophony surrounding her. Explosions, screams, gunfire…it was a sound she’d never forget.

Even with her parachute deployed, the ground was fast approaching. To her panic, she couldn’t see her DZ anywhere. To make matters even worse, the wind guided her toward the dense forest instead of one of the many open fields surrounding her. She tried to pull up on the risers to change her direction, but it was too late. Within seconds, she flew into the tall European oak trees she tried so desperately to avoid.

All air left her lungs as she slammed into a tree, sending her falling through the branches. The sound of snapping wood filled her ears and she hissed at the sharp stings that covered her body as she fell. 

With a jolt, her descent was abruptly stopped, causing her to swing into a nearby trunk with a thwack. (Y/n) groaned at the impact, feeling pain seep into her already bruised and battered body. 

“Great,” she hissed, looking up at the tangled chute. “Of course, I landed in a freaking forest.”

Seeing she was only a few feet off the ground, (y/n) let out a sigh of relief and reached for her knife. When she looked down, she cursed at the missing bag that was supposed to be attached to her leg. 

‘At least I didn’t put anything important in there,’ she thought.

The (y/h/c) quickly cut herself free of the chute and fell through the air again, landing on her feet with a wince. Even though she couldn’t see herself, she knew she had to look rough. The stinging from various cuts and scratches torso, arms, and legs were a dead giveaway to her appearance. 

Pulling out her M1, she quietly made her way to a clearing better illuminated by the moon. She stayed near the edge, wary of being seen, and used her compass and map to try and figure out where she was. After a few minutes, she discovered she was a few miles west of the rally point. Just as she was about to move, a drip of red on her map stole her attention. (Y/n) took off her helmet and began to run a shaky hand through her grimy hair when a sharp pain flared from her temple, making her groan at the searing sensation. Pulling her hand away, she gasped to see it covered in dark red. 

The paratrooper quickly grabbed a bandage and gritted her teeth, tying it the best she could.

“Head wounds bleed the most,” Doc Roe had said in a medic seminar. “You’re gonna go through bandages quick.”

 She gently placed the helmet back on her head and took a deep breath. “You can do this, (y/n),” she muttered under her breath as she started moving east toward the rally point. “You can do it.”

She’d made it to the ground, but she wasn’t out of the woods, yet.

D-Day Plus Three: Sainte-Mère-Eglise, France

Since Nix finally made it to Sainte-Mère-Eglise on June 7th, his eyes searched the crowd for one face. Every day, he kept a constant check on who arrived and who they’d seen or heard from, and for two days, he couldn’t rest.

On the third day, he overheard some men from the 82nd.

“Did you see the broad?”

On instinct, he rushed out of the makeshift company CP onto the street filled with exhausted paratroopers, ignoring the concerned looks from the men as he quickly made his way to the front of the town. 

“Thank God,” he whispered, seeing her wobbly figure from a distance. 

Her downcast eyes didn’t see him approach as she dragged her feet in the mud, too tired to even pick them up.

“You’re late to the party,” Lew chuckled, trying to mask his relief.

Despite the ringing pain in her head, her eyes shot up to meet his. When their gazes met, she let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. He made it.

A tired smile grew on her blood and dirt-covered face. “Nice to see you, too, Lew.”

Extending his arm out to her, Nix pulled her into a tight embrace. It was like his mind needed physical reassurance she was there. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he murmured into her helmet.

Leaning into his chest, she let the rhythm of his heart calm her fear. Even in a warzone, she felt safe in his arms. “I was worried about you, too.”

A chuckle reverberated through his chest. “So you were worried about me, huh?”

Pulling back to look at him, (y/n) smirked. “I take it back.”

His playful expression changed to concern as he noticed her pale face and the blood beneath her helmet. “Hey, what happened? You’re bleeding.”

(Y/n) ducked her head to the side. “I’m fine, Lew. Really.”

“Come on, let me see,” he urged, gently unclasping her helmet. 

A hiss left him, seeing the blood-soaked cloth haphazardly tied around her head. 

“(Y/n),” he sighed, one hand tilting her jaw to see the wound while the other peeled back the bandage. The gash ran from her right temple to just above her ear. “This is deep. You’re gonna need stitches. Let’s go to the aid station.”

His tender touch left her speechless. “Ok-okay,” she whispered, following him to the medic tent.

The coppery smell of blood hit her like a ton of bricks the second she entered the tent. Men were lying on cots, missing limbs, and crying in agony. (Y/n) froze, unable to tear her gaze from the carnage before her. A guiding hand on the small of her back urged her to keep walking. 

“Come on, (y/n/n). This way,” Lew muttered.

He led her into another tent that was less crowded and sat her down on a nearby cot. “I’ll go find Doc. Stay here.”

Laying back on the cot, (y/n) allowed her body to fully relax for the first time in almost three days. Soreness gnawed at her muscles, leaving behind a dull ache that drained all of her energy. Within a few minutes, her eyes began to droop, and sleep finally welcomed her.

“She’s in here,” Lew said, Doc Roe in tow. “She’s got a nasty cut on her head.”

The cajun nodded. “Alright, I’ll take a look. You know head wounds bleed a lot.”

Walking into the room, their expressions softened at her curled-up form on the cot. “Is it okay if she sleeps,” Nix asked, crouching next to her.

Grimacing, Roe shook his head. “I really should check her head, sir.”

With a nod, Lew gently shook her shoulder. “Hey, (y/n/n). Doc’s here to check your head.”

She weakly groaned and sat up slowly. “I think I could sleep for a week.”

Chuckling, Gene held his index finger up in front of her face. “Follow my finger.”

After a few seconds, he sighed, grabbing a suture kit from his satchel. “Doesn’t look like you have a concussion, but that cut’ll need stitches.”

Roe carefully cleaned the wound as (y/n)’s eyes screwed shut. “You ready?” He asked.

Keeping her eyes closed, her hand shot out beside her, grasping onto Nixon’s hand tightly. “Lew, please talk to me. Say anything, I don’t care, just talk.”

He squeezed her hand in response as she let out a hiss when the first suture pulled through her split skin.

“When I was in college…” 

With Lewis Nixon’s warm and reassuring hand in hers, along with his distracting words, the pain became bearable. In the small medic tent in Sainte-Mère-Eglise, Eugene smiled to himself, witnessing the intimate moment between the two.

“Ce sont des idiots.” He muttered to himself. “Des idiots en mal d’amour.”

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[moldygreenblue]

a meeting with a man in white spats

(In which two men meet each other a pub, and conversation occurs.)

I was lunching one day at The Princess Louise,

When I passed some remark to a man in white spats

Who had ordered a plate of fried gammon and peas,

So we soon fell to talking of thisses and thats—

“May I ask why you’re searching for a new flat?”

Mr. Faber sets down his fork and knife onto his plate, and dabs the napkin onto his mouth. Once his face is clean, Mr. Faber picks up his glass of port wine, swirls it around, and takes a small sip. He then gives out a refreshing sigh, and set his glass down.

“Not at all,” replies Thomas, picking up his own gin and tonic from the coaster. He takes a long slip before continuing. “Something you need to know right away is that I quite like my flat mate. I’m not searching for a new flat because I despise him. We knew each other since our university days, and we remained friends since graduation. But we never lived together until six years back. We weren’t in relationships at the time, and two people paying rent makes thing easier, you know? 50/50 split payment of everything.”

“Completely understandable of an arrangement.”

“A year ago, my friend met someone. The girl of his dreams, if I have to describe her. Even the way they met came can be describe as love at first sight. But I digress. A few weeks back, he proposed to her. I even help set up the proposal.”

“Sounds like you are a candidate on being the best man.”

Thomas laughs, and sets his gin and tonic down back on the coaster. “Very likely candidate. Now, even though she spent a night or two at the flat —and vice versa with him at her place— the idea of them living together never crossed their minds until recently. It’s a good thing that our flat has two bedrooms, and not one.”

“But you have your own bedroom, and your friend and his fiancée have theirs. What is the problem?” Mr. Faber leans back against his chair, his curled-up hand underneath his chin.

“The problem is that I’m a third wheel,” says Thomas. “They don’t want to admit it, especially my flat mate, but I know that they know that I’m disrupting their new lifestyle. I freshen up at times when she needs to freshen up, or I accidentally use the food they bought to make my meals. I won’t even start on the time I barge into my flat mate’s room and interrupt…activities.”

Thomas gives a sigh, and places his elbow on the table. He then rests his head onto his hand. “Pardon my impolite table manners, but my search for a flat within my price range is worser than it was six years ago. And I can’t ask my sister to let me live with her. Her flat is big enough only for herself and her pet cat. If it was bigger, I would consider her as a potential option.”

“Your sister having a cat is not an issue to your dilemma?” Mr. Faber raises an eyebrow.

“No issue at all. I quite like cats.”

Mr. Faber doesn’t say anything. Instead, the old man drops his hand, and smiles. Thomas can see a twinkle in Mr. Faber’s eyes.

Thomas isn’t sure how he should interpret it.

“Well Mr. Stephens,” says Mr. Faber as he smiles, and it’s very feline of a smile, “I confide right now to being a jack of all trades, but I am at present an agent for small furnished flats. And I do think I can help you out, in fact…”

[write-like-wright]

“Why do you have to look at me like that? It’s making me weak, please stop.” with godot and/or sherlock x fem!reader please? (got this prompt from "#100 Dialogue Prompts to Make a Reader Swoon…" off a cure for writer's block tumblr)

I hope you don't mind me going with Herlock only, anon. I'm in that kind of a mood.

A spiritual sequel to this

Pairing: Herlock Sholmes x female reader

Warnings: mostly fluff, reader being awkward, Sholmes being surprisingly smooth

Word count: 914

"Thank you for the lovely evening, Mr S-Herlock." Curses. Not again.

Herlock's lip twitches, a teasing smile spreading across his boyish features. "The pleasure was all mine, my dear madam! I must admit, I am becoming quite fond of the Mr Herlock moniker, although I must insist you drop the "S"."

The dinner was quite pleasant, in spite of your initial misgivings. You arrived at 221B Baker Street just a bit before 8 PM, more nervous than you'd like to admit. Herlock and Iris welcomed you quite warmly, sharing stories about their incredible adventures, recounting the tales behind the endless clutter in their living room. The food was extraordinary - a roast, gammon, baked potatoes, homemade bread and steamed vegetables, followed by a freshly baked cake and some tea. Perhaps you overindulged a bit, but it was hard not to when everything looked so good.

Speaking of looking good, Mr Sholmes did clean up quite nicely for the occasion, you had to admit. He'd obviously shaved as there was no sign of five o'clock shadow on his handsome face. His hair was neatly curled in a way that framed his face and he'd changed out of the clothes he wore at the park, as apparent by the lack of thorns in his thigh. Not that you were looking at his thigh, mind you.

When it was time to head back home, you said your goodbyes and kissed Iris on the cheek, promising you'd come back with your book of recipes soon. She beamed at every compliment you paid her during the evening and listened intently to each and every cooking tip and recipe you shared. "Wait just a moment, my dear madam," you heard Herlock's voice ring out on your way out. "Let me just get my coat."

"Your coat? What for?" Confused by his declaration, you turn around to find him getting dressed in his brownish-orange coat from earlier. "Why, evenings are quite chilly here in London, as you should know. I wouldn't like to freeze on my way now." On his way? "Are you going somewhere this late, Mr Sholmes?" He laughs. "Ah, I thought we'd agreed on Herlock. And naturally, I am going to walk you home. What kind of a host would I be if I let you walk alone at this ungodly hour?"He walks out before you can answer and you follow suit, perhaps slightly flustered.

You enjoy your conversation on your late evening stroll. Herlock, to his credit, is quite charming and funny when he's not too busy boasting about his own accomplishments. He asks you about yourself and listens intently, drinking in every word you say. Occasionally he cracks a joke that would perhaps be too inappropriate for young Iris' ears and you giggle, gently smacking his arm. You notice he's stealing glances towards your direction, gazing a bit too intensely at moments. His gaze warms you up on this chilly autumn eve and you hate yourself for it. He'd shown no such interest in you, but surely you could not be misreading so many signs at once, could you?

Reaching the entrance of your building, you stop in your tracks. "This is it, Herlock. This is where I live." He looks over the mass of bricks behind you before stepping closer. "Ah, then I suppose this is goodbye." The look you noticed earlier is back and he makes no move to leave. Instead, he stands there in front of you and only then do you realise just how tall he is, how long his legs alone are. You swallow, a hint of boldness appearing seemingly out of nowhere. Must be the wine you had with your dinner.

"Why do you have to look at me like that? It’s making me weak, please stop." The words tumble past your lips before you can stop yourself, instantly regretting how accusatory your tone is. "Like what, my dear madam?" His voice is dripping with amusement and he cocks his head to the side, blonde curls falling out of place. "I-I don't know! Like that- the way you're looking at me now! I don't like it- well I don't NOT like it- but I certainly don't understand it."

He chuckles briefly and you feel so embarrassed you could pass out. "My dear madam, I do deeply apologise if I'd offended you or made you uncomfortable in any way. Have you perhaps considered that I am, in fact, smitten with you?"

He's- Oh. Oh.

You regret standing under the street light because you're sure he can see the redness on your cheeks now. Completely at a loss for words, you peer up at him, hoping he wasn't entirely turned off by your words. "I see," he continues. "Well, in that case, would you permit me to treat you to some tea tomorrow afternoon perhaps? To apologise for any weakness I may have caused, of course?"

You stare at him like a guppy. "W-well, it's the least you could do, I suppose." Somehow you manage to crack a smile. "Splendid," he exclaims. "Shall I come pick you up at, say, four o'clock?" You nod.

"Wonderful! Until then, my dear madam." He leans in and pecks your cheek so quickly and briefly you wonder if you'd imagined it. "Sleep tight." With that, he walks off and you wave at him when he turns back to shoot you a quick smile.

Goodness gracious, what a disaster I am. Thankfully, he doesn't seem to mind.

[omgrachwrites]

The Princess and The Duke - Chapter Five

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: As the Princess of  Spain, you were always supposed to marry King James of England to make  an alliance between Spain and England. When he marries a woman at his  court for love, you are married off to his best friend, Sirius Black the  Duke of Bedford to keep the alliance. However, the court is riddled  with secrets and a rebel in the North starts to rise against the Throne.  Royal AU.

Warnings: fluff, fluff and more fluff! Mentions of sex

Words: 2690

Disclaimer: This gif doesn’t belong to me!

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this part, please let me know what you think and let me know if you would like to be tagged! I love you all! xxx

Chapter Five - Rainbow High

The whole world seemed to vanish as Sirius pulled you in for another warm passionate kiss, his slightly calloused hands cupping your cheeks. He only pulled away with a sheepish grin when King James started to whoop and cheer. You smiled in delight as Sirius took both of your hands in his own and lifted them to his swollen kiss bruised lips, his cheeks flushing pleasantly.

The guests showered you with pink flower petals that smelled so sweet and Sirius led you out of the chapel before anyone could properly congratulate you. A giggle escaped your lips as Sirius helped you onto your horse and you gazed down at your handsome husband.

“Can we ride through the villages?” you asked, biting your lip, “I know that some of the Lords won’t like it.”

