#gussy is such a terrible name

[salparadiselost]

Lore anon here! I really enjoyed the latest New Gods chapter! I was wondering, is there any extra stuff you can tell us about Bruce's kids that's not spoilers that you won't have space/time for in the fic itself?

Hi! So glad you're enjoying it! It's really taken over my brain and kinda became the only thing I want to work on lol. I'm not sure how much additional lore there is, because so much is being folded into the actual story, but here's some random bits which I'm not sure will come up but they live in my heart.

The gods can turn into animals, they just don't like to do it because animals are 'gross and weird'. Humans are their favourite little guys and cannot fathom why they wouldn't want to be human-shaped. It's the best shape!

Steph has definitely had Tim turn into all types of animals just because she wanted to know what they feel like.

Speaking of Steph, she loves the Manor. She loves exploring their house and going through all the stuff they have picked up over the centuries. Family dinners can be weird though because everyone has a possibility of looking like literally anything.

Steph has never seen Jason look older than fifteen.

Steph runs a TikTok account called "TheWorstParentInJersey" that's entirely committed to have Jason running around as an eight year old and saying 'fuck', 'shit', 'ass', and 'bitch' and doing extremely dangerous-for-a-child activities while Bruce looks placidly confused in the background.

At first Steph thought Augustus was like a dead name for Dick, but it really isn't. He changed it when the Roman Empire fell out of grief, and now it's been two thousand years since he's used it so it just isn't his name anymore. Bruce will even sometimes call Dick Augustus. When she figures this out, she tries to call him Gussy but laughs too much about it before she can make it catch on.

Dick does learn how to float like Clark! There's about a fifty year period before the fall of the Roman Empire where he doesn't touch the ground once. Bruce is so glad those days are over.

Tim is the only one of the godlings that came to Bruce instead of the other way around. He tried to be 'helpful' by showing Bruce exactly how different humans died and Bruce :) hated :) it :). His godhood isn't even particularly violent or dangerous to humans, Tim's just so weird he almost got killed for it.

Bruce always called them 'his little birds' as a nickname because of how they would follow him like ducklings as they grew. That eventually became how other gods knew them, as 'Bruce's Birds'. The Birds eventually evolved into 'the Butcherbird', the Mourning Dove' and 'the Vulture' due to the Birds' natures and how other gods see them. Bruce hates the Butcherbird, Mourning Dove and Vulture names with a burning passion. He hates that the little loving pet name he gave them turned into something so ugly.

[etherrreal]

“creep(er) into my heart”

Pairing: kenma x gn!reader Genre: fluff, friends to lovers Summary: two gamers walk into a fancy restaurant and it goes as well as you’d think. WC: 4,220 Warnings: N/A A/N: This is part 2 of “would you be mine(craft)?” with an even cornier title. You can probably read this without reading the first, but maybe read it for context? (also, i joke that applebee’s sucks but their “bourbon street chicken and shrimp” lives rent free in my head everyday) -Luna

Dates are meant to be anxiety-inducing, whether it’s a stomach full of butterflies or ruthless tornadoes.

So, it’s an odd feeling to be so calm and collected during the days leading up to a big date, especially one with Kenma. You assume it’s because the stakes are so low, knowing that if the spark isn’t there, you’ll still see him on Minecraft, probably that same night, to help with his iron golem farming idea like nothing ever happened. 

What’s even weirder is that both of you have continued to not discuss the date at all since he asked you the weekend before. You don’t know if it’s because it’ll be awkward to break the ice of the discussion or if he’s procrastinating figuring out the plans for that night, but you both continue to play games and watch anime together during the week without even grazing the topic.

If it wasn't for the Google Calendar invite reminding you 48 hours before Saturday that your date was in fact coming up, you would still believe that him asking you out was something you happened to imagine during your post-date funk.

Thankfully, come Thursday evening, not long after you get the notification, he sends you a text letting you know that he’ll be taking you to a restaurant in the city. It’s one you’ve passed several times before, which is how you know, without having to check their Instagram tags, that it’s a semi-formal, if not fully formal, dress code and dining experience. It’s an abnormal choice for Kenma to willingly select a place where he’d have to wear anything that buttons, let alone a full suit, so you have to imagine that the place must have glowing reviews for him to settle on it.

Now all you have to do is find a whole entire formal outfit with only two days’ notice and minimal time after work to shop. No biggie.

But you manage to do it in time—although barely since you had to rally together the group chat to help—and by the time Saturday comes, you’re actually feeling a bit of nerves start to pool in your stomach as you’re getting ready for the night. Although it all dissipates when you get a series of texts from Kenma, minutes apart, realizing that he may be experiencing the same kind of jitters that you’re feeling. 

‘I dont know how to tie a fucking tie, time to cancel the date’ ‘This is harder than finishing Dark Souls’ ‘I got it, but Kuroo made fun of me and is a terrible teacher and now my feelings are hurt’

You zoom through getting ready, and with about 30-ish minutes until your 7PM reservation, the 25-minute Uber ride leaves you with just enough time to be early. And you’re given quite the shock when you step out of the car and you already see Kenma in front of the restaurant, head hung low as he scrolls through his phone. As you get closer, you notice he cleans up nicely in his smart black suit with his hair pulled back into a bun except for a few face-framing pieces. You make sure to call his name to get his attention, his head snapping up when he hears your voice.

“Wooow, look at you, Mr. Snazzy,” you comment, reaching up to straighten his tie. “I’ve never seen you so gussied up before. Must be quite the date for you to dust off your one and only suit.”

“I have a second suit,” he says defensively. “It’s gray because Kuroo says that’s a better color to wear for the daytime.”

“When did Kuroo become your fashion stylist?”

“When my publicist politely said that I looked like a scrub in all my other clothes during meetings.”

“...She never said anything about your hair, though?”

Kenma glares at you, definitely offended by the implication that his excessively grown out roots are unprofessional, to which you offer a small smile, hoping that he knows you meant it with love. 

“Let’s just go inside before I get insulted again tonight.” 

He pulls the door open for you—like the gentleman that he pretends to be—and steps up to greet the host before you can say anything.

“Hello, I have a reservation for 7PM. Kozume.”

Normally, you’d joke about him finally being able to speak to a server by himself, seeing as he still has to hype himself up sometimes before asking for extra ketchup when you’re eating out. You remember there being a time when he ordered marinara sauce with his cheesy bread from Domino’s and when it wasn’t included, he was fully prepared to leave and eat his bread dry to avoid talking to anyone. You ended up having to take the receipt up to the cashier and fixing the mistake so you didn’t have to see him somberly eating his sauceless bread.

The jokes slip your mind, however, as you take in the decor of the place. A few chandeliers hang from the high ceiling, sparkling under the low light from the sconces on the wall. Each table is decorated with a crisp white tablecloth and set with dark green trimmed plates, long-stem wine glasses, and folded cloth napkins around a simple floral centerpiece.

You’re observing the attire of the guests, feeling a bit underdressed, but also overdressed considering how effortless and chic most of the outfits are. The meals they’re eating look especially small, probably only a few bites on the giant plates. It’s a place definitely out of your comfort zone, one that you’d think would be nice to attend, but probably never would because it’s so bougie and you’d feel out of place.

Kenma’s hand on your lower back startles you out of your thoughts, and suddenly, you’re being guided toward the middle of the restaurant, a server in front of you to lead the way.

The server pulls out your chairs, providing menus and telling you that he’ll be back when you’re ready to order. Polite smiles and thanks are given as you settle in, draping your coats over the backs of your chairs and picking up the menus.

If you thought you felt out of place when you walked in, you’re definitely feeling it now. You scan the menu, trying not to look too stressed when you see the prices and can’t recognize or even read the foreign names of certain dishes, but from what you can read, nothing is sparking joy. You’re trying to get a read on Kenma, glancing up to see if he’s also having trouble picking something from the menu or if he’s confident about what to order, but his stoic face gives nothing away.

In an attempt to put out some feelers, you clear your throat before saying, “I’m not really sure what to pick. How about you? See anything you like?”

“I’m still looking, but nothing so far,” he responds, trailing off at the end as he watches a server bring some morsels of food plated on a bowl of rocks to the table next to you. It’s only then that can catch his eye and in them, you’re seeing the same feeling of bewilderment and unease from being in this setting. But it’s gone in a second, back to his normal flat expression.

But you definitely saw it, so now that you know the feeling’s mutual, you feel less bad about feeling it yourself. You let a few moments pass, with the menu held in front of your face, high enough that only your eyes peek out from over the top before you let out a suggestion.

“....You know we passed by a Domino’s on the way here, and now all I can think about are their wings.”

Kenma nearly slams the menu onto the table, eyes wide and ravenous for some food. “I want some of their cheesy bread so bad.”

“Wanna make a run for it?” You’re trying to be low-key when looking around for anyone that could be watching, gently setting the menu down and grabbing the collar of your coat, looking back to Kenma for confirmation. He’s already shoved one arm into the sleeve of his blazer and is scooting back his chair to stand, making sure to give you a nod so you know that it’s go time.

You’re not as graceful as Kenma is in your escape, nearly spilling someone’s drink while putting on your coat on the way out. You pick up your pace, ignoring Kenma’s glance and snickers. He reaches the door first, holding it open for you while you finally get your coat on. There’s a beat while you stand there before you both burst into giggles, nearly keeling over with laughter and tears in your eyes.

Finally, standing up straight after a few minutes, you gesture behind you. “Ready to go get a gourmet meal?” 

With an excited nod from Kenma, you walk side by side down the streets. You use the time to clown him for not knowing how to tie a tie, even suggesting that you’ll gift him a clip-on for future uses so he doesn’t hurt his little gamer hands trying to tie a knot. 

To which he responds with, “And I’ll light your Minecraft house on fire using my little gamer hands if you don’t shut up.”

Suddenly, you’re silent.

The Domino’s is a bit farther than it seemed while in the car, but eventually, you see the glowing blue and red symbol high up on the square building, rushing ahead to rip open the door so you can quickly usher Kenma inside and order as soon as possible.

Too much money later, you’re skipping out of Domino’s, wings and cheesy bread secured along with other impromptu boxes of goodies to take home. You’re both waiting at the corner while you pull open the Google Maps app to figure out the best place to catch a cab when you notice a spot nearby that piques your interest. 

“Did you know there’s an arcade around the corner?!” you nearly scream, shoving your phone in his face to show him Google Maps. 

“No, I didn’t know that,” he says, moving your phone at least a few inches away from his face. “Want to go there?”

“Won’t our food get cold though?”

“That’s what microwaves are for. Duh,” he jokes, grabbing your hand to guide you down the block to the illuminated storefront. You run in like children, making a beeline to the token machine. You begin reaching for your wallet when Kenma lets go of your hand, shoving your wallet away and aggressively pulling out money from his own.

You stare down at your palm in the meantime, feeling little tingles spread throughout it, flexing your fingers and no doubt looking like a weirdo.

Kenma has done his fair share of dragging you away from places, usually when you're glued to the glass window of a store that has anime knick-knacks you want but have absolutely no damn space for, but usually he just grabs your elbow or wrist. You could be overthinking it, but he must've grabbed your hand on purpose. Or you're just that desperate for physical affection. 

He shoves a handful of tokens into your open palm, putting his own into his pockets. The arcade suddenly feels so overwhelming, with lights and noises all around you. Should you try the crane games first? Or maybe some skee-ball? You could probably dominate him in that…

“Want to start with some air hockey?” Kenma suggests, pointing over to a free table in the corner. 

Yes. Air hockey. An easy win start. “Oh hell yeah, let’s do that.”

You shouldn’t have been so confident. It’s not turning out in your favor, not in the slightest, and you should’ve guessed that, going up against a guy who was the brain of his volleyball team. In your defense, you did win the first game, rubbing it in Kenma’s face and doing a dance like a sore winner. Then he absolutely demolished you for the next three rounds and had the gall to be humble about it like he didn’t just embarrass you in front of the many elementary school kids around you.

You would’ve kept going, being stubborn as hell and telling Kenma, “Best 5 out of 6?” until you got into double digits. But suddenly he has to “go use the bathroom,” which sounds like an excuse to you.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t go too far,” he warns you.

And, to be fair, you don’t go too far. You only walk about twenty feet away to the anime crane game that’s hiding behind a row of other crane games that would be blocking Kenma’s view to you if he comes back the same way he left. He has a phone that he could use to text you if he really can’t find you. 

It’ll be fiiiine, you think as you slide in a token and get ready to win the anime figure. 

The time passes quickly, not that you notice it. All you know is that you’ve gone through maybe half of your tokens while trying to get the figure to fall between the two bars, only asking the staff to help you reposition once because you managed to mess it up that bad. 

It’s funny to think that you were more worried about sticking out like a sore thumb at the fancy restaurant than you are now at the arcade, surrounded by people of all ages in sneakers and jeans while you stand there at the claw machine in dress clothes with your nose nearly against the glass. Maybe they’ll think you’re an important business person coming by to decompress after a very long, busy day at work. 

Then you squawk when you finally score the prize after only several more dollars worth of coins, and the facade promptly sails out the window.

It’s only after you have the box in your arms that you decide to check the time, realizing you’ve spent at least ten minutes straight playing. What’s weirder is that Kenma still hasn’t returned yet, and you have no messages or missed calls from him asking where you’re at, which means he's either still in the bathroom–and if that’s the case, you’re deeply worried for his bowels–or he got distracted on his way back from it. 

You’re almost at the bathrooms when you see Kenma walking towards you from the corner of your eye, definitely not coming from the bathroom as you’d expect. 

“Where were you? I thought you said you had to go to the bathroom.” You notice he’s holding an overstuffed plastic bag. “What did you get? When the hell did you even have time? Or are you just that lucky?”

“Oh. This is, uh..” Suddenly, he’s sheepish, opening the plastic bag where you can see something fuzzy and pink in it. “I didn’t actually need to go to the bathroom. I saw a Kirby plush in a crane machine when we walked in and knew I had to get it for you.” 

Before you could even say anything, he’s pulling out the plush and you notice it’s not just a regular Kirby, but one with a chef hat and pan. You make grabby hands at it until he hands it over, trying to hold it just with one hand and squishing it against your chest and face. 

“I love him so much! Thank you, Kenma.” 

Like a lot of things tonight, it’s different from your normal friendly interactions. Instead of your usual hugs where you go in at a diagonal or the lazier times when it’s just a side hug, your arms are now wrapped around his neck with his around your waist. It feels weird. A good weird. Like you’re feeling the subtle change from friendship to something a little more. It’s hard not to get your hopes up because although you’ve told yourself that you’ll be good with being ‘just friends,’ throughout the night, you find yourself quite hopeful for the chance to explore something romantic with Kenma. 

You part slowly, him shoving Kirby back into the bag and insisting on holding it for you after you reach for it, which you suppose you could allow since he’s been such a gentleman tonight. 

“Great minds think alike because I got you a gift, too,” you announce, handing over the box you worked so hard for. ���I don’t remember her name, but I know you have a few that look like her in your room, so what’s one more to add to your waifu collection.”

“Thanks for the gift, and also, for saying that so loud. I’m sure the whole arcade liked hearing about how much of a weeb I am.” He gives you a smile, somehow managing to stuff the box into the already full bag. “Want to spend the rest of our tokens then head to mine? I only have a few more.”

You pull your sad six out of your pocket. “Yeah, me too. That crane game wasn’t kind to me.”

You have a blast with the remaining tokens, staying away from crane games and sticking more to the classics. You learn that Kenma’s strategic thinking in volleyball does not translate over to basketball when you watch him miss every single basket of the game except for his last one in which he threw the ball against the back wall in frustration and landed right in the net.

Even when ordering the Uber minutes later, he still has a frown etched on his face from losing, and as much as you want to rub it in his face that now he’s feeling like you were after air hockey, you leave him to sit in his feelings. 

It’s a silent ride, at least on the outside. Internally, you’re an anxious, overthinking mess with your inner thoughts going a mile a minute. You spend the whole ride back to his place wondering if it’d be too forward of you to hold his hand that’s sitting on the seat between you two. It’s not like he didn’t hold your hand earlier tonight, even if it was only to drag you toward the arcade. Once you finally convince yourself that it’d be okay to try, the ride is over and his hand slips away to open the car door and you sigh as you lose your chance to be brave. 

When you’re home, Kenma’s tie and shirt undone and your dress shoes thrown haphazardly by the door, you finally get to discuss your thoughts on the restaurant. About how stuffy it felt in your formal clothes and how ridiculous the plating looked for the meals because you didn’t know what they’d even be able to taste with a portion size that small. Kenma even thanks you for breaking the ice by bringing up Domino’s because if you never did it “you’d still be in that restaurant having your 12th course of the meal.”

You swallow your bite and take a quick sip of your drink. “Why did you even choose that restaurant in the first place? Doesn’t feel like a place you’d be at.”

Kenma shrugs, brushing off the crumbs from his hands. “I don’t know… I guess I didn’t want our first date to be just like any other night we’d had. I wanted it to stand out from the rest so you can know that I’m serious about you.”

Your heart just about bursts hearing his gentle voice say that. “That’s… So sweet. I don’t know what to say to that besides thank you. Never knew you could be so charming.”

“Don’t expect it too often,” he jokes, to which you respond with an elbow to his ribs. “I know today didn’t go as expected, so maybe we can try again with a different restaurant.” 

“Maybe—and this is me just spitballing here—we should work our way up to the formal dress restaurants by starting with something simple like… Applebee’s.”

“I feel like Applebee’s is somehow a worse starting point than a place like McDonald’s.”

“Fiiiine. Since you have so much to say, then you pick where we’re eating for our next date. Just make sure I can get away with wearing sneakers and jeans, is all I’m saying.”

“Who said we were actually going on a second date? I don’t know if I want to date someone who eats wings like a toddler.” He reaches over with a napkin to wipe the corners of your mouth which you begrudgingly allow.

“Well, I don’t know if I want to date someone who waits until 48 fucking hours before the date to tell me that I have to put together a whole formal outfit for a restaurant.” Kenma looks away abruptly, but not before you see his shameless smirk. “Why the hell did you even take so long?” 

“I had to use some connections to get a reservation there within the week, and they didn’t get back to me until Thursday, so you knew when I knew!” 

“Hm… okay. I’ll let that one slide then. For now.” 

“So, I can get a second date?” 

“If you insist.”

Kenma puts what’s left of your food in his fridge with the promise of leftovers tomorrow. You help him tidy up a bit, taking your sweet time because it’s finally dawned on you that the date will be ending soon. You’re hit with a wave of disappointment, realizing just how much you enjoyed his company all day. And maybe it’s silly, but you don’t want it to end just yet.

When you’ve thrown away the last napkin, you slide in next to him in the kitchen, bumping shoulders with him before hooking your arm with his. “Wanna finish watching that anime you showed me? The one with the long title?”

He lets out an amused chuckle. “Glad you enjoyed it so much that you remember the name, but sure.”

He lets you guide him to the couch by his arm, plopping yourselves down on it while he grabs his remote to pick the show from his ‘continue watching’ section.

Halfway through the episode, you scooch even closer to Kenma so you can lean on him, your head gently resting on his shoulder to test the waters. He lifts his arm up to grasp you tighter, fingers trailing up and down your upper arm without looking away from the screen. You peer up at him to see a little smile on his face—hoping it’s because of your current position and not because of the atrocities happening on the screen. You’re rarely this close to Kenma. The closest you get to him on the daily is him leaning over you to fix some computer issues or you peering over his shoulder to watch him play on his Switch. 

You’ve never paid attention to his warm amber scent mixed with something floral, probably from his conditioner he told you he overpaid for because he thought it was on sale. How plush his hoodie is and how you’re definitely going to be “borrowing” it as a partner tax in the future. Or how the ends of his hair that’s tickling your face are really soft, no doubt because of that expensive conditioner, and you fight the urge to play with a few pieces. You could get used to being with him if this is what you’d be getting every day.

You manage to last another episode and a half before his soft touch lulls you to sleep, a smile mirroring his on your face.

You have a funny dream that night; you and Kenma are at an Applebee’s, both dressed in your grubbiest hoodies and sweats, while the subpar food sits untouched in front of you. He’s holding one of your hands on the table, stroking his thumb back and forth on the back of yours, the other hand keeping his head propped. You’re telling a story, laughing and waving your free hand around as you delve deep into it. To everybody else, you’re sure Kenma looks bored out of his mind, probably waiting for you to stop talking or at least get to the good part. But you know him better than that.

You can see the affection in his eyes as he doesn’t break eye contact with you, humming in acknowledgment wherever necessary so you know he’s actually listening. He’s squeezing your hand every now and again just because he can. His phone is face down on the far end of the table, most likely on ‘Do Not Disturb’ because you don’t hear a single vibration against the table. 

You’ve got his complete and undivided attention until he decides to get off his seat to lean over the table. You quiet down immediately, unsure of what the hell he’s going to do until he tilts his head and gently kisses you on your lips, lasting only a second before promptly sitting down and telling you to continue your story as if nothing happened. 

Non-dream Kenma would never do something so bold in public. At least, you don’t think so. 

But, goddammit, even if it means writing a script and playing director, you’re going to try your fucking hardest to make sure it happens exactly like your dream during your second date.

Written by: Luna

we’ve got a taglist if you’re interested 👀

[show-us-kaidenshenandoah]

a loved one of mine sent me this post back in June, but i was immediately afraid of being a party-pooper so i didnt post my reply publicly but, now, ive had more than enough emotional distance from the knee-jerk anxiety of "oh no what if i correct people and everyone sends me hate and doxxes me" that im like "oh yeah i should post that" lmao (if i already did this: sorry, chronic memory loss stinks. i dont remember having done this before lmao)

if you dont like reading a long thing of text to get information btw, totally get it, here is a video link to Jessica Vill's video about the topic which will walk you through identical information if that is your preferred way to process/learn

also: you can easily google and wiki my sources, these arent hard things to verify once you know to look them up to begin with. but i did include screenshots below as my various sources; as well as evidence of "yeah, it would be super easy to fact-check me about this if you feel so inclined" [transcripts of images will be my reblog of this post under a read more, bc tumblr kept throwing a fit otherwise if i did it here] nonetheless, never blame people for not knowing what they didnt know. the misconception is absolutely the fault of PBS (for not fact-checking the author of that article pre-publication if nothing else) for publishing an article preying on the Black community's pre-existing attachment to Betty Boop for clicks. i wont be going into that article itself that had so terribly misreported, esp since PBS already apologized, im just reporting the information i know

i will add the following corrections to what i said in that DM:

i do not "blame" anyone above for the misinformation. if i "blame" anyone, it is PBS for claiming Fleischer consciously based Betty Boop's personality and design on Esther Jones, which you can see in the screenshot above; where BlackHistory.com cites and quotes that said misreported article. thats who i was groaning about in my DM, the PBS article; i was not nor was i ever attributing misinformation to come from @rikareena or @lveshae, but especially not @rikareena who fact-checked and was lied to by (a) said misinformation and (b) there not being an editorial within the snippet SAYING "oh btw sorry, our source we mentioned was bad actually. PBS apologized for the misinformation and not fact-checking it and we should too for spreading it without fact-checking our source ourselves". you should always google your facts and that is exactly what @rikareena did. it was not anybody in this post's fault that these sources were based on misinformation. do NOT blame or send negative attention to any tumblr-user/individual person within this post or outside of this post, istg, demand better of these website-sources instead (esp to have fact-checking teams themselves) and not individual people omfg

we do have few photos of Little Esther (you can see all of them in Jessica Vill's video), not just one. but they all are of her as a child. we have NO confirmed photos of her as an adult. also, to clarify, Little Esther was who i was talking about in regards to lost media, we have VERY little records of her performances (to which im glad people HAVE been looking into her and finding more about her that we can confirm is definitely her through this misreport. i love that she is re-gaining fans and her story is being shared, very big silver lining of this whole thing. if you're into uncovering lost media, please do look into her and help find more about her) also, she goes by "Baby Esther" and "Little Esther" as well as her name of Esther Jones/Esther Lee Jones

the photo i said was maybe her as an adult was incorrect. you'll see it below, it's the "Do Tell by James Van Der Zee, circa 1930" portrait that has oft been misattributed to Esther Jones. we do not know who this woman modeling for him had been

the cosplayer in question i mentioned was specifically Olya Gussy. she dressed up as Betty Boop and was photographed in 2008 by Retro Atelier. she is often misattributed as being an adult Esther Jones, which she is not

part of why i can never remember Betty Boop's primary "original" voice-actress is because Betty Boop has had SO MANY, even in just "classic Betty years". but i was specifically thinking of Mae Questel. the main three classic 1930s Betty Boop voices were Mae Questel, Mary Hines, and Bonnie Poe, but there were also several others in the 30s alone. but, yeah, when i was trying to talk about Betty Boop's voice-actress, it was Questel specifically who was in my head

i got my information wrong about the Betty Boop musical "Boop!". i got confused; i blame my chronic memory loss, but still my bad. anyway. it has so far ONLY been OFF-Broadway and is DUE to be ON Broadway in 2025 (get hyped!!! im so excited!!). off of Broadway, it has so far only been in Chicago according to the Wikipedia. and though it only had a had a short run in Chicago overall, the entire time it WAS in Chicago, Betty Boop was played by a Black musical actress: Jasmine Amy Rogers. love her, go support her!!

here are various screenshots with more information. feel free to look into them and/or the court-case on your own time. this is just "yep, shallow 2+2=4 levels of using google/wiki to fact-fact" on myself (which, to reiterate: is NOT a diss on anyone who didnt know what they didnt know, outside of this post or within it, idgaf, i do not tolerate trolls and dickheads being mean and utalizing me/my posts as a weapon to do that with) and show my sources in a more visual way

so yeah!! Betty Boop absolutely should be claimed by Black people since she has so many connections to Black American art within her performance, and Betty should 100% be drawn as a Black woman by any and everybody who wants to depict her that way

but also dont give Fleischer Studios credit for things they didnt do. they did not utalize Ether Jones in their initial conception of Betty in any purposeful or concious way; they did not design a Black animated female character in the 1930s. do not give them that credit that they have not earned. Fleischer Studios only utalized Esther Jones to get out of a court-case they had with Helen Kane. them accidentally creating a character whose performance is heavily in connection with Black American artists, like Esther Jones, is VERY DIFFERENT than them basing a character off of Esther Jones or being inspired by her in of by itself. do not give them flowers for making a Black female character star in her own shorts (and then rescind said flowers-that-they-didnt-earn for how she then "became white-washed" like that PBS article misreported) when they just?? didnt do any of that?