Sirius smiled as he held your hand, “of course we can Y/N, and it doesn’t matter about anyone else today, because it’s just you and me. How are you feeling?”

He was so sweet to ask, you imagined that you would feel more troubled after your wedding. But, you didn’t, you felt happy and incredibly lucky. Though, you were nervous about what would come to pass that evening, you would have to do your duty as a wife, “I’m nervous,” you smiled bashfully, and you could hardly tell him why.

But, he gave you the kindest smile, “I promise you that you don’t have to worry about a single thing. I won’t hurt you Y/N.”

You nodded at him as your thumb stroked against his cheek, “I believe you Sirius.”

It took a little while but soon enough you were all riding out of that magical, beautiful glade, you and Sirius were riding side by side as husband and wife should be. As you reached the first village – Amelia’s village – and dismounted, you hesitated as you felt a rough hand on your elbow and heard a cold sneering voice in your ear.

“You should never walk into a village; you cannot trust these retched peasants, Duchess.”

You were momentarily lost for words as you looked at the cruel hard face, “she knows more about these people than you do, Malfoy!” you had never heard Sirius so angry, it looked like those soft grey eyes were on fire as he glared at Lucius Malfoy.

Before things could escalate, you gently led Sirius away, kissing him in thanks as he wrapped a protective arm around your waist and you walked into the village together. Lucius Malfoy terrified you but he was a very rich man, a great asset to England so you had learned to tolerate him. You suspected that the King and Queen had the same views as you; you certainly knew that your husband did.

The peasants smiled at you brightly as you presented them with food and alms. Beneath the sight of God they blessed you and a melancholy feeling filled your chest as you teared up. You would miss the people of France; you’d miss their kind words and their simple ways.

“Duchess!” you heard a cry of excitement and you grinned as the little girl ran up to you and you immediately got on your knees and wrapped your arms around her, ignoring the tuts of the Lords behind you, “congratulations Duchess,” Amelia smiled up at you and you kissed her cheek softly, she was such a beautiful little girl.

“I’m going to miss you when I go to England, I have to leave before the week is out,” you sighed as that overwhelming sadness filled your chest.

“Don’t go Duchess; there are bad men in England.”

The little girl’s words sent a chill down your spine but you forced a brave smile onto your face, “you’ll forever be in my thoughts Amelia,” you kissed her forehead.

Though, as you rode out of her quaint village her words rang in your head and it didn’t seem like a very good omen. As big and as beautiful as your wedding was, the wedding feast was bigger and more beautiful. It was more beautiful than you ever thought it could be and for that, you were very thankful. The feast was held in the gorgeous rose gardens outside of the chateau and you could smell the gorgeous scent of the growing fruit in the nearby fields. It seemed that Sirius had chosen this location with you in mind but that was only a simple fantasy in your head.

There were many, many courses of the wedding feast and they were all so delicious, maybe too delicious. You and Sirius decided to send over the best courses to your favourite guests. It was a joy for you to see the happiness on your friends’ faces as they enjoyed the magnificent courses. Sophia seemed especially happy with the honey glazed gammon and it made your heart sing when she shared it with Remus, a bashful smile on both of their faces.

Queen Lily gave you a tight sweet smelling hug and she beamed at you as she took a seat at your side, “it really has been a beautiful day Y/N, you seem very happy,” she smiled as she took a generous swallow of wine.

You flushed as you looked over at your beautiful husband who couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from you, “I am happy,” you smiled at Lily, “I didn’t think that I could be, but I really am.”

Lily hummed, “I think that he’s in love with you, Y/N.”

You felt a thrill wrack through your body at Lily’s statement and you began to feel a little light headed, “we’ve only known each other for a matter of months, and we haven’t even been intimate yet. How could he be in love with me?”

Lily giggled at you as she shook her head, “have you not seen the way that he looks at you when you look away? Have you not heard of love at first sight? I hope that you too will be more fortunate in creating a child than me and James,” she sighed with a sad look on her face.

You smiled gently as you took her hand, “your son will come, Your Majesty, I’m sure of it.”

You looked back at Sirius, biting your lip and you saw that he was in deep conversation with Peter. You felt butterflies in your stomach as you watched him easily laugh and you watched the way his long fingers dove into his hair. Could Lily be right? Could he honestly be in love with you?

The rest of the feast passed by in a flurry of dancing and drinking of honeyed wine and spied mead. You noticed that Sirius was holding himself back from drinking too much, Remus on the other hand drank like a fish; maybe it was to make himself less nervous around Sophia. He even danced with her a few times. You felt at home at Sirius’ side and you hoped that he felt the same way about you.

All too soon the guests were calling for the bedding ceremony and nerves – and excitement – fizzled in your stomach. Sirius easily lifted you into his strong safe arms; he must have noticed your worried face because he kissed your cheek gently.

“Please don’t worry Y/N, like I said before, I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised and you nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He easily carried you up to his chambers, the sounds of women giggling and men shouting followed you into the chateau. For the first time that day, you wished that your mother was here to prepare you for what you had to do. You weren’t sure whether it was pure lust or it was the wine you had been drinking but you wanted him. You wanted this beautiful, kind man.

As soon as you were alone, you kissed him long and deep, still safely secured in his arms, Sirius groaned into your mouth as he kissed you back. As the tip of his tongue touched your bottom lip, you sighed, clutching at his hair as you slid your hand down his chest. After a while, he pulled away looking dazed with swollen lips and you were sure that you had never seen anyone more beautiful.

“Wait,” he started breathlessly as he bit his bottom lip and stared at yours, the glint of lust in his eyes and you felt your heart thump in your chest, “we don’t have to Y/N,” he muttered as he cupped your cheeks, looking at you intently, there was lust and kindness in his eyes but you were sure that there was something else in there too.

You felt a flush grow on your cheeks as you rested your forehead against yours, catching your breath as your fingers stroked through his hair. He swore under his breath as you tugged gently at the tendrils, “I know Sirius and you’re so sweet, but please Sirius I want to. I want you. I want to know what it feels like to be completely and utterly yours, show me Sirius. Show me what it’s like.”

“Are you sure?” he asked kindly and when you nodded, anticipation filling your chest, he sat you on the edge of the comfortable bed, “we’ll go slowly, and I’ll be gentle. If you change your mind, please tell me to stop,” he kneeled on the floor and pressed a sweet kiss against your ankle as he removed your uncomfortable shoes.

You swallowed, it sent a thrill through you to see Sirius on his knees in front of you and you nodded as you braced your hands on his shoulders, “I promise, I’ll tell you.”

Sirius was true to his word; he kissed you and handled you gently, almost like you were made of glass, only progressing when you begged him to. You never thought that you would beg for anything, especially not a man but Sirius seemed to be worth it, he made your head spin and your heart speed up.

You knew that you were done for when Sirius’ head disappeared underneath your skirts and his hands explored your body, gentle but demanding. Gasping out in pleasure when Sirius found the ideal destination, you let yourself fall back on the bed, tugging at his hair to bring him closer, relishing in the groan he made against your skin.

“Sirius,” you whined as your hair spread around your head like a halo and you wished that you could feel this type of pleasure for the rest of your days.

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Sirius didn’t know that it could be like this, he never knew that sex could be this intimate or be this good, he’d never put his heart into sex before. Maybe it was because; subconsciously he was waiting for Y/N. He couldn’t quite believe that he was married to a Princess but Y/N was someone that he cared about and he hoped that she cared about him too.

The room was warm and comfortable as Y/N lay in Sirius’ arms and he trailed his fingers over her warm naked skin. She smiled brightly up at him as she stroked her fingers through his messy tangled hair as she leaned up to kiss him softly. Y/N looked wrecked with messy hair, swollen lips and sparkling eyes. Sirius only imagined that he looked the same.

“Are you feeling okay? Did I hurt you?” Sirius asked, trailing his fingers over her stomach.

Y/N smiled, “at first but I was told to expect that. And, I’m fine, so fine that I want to do it all over again,” she trailed a hand down his chest with a sly smirk on her face.

Sirius’ breath hitched as he caught her hand before it could disappear beneath the sheets, “please Y/N, give me a second,” he chuckled as she pouted, “I hope you’re pregnant you know.”

A strange look passed over Y/N’s face as she averted her eyes, “well, at least our child will have a lot of siblings,” she bit her lip and Sirius looked down at her in confusion.

“What are you talking about?”

Y/N shook her head, “Sirius, its alr-,”

Sirius shook his head as he cut her off, “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Y/N looked up at him with a forlorn expression on her face, “oh God,” she covered her face with her hands, “I was told that you had a lot of ba- a lot of children in England and France.”

Sirius huffed and rolled his eyes, he’d heard that ridiculous rumour about himself too, “Y/N, I promise, I know that I’ve been with a lot of women but I was always careful, I always prevented a child. Any child that I have will be yours, please believe me.”

Y/N nodded as she cupped his cheek, “I do believe you, I’m sorry, it was something that I was worried about. I feel silly for believing the rumour.”

Sirius shook her head as he pulled the beautiful woman closer, “no don’t be sorry my love.”

Y/N grinned up at him, “you know, it usually takes more than one try to make a baby.”

Sirius bit his lip as he smirked, “oh Princess, you are insatiable,” he growled and pulled her so she was straddling his waist.

She giggled and gasped at his quick movements before throwing the sheet back and leaned down to kiss Sirius deeply. They were certainly in for a passion filled night.

In the morning, Sirius was woken up by a soft kiss from his wife; he smiled as he opened his eyes, squinting in the bright room. Y/N was sitting upright on the bed as she gazed down at him, she looked so beautiful, like an angel with the golden early morning sunlight streaming behind her, and he couldn’t quite believe that she was his.

“Good morning Y/N, you look beautiful,” Y/N flushed and smiled prettily at his words as he sat up and that’s when he noticed the numerous plates on the bed, all full of wonderful things, “what’s all this?”

Y/N smiled as she picked up a goblet and took a swallow from it, “I thought we deserved an amazing breakfast for our first morning as newlyweds,” she picked up a morsel of sweetbread, slathered it in honey and held it up to Sirius’ lips, her eyebrow raised as she smirked at him.

Sirius chuckled as he opened his lips and let Y/N feed him the sickly sweet morsel, Sirius groaned as the sweet and tart flavours danced along his tongue and he smiled up at Y/N, “that tastes very sweet, though, not as sweet as you,” he teased, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Sirius!” Y/N gasped with a giggle as she looked away from him, her cheeks deepening in colour.

“Now you’re getting nervous, after last night?” Sirius smirked kissing her cheek; he hesitated when he saw the worried look in her eyes, “what’s the matter love?”

“I just, I’ll really miss this place. I don’t want to go to England,” she sighed as she looked around at the room, an expression of wistful longing on her face.

Sirius bit his lip as he held back a sigh; he knew exactly what Y/N was feeling because he felt the same. He’d miss this beautiful land and its people, and its easy pleasures but they both had a duty to do as the Duke and Duchess of Bedford, “I’ll miss it too, I wish we could stay here until our dying days but we made a promise to the King and Queen,” Y/N nodded and Sirius took her hand, “England will be great, I promise.”

“What about the bad people at court? Because there will be bad people, I don’t want to be walking to my death by going to England.”

Sirius frowned at her words and they troubled him perhaps more than they should and he shook his head as he pulled his fretting wife into his arms, “I’ll protect you from every bad person who dares to cross our path,” he pressed a kiss to her forehead, “I promise Y/N.”

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@smiithys @elayneblack @amelie-black @siriuslyjanhvi @pregnant-piggy @lindatreb @mabelle-cherie @hxrgreeves @britishspidey @mads-bri @classicrocketqueen @sxtansqueen @hufflepuffzutara @missmulti @bruxa0007 @ourstarsailor @fific7 @galwithbluethoughts​ @2410slb​ @sunles​ @krismeunicornbaobei​

[sgrumby]

I was tagged by @himbotaako (ages ago, whoops! Sorry!!)

​1. Name/nickname: ethan

2. Gender: he/him male!

3. Star sign: capricorn!

4. Height: 6′2″ >:3c

5. Time: 01:05 i know i know i should sleep

6. Birthday: january 16th!!

7. Favorite bands/groups: hmmm queen? im basic 😞

8. Favorite solo artist: amy winehouse? honestly favourite artist is always a difficult question because i listen to a different person every week

9. Song stuck in my head: no thoughts. head empty

10. Last movie: bridge of spies with tom hanks? it was really really good!

11. Last show: star trek discovery’s season finale! im till not sure if i Like discovery and it’s been three seasons

12. When did I create this blog: may 2020! feels like SO much longer than eight months wtf. i did have a blog i made in like 2013 but i deleted it because i did not need that out in the world

13. What do I post: uh it used to be taz stuff although now it’s mostly just memes. i run a meme blog 😞😞

14. Last thing I googled: i don’t know because i only ever use incognito mode. it was probably the word “tr*mp” bc i wanted to see if there was footage of him having a meltdown about the twitter ban

15. Other blogs: i have no sideblogs bc i hate how tumblr deals with them! so sorry everyone you have to see all my shit here

16. Do I get asks: sometimes! :3 and i treasure them all!

17. Why did I choose this url: when i was playing stardew valley with my girlfriend i would name all our animals dumb shit to make her laugh and grumby was my favourite!

18. Following: 36. not a lot but i get annoyed if people post too many things im not interested in fkgndfn

19. Followers: 677!

20. Average hours of sleep: like 9? im not a morning person so I get up at like 11 am whenever possible

21. Lucky number: 69 babey!

22. Instruments: i can play the bit of smoke on the water that everyone thinks of on guitar and that’s it. i’m not musical at all fjakjf

23. What am I wearing: pyjamas :3

24. Dream job: uhhhhhhhhhh i don’t know. i could probably write an essay on this but... im doing a history degree rn and i think i’m gonna keep doing that because it’s all i know how to do?? so maybe a lecturer or something, assuming i can get a master’s and a phd

25. Dream trip: i drove down the west coast of the US before! it was really nice to see Seattle and San Fran, but I’d love to do the same in the east... Boston and New York and Philly and DC are all so cool!

26. Favourite food: hmmm tough one..... like a roast gammon joint maybe

28. Favourite song: i don’t know...... hold on i’m gonna put on shuffle on spotify instead. hold on. ELO’s mister blue sky

29. Last book read: i.... don’t know. i don’t read enough books to be able to say with any certainty any more

30. Three fictional universes you’d like to live in: three is SO hard. star trek, probably, because i’d love to explore the universe and they’re all space socialists, but a lot of ships get destroyed in weird ways just so the enterprise can come in and clean up. taz balance? because magic is cool as fuck, although again if you’re not a main character shit sucks. catch me appearing in the taz balance world and instantly getting vaporised by the phoenix fire gauntlet. i can’t think of a third but i’ve cheated on so many of these anyway that i don’t care

also i’m not tagging anyone because once again im late to this party and i think everyone’s already done it lmao

[marvelofcontent]

May the Fourth Be With You (Peter Parker x Stark!Reader)

Summary  You and Peter are huge Star Wars Fans. Always have been, always will be. After Thanos and Mysterio had their fun, you finally get to enjoy your senior year of high school, but things have changed between you and Peter. What plans are in store for the pair of you now that senior year is coming to a close? Word Count 2677 Warnings This is a nerdy fluffy piece to celebrate Star Wars Day, so some Star Wars references are included, but nothing too obscure. This story was posted after May Fourth because I thought of this late and I suck at updating. To all of my Star Wars fans, May the Fourth Be With You!