(also this is mostly unrelated but bc it is tangentially related to "dont give Fleischer Studios credit for things they didnt do" thing: if you know me, youll see me specifically crack jokes about Betty Boop being wlw and/or about her "he/him butch girlfriend, Freddie". im talking about her canon boyfriend, Fred or Fearless Fred, who is a human (unlike her also once-canon boyfriend of Bimbo, the anthropomorphic dog). do not take me making jokes about headcanons and how "Fred's design is too sapphic to be a cis man" as legitimate fact. youll see the internet jokes of a similar vein sometimes, im definitely not the originator of that joke)

Betty Boop is for everybody in the same way as youve likely seen that Hatsune Miku trend where everyone is making a cultural Miku re-design to their specific ethnicity or way of life; we've seen Betty Boop be flexibly "for everyone" tons of times, even outside of her being a nostalgic tribute to the flapper girl era (a cultural niche in which women of ALL backgrounds took part). in classic Betty Boop cartoons alone, we've seen:

Betty Boop as white/white-passing (especially any time they copied Helen Kane which Fleischer Studios did OFTEN and didn't even HIDE until it became a legal issue; but also Helen Kane wasn't even being that original. baby voices like Betty Boop's was a common gimmick of actresses then and Helen Kane's catch-phrase wasn't even her own. i still personally think Fleischer was copying Kane, but also it makes 100% sense why she lost that lawsuit),

we have had Betty Boop be Jewish (the most obvious being parents in some shorts speaking with thick Yiddish accents, implying she is the daughter of immigrant parents, most famously in the "Minnie the Moocher" short as part of the set-up before any music even began to play),

we've had her be rotoscoped dancing using Indigenous Hawaiian dancers, in their regalia, and given a tan (multiple times but my favorite is "Bamboo Isle" for sure),

we've had her collab with Cab Calloway (a famous Black jazz musician for anyone who doesn' recognize the name) along with others and had Betty Boop's catchphrase ultimately come from Baby Esther's scatting, along with other instances of Betty Boop's performances having connection to Black American performance-art

and, hell, you could even make arguments about Betty Boop as a cowgirl in her "Nan McGrew" parodies. cowgirls and cowboys were a largely queer and/or POC group, paid very little but allowed a lot of freedom of expression and welcomed isolation, until America cinema and the like white-washed cowboys to hell and back. you could see Betty Boop as anyone of any identity, really, but especially as being of the marginalized in that vein

Fleischer Studios did definitely (accidentally popularize infantalization in animated women woah who said that, who brought up my special-interest) only announce that they used an alagamation of flapper women in their design to better shoot down Helen Kane, but that doesn't mean it wasn't true. Betty Boop IS the 1930s tribute to the flapper era of the 20s and all the women from there, of all skin-colors and ways of life. anybody can cosplay or draw Betty Boop. but Black people especially do have a special connection to Betty Boop that cannot be denied and is v beautiful

(i could talk for a few hours about Betty Boop, and i will be the first to admit this isn't even her first "well, originally..." debate concerning her as a character, much less the breadth of her impact OR all aspects of her history. there's all the ways she did steal/borrow from Helen Kane, at least in my opinion; her impact of infantalization in animated women's designs; her hyper-sexualization and how theater at the time functioned (in a sexual way*) and her specific "gags in the margins"(*×2) animators would make; her almost movie about her and her father that a lot of Betty Boop fans have dug up and shared the conceptual work of around; and even the debate of her age as that is constantly in flux depending on where you look and at what time of history (*×3). all of which i mention in an "if you liked learning about Betty, there is a lot more to look into learning about her" way rather than an "ask me, ask me, ask me" way)

(said * clarifactions will be with the aforementioned reblog to not make this post even LONGER than it already is lmao)

anyway. again: A++ art though, absolutely love it ♡

boop-boop-a-doop

[hanakogames]

today in old books

It's not like no one has any emotions. The naughty girl has a complex relationship with her father. The beautiful-but-haughty girl flip-flops between wanting to be liked and being above everyone. Crushes are everywhere.

“I hope it will be Harding’s and Monroe’s last fight,” Doris said with sudden energy. “I know now that a certain other person was to blame for most of it. I know that you were not trying to be kind to me or belittle me. I’m not so sure about Miss Dean.” “She loves you, Doris Monroe.” Muriel sprang into affectionate defense of Marjorie. “You never had a more faithful crush. She is the one who started the name of the fairy-tale princess for you. She has adored your beauty and wanted you to be in theatricals so that you could be seen and admired. She was the judge who delivered the adjuration to Beauty at the beauty contest. She is the best friend you have on the—”

More drama among the girls, more sighing remiscences of the Hamilton love story, yet another theatrical production...

The play netted the dormitory fund over a thousand dollars. Augusta and Doris stepped into the spot light of campus admiration and were fêted by their friends for upwards of a week afterward. Marjorie attended the presentation of the drama with her mother, Jerry, Miss Susanna and Jonas. It was her mother’s last evening at the Arms and this sad knowledge put her in a rather forlorn mood. Then, too, she could not help thinking of Hal. She had suggested the title of the play as a result of seeing the costume of polar knight Hal Macy had worn at the merry-making in Sanford on Christmas Eve. Now she saw Hal as the knight, rather than Gussie. She wondered vexedly why she always thought of Hal in connection with the sentimental. It was because he had told her he loved her, she supposed. 

(The actual romance on stage is being played out by two women, of course. But this the first even slightly romantic thought she seems to have ever had for Hal, and it's still not terribly personal.)

Ah, now someone else plots to bring Hal secretly to campus:

Leila’s plan to bring Hal from Sanford to sing behind the scenes for her on the night of her play was not entirely one of self-interest. She had often thought Marjorie was nothing less than a sleeping beauty slated to awaken suddenly from a dream of life to reality and a lover’s kiss. She had long guessed for herself that Hal loved Marjorie. She had also been the only one besides Marjorie who had seen Hal’s heart-broken expression as he had stood before Marjorie’s portrait.

Literally everyone knows Marjorie's romantic destiny. Not that she secretly loves him, but that she'll just one day suddenly change her mind and get married.

Anyway, Leila brings Hal to campus and makes him a part of her next performance, off-stage so that Marjorie will only hear a voice singing love songs and be moved, and then surprised to find out the truth.

Marjorie looked blank. She had never before thought of Leila Harper in conjunction with Hal. How had Hal happened to know the words to the old Irish song? Leila must have sent them to him by letter. No, she must have sent the music for the minuet. She thought that he had not been in Hamilton more than a few hours. Still he might have been on the campus all day and she had never— There she stopped. Leila was her most devoted friend. She was glad that Hal had at last shown a preference for some one beside herself. Marjorie stopped the thought process again. She found she did not wish to think about Hal and Leila as being interested in each other. She wondered next if they had been corresponding long. Leila had never mentioned in her presence that she had received a letter from Hal. Leila had—

Slightly confused minor jealousy. Clearly a passionate love.

“Aren’t you just a little bit glad to see me for myself, Marjorie?” Hal could not resist putting this one question. “You know I am.” Marjorie attempted to look into his face with her old-time frank smile. She smiled, but the smile was one of shyness. Her brown eyes rested on Hal only an instant. The rose deepened in her cheeks. Hal looked at her, and wondered.

Literally within minutes she then agrees to marry him, because she now understands what love is.

“Hal, I always mean to be kind to you.” Marjorie did better this time. “I wish you wouldn’t feel that you have troubled me. I have read Brooke Hamilton’s love story. I understand more of love than I used. I know that true love is—it is—” “What do you know of love?” Hal’s hands suddenly dropped lightly upon her shoulders. The two had stopped before the great pink bush, facing each other, their young features set with the terrific earnestness of youth. “Have you grown up? Do you love me?” “I—have grown up this much—I—understand the worth of true love, Hal. That is—” “Not loving me yet, but very near it,” came the tender interruption. Hal’s hands slipped from Marjorie’s shoulders. “I love you,” he said. “I love you.” Marjorie regarded him silently. She knew that Hal was fighting against loving her. That in a moment of emotion he had spoken again the words he had tried to forget. He would instantly go back to his role of devoted friend. She did not wish him to go back. She loved him. How greatly she loved him she could not then guess. She knew only that she loved him. “What is it, Marjorie?” Hal reached for her hands, caught them, held them unresisting in his own. Came a silence. A faint vagrant night breeze stirred the trees, touched the faces of the two besides the almond bush. Very gently Hal drew his Violet Girl into his arms. “It must be a whole year from now, Hal,” Marjorie said later with charming practicality.

(I guess we're meant to interpret that some kissing happened there, but that we can't describe it because it's too scandalous? Anyway, that 'year from now' comment is about the wedding. Because she has work to do first!)

[auroragoth]

Attica RIOT - After Dragula

Hit TV show at the top of viewer ratings last season, Dragula gathered thousands of sims in front of their screen across the nation. The pitch was simple: 'One Drag SuperMonster to rule them all'. As our favourite monsters suffered through love, friendship or betrayal, we've witnessed the rise of great winner Tricia the Terrible. But behind and above all this, at the top, sits the reigning queen, the majestic, horrific, fantastic Attica Riot. She agreed to meet us for an up-close and personal interview, in which the drag legend agreed to reveal herself to her fans.

Thank you, Attica, for accepting to meet with us for this interview! It’s already been a month since Dragula’s last episode aired on mangosimoothie.tv. How did it feel to run your own show? What memories will stay with you from this experience?

A pleasure my dear, truly. Dragula was an experience unlike any other. I would love to say every moment of Dragula will live on in my mind forever, which is true, but the one I will cherish the most would be the first moment the monsters set foot in my lair. Seeing them all together, so full of hope…and fear. As for how it felt to run my own show: appropriate is the first thing that comes to mind. Attica has been gaining so much power and prominence in the queer underground of Forgotten Hollow and beyond, as well as power and prominence in my life. It was only a matter of time, really.

The Bachelorette, Dragula… Any plans for more for reality TV? Or in the entertainment industry in general?

Well, no dating shows, of course. I would love to see Dragula live on, whether through myself or another host. As for entertainment, while I’m not one to covet the spotlight- [Ryan laughing off screen] Oh, hush! As I was saying - fame and notoriety mean very little to me, but sharing my art as well as the art of others with the world was truly a gift, and I hope to continue doing that in whatever avenue comes along.

Are you still in contact with your monsters? How are they doing these days?

I do tend to check in on them from afar every now and again. I am not surprised in the slightest how well Tricia the Terrible wears the Dragula crown. I’m also happy to see that Grave- oh, it’s Gussy Glitter now- was able to turn things around so quickly. Shockubus is alive, which is wonderful. Eden continues to share their immense talent with the world, I feel Willow’s presence lurking around the Dragula Lair every so often – she seems happy, I hear Bafemmet has begun to study the arcane arts, and Pepto Dismal…well, Pepto is working with children now which to me is a shame but she looks very happy, so. Good fortune all around, I suppose.

Talking of young drag queens… Tell us, how did the legend that is Attica Riot came to be? How has it all started?