Peter Benjamin Parker loves Star Wars. When the boy your father had recruited boarded the jet and sat by Happy, you made a metal note to talk to him once you finished reading your book, only a few chapters from the end. Mid-flight, you made your way over and took the empty seat in front of him nonchalantly.

“You’re Peter, right? I’m y/n,” you said gently, offering him a small smile. He returned it and nodded. The two of you struck some conversation before quieting down to a comfortable silence. You busied yourselves with your phones, your eyes only peeking up when Peter started to fidget in his seat, a wide smile on his face. 

“You look happy,” you commented, looking him over for a moment. He reacted by stiffening and ducking his eyes awkwardly, reluctantly turning his screen off.

“Oh no, it’s stupid,” he tried to brush off, but your curiosity had already taken root.

“Couldn’t have been stupid to bring on a smile like that. Come on, what is it?” You inched closer, on the edge of your seat. When he glanced up and saw your poised determination, he let out a nervous huff and reopened his phone.

“Oh nothing, just…there are new pictures from the set of The Last Jedi. Just some nerdy-”

“Wait, really? Can I see?” His eyes widened as you got up and sat beside him, excitement in your eyes.

“Wait, you like Star Wars?”

“Like Star Wars? Are you kidding? I love Star Wars. My dad helped me build a pencil sharpener R2D2 a few years ago.” To your surprise, he let out a warm laugh and turned his body in your direction.

“I can’t imagine the Tony Stark fiddling over a pencil sharpener.”

“The man can’t follow a set of instructions for his life. Iron Man insisted he was right and the little motor almost blew because he put the gears in the wrong places and the blades upside down,” you giggled, remembering the way you hid behind a pillow when it started to screech. In that moment, Peter took a better look at you and smiled wider, suddenly feeling inexplicably comfortable with you. The rest of the flight, you passed the time by talking about Star Wars and other interests you shared going beyond the sci-fi galaxy, and you became inseparable even after the events in Berlin.

-8 Years Later-

A lot had changed since that jet ride. Since the fight in Berlin, the Avengers disbanded and went their separate ways, you enrolled as a junior at Midtown School of Science and Technology, Spiderman became New York’s favorite local crime fighter, and Thanos came and wiped out half of the universe. You and Peter died in space, your true feelings and goodbyes lost with you as you dusted away. You both returned five years later only to lose Tony Stark, father and mentor. The year that followed was difficult, the loss of your father weighing down on both of you. You stopped talking about the things that made you happy, like Star Wars and sketching, and focused on the somber aspects of life. The world fell on both your shoulders and the most support you had was each other. When you went on the class trip to Europe, all you wanted was a chance to enjoy life experiences as a teenager again.

Quentin Beck almost stole that opportunity away from you when he brought the Elementals to life as pieces in his revenge plot. He would have killed you and ruined your trip if it hadn’t been for your best friend in the spider suit. By the end of the trip, Peter had saved you, and he made the trip worth it when he gave you a bracelet with a glass shooting star charm and confessed his feelings for you, sharing a gentle kiss on the bridge.

Life went on when you came home, but things became manageable. Stark Industries was rising again, you were finding your place in your family, and senior year finally came, much to everyone’s relief. To top it all off, Peter was with you through it all, not only as your best friend and fellow crime fighting superhero, but as your loving and supportive boyfriend. As the year started coming to a close, you noticed that MJ and Betty had been adamant about keeping you busy everyday afterschool. Between decathlon leadership meetings, student council sessions, and emergency study groups, you stopped walking home with Peter and the guilt started eating at you. 

One afternoon with the girls, you let out a frustrated huff and threw Betty a wide eyed glance of disbelief.

“Betty, we went over this concept yesterday! I thought you were feeling better about it?” 

“I was, but then Dr. Gammon did a few problems in class and I got lost again,” your friend justified, twirling her hair with her fingers as she focused on the book before you. Quickly glancing at your phone, you let out a sigh. You had been studying for hours and the sun would be going down soon, a late night patrol waiting for you. 

“MJ, can you give this a shot? Maybe you can explain it better,” you asked as you checked your phone notifications. Nothing.

“Sure. Let me see-”  she was cut off by a chime coming from her phone. Lightening fast, she pulled her phone out and proceeded to stand in the middle of the room, typing furiously. You found it odd that she paused so suddenly, but brushed it off as you started to pack your bag.

“I should get going, so I’ll see you guys-”

“Wait!” MJ shouted, her head snapping up suddenly. You were taken aback by her volume and gave her a worried look. You could see her look at Betty from the corner of her eye. “There’s something I want to talk to you about before you go.”

“Oh…okay,” you replied, setting your bag back down on the floor. “What is it?” She came over and sat beside you on the bed.

“Has everything been alright?” You tilted your head, mildly confused by the question.

“I…guess. Why?”

“You just seem on edge all the time. Stressed almost,” she pressed a bit. You shrugged.

“Well, there’s been a lot going on. We keep having decathlon leadership stuff-”

“We have to train the new kids before we go,” MJ pointed out gently.

“Right, but I think they’re ready. They seem tired of us nagging them. One of these days, Daisy’s going to actually stab herself instead of looking like she wants to. And student council keeps having pointless meetings-”

“We have to finalize all of the end of the year activities and their details,” Betty defended herself, her attention on the two of you.

“We did not need to spend an hour on choosing the balloon colors for the senior banquet. We ended up with blue and gold like we’d originally planned anyways!”

“I guess I was asking more if everything is alright outside of school,” MJ redirected, shooting Betty a tiny glare.

“…I feel like I’m so busy with school that I’ve barely gotten any one-on-one time with Peter.” You missed the glance they gave one another. “I just feel like such a bad girlfriend, ya know? And I think he’s mad at me over it. He’s been avoiding me in between classes and he hasn’t texted me in days-” MJ’s chime interrupted you again. As you continued, she was fixated on the message, typing back immediately and you felt so betrayed. “MJ, this is serious!” She seemed to have sent her message because she snapped her head back up and looked at you with sorry eyes.

“Sorry. But I’m sure everything’s okay. Has he asked you to prom yet?” At the mention of the dance, you let out a pained groan and threw yourself back in the bed, your heart aching a bit from disappointment

“No, he hasn’t. He’s been avoiding me, remember?”

“Maybe he’s waiting for the right moment,” Betty reassured. Before you could respond, your phone started to ring, Peter’s contact picture popping up. “Take it as a sign of good luck,” she winked before returning to her work. You reluctantly picked up the call, putting the speaker to your ear.

“Peter?”

“Hey! What are you up to right now?” You let out a small sigh of relief. He sounded excited rather than upset or on edge.

“Studying with Betty and MJ. I was actually about to head out,” you replied, grabbing your bag again and packing the last of your things as he spoke.

“Listen, I know you have patrol tonight, but would you like to come over for dinner?” You looked at the time and sighed, knowing it would be late when you left the Parker household.

“I don’t know, Pete-”

“May’s making your favorite.” He was trying to be convincing and to your dismay, it was working. You bit your lip, thinking the offer over. “Please, y/n? I miss you.” His words tugged at your guilty heart and you caved, practically hearing his pout.

“Okay. I’ll head over now.”

“Great! See you soon!” He was quick to hang up much to your surprise. Glancing back at the girls, you shrugged at their expectant stares.

“He seems to be in a good mood, so maybe it’s not so bad,” you said gently, trying not to let yourself get too excited.

“Shouldn’t you be leaving? He’s expecting you,” Betty encouraged, waving you off.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“We’ll manage. Get out of here, y/n. Before Peter comes to grab you,” MJ teased, giving you a friendly nudge as you finally shouldered your bag. Giving them one last goodbye, you headed out, a bit of pep in your step as you thought of spending some time with Peter. Quickly climbing up the apartment stairwell, you paused in front of their door and gently took the note that was left taped up. Y/n, it read. I had to run out to grab some things for dinner tonight. Let yourself in. Peter should be in his room. You saw May’s signature at the bottom and gently opened the door, quickly closing the door behind you. The living room would have been pitch black if not for the tea lights creating a path on the floor. Confused by the detail, you slowly followed them down the hall, your footsteps creaking on the wood. The lights stopped in front of Peter’s closed door, so you instinctively knocked and winced at the harshness of the sound. When you opened the door, your eyes went wide, simply standing in the frame as the door opened wider. In front of his windows, you saw a sheet with swirling galaxy projections on it, the stars shining all over the walls and ceiling. They lit the room enough for you to see Peter standing in the middle of the empty room with a rose in his hands. Before you could say anything though, he sidestepped and got down on one knee to reveal a life size legos replica of R2D2 holding a sign with your name on it. Stepping closer, you gasped and covered your mouth with your hands.

“Out of all the girls in the Galaxy, Yoda Obi-Wan for me,”  Peter said out loud. “It’s been a rough few years for us, but you didn’t leave me Solo and you saved me from the Dark Side. I may not be a Skywalker, but y/n?”

“Yes?” you answered giddily, anticipation rising as he turned the sign over.

“Will you BB my d8 to prom?” he asked, word for word vocalizing the sign’s message. Unable to keep the smile off your face, you nodded quickly and waited for him to rise to his feet before launching yourself into his arms and hugging him tightly.

“Of course I will, Peter!” you whispered excitedly, your face pressing into his neck. Your eyes were prickling slightly with tears from the sheer joy as you felt him press kisses to the top of your head. You pulled back just enough to gently raise your hands to his cheeks and look him in the eyes. “I would love to go to prom with you.” His hand rose to rest against the nape of your neck, gently twirling your hair and drawing circles on your skin. He leaned in and sweetly pressed his lips to yours. When you pulled apart a few moments later, he leaned back slightly, arms wrapping around your waist.

“Did you get all of this, Karen?”

“Video saved.” Realizing he had recorded your moment, you jokingly hit his shoulder and shot him an incredulous look. “Sorry, but MJ and Betty would kill me if they didn’t get to see this.” At the mention of their names, your jaw dropped.

“Wait a minute, they were in on this?”

“And Ned. Once R2D2 got too big to hide easily, I asked for his help to assemble it and begged them to keep you busy.” The cheeky tone in his voice made you scrunch your nose and you tried to process his words, but shook your head.

“Too big to...how long have you been planning this?” Pulling the rose out from behind you, he pulled you in closer and offered it to you.

“Since that day in London. When we survived the whole Beck thing and kissed on the bridge, I promised you that I would ask you to prom and it would be out of this world.”

“But you never promised me anything. Up until your call earlier, I thought you were upset with me and I didn’t think you were going to ask.”

“It was still a promise to you, whether you knew it or not,” he whispered. You took the rose from him and smiled shyly, carefully dipping your nose into the petals to smell the flower.

“That was an awful lot of work for a promposal,” you teased quietly, your eyes gazing up at him through your eyelashes.

“You’re worth it.” Pressing a quick kiss to your lips one more time, he pulled you into a hug. Your heart swelled as you nuzzled into him, only for your happy thoughts to be interrupted by Karen.

“Peter, what should I do with the video?”

“Save it and send it to MJ, Betty, Ned, and May.”

“Okay. Video sent.”

“Speaking of May, where is she?” you asked, not bothering to pull away from the embrace.

“She went to grab some carryout from that Thai place you love. She should be back-” Suddenly, you heard the front door open and the lights turned on in the living room, glowing down the hall.

“I’m so happy she said yes!” May squealed as you heard her struggling with the bags of food.

“Right about now,” Peter chuckled. He pulled away and went to walk around you, but a thought occurred to you and you reached for his arm.

“Hey Pete?” He looked back at you. “Where’s all your furniture? The room’s empty.” He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.

“It’s a funny story actually. Scott helped me shrink it all for the promposal, so everything’s in a basket in my closet. Don’t worry though; I have until midnight before everything grows back to normal size.” Shaking your head in disbelief, you simply slid your hand into his and followed him into the living room.

Dinner with the Parkers that night was great. May made a few embarrassing comments and flustered both of you, but it was just her way of showing her excitement. As you would find out the next day when the video played on a loop during Betty’s school news coverage, your friends loved to show their support through embarrassment too. Did you still love them though? Of course. You had so many people who loved you and you were grateful for them, even when they were at their weirdest. As Peter dorkily pointed out, you were Wookie to have them.

[judgmentofcorruption]

Episode 10–The Court Ends; Scene 6

Judgment of Corruption, pages 295-303

The ones targeted most in the revolts were wealthy people who had been favored by Gallerian’s judgments.

The USE united government immediately tried to suppress the rioting populace inside Levianta by mobilizing their World Police forces.

But the chaos continued unabated, emboldened by the influence of the news, and the next day the government decided to send in the military.

There were rumors that it was Asmodean guerillas stirring up the people beneath all the revolts. And that these guerillas were linked to the Tasan party.

As far as I know, such rumors were nothing less than the truth. After all was said and done, the one rampaging as the leader of the militia that stood at the heart of the uprising was Gammon Octo.

The fact that the first casualty of the revolt was former Levin University professor Jason Jack supported this. Gammon’s older brother Nyoze had been sentenced under false chargers to take this man’s place, after all. It’s only natural that he would be the first target for violence.

Around the outbreak of the violence, Bindi Freezis—who had been staying in Alicegrad—immediately made plans to flee to another nation, but before he could all the main land and air routes were blockaded by the militia, and he was forced to remain.

In a bind, the person he sought for help was—

.

“I’d like to borrow your ‘mail carrier’,” Bindi declared to Gallerian on his visit to the Dark Star Bureau.

“You mean Postman?”

“Yes, that one. I know of his merits. A pro who can safely deliver anything that they’re entrusted with—even if that’s a person.”

“Just as I might expect from someone of the Freezis Conglomerate—your information is sound.”

“Yes, I remembered my older brother talking once about how he was saved by Postman in the past. Is he still with you?”

“Yes…But not here at the building. If you wish to use Postman I’ll have to call first,” Gallerian said, picking up the receiver of the phone on his desk.

He dialed the number and made a call to someone.

“Hello—Yeah, it’s me. It’s about what we were discussing earlier…Yes, exactly. He’s in the director’s room right now. So, please have Postman sent over here…Yes, yes, I’ll leave it to you. Bye.”

After that brief conversation, he hung up.

“—They should arrive in about four hours.”

Bindi sounded awed. “You’re awfully well prepared. Did you know things would turn out like this beforehand?”

“Well, something like that. …But the military has already started mobilizing. I’d think there’s little need to risk danger to flee the country at this stage.”

“I have to make absolutely sure of things. If I were to get caught up in the revolts and lose my life, that would be a severe loss to both the USE unified government and to the Freezis Conglomerate. –Naturally, to you as well.”

“You took good care of me when Tasan tried to indict me. Please think of my loaning you Postman as being repaying you for that.”

Gallerian inclined his head.

“Ho ho ho, you needn’t be so self-effacing, Gallerian. I’d like for our mutually beneficial relationship to continue to flourish hereafter, after all—Well then, I will wait here until Postman arrives.”

Bindi sat down on a nearby sofa.

.

After four hours, Postman arrived before the two of them right on time.