Oh my, a storied tale indeed. As I mentioned on the show, the scandalous and queer have always fascinated me for as long as I can remember. Around the 19th century - Victorian era England is where my foray into female performance formally began. It was theatre and burlesque acts in vampire clubs - vampires have always been more progressive in these areas than mortals. I found it liberating. Among the Winthorpe clan I’ve always been pegged as the Good Vampire, and vampire high society is so dreadfully stuffy. Attica, however, is rather vile and thrilling. Then came the 20th century. It’s a bit of a blur, but I spent a great majority of the 1920s in drag. It was then that Attica (and yes, that’s always been the name. “Riot” was added in the 1980s) became less of a character and more of an identity for me. I, Attica Riot, am a celebratory weapon and act of defiance in the name of all there is to love about the occult and queer.

Any advice for the young queens out there who look up to you?

Don’t. If you want to succeed you mustn’t look up at anyone. You should look straight on, eye to eye, at yourself in the mirror…or at a portrait of yourself if you don’t have a reflection.

We’ve mentioned The Bachelorette earlier… You and Ryan met on the show, and we’ve seen him make an appearance on Dragula. How are things going between you two?

O, light of my eternal life. My ambrosian canapé and I are doing better than ever. As you may know, I turned him about a year into our affair and he simply becomes more powerful by the night. I’m very proud of the progress he’s made in mastering his powers. And the Winthorpe clan just absolutely loves him…well, except for my sister but she’s not much of a fan of anyone. As we both become more powerful, so too does our love for and devotion to one another.

Has living in the public’s eye affected your relationship in any way?

It goes without saying that he is the introvert of the two of us. I had to just about beg him to be a guest host…well “beg” isn’t the right word; I demanded it, but it was still quite tiresome. I don’t think it’s caused any real strain, however. He’s very good at dissuading press and photographers, to the point where I suspect he’s on a sort of “no fly” list for such things. On the other hand, I can tell it brings him a sense of satisfaction to see ME revel in it all. Why, even now, sitting just out of frame with that enthralled, doe-eyed yet feral expression on his face…yes, I think I can speak for him and say being in the “public eye” is not all that bad when he has Attica Riot on his arm. Isn’t that right, my sweet pet?

Winter is fast approaching, do you two lovebirds have plans for the end of year holidays?

Holidays? Oh, you must mean the Winter Solstice. Well, we’ll of course be attending Vladislaus’s annual Winter gala. Other than that, after all the excitement of Ardor’s grand re-opening and of course Dragula, what we’re really hoping to do is to go off the grid to a remote, idyllic location and enjoy only each other’s company for a few months.

Do you have suggestions for the romantics who would like to woo their partners this season? Some date spots you would recommend?

Hopeless romantic that I am, I’ll admit that I just adore the cosy intimacy of Winter. Take some time to huddle up with your love without the distraction of the outside world. Gaze longingly at them by the fire. Memorize the ridges of their hands. If you’re feeding on them, do so languidly yet desperately - as though they were your last meal.

Thank you again for today, do you have any last words for our readers?

And thank you for having me. I mean that sincerely. I really do love speaking with you all about these rousing times – I wouldn’t be here did I not. I suppose that’s the message I want to leave you with; Eternal life is too long and mortal life too short to spend doing anything else than the things you absolutely love.

Attica Riot / Atticus Winthorpe & Ryan Kato by @mangosimoothie​ | Pictures by @mangosimoothie​

Q&A by @auroragoth​ and @mangosimoothie​

Where to read: The Bachelorette | Dragula

Thank you Maya for your participation ❤️

[blorbocedes-side]

If you write more about the Gone girl!au, I would absolutely read all of it. It was very good and absolutely perfect because it annoys me a lot that so many stories have Nico being the b*tch, which is fair he is, but Lewis is not the saint either and that's what compelling about them, both of them are bad, specifically for each other.

Also who would be Andie in is au?

And I don't think you are shawdow banned? I can see your posts in tags and your name does show up in search bar.

omg anon you're so sweet 😭 but those were Gillian Flynn's words, I ripped it straight from the book and changed the pronouns/names. i do agree wholeheartedly that brocedes is best portrayed when they're both terrible (because they were! to each other! go watch how many times lewis didn't give him enough space and forced him to go wide 😭) and the bitchiness is what makes it more compelling.

gone girl au!nico lives in my head rent free (girlbossing) and if I ever come up with an F1 equivalent plot line maybe I'll write it!

Andie HAS to be George Russell... right? 😭😭😭 like the barely legal, hero worship (altho gussy couldn't hold a candle to emrata's gorgeous tits) but then the SWITCH UP -- standing with the Rosbergs to talk about how Lewis manipulated/abused his power (if it secures him a Mercedes seat)

Officer Boney is Bono for obvious reasons.

As for the shadowban I still don't know 😭 let me know if you can see this post! I've contacted staff but no response yet and no messages tab still :(

[anguigenus]

It is 4 AM and I am on the last fic. The summary is hilarious. Who do they hurt? The first paragraph. Matt just breaks into Gus’s house. He’s like “I smell a party.” Gus and Matt have human nicknames! Pus leeches sound terrible. Magma beasts sound really cool though. Gus raises a valid concern and Matt just brushed it off. Great headline! Matt deals with the consequences of his actions. Matt tries and fails to get Gus to cough up. Ooh! Gus takes control! The Fake Dating Tag. The tag. They fake-dated for free food. I don’t blame them. This is so funny though. Omg the pet names. GUSSY DEAREST. I am wheezing at everything. The acid carp returns! OOH! Murder Matt! Murder Matt! Sharing food! STARGAZING! Gus has a mom in this one! Best Friend #3. Partners in Crime (Set It Off)! I absolutely adored this and all of the fics I read by you today. Thank you for responding to my comments and I hope you have a great day!

BLOW THIS POP STAND MY BELOVED <3

Oh, there are so many good parts to this. Fake dating, Gus carrying Matt, THE PET NAMES I'm glad you loved it because it's in my top three, easy.

You're welcome for responding, your comments were a joy to get!! Have a great day yourself!

[kingfallsamtranscripts2]

King Falls AM Episode Twenty: Referencing Aladdin Don’t Make It Right

King Falls AM Transcript

Episode 20: Referencing Aladdin Don’t Make It Right

Run time: 22:17

First Aired: Feb 15, 2016

Summary: Sammy & Ben get a quick update on the little ones off Route 72 and learn live on-air that not everyone had a great evening on the night of the Valentine’s Day Dance.

(For a list of characters and references from this episode see the end of this post)

[King Falls AM theme plays]

Troy: Hey folks, if you or anyone you know has any information on these hybrid werewolf slash human baby thingamagigs-

Sammy Stevens: Is that a technical term, Troy?

Ben Arnold: Can you please let Troy finish, Sammy, this is important!

Troy: Heh, thanks, little buddy.

Ben: Go on, Troy.

Troy: Well if you see those little beasts or have information on them you just got to let us know. Don’t harbor them, they could have the rabies and or the colic. And please don’t try to adopt while it’s in its human form, cause that ain’t gonna end up well. Just use your common sense and be safe.

Sammy: Thanks for calling in officially with police business and alerting the public to the issue.

Ben: Yeah, nice hearing from you on the job, Troy.

Troy: Whilst I’m still on official police biz, I’d like to make one more little statement if I could, fellas.

Ben: Dude, of course! The floor is yours!

Troy: Well the sheriff is a real foul mood regarding these hybrid wolf babies and what have you just running amok, and he wants to make it completely, perfectly, crystal clear that if anyone should have these animals or any other illegal animals in the city limits of King Falls, they will be apprehended and exterminated on site with extreme force of malice. King Falls is a zero tolerance town for any illegal animals of any kind, up to and including wolf-human hybrids.

Ben: So… uh (clears throat) you’re saying that anyone listening that may have access to a cute and cuddly but illegal animal should do… what?

Troy: Now I’m not talking to no one in particular, I mean this isn’t a warning, it’s just a fact. Sheriff Gunderson is making it a personal project to bring down any and all animals that shouldn’t be in town.

Sammy: But cats are fine, is that right, Troy?

Troy: No doubt about that. Ain’t nobody gonna get any cats while I’m patrolling the streets, friends.

Sammy: There you have it, folks. If you or anyone you know has any information on the werewolf puppies last heard from around Route 72 or any other illegal animals not allowed in the city, please contact the sheriff’s department at once.

Ben: (sounding strained) Thanks for the info, Troy.

Troy: All you listeners, you stay safe out there, alright?

Sammy: Thanks, Troy. We’ll talk to you soon, sir.

Troy: Roger that, Sammy.

[The sound of a phone hanging up]

Ben: (clearing throat) Well… that’s good information there, huh?

Sammy: Are you okay, Ben?

Ben: Yeah! You know, I’m just… I’m not a fan of the idea that Gunderson is sending out gangs of thugs to dispatch animals, man! Aren’t there real issues for law enforcement in this town? Last week, I saw old lady Turner jaywalking in front of the grocery store.

Sammy: So you’d rather Gunderson take down the organized jaywalking underbelly of King Falls?

Ben: No, I actually helped her cross the street, but the point is that this werewolf issue seems like an animal control issue! Let Ralf Harkins take care of this! Why are the police even involved, man?

Sammy: Your guess is as good as mine. Moving forward-

Ben: Yeah! Yeah, uh, moving forward we’ve got about thirty minutes of open calls lined up before acclaimed ebook author Kirk Sycamore- don’t judge this, Sammy- will be joining us to talk about his new book Dead Tom Turkey: The Perils of Uncooked Poultry.

Sammy: I’m sorry, what now?

Ben: I mean… it’s a thing. Undercooked anything can’t be good, right?

Sammy: I would assume, but seemingly that one sentence just covered everything you need to know. Cook it longer.

Ben: Then it might get dry. I don’t know man! Don’t look at me like that! Merv emailed and asked to book this guy. His book topped Beauregard’s King of King Falls, it’s got to be worth something, right?

Sammy: The perils of uncooked poultry.

Ben: In thirty minutes.

Sammy: I don’t know if I can hold this excitement in for thirty minutes, Ben. You must be bursting at the seams! Surely you’ve waited your entire journalistic career to talk about under-broiled birds.

Ben: Uh, if it makes this any better, apparently this is a novel, not an instructional guide.

Sammy: (outraged) That actually makes it worse! This is a fictional piece of work?!

Ben: Merv emailed this to us, Sammy.

Sammy: Listeners, please immediately stop what you’ve got going on and mark this down: I’m going to do my damndest to get you the info on Merv’s book of the month club. I’m on your side and I am fighting for you.

Ben: Merv, if you are listening, I do not need to be cc-ed on the email you are penning. 

Sammy: (laughs) You heard it folks, that’s coming up quickly, but until then we are taking your calls, King Falls. What would you like to talk about this evening, Ben?

Ben: Whatever’s clever. 

Sammy: Talking about whatever’s on your minds before what is sure to be a Pulitzer winning interview. 

Ben: It’ll be good- you’re making fun- but it’ll be good. 

Sammy: How could it not be? You heard our story, King Falls, now let’s hear yours. 

Ben: Give us a call at the station- 424-279-3858, or hit us up at the tweet machine!

Sammy: That’s @ kingfallsam and @ kingfallssammy respectively. Line seven you are on the air with King Falls AM. 

Pete Meyers: You’re saying to yourself: I don’t think Pete Meyers would listen to a show of this terrible quality, as handsome and as smart as he is. He’s probably watching Big Bang Theory or something. 

Sammy: That is exactly what I was thinking, Pete. 

Ben: Word for word, almost. 

Pete: Look, I don’t like talking to the two of you either. 

Ben: Yet you continue to call! And listen! And show up at events!

Pete: Ben if you don’t drop a little bass out of your voice I will roundhouse you right in the gullet the next time I see you. You hear me? I will skullf-(beep) your mom.

Ben: So now you’re threatening me? Do you hear this Sammy?

Sammy: (annoyed) Just hang up. 

Pete: (stammering) Whoa, wait, wait, alright? You know, I’m sorry. I’m a little emotional right now… I would never intentionally try to scuff up my lugs on your face, Ben. I apologize. 

Sammy: I don’t think that-

Ben: What’s the matter? Got a vampire not appreciating the hedge art you’ve been clipping into the bushes?

Pete: Well it’s kind of about him- did you say vampire?

Ben: (triumphantly) Knew it! Man, just fess up and tell everyone that your boss is a vamp!

Pete: Ben Arnold, I just bought domain to your name. And you know what? I’m going to fill up all the pages with babies and donkeys. What’s the world going to think of you? Some weirdo guy, making an internet site about babies and donkeys? Yeah, that’s right-

Ben: (all riled up) Oh yeah? Ooooooh, Pete! Why don’t you come down here, look me in the eyes, when you’re saying this huh? Huh?!

Sammy: Guys. 

Ben: Meanie!

Sammy: Guys! That’s enough. Pete, state your problem or move along. 

Pete: Alright, fine. I messed up big time. Worse than the time I dressed up as Edward Scissorhands for Halloween and ruined Mr. B’s hedges. Apparently I pushed a button or didn’t-really-push-a-button on a fancy thing… that’s beside the point. What I really want to know is- did you guys hear something funny on your station a week or two back?

Ben: Um, um, I’m hearing something stupid right now but I don’t know if that’s-

Pete: Come on, Ben! Be serious. I take you seriously- I almost respect you! Now, I heard a little something like maybe you guys got hijacked or something like that and I just wanted to know… you know, what’s up.

Ben: This again?

Sammy: Wait, Ben, we’ve heard this a few times actually. The shotgun guy said it, we’ve had a number of tweets about it. We don’t know anything about this but apparently another feed cut into ours about a month or so ago. 

Pete: Oh sh-(beep).

Ben: Watch your language, Pete.

Pete: Watch your… face, Ben.

Ben: Wait, what the hell are you and Beauregard up to? 

Pete: None of your damn business. 

Beauregard: (from the background of Pete’s call) Yard boy, what are you doing in this chamber without supervision?

Pete: Uhhhhhhh what? Uh, Mr. B, uh nothing!

Beauregard: Don’t act like an ignoramus around the transmorgrifier. 

[There are metallic clanks and scrapes in the background and the sound of metal pipes moving around. A whirring humming sound begins like a machine turning on which grows steadily louder]

Sammy: What the hell is going on over there? Pete?

Pete: You made me mess up again you butt smackers. 

Beauregard: Don’t just stand there all slack-jawed and drooling. Turn it off this instant. Celestia!

[The whirring cuts off and there is the sound of a call ending]

Ben: What the hell?

Sammy: Well, folks, this is a first for me that I believe an on air failed attempted felony will lead us right into break.

[Cheerful music starts as a commercial begins]

Ernie: Hey there! Ernie Salsado’s leather bound books ain’t your normal bookshop. Maybe you’re asking yourself: Ernie, whatever do you mean? What I mean is that Ernie Salsado’s leather bound books is more than just a hipster reading book nook. We don’t carry none of those cheap-ass paperback books or harlequin novels here, plus you sure as hell ain’t gonna find nothing to read on your I-pad kindle whositswhatsits. For what I understand it’s only first edition leather bound books and (???) up in this joint. Maybe you’re thinking you need to gussy up your place to impress some broad or you have a real need to make people think you got a bigger vocabulary than some Johnny come lately. Either way, Ernie’s got you covered. That’s a book joke! Ernie Salsado’s leather bound books- we got fancy books! F-(beep) you, pay me.

[King Falls AM rock music plays then fades out as the commercial break ends]

Sammy: Ernie Salsado’s leather bound books? There’s two of these stores here? I’ve never even heard of one of them until Rich McGuff! I don’t know what’s more surprising, Ernie’s entrepreneurial rise in the community or him almost making me forget what happened before the break…

Ben: I’m literally afraid to comment one way or another on this. 

Sammy: (amused) He is an intimidating specimen. 

Ben: (carefully and slowly) If he… likes to hear that, then, yes, you are right. If not, please don’t slander that gigantic human!

Sammy: Ha, no slander intended. We’re taking calls and counting down the seconds before we get a riveting interview with the man who some call the Dan Brown of bird related mysteries. 

Ben: Wow, they say that?

Sammy: No, they don’t! (laughs) The phone lines are still lit up, let’s take some calls.

Ben: Good evening, you’re live on King Falls AM. 

Greg Frickard: (smugly) Well look who decided to pick up the phone. 

Ben: (quickly) Um, let’s take another-

Greg: Hey, Sammy! I’ve got a topic of discussion. Let’s talk about how that co-host of yours is just gonna sit there all quiet and not even mention the fiasco he caused earlier this week at Granny Frickards!

Sammy: Greg? Is everything okay?

Greg: Oh, it’s not okay, Sammy. That- pardon my French- moron, that he would even-

[the sound of a call ending]

Ben: Whoops!

Sammy: Ha! 

Ben: Line five you are on with Sammy and Ben!

Sammy: Wow, it looks like you learned a thing or two from Chet, I see. 

Ben: Don’t know what you’re talking about!

Caller: Hello?

Sammy: So what happened at Frickard’s?

Caller: Are you talking to me?

Ben: Nothing happened to… let’s just-

Sammy: Not only are you my broadcast partner, I thought we were friends! 

Ben: Hey! We are friends! I just didn’t think to tell you that I happened to have dinner at Frickard’s earlier in the week.

Caller: Hellooo?

Sammy: Uh huh. This wouldn’t happen to be the same night Emily was on a business meeting with Greg, would it?

Ben: I really don’t recall but it might have been… that’s a good question. 

Sammy: You don’t recall going to your least favorite restaurant in town, which you never eat at, on the night of the King Falls Valentines Day Dance where your main squeeze-

Ben: Watch it.

Sammy: Where the girl you pine for-

Ben: Watch it!

Sammy: Where Emily Potter-

Ben: Thanks.

Sammy: Happened to be roped into a business meeting with Greg Frickard.

Ben: My mortal enemy. 

Sammy: Paid sponsor of King Falls AM. 

Ben: Whatever. 

Sammy: You don’t recall if that’s the night you dined at Granny Frickard’s?

Ben: Ehhhh it’s not really ringing any bells! 

Sammy: Maybe we should call Emily. 

Ben: Don’t do that!

Sammy: Things coming back to you now? 

Ben: Did- ugh… can I fill you in at break and not on the air?

Sammy: You’d better! You know, I’m a little sore that you didn’t tell me to begin with! And this was days ago! 

Ben: I’m sorry, man, it’s just it’s not the best story. Believe me.

Caller: Hello? Can we talk now?

Sammy and Ben: No!

[The sound of a call ending]

Sammy: The turkey guy is not sounding so bad right now.

Ben: Ha, why don’t we try… lucky line one, you’re on King Falls AM. 

Greg: Hey Ben Arrrnold! Why don’t you tell the whole friggin town about you showing your butt and ruining my business meeting with Emily Potter!

Ben: Greg, I really don’t wanna get into this. 

Greg: Ohh, you can’t talk in front of Sammy and the whole town- what’s the matter? Frog got your tongue?

Ben: That's not a saying. 

Greg: You sure didn’t have a problem causing a ruckus at the restaurant! In front of Granny no less!

Ben: Can we take another call, Sammy?

Sammy: Is this true, Ben?

Greg: You can’t deny it, Ben Arnold! I’ve got it on camera from multiple angles! You are a heathen.

Ben: Why do you have me making a scene on camera?

Sammy: Multiple angles?

Greg: I’d like to say it’s just the security cameras… but, if you must know, I hid a few cameras around the Froggery for my big night. 

Sammy: You call a business meeting your big night?

Greg: With Emily Potter I absolutely do! She is the most beautiful creature in King Falls!

Ben: So you admit that it was a date?

Greg: It was a business meeting with a gorgeous woman! Take it as you will!

Ben: You’re so creepy! God!

Greg: Oh, so it’s creepy. Wanting your gramma and your future children to see the moment their future mother and I fell in love? Recorded for prosperity forever. Probably. Classily edited to voice a man and everything. 

Ben: Yeah! It’s creepy!

Greg: (singing) I’ll make love to you! Like you want me to, oh baby hold me tight I will love you all through the night…

Sammy: That is really creepy, Greg.

Greg: You’re just a heathen. You don’t know what love is. What do you know? Tell them what you did, Ben!

Ben: I’m not getting into this on the air, Greg. Let’s just-

Greg: I am a paying sponsor of this show, Ben Arnold! Fess up, right now!

Ben: What are you gonna do, Greg?

Greg: So help me I’m gonna ask Granny- real nice- to pull your sponsorship money!

Sammy: Greg... are you crying?

Greg: (in a high pitched voice) No...

Ben: Hmm, so you’re threatening the show over a personal issue?

Sammy: Greg, we appreciate what you and Granny do for the show and the station-

Greg: I’m glad to see one of you does.

Sammy: But I’m not about to let you threaten taking money away from the station to pressure Ben into talking about something he doesn’t want to. Do what you got to do. 

Greg: Ha! Don’t think that I won’t wake up Granny right now!

Ben: You want to talk about this on air, Frickard?

Greg: Tell the people what you did. Just tell them!

Ben: Ugh, okay. So, I made a reservation for myself at the King Falls best f-(beep)-ing Froggery the same night as your video taped date with Emily. 

Greg: Keep going.

Ben: Jack-In-The-Box-Jesus, this is ridiculous. Sammy, I made a reservation and I made a scene! The end.

Greg: Details, heathen!

Sammy: Details would be nice here, Ben. 

Ben: So, uh, (clears throat) I got there right as Emily was sitting down. 

Greg: At a table right next to ours! He requested it!

Ben: That is also true. 

Sammy: Ah.

Ben: And that’s that! I watched Greg lose his mind. Nature took its course. 

Greg: He ordered every single flambé frog special on the menu.

Ben: Yeah? So?

Greg: Everybody who’s anybody knows that that’s the most romantic frog dish in the world! And you cleaned us out!

Ben: So what? You don’t need romance on a business meeting!

Greg: You ordered twenty of those things just for you!

Ben: And I paid for twenty! What’s your point?

Greg: My point? You didn’t even eat them! You brought in Chipotle!

Ben: Yeah, man! Cause frogs are gross!

Greg: You… you’re gross!

Ben: Oh yeah?

Greg: Yeah. You’re gross! A gross heathen and I… I hate you! I hate you! Ha! I said it. I hate you.

Sammy: Guys…

Ben: I’ll do you one better- I never liked you to begin with. You creep me out. 

Sammy: Ben…

Greg: Well, heh, that’s not what your mom says.

Ben: Don’t you bring my mom into this.

Greg: Your mother things I am a fine, upstanding, entrepreneur, and model citizen!

Ben: She’s an idiot then! Sorry mom.

Greg: Heathen!

Sammy: Guys! (Clears throat) Okay so you disturbed Greg’s meeting with Emily. You ordered food you didn’t eat. I-is that it?

Ben: Basically! He lost it because I was probably in the shot of his candid camera date!

Greg: I lost my temper, but you had it coming! You get Emily whenever you want and I schedule months in advance!

Ben: Yeah, and you did it during the Valentine's Day Dance. Just real messed up, man. You’re a stalker. 

Greg: Who showed up at whose date, Ben?

Ben: I was just having dinner at my favorite sponsor’s restaurant.

Greg: You don’t even like frogs!

Ben: Nobody does!

Greg: Why don’t you tell them how you got escorted off the premises?

Ben: You just did, idiot!

Sammy: If you were just eating, or not eating as the case may be, how did they have the grounds to toss you out of Granny Frickard’s?

Ben: Ugh. I- I may have started throwing tiny hush puppies in Greg’s general direction.

Greg: You, you, you may have? Pah-lease! You were pretending to be Nolan Ryan while you’re lobbing them at my head.

Ben: You had no right to kiss Emily’s hand!

Greg: Well you wouldn’t have even known if you weren’t, you know, stalking us to begin with!

Ben: Yeah? Well, uh, stay away from Emily!

Greg: Well I won’t have a problem doing that since she hates us both.

Sammy: I’m sorry, what’s that, Greg?

Ben: Can we move on… please.

Greg: Emily left in a huff and said she wasn’t a prize to be won. Totally thought she was roleplaying and I called her princess Jasmine… Which she also didn’t appreciate… 

Ben: Nice touch, dumbass. Referencing Aladdin don’t make it right.

Greg: It’s kind of ludicrous when you think about it. I mean, she is a prize to be one. She’s the trophiest of trophy wives to ever be trophy won!

Ben: She’s pretty mad, Sammy.

Sammy: It sounds like she kinda should be…

Ben: She probably hates me now, man. Stupid stunt…

Sammy: I’m sure she doesn’t hate you, Ben.

Greg: Oh yeah, she hates him big time. I mean, she hates us both, but it’s basically a win for me. She was only lukewarm to my intentions but she can’t stand Ben now. She’ll eventually come back around to the Frog Prince if, uh, he’s out of the picture.

Ben: Greg.

Greg: I’ll take your apology on air, Ben. But I would also like it written on a nice piece of cardstock so I can show it to Granny.

Ben: I sincerely hope that you catch a frog-based STD and die.

Greg: And I hope that you find another perfect woman to fall head over heels in love with, Ben, because you just struck out. You stuck out big time.

Ben: You’re an imbecile! Nobody likes eating frogs! It’s 2016, Greg! You’re gross!