Gallerian said to Postman, “Well then, as we planned—you know where you’re to go?”

Postman nodded.

“You are to take Sir Bindi safely to his destination. –Please go along, Minister. It looks like Postman came here by car today.”

Postman’s favored, deep red gasoline powered automobile was visible outside the window.

“Won’t it stand out with that color?”

“It’s alright. Everyone will simply thing it’s a mail carrier’s vehicle.”

Postman gestured for Bindi to follow them outside.

“I suppose I’ll get going now…Thank you, Gallerian. You take extra care you don’t get caught up in the uprising yourself.”

“Don’t worry. I have no plans to leave the bureau until they’re over with, and we have excellent security here.”

“PN, right? They’re not proper soldiers, but they should be alright against simple militia.”

“Well then—Farewell, Mister Bindi.”

Gallerian cheerfully waved him off.

.

The red vehicle that Postman drove splendidly slipped through the militia’s besiegement, and safely snuck out of Alicegrad.

“Stupendous! You live up to your name of ‘Postman’. Exactly as skilled as I heard. I’ll trust you to handle matters from here.”

“…”

After that, the car pushed through a snowy field.

“My, how odd that there’s so much snow left around here despite it being summer.”

“…”

“By the by, where is this car headed? I was wanting to get to Marlon—”

“…”

“Ah…that’s right, you don’t talk. I think my brother said something about that. Oh well. As long as you deliver me safely I have no complaints.”

“…”

Eventually the vehicle came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the field.

“Hm, what’s wrong? Did the car break down?”

“…”

Postman got down from the car and gestured for Bindi to do the same.

“Why in the world would we get off at a place like—What’s this metal panel? Should I touch this?”

Postman pointed, and Bindi obediently put his hand on the metal panel that had been stuck into the snowy field.

“…Wha!? Everything’s just turned to nighttime! But it was bright out just a second ago…No, it isn’t just that. There’s a field of stars all over the ground, too! What a bizarre—”

Bindi was so surprised by the scenery that had been brought about by “Lunaca Labora”’s mechanism that he didn’t notice that there were people approaching him from behind.

“Hey there, boss.”

Bindi whirled around, startled at the throaty voice.

“You’re—Gusuma Yarera!?”

“It’s been decades since we were able to meet face to face like this, Bindi. Ha ha ha.”

Gusuma laughed loudly alongside the five subordinates he had brought with him.

“Why!? Why are you in this—What’s the meaning of this, Postman!?”

Postman ignored Bindi’s cry and gestured for Gusuma to sign some documents.

“—There, I signed it with my full name of ‘Great Super Marvelous’. Is that enough? …Alright then, thank you for your service.”

Taking back the signed documents, Postman then passed through a hole in the space and vanished somewhere.

Gusuma once more turned to Bindi.

“The person who commissioned this delivery—was me. I dispatched Postman to bring you here. …You, who killed my little sister and my niece.”

Gusuma took a shotgun from one of his underlings and pointed the muzzle directly at Bindi’s brow.

“Eek!”

“I’ve gotta thank Gallerian. He made all the arrangements for you to be brought over like this, after all.”

“Th…that bastard! He’s betrayed me, after all I’ve done for him!?”

“Yep. He betrayed you…Or rather, I suppose it’s a little different.” Gusuma tilted his head, still holding the gun steady. “He did have a pretty long acquaintanceship with you…So this is how I’ve come to think of it. –Gallerian had no intention of ever letting you off from the start.”

“Huh?”

“The poor man’s gotten a bit touched. He’s convinced a doll is his daughter, and this is what he said to me. ‘Michelle was paralyzed in the incident with the ship. I need money to return her to normal’. I got fed up with him, and severed ties. So then he goes and joins up with you of all people, and gives you an innocence verdict in trial. But…there was no way he was going to let slip the man who had made Michelle suffer, given he loved that girl more than anyone.”

“What are you saying? Just put the gun down already!”

“If I’d been him—Just out of the blue I started considering that. What I would do to the one responsible, if I’d lost my wife and daughter…It wouldn’t be enough just to kill him. I would use him for all that he’s worth, and then cast him to the depths of despair just as he was getting cocky…I’m positive that’s what Gallerian was thinking, don’t you agree? And that’s why he gets in touch with me recently. Tells me I’m free to use this place, Postman, and Jorm as I see fit.”

“Jorm?”

“Don’t you know about him? The man who killed the members of ‘Zeus’ and escaped from prison���my adopted younger brother.”

There was the sound of something knocking on the other side of the field of stars.

Along with a man’s wheedling voice.

“—Big bro, you done yeeet? I’m tired of waitiiiing. I’m almost out of meds, and I’m itching to get going.”

“Oh, our conversation’s just about over, Jorm.” After replying to the voice, Gusuma lowered the gun. “I thought about killing you myself, but—everyone has their own domain. I have never once killed someone with my own hands. Though it’s easy to think otherwise from my appearance. Making the Yarera Zusco Conglomerate into a world-spanning corporation is the domain that was granted to me, and that is my objective. For that reason I can’t sully my hands with someone’s blood.”

Bindi collapsed on the spot, losing his strength. “Th-thank you—”

“That’s why I’m going to leave it to Jorm.”

The moment that Gusuma said that, Bindi vanished.

Eventually, his voice became audible from somewhere.

“Wh-what is this!? Where did you all go? –Wh-who are you!?”

And Gusuma replied to that.

Facing the starry sky.

“Let me introduce you two, boss. That’s my younger brother, Jorm. The serial killer who can chop people up empty-handed. He’s so dangerous even I can’t be in the same room with him.”

“Y-you put someone like that in here with me—Help! Let me out of here!”

Once more, there was the sound of something knocking.

“I don’t wanna say it, but Jorm’s even more far gone than Gallerian. He’s getting on in years and he still can’t stop killing. Jorm’s domain, his objective of killing people, has become everything to him. It’s sad, but since that’s the case—at the very least, all I can do as his big brother is to help him.”

“Stop clowning around! You’re crazy too—O-ow!”

Bindi screamed.

“Maybe so…That’s the world we live in. Maybe there isn’t anyone left who’s sane anymore.”

“My arm! My arm! Please let me out! I’m begging you!”

“No. Well, be sure to have fun, little brother.”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!”

Was that Bindi screaming?

Or was that Jorm’s war cry?

“…Come on, let’s get back to headquarters.”

Gusuma and his subordinates slipped out the hole in space and returned to the outside world.

<<prev------directory------next>>

[artificialqueens]

Heatstroke (Shillam) - Ortega

a/n: it’s ya boi, back from holiday with a very Summery bit of nonsense for u all! love to purecamp for just screaming beta-ing this. hope u all like it and if u do, pls hop into my ask box or pop an ask here to show me some love xo

summary:

“Or…how about we swap shifts? I take yours now, you cover my beach shift later on. Gives you more time to crack on with the nonentities of reality TV.”

Chad looked initially excited then suddenly narrowed her eyes, following Sharon’s quick gaze over to the three girls on the sunbeds, where the pink-haired one in her line of vision was now arguing with the sunbed-reservers. As Sharon snapped her gaze back to Chad, the other girl was now giving her eyes a colossal roll.

“Oh, Sharon, could this be any more of a cliche?”

(4kish oneshot. Sharon’s a lifeguard. Willam’s a dumbass. lesbian au bc it’s me xo)

***

The bright sting of sunlight beamed down onto Sharon’s skin as she frowned, squirted out another huge dollop of factor 50 into the palm of her hand, and rubbed gently at her shoulders. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to the heat over here and she cursed as she watched the other lifeguards wander around the poolside, all gorgeous and tanned and straight out of an ITV2 reality show. Sharon was pale and fair, a combination that didn’t mix well with Ibiza in the height of July. She got blisters on her shoulders the first week she came- she’d never been abroad before and thought that one thick layer of suncream in the morning would be enough to last the whole day. Seven days, various baggy t shirts and three full bottles of aloe vera lotion later, she had learned her lesson.

As she cast her gaze over the resort where a healthy mix of sixth form holidayers, wannabe instagram influencers, and 40 year old men with skin the same tone as a gammon partied or swam or sunbathed away, across the way she caught the eye of a girl on the sunbeds who had already been looking at her. She was lying on her tummy and reading a magazine which was resting on the stone tiles below the sunbed. Her gaze had flicked back down to the glossy pages, pink hair falling over her face as she attempted to disguise the fact she’d been looking at Sharon just moments ago. Or maybe Sharon was going crazy, which was probably the most likely option. It had been a couple of months since her ex had broken up with her (okay, five - she was counting) and since Phi Phi, she hadn’t received the attention of any girls and she was starting to go mildly insane. That was part of the reason why she’d even applied for the job at Ocean Beach in the first place- the other was that she desperately needed some sun, and when she got offered the job there she accepted in a heartbeat. A whole season away from home would be weird, but really what was she leaving behind? Her one bed flat and a bunch of potted plants she could barely keep alive?

Sharon felt something burning on her again, and this time it wasn’t the sun. She slowly, cautiously, turned her head around to the spot she knew the girl was lying down at and, sure enough, she was looking at her again. Only this time she hadn’t turned away and was allowing Sharon to take in her blue eyes, surrounded with last night’s glitter, mascara and eyeliner. On anyone else it would look horrific, but this girl seemed to suit it as if she’d woken up that day and decided to put her makeup on like an Escher painting. She’d evidently put on fresh gloss and her lips were a shining metallic blue, rendering Sharon unable to see what colour they were actually meant to be. She didn’t really mind. The girl’s bikini was like holographic dental floss- the bottoms were practically disappearing between her cheeks and the singular strap of the top had been unclipped and was draped on either side of the girl’s body allowing her to avoid a tan line. Sharon was suddenly glad of the mirrored aviators she was wearing which were allowing her to look at the girl without her knowing- which sounded creepy in Sharon’s head, but she justified it by knowing she hadn’t been the one that started it. Just then, the girl gave her an exaggerated wink, making Sharon thankful for her sunburnt cheeks as she knew she was flushing the same shade as the neon pink bikini that an Only Way Is Essex star was wearing two sun loungers along from her.

“Willam!” there came a loud shout that cut through the noise of two different sets of speakers, as the girl’s head snapped to the side and glared at two other blonde girls (one tall, one smaller) that had appeared beside her. The tall one was speaking. “Girl! We’ve been shouting across to you for like five minutes! What do you want from the bar?"

As the girl dragged her eyes off Sharon she barely had time to overthink about whether she’d seemed reluctant to stop staring or not, as she had to blow her whistle at a group of eight boys on holiday together all seemingly trying to drown each other.

***

Sharon boredly swung her whistle around in her hand, the small metal noise box from hell constantly threatening to fly off its lanyard. She’d been scanning the side of the pool all of yesterday and all morning but she still hadn’t seen a flash of pink hair, and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t disappoint her. She didn’t know why this one girl- Willam, Sharon reminded herself- had grabbed her attention so forcefully with just a wink worthy of a Carry-On film and a holographic bikini. Ocean Beach was frequented by beautiful girls with glossy hair, perfect blinding veneers and tans worthy of Greek goddesses, and for the first week she’d lifeguarded there Sharon had felt like a bitch in heat. But Willam was so different to them. She was almost special because she didn’t conform to the classic Ibiza-Barbie beauty standard with her pink hair and messy makeup. Sharon frowned to herself and shook her head before taking a swig from her water bottle. What the fuck was she doing getting so hung up on a random girl she literally hadn’t spoken to yet and who she only knew the name of by sheer dumb luck?

She was suddenly distracted by someone leaning against the lookout, and was ready to blow her whistle into their face when she realised it was only Chad. She’d completely forgotten that her shift was almost over, and it hit her with a pang of disappointment that she hadn’t seen Willam yet. Chad swept her dark fringe out of her eyes and smiled up at her.

"Guess who slept with Rykard Jenkins last night?” she bragged, her poised posture somehow making the whole interaction seem classy. “I’m not naming names but it was definitely me.”

“Oh my God. Is he a minor royal?” Sharon gasped extravagantly, placing a hand to her chest and laughing as Chad rolled her eyes.

“You know he was on Love Island, Sharon,” she glared at her, unimpressed. Sharon gave a chuckle.

“No, you’re right. I did know that. Does he have a thing for girls whose first and last names usually belong to men? Chad, I don’t know how to tell you this, baby,” Sharon stage-whispered down to her friend. “I think he’s gay.”

Chad managed to hold her unimpressed look for all of a second before spluttering out a laugh. “God, you’re the worst. Remind me why I’m friends with you?”

“Because I’m the only bitch in this place that wouldn’t sell your soul to Satan for a bottle of Moet.”

Chad laughed and made to climb up the ladder. “Let me on my goddamn shift, bitch, before I tip this thing over."

Suddenly, something caught Sharon’s eye. Three girls- two blonde, one pink- strutting up to three sunbeds which already had towels on them, flinging them away and replacing them with their own before kicking their wedges off and lying down. Sharon felt excitement catch in her throat.

"Or…how about we swap shifts? I take yours now, you cover my beach shift later on. Gives you more time to crack on with the nonentities of reality TV.”

Chad looked initially excited then suddenly narrowed her eyes, following Sharon’s quick gaze over to the three girls on the sunbeds, where the pink-haired one in her line of vision was now arguing with the sunbed-reservers. As Sharon snapped her gaze back to Chad, the other girl was now giving her eyes a colossal roll.

“Oh, Sharon, could this be any more of a cliche?”

“Shut up! I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Sharon frowned, mentally kicking herself that her second statement should probably have come before her first. Chad raised an eyebrow to indicate she’d read Sharon’s mind. “Look, it’s nothing, okay, it’s just…she’s cute, and I want to get to know her."

Chad gave a laugh and climbed down off the first rung. "Well as long as nobody dies because you’re too busy staring at a cute girl. Which one is she, the legs?”

“No. Pink hair,” Sharon risked a look back over to find that chief-sunbed-reserver-bitch was practically at Willam’s throat. Sharon gave a long blast of her whistle which made the sunbed-reserver drop her towel. “Hey! No reserving! You know that shit!"

As the sunbed-reservers slunk off, Sharon didn’t miss the beaming smile of thanks that Willam was sending her way. She gave a small, self-conscious salute and turned back to Chad, who was cringing.

"A salute? Girl. You’re not fucking Little Mix.”

“Piss off and let me make heart eyes in peace.”

So Chad did, and Sharon tried not to focus too much on Willam because as Chad had mentioned, there were many people here that were already more than a few drinks down despite it being 11 in the morning, so Sharon had to watch that they didn’t stray too close to the pool’s edge. As her gaze drifted back to the three sun-loungers, she saw that one of them was empty. Willam wasn’t there any more, but all her stuff was. As Sharon felt her heart sink with confusion, she was distracted by a deafening cry of “CANNONBAAAAALL!” which was immediately followed by a crashing splash in the water, which soaked many unimpressed Instagram influencers who were trying to perfect their poses on unicorn-shaped inflatable rings. Frowning, Sharon blew her whistle again before she realised who had launched themself into the water- a slick of wet, pink hair floated back to the surface, Willam’s grin plastered over her face, clearly happy that she’d caused the maximum amount of destruction possible. Nonetheless, Sharon had blown her whistle and she had to commit to it.

“No bombing!” she yelled across to her, Willam only glaring briefly at her and shooting her a smile.

“Calm down, princess, I ain’t Al-Quaeda!"

Sharon tried to stop the quirk that her lips gave. Princess. She definitely didn’t like that as much as her body was telling her that she did.

The rest of the morning seemed to pass way too quickly. Sharon was trying to do her job to the best of her ability but she kept getting distracted and her gaze kept being pulled over to the set of three sunbeds to update herself on what Willam was doing. Namely chatting to her friends and sunbathing. Sharon felt like an idiot, willing her to come and walk past her lookout so she could just happen to strike up a conversation with her. Really, though, what the fuck would she say? Hey, I’ve been weirdly lowkey (highkey) checking you out for the past three days and I already know your name even though we’ve barely exchanged words. Wanna go out?

It turned out she didn’t have to worry as, from the way Willam began to act, it was almost as if she wanted Sharon’s attention. It began when she teetered back from the bar, mojito in hand. She slipped her heels off and made her way into the pool, where she sat her drink at the side and dipped her body into the water. As much as Sharon was taken in by the sight of the neon green faux-snakeskin swimsuit she was wearing and how well it fitted her (definitely not how well it clung to her body), Sharon had to blow her whistle again. Her heart gave a thump when Willam looked over her shoulder at her, straw between her teeth and her damp hair giving a flick.

"No drinks,” Sharon shouted over, unable to stop herself from giving a small smile as Willam rolled her eyes and pouted.

“Who the hell are you, Casper the Nazi ghost?” she yelled back, turning and gesturing to her smaller blonde friend to collect her glass. The girl leant down to Willam and whispered something quietly, the other girl’s face lighting up as if she’d just discovered Uranium. There was the smallest, tiniest glance to Sharon, so small that Sharon wasn’t sure if it had even been directed at her or not.

She soon had her answer.

Around twenty minutes later, and mid-daydream, Sharon was distracted by Willam again. She had floated into her line of vision on a donut-patterned rubber ring, and Sharon was about to admire how gorgeous and tanned she looked when she spotted what Willam had in her hand. Willam seemed to sense Sharon’s eyes on her and she smiled, lifted an enormous, lettuce-and-ketchup filled burger to her mouth and took a huge bite.

The whistle was at Sharon’s lips in around a second.

“Are you serious?!” she found herself yelling over, Willam simply smiling and batting her eyes at her.

“You want some? It’s really good,” she said placidly, Sharon rolling her eyes at her so hard they threatened to roll out their sockets.

“Get out the damn pool,” she frowned, narrowing her eyes at Willam before realising she wouldn’t be able to see them through her sunglasses. Nevertheless, Willam shrugged and pushed herself towards the steps where she evacuated her rubber ring without spilling a single bit of the burger.

Five minutes later, Sharon’s gaze was pulled from a group of lads on their stag do who looked increasingly close to falling into the water by a huge shout.

“HEY ALASKA, WATCH HOW FAST I CAN RUN!"

Before Sharon knew what was happening, there was a blur of pink hair and neon green, as Willam made a pretty successful attempt to imitate Usain Bolt’s first time in six-inch heels. Sharon scrambled for her whistle as Willam came dangerously close to knocking someone who she might have recognised from Ex on the Beach into the pool.

Slightly less attracted to her and now far more annoyed by her, Sharon beckoned the girl over. Willam, for her part, looked more proud than ashamed and she made her way around the cavernous pool over to where Sharon sat perched on the lookout. As soon as Willam reached her and beamed up at her with her perfect teeth however, Sharon’s annoyance faltered. What the fuck was she going to say to her?

"Hey, lifeguard,” Willam quipped flirtatiously, Sharon trying to ignore the tone she’d taken with her and going straight to bollocking mode.

“Right, what the fuck is your problem? You’ve been fighting with other guests, chucking yourself into the pool like a sea lion, taken your drink into the pool, taken a fucking burger into the pool, and now you want to act like Mo fucking Farah? You almost knocked Jess Impiazzi into the water, are you trying to end up in the papers?”

Willam fiddled with the buckle on her swimsuit’s belt, looking faux-coyly up at Sharon from under her lashes. “Just page 3 of ‘em.”

Sharon nearly choked. “Well then stop acting like a tit. You’re at Ocean Beach, not the fucking local lido.”

“Well you appear to be a Drumsticks Squashie masquerading as a human being and no-one’s pulled you up on that,” Willam bit back with a cheeky smile. She had a dimple near her chin when she smiled. Sharon tried to ignore that and her hurt pride as she self-consciously touched the sleeves of her regulation polo shirt.

“One more strike and you’re out,” Sharon attempted a withering putdown but her voice seemed to betray the regret she felt in her voice. She didn’t want to ban Willam- she really, desperately didn’t- but rules were rules, and her manager would come down even harder on her if she continued to let this clownery take place a moment longer. Willam simply gave her a single nod and a flirtatious smile.

“Okay, lifeguard,” she deadpanned, before flicking her hair (which had now gone wavy) over her shoulder and walking off. Sharon sighed. She wished Willam didn’t rile her as much as she did. She wished she was less annoying. She wished her legs didn’t look so good in her wedges as she walked away- fuck, no.

Sharon tried to completely clear Willam from her mind. She only had around ten minutes until her shift was up, she could hold on til then. That was what she thought until she scanned her eyes over the pool and saw a mess of pink hair face-down in the water, her body starfished and floating on top. Willam’s two blonde friends seemed to have noticed Sharon’s initial panicked reaction and had begun shouting.

“Oh my God, Courtney, Willam’s drowning!”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Alaska, she is! If only there was a…blonde, skinny…kinda pale…lifeguard to come and save her!” the smaller blonde shouted. Sharon briefly wondered how many calories you could burn via eye-rolling. She’d surely lost a pound today through that alone.

Sharon blew her whistle, walked down from the lookout post and lowered herself into the pool where she swam over to Willam, levered her skinny arms around her neck and swam with her over to the poolside. Positioning her on the steps so she was face-up, Willam gave a dramatic gasp for air and fixed her gaze on Sharon.

“Oh my God! That was so fucking scary…I just passed out, I don’t know what happened…”

Sharon tried to ignore the fact that Willam had consciously kept her arms wrapped around her neck. “Very good, Meryl Streep. Get your shit. You’re barred.”

“What?!” Willam cried, her expression contorting into one of outrage and regret stabbing at Sharon’s heart.

“I told you, didn’t I? One more strike. Piss off,” she scolded in as strict a voice she could muster. Willam scrambled on the ground, moved to snatch her towel up from her lounger, and then squared up to her. She was standing close. Too close, because Sharon’s head was being filled with all sorts of scenarios and fuck, things would be made so much easier if the girl took just one step back.

(Of course, Sharon herself could have taken a step back. But where would the fun have been in that?)

Willam’s eyes narrowed, but there was still a playful spark in them that set Sharon’s nerves alight. “You’re lucky you’re cute…” she began, then flicked her eyes down to the nametag on her shirt. “…Sharon.”

With that, Willam flounced off with her friends quickly following her, and the death stares they were giving Sharon were offset by the smell of Willam’s perfume which managed to overpower the chlorine coming from the ends of her hair.

***

No matter how bored she was of drunken holidaymakers, overhearing the sunburnt, bigoted expats talking about Brexit, or the mosquitos, Sharon would never get bored of the sunsets here. Mostly they were the standard beautiful orange with a hint of yellow or red or both, but sometimes whoever controlled the skies threw something truly special up there. Tonight the sky was almost entirely pink, different hues of dark red-pink high in the sky fading into cherry blossom, then baby pink and then a bright white strip where the sky met the sea. The calm surface of the water meant that the whole beautiful scene was reflected against the surface, and a mirror image of the sky shone back at Sharon as she sat against a cushioned sun lounger that was usually reserved for paying guests. She sat and drank it all in whilst thinking about home, and Phi Phi, and what she could have done differently. She didn’t miss her- she just missed having someone to love. Sharon sometimes felt she had too much love and it always threatened to pour out of her, to burst at her seams.

“You just give me the ick, Sharon, you’re too much for me!”

The words still stung, no matter how much Sharon was over it.

Suddenly there was a small thump beside her on the sun lounger and Sharon had to stop her heart rising like one of the parasailers they took out to sea during the day. As she turned, it was as if someone was smiling down on her because there sat Willam, burying her own feet in the sand and swaying a little where she sat.  It had been a day or two since Sharon had seen her last and in that time she’d managed to entirely fill her head, regret at having barred the girl completely consuming her. Sharon still hadn’t stopped looking at her, deigning her much more beautiful than the sunset in front of her. She had chunks of glitter in her hair as well as covering her arms, collarbones and chest.

“Hey,” she began, wondering if Willam really had noticed her as she seemed completely intent on entombing her ankles. Willam’s head suddenly gave a lurch to the side and she smiled up at her goofily, making Sharon’s stomach give a dip.

“Oh hey. It’s the strawberry mini milk,” she slightly slurred out, making Sharon laugh despite the jibe.

“Ouch.”

“That’s a joke, by the way. You’re not that sunburned,” Willam followed it up, her eyes seeming to plead with Sharon to never stop looking into them. “You’re more like a…vanilla mini milk.”

“What is this obsession with mini milks?” Sharon chuckled, Willam giving an elongated shrug.

“They’re rich in calcium.”

Sharon wondered if this girl was ever going to stop making her laugh. As she quieted down, she noticed Willam had gone quiet too and she was back burying her feet. “You’ll get sand under your nails.”

“Meh.”

“How was the glitter party, then?”

“Tried to chat someone up from the last series of Love Island.”

“Oh. Very nice,” Sharon raised her eyebrows, wondering why everyone seemed to be obsessed with these manufactured, airbrushed ideas of what an attractive human should look like. To her, none of them had a patch on Willam.

“No, bitch, it wasn’t nice! Because I’m still alone, aren’t I, instead of getting pounded into the mattress,” she mumbled sadly, Sharon’s heart going out to her for some reason. With a stab to her heart, she realised she hadn’t counted on Willam not liking girls.

“Well, you’re not technically alone. Because I’m with you,” Sharon kept her flirting subtle, part of her not wanting to be deterred. She was rewarded by Willam smiling at her shyly. It seemed out of character.

“Well, Sharon the lifeguard. Since I’m not-alone-with-you. Tell me things,” Willam leant forward onto her elbows and her head came just that little bit close to resting on Sharon’s lap. Her breath hitched in her throat.

“JLS have had the most number ones out of any other UK X Factor winner.”

“What?”

“You told me to tell you things. That’s a thing,” Sharon shrugged lightly, the other girl bursting into a laugh that made her sound like a bike horn.

“No, you idiot! I meant about you! I want the first draft of the autobiography,” she giggled, and Sharon’s heart sprang to life.

“Well. There’s not much to tell really. Was a lifeguard at home before I came out here, just working at the local pool. Can’t really tell what’s easier to be honest. Suppose dealing with drunk adults is a little bit like dealing with children,” she reeled off, suddenly self-conscious about how boring her life sounded. Willam didn’t seem deterred.

“How old are you?"

Sharon was going to make a quip about how it was rude to ask a lady’s age, but thought she might have been taking it too far there. "Twenty-seven. Probably too old to be working at Ocean Beach, but-”

“Oh my God, me too!” Willam cried, drunk and happy. As she rolled onto her back she said something that sounded a bit like “No age gap, then.” but Sharon was sure her mind must have been playing tricks on her.

“What’s your story?” Sharon asked, fighting the urge to rest her arm against Willam’s waist.

“ ’M a receptionist for some company in the Shard. AK…C…VIP or something like that,” she waved a hand dismissively, and Sharon laughed.

“What do they do?”

“It’s a payments ecosystem,” Willam said dryly, Sharon holding in her laugh for about a second before it came bursting out of her.

“You definitely made that up.”

“Bitch, they definitely made it up! Nobody knows what the hell it means,” Willam cried out defensively, before shifting uncomfortably. “No one knows what it means, but it’s provocative. This isn’t comfy. Hang on.”

Before Sharon knew it, Willam’s head was in her lap and her heart was fluttering dangerously quickly.

“So how come you’re out here?” Sharon asked, taking her mind off her impending heart attack. She felt Willam shrug.

“Same reason everyone’s out here. Holiday. Escaping my boring fuck of a life.”

Sharon gave a laugh. “I think most people are out here to get famous.”

“Well in that case, I ain’t most people.”

There was a pause before Willam spoke again, in which Sharon, against her better judgement, brought her hand up to tangle in Willam’s hair. She could have imagined it, but she thought she heard Willam give a little purr of happiness. Willam broke the silence all too quickly.

“The sky looks like the lesbian flag.”

Sharon looked up at the rapidly receding sun and took it all in. “I guess it does.”

“Representation,” Willam punched her fist in the air weakly. Sharon’s heart gave a jolt as if she’d just been pushed down a water slide.

“As in?” Sharon heard herself asking, willing her voice not to sound too hopeful. She fully expected an answer that was akin to Oh I love the lesbians! Pink is pretty!

“As in, I’m getting the representation I deserve?” Willam gestured as if it was obvious. Sharon didn’t dare believe what she was implying.

“Oh, you’re a lesbian?” she asked casually. Except it didn’t come out as casual as she’d hoped.

Willam turned over so her head was peering up at Sharon, unimpressed. “Oh don’t tell me you’re some homophobic bitch, because I had you pegged as a butch top and I’ve never been wrong before in my life.”

Sharon’s mind immediately burst into the Hallelujah chorus.

“No! No, no, no. I mean I’m not homophobic. And I’m also gay,” she shrugged, trying to ignore the angels with trumpets that were blasting in her ears. She gave a snort as she realised what Willam had said. “Butch?”

“Oh yeah, girl. Butch as fuck. Embrace it.”

There was a quiet pause in which Sharon didn’t stop playing with Willam’s hair and Willam began drawing against Sharon’s skin with her fingers. Willam was the one to break it.

“What 'bout you, bitch? How come you’re out here? You gonna be on Baywatch?” Willam spoke too-loudly, interrupting the moment.

Sharon gave a small sigh. “I broke up with my girlfriend. Well, no, she broke up with me. Moved out of her flat. Got one of my own. The job came up and I had nothing to lose so I just went for it.”

“Damn. She’s a fuckin’ idiot. What was her name?"

"Phi Phi,” Sharon said, the words sounding all wrong in her mouth. She was glad when they were out of there.

“She sounds like a bitch,” Willam shifted so that she was comfortable and her fingers could continue to make patterns against Sharon’s legs. Sharon should have moved further away. She didn’t.

Sharon twirled a lock of pink around her fingers, eager to change the subject. “So wait, who was the Love Islander that-”

“Megan from season four. She’s by far the hottest girl to ever grace the show and she’s bi so I thought I was in with a shot,” Willam pouted up at Sharon. “Turns out she likes brunettes. You look a lot like her actually.”

Sharon gave a laugh that hoped disguised the fact that her pulse was racing. She barely knew the girl, but simultaneously she felt as if they were old acquaintances. They had some sort of inexplicable connection, which sounded crazy but Sharon felt it was true. “Comparing me to the most attractive girl ever on Love Island. High praise.”