Greg: Ha! Shows what you know. Some cultures consider frogs the poultry of the pond.

Ben: Literally no cultures say that!

Greg: Oh yeah? Well ask Kirk Sycamore when he comes on, he’ll show you.

Ben: I’m not asking anybody anything.

Sammy: Greg, I think it’s best if we part ways for the night.

Greg: Fine! No skin off my bubble butt! Later haters!

[The sound of a phone hanging up]

Sammy: I think-

Ben: Can we just go to commercial, Sammy? I just- I can’t right now.

Sammy: D-do you want to? Is that on schedule?

Ben: No! And, no… Ugh, just take a couple more calls before the bird man pops in.

Sammy: Lucky line one you’re live on-

Caller: Hi, Sammy. Hi, Ben…

Sammy: Good evening, Emily. I assume you’ve been listening.

Emily. I’ve been listening.

Sammy: You know what, let me put you on hold so you can talk to Ben off the air.

Emily: No! I’d like to talk to Ben on the air, if you don’t mind, Sammy.

Sammy: You know, I uh… Ben?

Ben: Uh, whatever you want, Emily.

Emily: Okay, you know I don’t hate you, Ben. Far, far from it.

Ben: I’m so sorry Emily. I just, I lost it sitting there, thinking that you were all alone with that creep and-

Emily: You acted like a real ass.

Ben: I know I did!

Emily: I’m not a child, Ben. When I told you that I would love to go to the dance with you, that was the truth. But when I also told you that I was a woman of my word and was going to honor my prior engagements, as stupid and contrived as they were, I meant that too.

Ben: I just-

Emily: You acted like an ass!

Ben: I know, but-

Emily: There’s no explanation that will make this better, Ben! You acted like a jealous boyfriend and I’m not sure if you know this, but you aren’t my boyfriend.

Ben: Can I just say-

Emily: Even if I wanted you to be before, you aren’t. So you have no right to act like this!

Ben: (Pausing) You wanted me to be your boyfriend?

Emily: Before the incident there was no doubt about it.

Ben: After?

Emily: I- I- uh- I can’t let my feelings override the fact that you treated me like a kid, Ben. I am a grown woman! I am a professional woman. I don’t need some white knight to save me from the likes of Greg! And while I appreciate the idea behind it, like I said to you and I said to Greg, I am a person! I have feelings! I’m not a prize to be won! 

Ben: I really messed this up, I’m… I’m sorry. Emily if you’ll just-

Emily: I just- I need some time to evaluate what the next step is. 

Ben: Because you hate me.

Emily: No! Bec- because I lo- I strongly strongly like, probably definitely on the verge of more. I mean, I was scared to death that you were hurt or worse during Lincoln’s revenge! But I was scared even more when I saw you acting like a high school bully during that meeting. 

Ben: You strongly strongly like me?

Emily: I do. But it’s, it’s gonna be a little bit before I can trust you to be okay with that.

Ben: I understand. 

Emily: But I… I wasn’t going to let another minute go by of you think that I hated you. Cause I don’t. But you really need to fix this.

Ben: And I will. I- I promise.

Emily: I hope so. (pause) Ah, goodnight, Sammy. Ben.

Sammy: Goodnight, Emily. We will talk soon.

Emily: I’m sure of it. Ah, I actually wanted to talk to you about being one of the library’s spring break speakers soon. I’ll send you an email.

Sammy: Oh, please do. Anything to get the kids back in the library after, you know, Lincoln’s revenge…

Emily: Thanks, Sammy. Goodnight, guys.

Ben: Hey- hey, Emily?

[The sound of a phone hanging up with a beeping that slowly fades out. The King Falls outro music and credits begin.]

References:

Nolan Ryan: a baseball pitcher.

The Big Bang Theory: A television show.

Edward Scissorhands: a charactor from an old fantasy movie by the same name about a man who had scissors for hands.

Harlequin novels: a trashy romance story.

Characters:

Sammy Stevens, Ben Arnold, Troy, Greg Frickard, Emily Potter, Pete Meyers, Beauregard, Ernie Salsado.

[godlydolans]

So does ethan start appearing more in y/n’s life because of Elijah? Do they start warming up to each other? Is y/n seeking other men? i need a updateeeeee

Something Borrowed Masterlist

Takes place after this

She stood in front of the floor length mirror, looking at her reflection. Her under eyes were puffy from the lack of sleep she was experiencing these days. They were a little dark too, which was to be expected. She had a job that required her to work long hours and she was a mother, which was a full time job in itself.

Picking up the little pot of concealer from her vanity, she unscrewed the lid and, dipping her finger in, dabbed the product on her under eyes. Today was the day she was going to meet Ethan.

After her chat with Gideon in his office, she thought a lot. She weighed the pros and cons of having Ethan back in her life, in her kid's life and realised all the cons were related to her and how she would feel uncomfortable around him.

But the pros were all reasons why having his dad in his life would be good for Elijah.

Y/N reached for her favourite lipstick and dabbed some on her lips, adding the same colour to her cheeks and blending it in with her fingers. Running a bit of mascara through her lashes, she stood back and surveyed herself.

The light blue summer dress she was wearing landed a few inches above her knees, the light cotton material molding nicely to her body. The little makeup that she applied, added some colour to her face, making her look healthier.

Elijah was in the bedroom, busy with his Marvel colouring book. Her baby was very sensible for his age, but that didn't mean he hadn't asked Y/N about his father. He never did it often, but whenever he did, Y/N made sure to tell him whatever she could about his dad.

When Elijah had asked her about his father for the first time, she had told her son, he looked just like his dad. She also told him, he and his daddy had the same eyes. She let him know his daddy had a twin brother, which lead him to asking her about twins and how they are made.

He got too distracted by that to ask anything else about his father, and Y/N took a deep breath in relief. He hadn't been old enough to ask her about Ethan and why be wasn't in his life, two year ago, or even one year ago. But now, at 3 years of age, Elijah was old enough to ask her things like that and she was preparing herself for the inevitable too.

And now his father was here. He did know about him and he wanted to meet him. Could she really make any choice other than the obvious one? Ethan was here, he wanted to see Elijah and possibly even wanted to be present in his life.

So she did the only think she really could and she tried to reach him on his old email. She needed to meet up and talk. She needed to see for herself if he was really serious about Elijah. Because if he wasn't, he wouldn't get to meet her son. She'd experienced first hand how indecisive he was. He left her for his wife, that she could bare, but she wouldn't let him abandon her child like that.

"Mama," Elijah's little hands wrapped around her hips from behind. "You look so pretty."

Y/N smiled, her heart melting for her little baby as she turned and hugged him back. God, she loved him so much. Leaning down, she placed a kiss on his curly hair. "Thank you, my love."

He pulled away and looked at her from head to toe. "You going somewhere?"

"Hmm," She responded, "I have a meeting. It won't take long, I'll leave you at uncle G's before I go, okay?"

Elijah's grin broadened at the mention of Gideon's name and he nodded eagerly. "Yes! I missed uncle G!"

Elijah was just seven months old when Y/N left New York and came to LA. Being a single mother was really so much harder than she had ever imagined and she hadn't imagined it to be all roses and sunflowers to begin with. Juggling work and her duties towards her newborn were proving to be very difficult. One terrible incident that almost took Elijah from her, made her realise that she couldn't go on like that. She needed some help.

Gideon was beside her by the next day, helping her pack up her things, telling her he'd already begun baby proofing his house. Y/N was not against moving to Los Angeles if it meant staying near Gideon. There would be at least someone she could call at the time of emergency, knowing he'd be with her within minutes. She trusted her best friend with Elijah. He was his Godfather, the person who had been the first to hold him after her when he was born.

As far as living in his house was concerned, Gideon wasn't ready to hear a no.

"Y/N, don't be ridiculous," He'd reprimanded, looking at her with a frown marring his face while a sleeping baby Elijah drooled on expensive shirt. "You know I have more than enough space for the three of us, it's not like I'll be giving up my room for you or anything. And you don't have a job there. Let's tackle one problem at a time?"

Y/N was speechless by that point, completely overcome with emotions. Her throat hurt from the tears she was holding back. So she just pressed her lips together, trying to hide their tremble as she nodded her head.

"You'll get jobs in LA, I know that. You've already got your foot in the industry. Just do what you love to do, make a name for yourself, don't worry about looking for a place to live and all that. I'm fucking single, dude, I live alone. I'd love to have you and this little munchkin live with me. Hell, I've been telling you to make the move for ages."

Y/N watched how he rocked Elijah gently, making sure to keep one hand securely on his head while the other rubbed his back. Sleepily, her baby closed his tiny fist around Gideon's collar and sighed. The tears fell down her cheeks and she let them go, placing her own head on Gideon's shoulder. "Thank you."

He let his head rest on top of hers, saying only this much. "You know you've always got me. You didn't have to do this alone, Y/N/N. I won't let you do this alone when I can clearly be of some help."

And he was. He was of tremendous help. She lived with him for two years, and those two years easily went by with Gideon there whenever she needed him. Whenever she needed to work late, she knew he was there with Elijah. Gideon raised Elijah with Y/N. He shares that bond with her son, that Ethan would have, had he been there since the beginning.

Ever since they moved into her new place, Elijah missed Gideon tremendously, even though Gideon made sure they didn't go more than two days without seeing each other.

"Can we stay with uncle G today?" Elijah asked with expectant eyes and Y/N sighed.

"We'll see, hon." Turning back to the mirror, Y/N pulled all her hair into a twist and secured it with a hair clutcher.

"I'll go pack my bag!" Elijah zoomed out of the room, leaving his mother to second guess everything she was doing.

She surveyed her appearance from the top of her head to the sandles she wore on her feet. Was she too dressed up? She didn't want him to think she'd gussied up for him.

Because she hadn't!

She wore dresses around the house, half of her wardrobe was filled with them and it was the mid of july, she wouldn't have worn Jeans?

Was her makeup too much?

But she'd hardly applied anything. She did makeup on others for a living and knew that minimal amount she'd used was nothing in comparison to what people usually wore.

Heart beating in her ear, she forced herself to turn away from the mirror. She was making herself nervous, thinking about silly stuff. If didn't matter what she looked like, she wasn't going there to walk some ramp. She'd just go, hear what he had to say, clear some of the things from her side and see if she could allow him into Elijah's life.

That was it.

"Fuck, why the fuck are you nervous?" She hissed at herself as she began collecting her makeup and putting it away, annoyed for letting Ethan Dolan affect her. "Its just him. You're not meeting the Queen of Engla-"

"Mama! Where's my Ironman?!" Elijah's voice from somewhere in his room made her jump. The watch on her wrist showed that she had one hour before the meeting. She needed to leave in a few.

"I'm coming!" Y/N took one last look in the mirror, before she turned around and walked out of the room. "I'm coming, 'Lije!"

[grisdidthis]

The Glenn Legacy: G1, Entry #6

START HERE | PREVIOUSLY ON: Bimby got her hair styled and her blondeness back, bought a whole new wardrobe full of tacky pink outfits, friended Jamie-the-delivery-guy-slash-hairdresser, and made no progress whatsoever towards fulfilling her Lifetime Want of reaching golden anniversary. Which at least gives me time to figure out how in the hell you do that, since I've never had to. I'm used to playing nerds who want to max out all their skills and sluts who get super bummed if I try to marry them off, what can I say.

Bimby wakes up wanting to be BFFs with Jamie, friends with Cathy the mail lady (also the only female sim in this four-man town with whom Bimby hasn't had a short-lived but disastrous relationship) flirt with some rando and...buy a florist bench? 'kay. Will do. Dump it outside and pray it doesn't rain. Let's also move the phone to a saner place while at it. And now she wants a bronze badge in flower arrangement. I'm not sure where this green thumb crap is coming from, but whatever. This is the longest that Bimby's aspiration meter has been in the gold, and it may be a good idea to have her be reasonably happy when she next goes hunting for a soulmate.

BFF-ing Jamie seems like an easy want to fulfill, considering their relationship score, so we’ll call him over and get that done in between smashing out bouquets to get that badge. Which, again, not sure why she suddenly needs, because it's not like she doesn't already have a pile of junk sitting in the yard waiting to become a car or a novel she needs to finish. Not to mention that she hasn't painted anything in a long while. But FINE, take up another hobby why don't you.

Jamie agrees to come over once he is finished gussying up. Bro, you don't need to take the trouble, she gay. Probably you are too, although I have yet to make a final decision in that regard. And oh, look, it's raining! Fantastic! Let's gossip about zombies!

(I might have choked on my tea when this very thematically appropriate chat bubble popped up.)