“No, you’re the most attractive girl to exist ever,” Willam slurred out, Sharon’s pulse now surely breaking every speed limit to exist.

“You barely know me, Willam,” she laughed softly, trying not to let the regret tinge her voice too much. Willam narrowed her eyes at her as she stared up.

“How d'you know my name, bitch?”

Sharon froze. She tried to turn it on Willam. “Well how do you know mine?”

“It was on your fuckin’ nametag,” Willam laughed, curiosity still in her eyes. Sharon covered her face as she realised she would have to reveal what a massive fucking stalker she was.

“I heard one of your friends shouting on you the other day. Committed it to memory. That makes me sound weird, and it is fucking weird, but I just-"

Sharon was cut off as Willam pushed herself off Sharon’s lap and moved to sit close beside her. Their bodies were touching and some of the glitter from Willam’s leg transferred onto Sharon’s, a little part of Willam that was stuck to her. Willam tucked her hair behind her ears and looked towards the sand in an uncharacteristically demure gesture.

"You know I’m coming on to you, right? I don’t mind spelling it out if you can’t tell,” she said, sounding more sober now than she had throughout the entire conversation. Sharon wasn’t sure what to do next. She didn’t really think she would get this far, happy with admiring Willam from a distance. Now this seemed all so real and possible and not just images Sharon had conjured up in her head before she went to sleep.

“You’re drunk as fuck.”

“So were my parents when they conceived me and bitch, here I am,” Willam shrugged, nudging her shoulder against Sharon’s own. Sharon let out a laugh.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to convey.”

“I’m saying fuck my blood alcohol ratio and kiss me, goddamnit,” Willam muttered.

Without too much more encouragement, Sharon leaned in and did exactly as she was told. Willam’s lips were soft against hers and the way she took control made Sharon think perhaps she wasn’t as drunk as she was painting herself out to be. The kiss was slow and lazy, as if they had all the time in the world, and for a moment Sharon was convinced time really had frozen around them as they could have been kissing for seconds, minutes or hours. All she knew was that she never wanted to stop.

Willam rested a hand on Sharon’s thigh as she pulled away, smiling gently. Sharon hadn’t seen Willam look shy often. This was definitely a first.

“How much have you actually had to drink?” Sharon asked, remembering her earlier thought.

Willam let out a splutter, suddenly blushing. “One malibu and coke and four glasses of water.”

“Bitch!” Sharon exclaimed, Willam descending into chaos-inducing laughter beside her.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t be into me! Easier to pass off a failed seduction attempt when you’re drunk. I’m a good actress, what can I say,” Willam laughed, punctuating her final sentence with a shrug.

Sharon was suddenly filled with a swell of affection. She put an arm around Willam as the other girl rested her head on her shoulder.

“When do you fly home?"

"Got another week here,” Willam muttered, sounding suddenly tired.

“I want to get to know you,” Sharon said quietly, as if she was afraid that words would ruin everything. The sun was almost completely set now, the pink sky being overcome with black.

“I want you to rail me on my balcony,” Willam shrugged, and Sharon could tell she was only half-joking.

“There’s time for both those things,” Sharon kissed Willam on the top of her head, afraid to move her.

“Mm,” Willam nodded, her voice coated in sleep. Sharon didn’t know what time it was. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to. She enjoyed existing in this little time-exempt bubble with Willam, where flights home didn’t exist and real life was a distant memory.

“We should get you back to your room, baby.”

“Mmh, no. Wanna stay out here with you.”

So they both stayed on the sun lounger, Willam soon falling asleep and Sharon staying alertly awake until the black sky and platinum stars turned into blue and white with a yellow orb, not wanting to waste a single second in the company of the pink-haired girl asleep with her head on her lap and hoping that the upcoming week would drag slower than any she’d ever known.

[renee-writer]

From a Knight to a Laird Chapter 4

Claire Jamie Raymond Tianna Paul

Jamie

"Bairns? Ye are trying to get with a bairn?"

"Yes, I assume you want a child. If not, there are ways to prevent them." Claire replies with a frown.

"Not want! Nae Sassanech. I surely want a bairn or a dozen." She narrows her eyes at me. "But, we can start with one. But, why canna ye have spirits?"

"Well, they can effect the baby's development. Cause problems even before I would know I was pregnant."

"Oh. Then should I stop too?"

"Not necessary. But, it wouldn't hurt to slow down. We have other options now." She gestures to the glasses of the coke- a-cola.

"Aye Sassanech. I will."

Paul

I follow part of the conversation they are having. Tianna interpretates the rest.

"It is okay. To be trying for a child?" She asks.

"Oh love. It is very okay. I never thought I would ever be able to have a wife let alone a child."

Raymond

"I hate to intrupt talk of making me a grandfather, but dinner is ready. Well almost. Can you give me a hand Claire?"

"Sure." She follows me into the kitchen. "Are you really okay with having 4 houseguest?"

"Oh Claire! To have my daughter and son-in-law safely under my roof! As well as you and Jamie. I am much more then okay. Thank you so much for keeping them safe. There is no way I will ever be able to repay you."

"You will." She looks at me in a meanful way. And, I get it.

"Oh yes. I guess I will. This is all ready. Just needs pineapple. The tin is in that cabinet. Can you get it down and open it for me?"

Claire

Pinapple in a tin! And a tin opener that smoothly opens it. Wonders. I follow his instructions and drain the juice into a cup. He places the slices over the meat and carries the pan out, placing it on the center of the table.

Raymond slices and serves the meat and potatoes. Jamie and the others look at the pineapples strangely. "It is gammon and pinapple." He explains. When they continue to study it like it poison, I add,

"Eat it. It is good for you." They do, at first with reluctance and then with gusto. "See, it will renew your strength." I see Paul look at Tianna appraisingly and smile. Raymond then brings out dessert. It is my turn to look strangly at it.

Jamie laughs at my look. "Eat it Sassanech. It is good for ye." He repeats my own words back at me.

"It is an artic roll." Raymond explains. "Ice cream wrapped in jam and sponge cake."

Ice cream! I hadn't had that in awhile. And never served like this. But, it is very good.

I volunteer Tianna and I for dishes after. "Would you like to wash or dry?" I ask her.

"Dry."

We carry the dishes out and she is shocked by the sink. "The water is pumped in. It comes out the faucet hot and cold. It is the same in the bathroom, where the shower and indoor privy is. I will show you and Paul and explain how to use them.

Tianna

"Thank you Claire. I don't know what we would do without you and Father." I say. I ask father where to put the plates as I dry them. He calls back to stack them by the sink. So I do.

"You are quite welcome. A piece of advise. If you and Paul get up to any baby making tonight, try to it quietly. I would imagine that Raymond doesn't wish to here his daughter, even a married one, making love."

"Ah Claire. I will try."

"I completely understand that."

Claire.

We join our husbands upstairs after. I pass Raymond on the way and give him a tight hug. "Thank you."

"You are welcome Madonna. Thank you."

I join Jamie in our room. He has already stripped down to his shirt. I strip down to my shift, making a note to get more clothing soon, and join him on the bed.

"Jamie?"

"Hmm?" I snuggle against him.

"When I was talking to Tianna earlier, something came up."

"Aye?"

"She was worrying that she wouldn't be able to have children. Well, I kinda worry about the same. We tried before."

"Frank and ye?"

"Yes. And well, if I can't, Tianna worries that if she can't Paul will leave her."

"And ye worry about the same?"

"I do."

"Oh Claire, dinna flash about that. Ye are a miracle in my life. All I need to make my life complete. A bairn would be extra."

[heavyelectricity]

I'm just gonna go ahead and ask a load of questions from that ask meme, ayy; 2, 3, 7, 8, 9, 11, 12, 14, 17, 18, 20, 22, 24, 25, 28, 30, 34, 38, 43, 45, 47, 49, 50, 56, 59, 61, 63, 66, 68, 69, 70, 73, 76, 78, 80, 83, 84 (the podcast/talk radio one), 86, 88, 89, 90, 92, 93, 94, 98

This one took me a while!

2.chocolate bars or lollipops?

Chocolate bars, all day long. Wispa Gold, Caramel, Snickers, Twix,Kit Kat, just… gimme. But don’t. (But do.)

Chocolate is also great in non-bar form. M&Ms, Rolos, Munchies…

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

Bubblegum, for sure.

7. earbuds or headphones?

Wired earbuds on the go, wireless headphones in the office.

8. movies or tv shows?

TV shows, broadly - I just don’t have to carve out 1.5 to 3 hours to watch them. Not that I don’t love movies, mind.

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

I don’t usually eat until lunch, so nothing.

12. name of your favorite playlist?

The Big Playlist (it’s most of the stuff I have in one bigshuffle pile).

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

Hmm, that’s a tough one. I really like Love Hearts, which is oddgiven my total lack of a romantic life at this point in time.

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

Black Nike trainers, not too expensive and not too flashy. Prettywell worn. Unless I’m forced to wear formal shoes, these are theonly ones I wear.

18. ideal weather?

Early autumn – still warm enough to be outside, with a bit of abreeze.

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on yourlaptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

My laptop. Most of my writing is on it.

22. role model?

Crimer. Realistically probably my older cousin, but he’s waymore normal than I am, grew up in better circumstances and worksharder.

24. favorite crystal?

Amethyst. I’ve heard it doesn’t mix well with peridot, butthat’s just a shout out to the crowd really.

25. first song you remember hearing?

Gods, something by Motorhead. Not quite sure which song, butthat’s the first band I remember hearing.

28. five songs to describe you?

Garbage – Only Happy When It RainsRoadrunner United – IDon’t Wanna Be (A Superhero)Stone Sour – StalemateTheOffspring – You’re Gonna Go Far, KidHowlin’ Wolf –Built For Comfort

30. places that you find sacred?

I don’t really have many places like that. I do feel a terriblepull of sadness every time I walk past the Trocadero in London,knowing what it was. The University of Essex campus in Colchesterfeels that way to me too, though it’s always developing and I’llprobably struggle to recognise it if I go back again. Of course, myfamily home – it’s been an anchor in my life for as long as I canrecall.

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

Cillit Bang, permanently and for obvious reasons. Gun Bed. Theusual TV ones with annoying songs (We Buy Any Car, Go Compare, etc.).The trailer for the next Magic set. For some reason, the King OfFighters XIV trailer (probably because of that hype theme).

38. lemonade or tea?

Uh, lemon iced tea. XD

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomberjacket?

I just got a new Necronomidol hoodie through.

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Sci-fi, and it’s not really close.

47. favorite type of cheese?

Brie, to own the gammons.

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

“Immortal until proven otherwise.”

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

A few things, for sure. Watching Arrested Development with my mumand sister. Seeing Dylan Moran live a few months back. Shitposto’clock with the incomparable Para. The time my old housemateCharlie lost a game of Excite Truck against a controller nobody washolding.

56. favorite tradition?

Christmas. I go home and see the family, I get people gifts thatmake them smile, and I get some time to just not work.

59. if you were a video game character, what would yourcatchphrase be?

So if I was in a fighting game, “Maybe you should buy a Game Genie?” would definitely be a win quoteI could see myself having.

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

“You wanna be a big cop in a small town? Fuck off up the modelvillage!”

63. five songs that would play in your club?

Cubanate – OxyacetyleneFear Factory – New BreedKMFDM– UltraCelldweller – Good L_uck (Yo_’re F_cked)MarilynManson – The Beautiful People

Apparently, I should have been running industrial metal nights inthe 1990s.

66. favorite flower(s)?

I’m not sure I really have one, to be honest.

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

Diet Coke with Cherry was the dirt fucking worst the one time Itried it six years ago, and it put me off sugar-free cherry colas forages until I worked up the courage to try Pepsi Max Cherry.

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

I know it was a TV show, but I cannot remember for the life of mewhich one it was, where I first found out about the insane laws thatSaparmurat Niyazov used to implement in Turkmenistan. But he was atotally insane ruler – he closed all hospitals outside the capital,banned opera and ballet, and even erected a golden statue of himselfthat rotated so that it would always face the sun.

70. left or right handed?

Depends on the task. I write right-handed, eat left-handed. I’mnot ambidextrous – I use both hands to do tasks, but can only use aspecific hand for a specific task.

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

My good friend Kimi once made me chocolate-covered bacon and itwas fantastic.

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, bakedpotatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

Can’t go wrong with a good bit of mash. Honourable mention forhash browns.

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

I never get why people drink something that smells like it wasbrewed inside Satan’s own anus. Tesco sushi it is.

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Jewel tones, with the caveat that I always wear black anyway.

83. writing or drawing?

Writing, by a mile. I don’t have any drawing skill. I recentlytried out a little fictional exercise that I think went quite well.

84. podcasts or talk radio?

I used to really like talk radio as a kid, and particularly thestation Talk Radio (now TalkSport) – I’d listen to the station alot after it first launched, and it was actually how I learned thatthe Dunblane massacre had happened on a day off school. Now that I ammore politically aware, podcasts are less likely to make me angry.

86. cookies or cupcakes?

Cookies. The crunch is so satisfying.

88. your greatest wish?

I’ve been really fortunate in my life – I got to douniversity, I’m doing the job I always wanted to do, I’ve metmost of the people I wanted to meet. So really I just wanna be ableto provide for my family, help out my friends and hopefully make theworld a bit less shit.

89. who would you put before everyone else?

My family. When I say family, that’s more a matter of love thanblood.

90. luckiest mistake?

Smacked my hand on the mouse as I was leaving work one night, onlyfor the screen to light up with my boss’ stooge’s Hotmail stilllogged in. I had a rummage and found the evidence I needed that shewas badmouthing me to the boss.

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

A good lamp for some soft light is great, though I’m alsopartial to fairy lights in the right setting.

93. nicknames?

Oh, all sorts. Nicholas Ridiculous, Fraggle Freak, Nik the Greek,Nikipedia, the Technomancer, Niku (because of my “big meatytonsils”). The most recently acquired is Waifu Master. God I wishit wasn’t.

94. favorite season?

Winter, so long as I’m not outside.

98. favorite historical era?

Recent history, the1980s. Further back, Ancient Greece.

[pricechecktranslations]

DSoE: MotHY; Chapter 10-The Boy’s Choice

Master of the Heavenly Yard chapter content summary under the cut.

-Scene 1

What in the world is evil?

-Scene 2

Eater touches down a little ways from Ma, and lets Allen down before flying again. She's likely after Nemesis, so they think it's better Nemesis doesn't get close to her. Nemesis is making "preparations" elsewhere. Allen's supposed to distract Ma until then. He's soon covered by the black vortex, but nothing much happens to him yet. He walks to her.

She's standing among the frozen soldiers in the spot where Evils Theater used to stand in the forest before the world ended. She's still holding the Clockworker's Doll. Allen knows that while she looks like Riliane, she's someone else. He greets her and moves in closer. She asks him where Nemesis is. He won't tell her, and she says if not then she has no use for him.

She asks him if he plans to save his sister or destroy her. She asks if he knows what will happen when she absorbs Nemesis. He comments on what he learned in the BlackBox in heaven, and how the gods had been aware of beings that existed outside the rules, "Irregulars". And they also had to be careful of them. Ma says that she's been to many places but she's never been to heaven.