That's that want taken care of five minutes in. Yay. Although I'm not getting myself psyched up for this relationship, since Bimby has historically had Bad Luck with people and there's no telling whether or not Jamie will reveal himself to be a scumbag in the long run. That, and he won't move any part of his body to make G2 come about, making him useless for the purposes of this legacy. I mean, yeah her aspiration meter just hit PLATINUM for the first time since she left CAS, but won't this woman think about the babies she ought to be having?! I swear. The nerve of her!

Incidentally, Jamie's outfit, I've belatedly noticed, is both terrible and shoeless. Meaning that he came over to Bimby's place barefoot, in the rain. Boy may... not be very right in the head.

(At least they're Sexy Feet?)

Jamie makes the smart and commendable decision of not dallying outside watching Bimby try and fuck up flower arrangements while the rain pours down on them. Instead he heads to the living room and commandeers Bimby's bass while she smustles happily.

*smustle smustle smustle*

Fine, they're relatively cute together. She can keep him at least for lunch. Which... will take a while to materialize, since we're fresh out of groceries and the usual delivery guy is currently in Bimby's kitchen, getting told a dirty joke involving a fish and a slice of pizza. So the game generates a new delivery NPC, this time a chick, who dumps $650 worth of food on Bimby's doorstep (she's too busy giving Jamie a backrub to accept it) and won't get to appear in screenshots until I exit the game and replace her face, hair, clothes, name, everything.

Anyways! Food!

Bimby manages to cook up a respectable bowl of chili without setting the kitchen on fire. Jamie has atrocious table manners, but so does she, so it's whatever.

They wind up watching some TV and gossiping about Nancy. Great that she’s at the stage where she can laugh about it, I suppose. Having had a Very Nice Day, Bimby heads to bed to recover from all that smustling and socializing, and of course now is the perfect time for something to go wrong.

We have a burglar! While the game is on 3x speed, no less. But it’s fine, the alarm will handle this, no point in interrupting Bimby’s beauty sleep to-

Wait, crap. It turns out that there is NO intruder alarm. We forgot to install one of those back when we got the one for kitchen fires. *facepalm* BIMBY WAKE THE FUCK UP, THIS ASSHOLE IS MAKING OFF WITH YOUR BASS!

...of goddamn course it had to be the bass. We just can’t have nice things around here, can we?

Fortunately, Bimby manages to haul herself upright in time, sneaking around Amin the Burglar to reach the phone and call the cops. Since her energy levels continue to be drastically low (she barely managed an hour of sleep before this nonsense ensued) she heads back to bed, not sticking around to watch Conan the Policeman deliver one hell of a beatdown as he catches Amin sneaking out. At least no one is getting shot dead. Someone somewhere surely has made a mod that allows for that to happen, but I’m not going looking for it.    

Conan does snarl a whole lot whilst stashing the perp in the car, though. Probably he’d rather also be home in bed at this ungodly hour. 

Bimby herself is already fast asleep by the time the notice that she’ll get her money back comes in. No prize for whoever guesses what we’ll be spending it on first.

[edgelord-saeran]

(Tag for this is Live For Me AU)

Conciousness came to her slowly, but when it finally came, she realized that it brought the sounds of a heart monitor. She opened her eyes to find herself in a hospital bed.

"Mc?" The voice was soft, and she felt a quick squeeze on her left hand. She looked over to see him sitting there.

"Hey boss." She said, voice terribly. She took in his appearance. "Looks like you're all dressed up too."

And he was. He sat in the chair next to her bed, dressed in the same hospital clothes that she was. He frowned slightly.

"A lot has happened..." He mumbled. "And my name is Saeran. You don't have to call me boss. Especially not now."

She looked at him in confusion. "This is a change. How long have I been out?" She tried to joke.

"Around a week. The blood loss was pretty severe, and they wanted to make sure everything was still functioning like it should." Saeran said softly, and she frowned.

"Why are you being so docile? Saeran, what's going on?" She asked, reaching over to touch him with the hand that wasn't being held.

It never came.

"Oh." She said softly. It wasn't there at all and her shoulder seemed to simply just stop, though she could swear she could feel herself wiggling her fingers. "That's new."

"I'm so sorry. When you brought the gun down, the shot went through your shoulder. It destroyed a lot of tendons and things, and they couldn't save it." Saeran said, staring down at her remaining hand. She was silent, looking over him as her mind raced.

Her arm was gone. She'd have to live with it obviously. She looked at Saeran, and squeezed his fingers.

"Looks like I'm going to need a right hand man then." She said quietly.

"What?" His eyes shot up to meet her own.

"I lived for you, now you live for me." She said plainly. "I need a right hand man, since I'm now lacking my own."

"How can you joke about that? How could you possibly still want me around?? I'm the reason you no longer have an arm!" Saeran's voice was raising, but she honestly loved it. He looked alive again.

"You're also the reason I'm still alive." She said. "Plus, I've grown fond of you. So that counts for something."

He stared at her in disbelief, but shook his head. "I'll do it. I'll live for you."

"Good." She said with a smile. She then raised an eyebrow. "So why are you all gussied up too?"

"Because I'm technically also a patient." He said with a snort. "Turns out the elixir was super full of drugs."

"Getting your system sorted back out?" She asked. He hummed in confirmation.

"And if I keep my head down and do what they say, they're letting me continue my work and come see you."

"Your work?" She asked. Considering the last work he was doing was illegal, she was pretty sure that they weren't letting him do that.

"Yeah, um. Saeyoung, the redhead, and I are working together to program an arm for you. It'll function just like a normal arm, nerve endings and all." He said, almost nonchalantly. "Jumin is helping us. He's a good guy."

"I didn't think they could do that." She said, confusion in her voice.

"They can't. Yet." She laughed.

"You're advancing the world of prosthetics and neuroscience all for me. How in the world." She shook her head, still laughing.

"Well, I do work for you now." Saeran tried to joke. She grinned.

"And don't you forget it."

[jennifersylvesters]

not so subtle - part eleven

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x reader Word Count: 4 k~ Warning: swearing A/N: surprise, bitch. i bet you’d thought you’d seen the last of me. happy osterfield october! cheers to that and cheers to it apparently being a mcfrickin’ year since i posted the bullet points for “not so subtle” and conned y’all into reading. feedback is always appreciated ~

You should’ve gone after him. You should’ve flung yourself into his arms. You should’ve kissed him the way he kissed you. You should’ve told him something, anything. 

You should’ve gone to the Bahamas and told him how you felt. You should’ve laid it all on the line, telling him how no one could hold a candle to the light he ignited. How could they when Harrison orbited your thoughts?

You should’ve done a grand romantic gesture. You should’ve serenaded him in front of thousands of people. Okay, maybe bring the number to double digits. No way you’d perform with that many people around. You should’ve set up a room with an exorbitant amount of candles before confessing your feelings. You should’ve shown him how much you cared, how much he meant. 

But you didn’t. And maybe that was the problem.

Instead you stood drenched in the rain wondering what all of it meant. You replayed the scene over and over, so caught up in your thoughts that you hadn’t noticed hours pass by. 

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that you found yourself sick, completely congested and downright miserable. The mountain of used tissues seemed to grow along with your headache. No way in hell you could fly when you could barely make it to the bathroom without a dizzy spell. 

“I can’t do it, Ems” you whimpered on the phone before letting coughing violently. Goodbye lung one. “I’m literally dying here.”

“You’re seriously not going to come with us?” You knew how much Emma had been looking forward to this trip, and your sickness had thrown a wrench in her plans. Despite trying to suppress her irritation, you heard it laced in her tone. You would’ve done anything for your best friend, but there was no way in hell you were going to the Bahamas.

“Emma, I can’t” you groaned as you blew your nose loudly. 

“We were looking forward to this-” 

Someone cut Emma off, filling your ear with muffled noise. In the background you heard her toss around the words “sick”, “cancel” and “true love”. You weren’t sure what to make of that.

Emma returned to the line, clearing her throat before stating briskly “Fine. Tom said he hopes you feel better.” You mumbled a thanks, grateful he managed to convince your best friend to drop the matter. “I still think you should go, but he says this might make it worse.” 

“I’m really sorry, Ems” you apologized. “You know I wanna go. I just don’t wanna throw up on the plane and ruin everyone’s vacation.” 

“Hey. I know you do” her voice softened slightly. “Get better soon, okay?” 

With a final cough and a “have fun”, you hung up and collapsed back to bed.

Rather than enjoying sunny island fun, Kimberly insisted you road trip with her and Sarah down to her cabin. You could recover better with people watching over you instead of cooped up in the apartment. Off to grandmother’s house Kimberly’s cabin we go. 

The drive consisted of you in the back seat attempting to sweat out your fever while the other two sang along to the radio. Let the girlfriends have their fun while you died in the back seat. 

When you arrived at Kimberly’s cabin, her mother smothered you with love and medicine. She doted on you as if you were her own, making sure that you immediately went to bed and only called you when it was time to eat. 

By the time you recovered, only a couple days of spring break were left. You wanted to make the most of it though you weren’t much for outdoor activities. It didn’t help that this vacation was clearly meant to be alone time for Sarah and Kimberly. There they were, enjoying one another’s company while you third wheeled. They insisted they didn’t mind but you knew better. 

Thank god for Kimberly’s brother, Ryan. He was a good, friendly distraction from the couple. The two of you could hang out separately without imposing on your friends. You enjoyed how he marveled over you knowing actual celebrities. No need to include details of you fainting from merely being in the presence of some. 

Still, you couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if you went to the Bahamas. Would you be soaking up the sun? Running around the beach? Maybe even posting cheesy tourist photos? Perhaps you’d be kissing someone special under the starry sky, interlacing your fingers together as you agreed this was your sacred place - the place where you admitted your love. 

Haha. Huge sike. 

That, of course, was purely imagination. Instead your reality consisted of getting over colds and exploring nature. The only evidence of your fun was a singular photo posted on Instagram. Kimberly snapped a picture of you groaning next to a laughing Ryan whose arm slung tightly around your waist. You didn’t bother adding a caption; no way you wanted to explain how moments prior he caught you before you nearly plunged off the side of a trail. 

You wondered if Harrison would comment. He never did.

In fact, he never messaged you at all. He went completely silent on social media. No Instagram stories. No Twitter updates. No Snapchat stories. Nothing. 

“You know you could text him, right? It might make you feel better” Kimberly advised. 

Easier said than done. Every day you contemplated sending a text. Every day you made up an excuse. It was simple to chalk it up to being too busy than finding the guts to message him. 

Still you knew your roommate was right. She always was. Stupidly smart Kimberly. 

On your last day of spring break, you paced the floor before clicking through your contacts. You stared at the contact name “Lil Shit 💩”. Why was a poop emoji making you so nervous? Why couldn’t you just suck it up and say something? Why the hell was this so difficult? 

Just fucking text him already. 

Slowly you typed out a message. It wasn’t much but you assumed it would at least get a response. 

Y/N: Hey - how’s the Bahamas?

Your finger shakily hovered over the send icon. Send it. Just press the damn button. 

What was the worst that could happen? He could hit you up with that “new number who’s this”. He could tell you to fuck off. He could call you the wrong name. 

Finally you clicked send, heart pounding. 

You watched the message change from “message sent” to “message delivered”. It was nice to know he got phone coverage in the Bahamas.

Sarah called your name, distracting you from this mild obsession.You grabbed your belongings, heading downstairs. As the three of you loaded into the car, you noticed that the status had changed. He read the message. Well, that’s good. At least he got your text. 

A couple days passed and still no response. 

“Maybe he was busy?” Kimberly suggested. “Just send him another text.” 

Taking her advice, you shot off another text. 

Y/N: So are you back in the UK? 

And then there it was.

He left you on read. Again. 

Oh. So this was the worst option. 

Being ridiculed by Harrison was annoying but being ignored by Harrison was pure torture. 

It didn’t matter how many premieres Emma invited you to. You could attend all the after parties or party at every kick back. He wasn’t there. You wouldn’t have cared if you knew he was preoccupied with work, but he was actively avoiding you. And that fucking sucked.

When had things changed? When had arguing with Harrison become one of your favorite pastimes? When did you realize just how important he had become to you?

Spring classes resumed. Exams followed. You went through the motions, wondering what you two would be doing if he actually visited. Probably arguing. Potentially kissing. Of course he wasn’t there to prove any of your theories so you were left speculating the ‘what-ifs’. 

For months he ignored you. He had to break eventually, right? With summer vacation approaching, you assumed he’d finally talk. Say something damn it. 

You expected him at the Fourth of July party. Emma threw it every year at her parents’ house, gussying up the place with sparklers and birthday decorations. She insisted they could celebrate America’s independence as well as Harrison’s birthday. No one noted the irony of celebrating a Brit’s birthday on this specific holiday. 