Allen explains the gods are afraid of Irregulars because a being that doesn't exist existing will contradict the rules. He says that the gods are most afraid of the world ending because if it does, they won't be gods anymore (making a comparison to rulers of a country). There's a chance Irregulars will end the world, so that is why they are afraid of them. Ma points out that's why he was sealed in a BlackBox in heaven (her having that knowledge shocks Allen).

She says she found another BlackBox with an Akashic Recorder like the one he was in while in the "graveyard". And she has Levia's memories. She says the one in the graveyard is a type B BlackBox that Behemo made. She asks, if they were afraid of Irregulars, why they left Riliane alone. Allen didn't know before, but after seeing Adam and Eve in the theater, he can guess (Allen is doing a lot of guesswork--I believe he's accurate but just saying). The world being destroyed by Irregulars only works if the twins are together. When they are, they can use a special power--the "Re birthday". Though Adam didn't do it completely. It will only "format" the beings inside of the theater BlackBox.

Gammon wasn't trying to destroy the world. He was trying to save it. If all went as planned, the world would have been revived. Or so Allen thinks--as it didn't work, we don't know for sure.

Allen is an Irregular, but Ma is different--she's not part of a set of twins (Ma looks a little lonely at hearing that). She needs another being to perform a "Re birthday". He thinks that's why she's collecting all the contractors--but she says that's not it.

Ma summons lightning in her hand and says that he is unlike her. He has a sister and parents. He has people who confirm his existence. There's no way he could understand her pain. She fires the lightning at him. He blocks it with his sword--it disintegrates, and he conjures up another one.

Her wish is not to erase the world. That's little more than a side effect of what she's doing. She just wants to confirm her own existence. Allen says that if the world is destroyed, there'll be no one left to tell her existence to. The vortex changes so that the part of it around Allen becomes deeper in color, but it still does nothing to him. He guesses that this vortex is something (leaking out of her I think?) as a result of her not yet being a "pure being".

Ma says she'll just go to another world when this one is destroyed. Allen declares his intention to protect the world they're in now. He moves to adopt Leonhart's sword move, the "Bull Stance". Ma says she doesn't care even if it makes her "evil". All she cares about is existing. But he's welcome to try stopping her. But killing her means killing Riliane.

In the past, for Riliane's sake, Allen would have fought the whole world. He thinks Ma resembles how he used to be--if it's for their own goals, they don't care about anything else. No rules can shake their determination--but what meaning is there in living, if they throw away who they are? He thinks to himself they are not puppets of the gods. They are humans with their own will. Facing Ma, Allen is reminded of his old self.

[Here is the illustration of a splitscreen scene with Allen pointing his sword at Riliane in the Bull Stance, surrounded by the black vortex cloud things. Allen is determined and Riliane (Ma) looks smug]

-Scene 3

They celebrated the twins' birthday in the Hall of Sounds. That was Alexiel's first memory. He can't remember it clearly, but he reaches for someone's hand in it (implied to be Riliane's). He thinks to himself that he was born to protect her.

He left the palace with his dad for the first time when he was four. It was also the first time he met Leonhart (I think he's acting as bodyguard). They went to town and he marveled at all he saw there. He caught sight of the goods on a shelf in a shop that a hooded old woman was standing at. They were dolls inside glass bottles. He likes one that's a knight. The old woman had a red cat sleeping further in the shop. Alexiel asks his father to buy the knight doll, but then he sees the one next to it, a pretty princess. It reminded him of his sister.

He thinks Riliane would like it, and asks if they can get both. Arth says no, and Leonhart points out he could buy the whole shop if he wanted to. But they're in the middle of a war, and Arth doesn't want to spend too much. He also doesn't want to spoil Alexiel--it's important to be able to make decisions as the future heir. Leonhart (light heartedly) chides him for using this as a lesson on a four year old boy.

Alexiel picks the princess. Arth asks him about it later, asking if he plans to give it to Riliane. Alexiel says he'll give her the doll, and then keep the bottle for himself (it sparkles in the light). Arth laughs that he picked the option that had something for both him and his sister, and Leonhart smiles too.

When he was six, his father died. Due to a conflict about succession, Alexiel left the palace. He was taken in by Leonhart, and named Allen. When he was 12, his mother came to visit him. She looked a little gaunt. There was a lot he wanted to tell her, and ask her, but couldn't. He hugged her, and she said she loved him. He was too timid to say it back. She tells him to protect Riliane, looking a little sad, and he nods. His mother died a year later. Allen ended up working in the palace.

When he was fourteen, the revolution happened. He was executed in Riliane's place, with no regrets. He'd protected her, and that was his reason for living. That was his way of confirming his existence. He'd ended up inside a box, locked in the BlackBox by Sickle. He didn't know why. It wasn't a bad time in there--he couldn't move freely, but he gained a lot of knowledge from the Akashic Recorder.

With everything he learned, he began to have doubts about himself. Were his actions correct? Was it really his own will? Was he brainwashed by his upbringing? Was he cursed by his mother's last words to him? Was there worth in protecting Riliane? Should he have become king instead?

He thinks maybe he should have done something different (lots of "moshimo's"). There are a lot of choices. A lot of possibilities. Which one is right? He wanted to see Riliane again--he felt he'd know the answer when he did.

-Scene 4

After the world was destroyed, Sickle let Allen go to the ground world. He didn't explicitly say he'd let Allen decide the world's future, but he'd implied it. Allen didn't mind that, but he didn't want to be the god's puppet either. He wanted to decide on his own. Even if it's not what the gods wanted. Allen ponders his options before Ma. Save his sister? Or the world?

Ma says if he isn't going to do anything, she's going to leave to find Nemesis. She calls her her daughter but it's clear she has no parental feelings towards her at all. He thinks that if Ma had ever once called Nemesis herself her daughter genuinely, she might not have destroyed the world (more "moshimo"s). Ma only cares about her own goals, not caring if it makes her evil.

Allen thinks to himself that he's the same. Irregular or not, all people are greedy. There is no one who is completely innocent. All have evil in their hearts (more "moshimo"s). There is no right choice. No matter what path you take, there will always be regrets. So, greedy and evil as he is, Allen will choose both. He will save Riliane and the world.

[christianstepdad]

MEHITABEL S EXTENSIVE PAST By Don Marquis From “archy and mehitabel,” 1927 mehitabel the cat claims that she has a human soul also and has transmigrated from body to body and it may be so boss you remember i told you she accused herself of being cleopatra once i asked her about antony anthony who she asked me are you thinking of that song about rowley and gammon and spinach heigho for anthony rowley no i said mark antony the great roman the friend of caesar surely cleopatra you remember j caesar listen archy she said i have been so many different people in my time and met so many prominent gentlemen i wont lie to you or stall i do get my dates mixed sometimes think of how much i have had a chance to forget and i have always made a point of not carrying grudges over from one life to the next archy i have been used something fierce in my time but i am no bum sport archy i am a free spirit archy i look on myself as being quite a romantic character oh the queens i have been and the swell feeds i have ate a cockroach which you are and a poet which you used to be archy couldn t understand my feelings at having come down to this i have had bids to elegant feeds where poets and cockroaches would neither one be mentioned without a laugh archy i have had adventures but i have never been an adventuress one life up and the next life down archy but always a lady through it all and a good mixer too always the life of the marty archy but never anything vulgar always free footed archy never tied down to a job or housework yes looking back on it all i can say is i had some romantic lives and some elegant times i have seen better days archy but whats the use of kicking kid its all in the game like a gentleman friend of mine used to say toujours gai kid toujours gai he was an elegant cat he used to be a poet himself and he made up some elegant poetry about me and him lets hear it i said and mehitabel recited persian pussy from over the sea demure and lazy and smug and fat none of your ribbons and bells for me ours is the zest of the alley cat over the roofs from flat to flat we prance with capers corybantic what though a boost should break a slat mehitabel us for the life romantic we would rather be rowdy and gaunt and free and dine on a diet of roach and rat roach i said what do you mean roach interrupting mehitabel yes roach she said thats the way my boy friend made it up i climbed in amongst the typewriter keys for she had an excited look in her eyes go on mehitabel i said feeling safer and she resumed her elocution we would rather be rowdy and gaunt and free and dine on a diet of roach and rat than slaves to a tame society ours is the zest of the alley cat fish heads freedom a frozen sprat dug from the gutter with digits frantic is better than bores and a fireside mat mehitabel us for the life romantic when the pendant moon in the leafless tree clings and sways like a golden bat i sing its light and my love for thee ours is the zest of the alley cat missiles around us fall rat a tat tat but our shadows leap in a ribald antic as over the fences the world cries scat mehitabel us for the life romantic persian princess i dont care that for your pedigree traced by scribes pedantic ours is the zest of the alley cat mehitabel us for the life romantic aint that high brow stuff archy i always remembered it but he was an elegant gent even if he was a highbrow and a regular bohemian archy him and me went aboard a canal boat one day and he got his head into a pitcher of cream and couldn’t get it out and fell overboard he come up once before he drowned toujours gai kid he gurgled and then sank for ever that was always his words archy toujours gai kid toujours gai i have known some swell gents in my time dearie

[judgmentofcorruption]

Episode 6–The Sinking Story; Scene 3

Judgment of Corruption, pages 189-196

After that, Ma formally came to assist the USE allied forces as per Tony’s request.

“Though I don’t know how much help I’ll be.”

Tony grinned at Ma’s remark. “That’s alright. If you need anything at all, just let these two know.” He introduced two young soldiers who had similar features to each other. “This is second lieutenant Nyoze Octo and sergeant major Gammon Octo. They’re brothers. Nyoze is the older, and Gammon is the younger. They have Jakokuan ancestry, so you might find them easier to deal with.”

The Octo brothers saluted Ma.

“Pleased to meet you.”

“—Oh yes, the pleasure is mine. I’m quite happy to have such attractive young men at my side.”

Some lodging that was one of the military facilities was set aside for Ma’s new place of residence.

.

At Gallerian’s estate, Michelle was proposing an idea to her father in the living room.

“A trip?”

“Yeah. I was thinking we could go during break. Since I’ll be really busy once college starts up.”

“Is Mama going to go with you?”

“Yeah. So—I was wondering if you could come along.”

But Gallerian regretfully shook his head.

“I can’t just take time off work. Papa has only just become the director, and he’s very busy.”

“Alriiight…I guess it can’t be helped.”

“Where are you planning to go for the trip?”

“At first I thought it would be nice to go to Maistia where Bruno’s from, but Mama said that would be too far.”

“And they’re in the middle of a civil war right now.”

“Right. So I thought we’d go instead to your homeland of Marlon, Papa. I wanna see Grandpa, since it’s been so long.”

“That sounds fine. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

“We’re planning to be there about two weeks, so we’re going next week.”

“—I’ll be lonely while you’re gone.”

“You’ll be alright. You’ll have Bruno and the other servants with you.”

“I’ll still be lonely.”

“I’ll call you every day.”

“And you better not get mixed up with any strange men over there.”

“Aw, come on. You’re always saying that, Papa.”

As the two of them laughed together, they could hear the doorbell ring outside.

After a short while, Larisa appeared before them.

“Begging your pardon, Sir—Lady ‘Ma’ has come to see you.”

“I see. Send her in.”

Michelle asked Gallerian, “Is it a visitor? Maybe I should head out.”

“No—Stay here. She might have come to see you.”

Ma appeared in the living room, brought along by Larisa.

“Good day.”

When Michelle greeted her, Ma broke into a grin.

“Good day, young miss—I’m a friend of your father’s, and the screenwriter named Kayo Sudou. I’d like it if you called me ‘Ma’.”

“Uh huh…” While making a half-hearted reply, Michelle gazed intently at Ma.

“Is there something on my face?”

“No—I mean, I’ve only seen her in photographs, but…You look a lot like my late grandma.”

“Oh my, heh heh…It’s a bit of a long story, but I changed my face out of admiration for your grandmother.”

“Wow…That’s amazing.”

Gallerian butted into the conversation, “Even so…It’s odd you haven’t aged at all, despite fourteen years going by.”

“You know of the facility ‘Lunaca Labora’, yes? This is a gift from there.”

“So you’re saying there’s a device amongst its machines that can preserve beauty.”

Being an adolescent herself, Michelle reacted sharply to the mention of the word beauty. “That’s curious. Maybe you should take me to this facility.”

“Hahaha, I think that would be unnecessary for you, Miss Michelle. You are quite lovely enough without using such means. –You look exactly as I thought you would.”

“…?”

“Though whatever the case I’d like to take a day to talk to you, if I may.”

“I’m curious about you too. Including the matter of this beauty machine. But I’m planning to leave Levianta on a trip next week.”

“That’s unfortunate. Then I suppose we’ll have to save it for another day, after you get back.” Ma then turned to Gallerian. “I did come here to see your daughter today—but I also have a favor I would like to ask of you.”

“What is it? I’m all ears.”

“Since I’ve returned to society after so long away, I was thinking that I might make a new movie soon. My occupation is that of a screenwriter, after all.”

“A movie, huh—But you would need a lot of money for that.”

“Indeed. Therefore…I need to ask someone wealthy to provide the funds.”

“You’re asking me to be your sponsor?”

Michelle laughed and clapped innocently, listening in from the side. “A movie! That’s great! It sounds like fun.”

“Hmm. I don’t know…” Gallerian’s brow furrowed. “It’s not like I don’t have money to spare. But in all honestly, most of it is my wife’s money—or, more accurately, it’s assistance from her family. I myself have only just become director, so I haven’t been able to save all that much yet…”

As Gallerian was faltering, Ma shoved a book before him.

“What’s this?”

“It’s the ‘Daughter of Evil’, penned by Yukina Freezis—I was wanting to use it as the basis for this movie.”

“The ‘Daughter of Evil’…That’s the story of the princess who set the stage for the Lucifenian Revolution—But I’m quite sure someone’s already made this into a movie.”

“That’s true. But the ‘Daughter of Evil’ that I have has slightly different contents than the version that is widely known. It is the true story of the ‘Daughter of Evil’, that Yukina Freezis wrote in secret—I’m positive that it will be the subject of much conversation once it’s been screened.”

“Hum…”

“In either case, this book was written pertaining to both your ancestor, ‘Kyle Marlon’, and the ‘Elluka Clockworker’ of the time, someone that I and your mother idolized. I was thinking that you might still enjoy it even as mere reading material. We’ll leave the matter of funding for after you’ve read it—just so long as you give the matter some thought.”

“…Alright. I’ll read it on my day off. Do you mind if I borrow the book?”

“Go ahead. But you must make sure to return it once you’re done reading. There are some records on ‘dead soldiers’ in the book as well, so I want to lend it to General Tony later.”

Gallerian nodded and started to flip through the book that had been handed to him.

“…This book seems to be written in Yukina Freezis’ own handwriting. It looks to have a great deal of historical value. I’ll treat it carefully.”

Michelle peered at the book from the side with great interest.

“The ‘Daughter of Evil’. I read that when I was a kid.”

Ma smiled again at the sight of that. “In the event that the movie is made, perhaps you could play a part in it, Miss Michelle. I think you’d be perfect for the role of ‘Michaela’, the woman with whom King Kyle falls in love—Now then, I’ve got some other matters to attend to, so I’ll leave it there.”

Ma bowed her head a touch, then left Gallerian’s estate.

.

--But in the end, the “Daughter of Evil” movie was never screened, nor was Michelle ever to play a role in it.

Three weeks later, an event occurred that caused a rapid transformation in Gallerian’s life.

To a man like him who led an unsatisfactory married life, his daughter Michelle was the sole person to whom he could devote his affection.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that now that he had fulfilled his personal goals to a certain degree, Michelle was everything to Gallerian.

.

Midway through its return voyage from Marlon, the ship that Michelle and her mother were riding on, the “S.S. Titanis”—

Met with an unexpected event, and sank to the bottom of the sea.

<<prev------directory------next>>

[ecotone99]

[MS] Chang Mai missing

(Okay it’s unfinished so looking for some feed back please readers)

For two years now, Shaun Connelly had been saving up for a trip of a lifetime. He had always dreamed of travelling around south east-Asia. He had first got the idea whilst working offshore in the north-sea, where some of the men he worked with, would spend maybe six months offshore then travel around the world for six months. Shaun really loved the idea of that. Shaun returned to his home city of Liverpool for his rest time. He was determined to book his trip, and proceeded to plan it. First of all he would fly to Bangkok, he wanted to spend a week in Bangkok, and so he could arrange a trip to the south islands. He would get a train down to Chumphon where he could catch the ferry out to Ko Tao, where he could learn to deep-sea dive. Then he would catch another ferry to Ko Pha-ngan, where he could experience the famous full moon party. After that he would move on to KO samui, then back to the mainland where he would catch a train back to Bangkok to plan his next move. Shaun was once told that he should experience trekking in the north of Thailand, and go to visit the tribes and smoke opium with the tribe leaders. This was an idea that Shaun definitely wanted to experience. Shaun booked the trip he had another month of work on the rigs to complete before he jetted off on his trip of a lifetime. It was the day of Shaun’s flight; he was flying from London Heathrow to Dubai for a 10 hour stop over, then the following morning he would fly direct to Bangkok. Shaun caught a taxi from Bangkok Suvarnabhumi airport to the Sukhumvit area of the city. He had been told of a good sports bar, where a lot of ex-pats hung out, and was a cool bar to meet people. Shaun had already booked his room that night online, it was on soi 11 just around the corner from Sharkers sports bar. He got checked into his hotel around 6pm, had a shower and got ready start his Thai adventure. Shaun’s first impressions when he was walking out onto the streets, was that of the smell, it was a sort of rotten egg smell, warm and sweaty, very humid and he had a sudden sense of claustrophobia. Now Shaun had never suffered from this phobia but the streets are so full of people, walking in all different directions, mopeds speeding past and beeping constantly, the roads were poor and without signage and the noise of traffic, barking dogs, drunken tourist and Thai market traders arguing over a couple of baht was very overwhelming. Shaun started to feel a bit anxious, his heart started racing faster and faster and now he was walking and banging into people, the heat was making him drip with sweat, and then people started approaching him. Prostitutes were stopping him in his tracks and feeling his balls. “You want fuck, fuck long time….come with me….nice place…sucky sucky.” Shaun was pushing the whores out of the way, even people were trying to help him as he looked in distress, but he couldn’t focus he just kept walking and shoving people asides, until he tripped up and sort of passed out for a second. When he came too, there were people surrounding him offering water and asking him if he was okay. When he looked next to him there was old Thai man at floor level with him, looking at him, the man looked dishevelled, had no teeth, he had scars all over his face and he smiled at Shaun, whilst screeching some Thai words in Shaun’s face, spitting and slurring all over him. When Shaun came around a bit more he realised the Thai man had no arms or legs, he was just sort of crawling around on the pavement, begging for anything, and Shaun even realised that the man was also blind, He jumped up freaked out and started running until he seen something he recognised from a photo one of his old rigger mates had shown him. It has a large shark in bright lights with a pool table and the words read SHARKERS SPORTS BAR.

Shaun walked into the busy bar expecting people to harass him straight away, but people were too busy laughing, and playing pool, watching sports on the big screens. There seemed to be some sort of competition going on too. Shaun just sat at the bar and ordered a beer. “Kor beer nueng Krap.” Shaun had been learning his essentials on the flight over. “You know Thai language?” a soft voice whispered into Shaun’s ear. “Ha no, not really just a few simple sentences, and not very well either. “You speak well, for western man” “Don’t be silly, anyway what’s your name?” Shaun whispered back. “My name is Gamon, it means from the heart” she replied. “Ha that’s funny coz in England we eat gammon” Shaun giggles immaturely. “Do you want play pool competition? Its 200 baht and you can win 5000 baht” “Okay, what’s the game? Shaun asks. Gamon quickly replies “Killer pool you know? You win you buy me drink yep?” A few singha beers later, and after losing around 800 baht, Shaun went and sat back at the bar and ordered a whiskey and coke. He started to talk to a Australian bloke, called himself Clancy, he was a typical backpacker sort, stood about 6ft 2, had the long Dredd-locked hair, and long scruffy beard to match. He seemed to know people in the bar, but sat alone watching aussie-rules football on one of the screens. “So where ya from bro?” said Clancy Shaun was distracted by an argument between some Thai girls about a pool match. “I’m from England mate, and you?” “Born in OZ, but moved to New Zealand when I was about 10, and been moving ever since, Bali, Vietnam, spent some time in Europe too, my parents did a lot of humanitarian work.” “That Sounds cool, I aint done much myself, I mean a few holidays to Spain and I’ve travelled throughout the UK and Ireland with work but that’s about it mate.” “Aww yeah bro, well don’t worry, it aint all it’s cracked up to be, ya can end up an old beach bum like me bro.” Laughs Clancy. Shaun and Clancy continued to chat when the subject of travelling up to Chang-Mai came up. Clancy told Shaun that he used to run a guided tour up to the tribes in the north, until his mini-bus ended up in the Ping River, and with no insurance or disposable money it still remains there. The bar was coming to a close about 3am and Shaun and Clancy were pretty drunk by now. Gamon and her friend, who called herself Gloria (I guess her Thai name was too hard to pronounce), had offered to take us for some street food. Clancy took a rain-check and carried on home where as Shaun had been looking forward to tasting the local cuisine. “Be careful, Mr Clancy man, he no good man hey…” said Gamon, with a gentle smirk towards Gloria. “You no trust Mr Shaun” announced Gloria, sucking on a chilli crab claw. “He seems a nice enough fella too me, what’s the problem?” Shaun coughs; he is finding the chilli crab far too hot. The two girls are now uncontrollably laughing at his inability to handle the heat of the spicy food. “He steel, you be-careful Mr Shaun” Gamon and Gloria walked Shaun back to his apartment and said goodnight.

The next day Shaun didn’t wake until 1pm, he had woken in a pool of sweat as the air conditioning wasn’t working, he opened the blinds expecting bright sunshine, but the sky was a dark grey with spots of sun shining through on top of some of the buildings, the heat and humidity was over whelming, and at this point Shaun shut the blinds, took a large drink of water and climbed back into bed. It was 8pm when Shaun had come back round, and after a shower and a difficult conversation with the receptionist about the air conditioning, Shaun set out on another stroll, only to end up in Sharkers bar again. The same faces were disputing pool matches, the ex-pat owner and his wife either sides of the bar were chatting to folks. At the end of the bar sat Clancy watching Aussie rules football. Gamon greeted Shaun with a kind whisper of “you very sexy man tonight Mr Shaun”, Shaun’s shy blushes hard to disguise. “So you play pool tonight? You win you buy me drink yes?” “I buy you drink anyway, what’ll it be?” Shaun asks, still blushing from the attention off Gamon. “Canadian dry and ginger Korp Kun” Clancy spotted Shaun at the bar and walked over. “So you wanna go trekking yer bro…?” Clancy leaning over the bar, Shaun looks uncomfortable, as Clancy proceeds to invade his personal space. “Well yeah mate, you recommend any good tour companies?” “Sure bro, you’re looking at one, I got some good contacts up north, and you pay me small fee and I will be your personal guide, just a small fee bro…” Clancy sat back on his stool and Shaun took a swig of his singha beer and leaned back, feeling more at ease , as Clancy has sat up and got his head in the television again. “So how much do you think? Can you give me some sort of itinerary, I’m a bit fickle to a plan, you see mate.” “Yer bro, no worries mate, I shall work it all out bro, meet ya in here same time tomorrow bro.” Clancy shook Shaun’s hand and left. Shaun carried on drinking till late, and then he and Gamon went back to his hotel.

TD

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[thesamesandwicheveryday]

10.

All of yesterday felt like something of a fever dream. After waking up in that flush of memory I was able to eventually get back to sleep but I was restless, maybe even frightened, and by 8am I was back up again unable to discern the date, time, place, unable to really marry the idea of myself to the reflection of me caught in the grubby bathroom mirror amidst the watermarks, toothpaste splashes. When you don’t feel known, knowable, or knowing, what do you even do with that? Who knows you? I threw my clothes on, maybe I wore my jeans or maybe my blue trousers, a white t-shirt or maybe something more formal, I don’t remember, I just know what the fuzzy outline of me looked like from the obscured windows and shop-fronts on my way into the market, at some point in the morning, in some manner of dress. It was mist-raining, that much I’m sure of, because every step I took I felt murky, like the water was sneaking into the fibres of my clothes and it felt unclean and uncomfortable. By the time I made it to the covered market’s great old wooden doors I slinked right through them and looked to the floor and kept moving, and when I lifted my head up again I saw her, behind the glass, running a joint of gammon ham through a meat-slicer, looking despondent. I asked her what her name was, that was the first thing I did. I said to her I’d seen her a few times and thought it polite to introduce myself. She said, “Ham salad, right?”, and I pretended to smile because you’ve got to, always, be seen to be social. I told her, “that’s right!” and I even laughed a little, and said to her this time my name, so she’d say her own back to me. Guess what her name is? Her name is Julie. Julie and I, I realised, were suddenly in conversation, and it occurred to me quite quickly that this was the last thing I wanted and I only realised that when I was deep into that everyday laughter exchange of friendliness and politeness. I’d say at that point Julie and I were on a level of intimacy where she’d feel comfortable discussing casual town gossip with me, but perhaps not comfortable asking me to perform a favour for her, such as watch the stall, or pass a message onto someone. I wonder if Julie and I will ever get there. 

“Ham salad please?” I said, though I wonder if I said it awkwardly and that request landed badly or stuck out of the natural flow too much, and I thought that even though that’s what I’m there for, that’s the exact nature of my visit, it was a subject that suddenly needed to be danced around, because now I knew Julie, and I was getting her to do a job for me so I could give her some money, and that was bad, and good, and hard for me to wrap my head around. But Julie, she didn’t mind at all, with a smile she started to throw my sandwich together — no, not throw, I’m doing her a real disservice by saying that — but watching her I began to cheer up. Because she just did it, and she made it look like art, and I’m not kidding. That sandwich suddenly started to take the form of one of those beautiful cartoon snacks, and the lettuce was green and leafy and the tomato was juicy and plump and the onions were sliced into perfect rings and the ham was thick, and though it was cold, I imagined it freshly carved from a piping hot roast dinner, tossed onto my plate at a Christmas table of cartoon men and women, a seasonal special, me there, nobody else I know but we’re all family. I realised, standing there, that this wave of emotion that had suddenly come over me was unsustainable, I was beside myself. I didn’t cry, but I felt incredibly moved. What tipped it for me was Julie pressing the bread down because listen to me now, that bread roll just sprung right back into its own form. She pressed it down and it immediately just pinged back again and formed a golden, soft dome of dough, the crumb never broke, but I think that’s when I did. It was beautiful. I said to Julie, “actually, could you do me two of those?” and then realised — who asks for two sandwiches and why? Two identical sandwiches? I could lie and say the other is for someone else, but then how do I say that? Because I always ask for her to leave off the cucumber, so — what, suddenly someone else I know wants the same sandwich and also doesn’t want cucumber? But it was either that, or admit they were both for me — no sir — so I told her, “I’ve got a friend coming for lunch” and then realised my mistake — nobody comes for a sandwich! If someone comes for lunch then it’s because you’ve personally prepared something, some platter of cheeses and crackers, a charcuterie board, a fucking quiche, I don’t know, but not two shop-bought sandwiches, and I wondered whatever must Julie think of me? Because however I present myself, however smart I dress or how well I speak, I just told Julie that I’m someone who just pretends — and she’s seen me, over and over again to get this sandwich, and now I’ve revealed that I am a person who buys deli sandwiches and serves them for lunch and that's not even the truth about me, that’s just something I said, so I had to fix it: “not coming for lunch, as such, out of town… he lives in the south”, and I’ll tell you why I said that. I said that because they don’t have good, honest sandwiches in the south of England, and I thought that if I said that, not only would I be getting myself off the hook but also offering some camaraderie as Julie and I could unite together on a playful disdain for the long vowels and their estuaries. So as I said it, I did what I hoped was a knowing face, one of shared humour, a look that said, “if you can believe such a thing” because the south, to the north, to the hard north, is unbelievable. Julie tutted playfully and said: “no proper butties!” and I said back: “no proper butties!” and I laughed because of this warmth, but because I’d got away with it. Something new this time — as there were two, she popped them in a small carrier bag and I carried them home papoose’d in this way, and they felt heavy but were protected one further, and I  felt comforted by that. Before leaving and after exchanging jolly halloos and toodle-pips with good ol’ Jules I took a sharp left before leaving, to find the Sicilian man, because I believed, after this excellent interchange, that perhaps I could cheer myself up by talking about the old country with what’s his face, what were they called again, those Sicilian treats — sfincione — but was it sfin-chee-oh-nee, or was it sfin-chone? I didn’t know, and I didn’t know this more and more until I got to his stall which was closed and though I’d headed there with some purpose I was incredibly relieved, because I wasn’t ready. I was barely ready for a dress rehearsal. It wasn’t good enough. I’d lied enough. I nipped next door to the cheese stall where I asked the unimpressive young man for a fiver’s worth of Morbier and water biscuits and I kept that interaction to a bland minimum because I was beginning to feel exhausted. He wrapped this one in greaseproof brown paper and I didn’t look him in the eye. When I snaffled that parcel from the counter I felt this time like a thief in a Victorian novel, and at this point it was time to run — not walk — home. That was yesterday, and I ate that sandwich half-asleep, over the sink. The Morbier I had for supper with a bottle of St. Emilion and I didn’t call anyone or speak to anyone and my phone did not ring and no texts came. Today I ate the second sandwich for breakfast and wondered if I could get into some kind of sandwich system whereby by the time I want to eat my early day sandwich, it’s already there, I’ve already made preparations for that, and I wondered to what kind of schedule I should stick in order to achieve that, and as that plump, fat tomato I’d fallen in love with burst into freshness and sweetness and joy in my mouth and the salty ham wrapped itself around my tastebuds to lock the flavour in, I felt grateful. Who else gets to eat such food, drink such wine, to live in a place like this? I have been thinking on this all day, and especially about working out this sandwich regime that might improve my life. But I thought about Julie and the door of conversation I’ve now opened with her, and I wondered perhaps that maybe I'd like to never see her again. The Morbier, I still have some of it left. It is rich, indulgent and tasteful, leaves bitterness behind, has a line of dark ash running through it, just like we all should.