Harrison always came, laughing about how his birthday should’ve been the national holiday. Your typical retort was telling him to stop being salty about America’s freedom. The two of you bantered about everything, from the consistency of the fireworks to what present you got him. (“I got you the gift of not kicking your ass.” “Lovely.”)

He never showed that day. 

All the Holland boys showed up, greeting you with hugs and huge smiles. No Harrison. 

Who was celebrating Harrison’s birthday with him? Was he alone or partying with other friends? Was there anyone there to make him a cake and wish him a happy birthday? You wanted to know but couldn’t find the courage to ask. 

Instead you pretended to have fun. You stuffed your mouth with food and sipped alcohol freely. You laughed at jokes and danced energetically. No way you missed Harrison’s painfully terrible hot dog jokes. Of course you didn’t mind that he wasn’t there to make dumb bets about how long the fireworks would last. 

It was just another party without him. Maybe that’s why this party wasn’t as fun as it should’ve been. 

With a nice buzz from drinking, you scrolled to his name in your contacts. “Just message him. Tell him how much he’s missing out” your brain encouraged. None of your friends were around to consult your poor decisions. The inebriation gave you an excuse to shoot off a text. 

Y/N: Enjoying the taste of freedom here in the good ol’ USA. 

That sounded like a good text. Right? 

“Send him a photo to prove you’re having a good time” the alcohol spurred your judgment. It sounded so good, so right. Of course he needed photographic proof you were having fun. 

Grabbing one of the small display flags, you rushed over to Harry Holland reclining in one of the plastic lawn chairs. He yelped as you yanked him back by his shirt slurring “Let’s take a photo to send to Harrison.” 

“Send it to Haz?” he asked incredulously before a sly smirk appeared on his face. “You finally ready to admit that you caught fe-”

“Shut up, Harry. Just take a photo with me” you snapped, refusing to let him finish that sentence. Even drunk you didn’t like where that sentence was going. 

Harry simply laughed, grabbing your phone to take the selfie. You flashed your teeth to the camera waving the small flag madly. You were so caught up in your actions that you didn’t notice Harry leaning in, catching you off guard as he planted a kiss on your cheek. 

The alcohol delayed your reaction, shoving him only once the flash went off. “What the hell was that?” Seriously, though. What the hell was that?

Harry snickered, tossing the phone in your lap. There in your messages, the photo had been sent to Harrison. What in the star spangled fuckery? 

“You’re welcome” he smirked, patting your shoulder. 

“I didn’t say thank you!” you shouted after him.

You sat in the chair, staring at the screen. The message changed to ‘read’ and you groaned throwing your head back. Of course he saw. He just never replied.

Except three moving dots appeared on the screen. You scrambled, sitting up straight. This was different. For a minute they just moved around before disappearing. Only a second later did they reappear. “Just say something already” you grumbled, the anticipation killing you.

Finally the dots disappeared for good. You groaned again, burying your face in your hands. You got your hopes up for nothing. 

“Piss off, Haz.” Your head swiveled to see Harry chuckling on the phone. Play it cool. Play it casual. Tipping backwards in the chair, you tried to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“Just talk to her. Or go back to bed. Oh, and happy birthday, div” Harry hung up. As he looked up from his phone, the two of you made eye contact. 

“You’re welcome, Y/N.”

“I didn’t say thank you” you mumbled. Minutes passed before you realized he wasn’t going to text back. Still, you couldn’t resist one more try. 

Y/N: happy birthday, harrison. 

The moving dots appeared again and your heart lurched. Say something. Say something, Harrison. Even if he just told you to shut up, you wanted a response. Any response. 

The dots disappeared and never resurfaced. 

Just like that, you spent the holiday mulling over your thoughts as fireworks burst brightly into the night sky. 

As summer dwindled to an end, you spent the rest of your break in the UK. Emma guided you around, visiting both the touristy destinations and her favorite secluded places. Still, you couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room. 

Tom had been actively avoiding you as well. He made excuses why he couldn’t tag along when he loved playing third wheel to your friendship. 

Something was definitely amiss. It wasn’t something you could easily discuss seeing as every time you approached him, he made up excuses to leave. “I gotta take this call.” Alright? “Forgot I have an appointment.” Sure? “Tessa’s pooping.” Fuck off with that nonsense. 

You loved Tom like an annoying brother which was why his odd nature pissed you off. 

“What’s your deal, Holland?” you finally snapped. A small group of you hung out in his flat where he avoided being closer than four feet from you. Pretty impressive even if his apartment was fairly spacious. 

“Deal? What deal?” he asked feigning innocence. Yeah, right. Try your acting chops on another sucker, buddy.

“Tom, what’s going on?” 

His eyes shifted around, focusing on anything that wasn’t you. 

“No idea what you mean. Oh, you hear that? Think Tessa’s calling for me.” He stood as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Tessa’s fine, Tom. Sit down.” He immediately sat down. “You’re avoiding me. Well, you and Harrison. But we’re focusing on you right now.” 

“I’m not avoiding you. I’m right here.” Still no eye contact. 

“Tom, you’re not even looking at me” you griped. “You’re totally avoiding me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.” 

You were on the cusp of strangling your best friend’s boyfriend when Harry piped up from the kitchen. 

“Tom’s just being sour” he stated nonchalantly, fixing him and his twin brother a cup of tea.

“About what? I haven’t even done anything!” Sure, you could be an idiot but you hadn’t antagonized Tom in a while. Well, not that you could think of. This whole situation was an exasperating mess.

“I’m not being sour!” Tom interjected. 

“It’s ‘bout that new man you’ve got.” Harry hummed, ignoring his brother. Sam snickered, grabbing tea from one of the cabinets.

“What man?” you and Emma both questioned in unison. While you were utterly confused - since when did you have game for a man? - Emma looked stunned. 

“You have a man?” she mouthed to which you shook your head vigorously. 

“That man on your Instagram” Sam answered as Harry shuffled around the kitchen. 

You might’ve been impressed how both of them simply ignored their older brother’s glare if you weren’t so preoccupied trying to figure out what Sam meant. 

You pulled out your phone, scanning your Instagram profile. Looking at the first photo, you let out a snort. “Definitely not dating Sebastian Stan.”

“Oh, did you post that photo for a throwback?” Emma clapped her hands together excitedly. “You look so good! You’d never believe you’d been sobbing a couple minutes before that was taken.”

“Nah. Not that one. The guy from the woodsy photo” Harry steered the conversation back on course much to Tom’s dismay. 

“Who? Ryan?” 

“Oh, is that his name? I didn’t know” Tom remarked, acting completely surprised.

Harry choked on his tea before sputtering out a laugh. “Like you and Haz haven’t been trying to dig up dirt on the bloke” he wiped his mouth, grinning at an embarrassed Tom.

“You’ve been digging up dirt on Ryan?” you inquired, baffled that they would do that. 

“Ryan is Kimberly’s brother” Emma explained. 

“You’re dating Kimberly’s brother?” Tom’s eyebrows lifted in shock. 

“Wait, Kimberly has a brother?” 

“Which one is Kimberly again?” 

“Her flat mate.” 

“She the one who dressed up as a vagina on Halloween?” 

“Think so.”

Ignoring the younger brothers, you answered Tom’s question. “I’m not dating Ryan. Who told you that?” 

Tom went quiet, only sheepishly looking at the ground. Suddenly everything clicked. 

This fucking div. 

“Tom” you started slowly. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?” Silence. “Is it because you thought I was dating Ryan?” 

“No!” he shook his head like a scolded child. “It’s just…” he trailed off, still avoiding eye contact. 

“Spit it out, Holland.” 

“Okay...So maybe I thought you were dating Ryan. I just...I didn’t wanna make Harrison feel bad if I talked to you after all you guys have been through. But I didn’t know how to talk to you either. It’s not like I could talk to you about your new boyfriend.”

He corrected himself as he saw your glare. “I mean, your not your new boyfriend. I just didn’t want to take sides or anything.” 

Harry shared a wry smile with you before you both shook your heads in disbelief. 

“Oh, babe.” Emma placed her hand on Tom’s knee. The two of them exchanged soft smiles before she said “That’s the dumbest thing you’ve probably ever done. And you’ve broken your nose multiple times.”

His face turned red as Harry and Sam roared with laughter. 

“It’s not even about taking sides. We all know you’d choose Harrison; he’s your best friend. But you could’ve just asked what was going on instead of assuming things” she explained. “Now I’m gonna get a cup of tea while you sort this out with Y/N.” She kissed him on his forehead before joining the twins in the kitchen. 

Tom finally looked at you properly cracking a weak smile. “I’m really sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have...I should’ve just asked.” 

You laughed, accepting his apology. How could you not? It was Tom. The two of you exchanged a brief hug before you stood up and announced you were heading out. 

“No! Stay!” Tom insisted. “Let me fix things properly.” 

You weren’t sure what that meant, but you explained you needed to pack. Eventually with Emma’s help Tom relented.You gave him another hug before leaving his place.

Humming to yourself, you felt better knowing that you cleared up that miscommunication. If only things could be that simple. You pushed open the apartment door to a crisp breeze and turned before stopping in your tracks. 

Almost four months later and there he was. 

He blinked, clear recognition in those beautiful eyes. It was clear neither of you expected to run into one another. As you cautiously approached, he tensed up though stood firmly in place. 

Now only a couple feet away, you took a proper look at him. Had he gotten more handsome? Was that even possible? His hair was longer, messier but suited him well. His hands jammed into his pockets as he kept his eyes on you. Even with the tight expression, it was comforting finally seeing him. Finally being around him. It had been so long, and you missed this. Missed him. 

“I miss you.” Of all that was holy- Did you really just say that out loud? The words slipped out of your mouth carelessly. 

His eyes widened at your confession. Those were the first words since that rainy day. It felt strong, maybe too much. But those words rang true to how you felt. You couldn’t keep it in any longer. 

“I…” you paused, wishing you could’ve composed your thoughts better. But the moment was here, and the time was now. “I just...haven’t seen you around. I didn’t realize how much I missed you till you weren’t there. It was like all I could think about was if I was ever gonna see you again, y’know?” 

Seeing him take the slightest step forward, you summoned up a bit more courage to continue. 

“I like being around you, Harrison. I like arguing even though you drive me crazy. And Jesus Christ do you drive me fucking insane. And it’s crazy to think that you’re one of my favorite people even though you’re a pain in my ass.” 

The corner of his lips twitched, fighting the urge to smile. “But I like that you’re there for me. And that you don’t make fun of my crying. And that you’re so sweet.” 

You began choking up. Oh, God! Why the hell were you doing that? 

You wanted to stop - let him process all of this - but kept going. “And I get why girls like you because your flirting is just so...It’s you and it’s charming. It’s so damn charming that all I want is your attention.” His gaze shifted downwards, staring at the pavement. No, you didn’t want that. You wanted his focus on you. Please look up. Look up.

“And I love it when you call me love.” He glanced up at as your eyes swelled up with tears. Keep looking at me. No one else but me. 

Harrison stared as you dry swallowed, rubbing the tears away. “I really do. I don’t think you even realize what that does to me. And I wish...I just wish you said it in more than a friends way.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever thought about like that.” HIs eyes darkened at that, the softness quickly disappearing as he completely stiffened up.  

“Sorry I’m late!” A pretty brunette bounced up to Harrison’s side smiling widely. 

Neither of you spoke as she continued smiling, now with a quizzical expression. “Hello, I’m Jessica” she introduced herself as she held out her hand. You shook it, muttering a polite greeting before pulling away. 

That was when Harrison’s arm went around her protectively. He pulled her closer as she wrapped her arm around his back. He kissed her cheek causing her to let out a bright laugh. 

Oh. 

A weight crushed in your chest as you forced a smile. Of course Harrison would have someone. He hadn’t waited around for you to get your shit together. You missed out on the only chance he’d given. You’d been foolish to forget that others wanted him who wouldn’t hesitate for their opportunity. The weight sunk deeper the longer you looked at the couple. 

Noting the discomforting silence, Jessica eyed you both. “Should I just meet you up there, Haz?” she asked politely. Of course she called him by that nickname. Of course she had that privilege. 

“No, we’ve basically wrapped up.” 

“Guess up to Tommy’s place then” she nudged him in the ribs playfully. 

“‘Course, love.” Oh. 

So that was Harrison’s answer to your feelings. So this was how heartbreak felt. You nearly shattered into a million pieces as he smiled at her and squeezed her shoulder softly. Tears pricked the back of your eyes once again. Hold it in. Just for a little longer hold it in. You couldn’t bear the thought of crying in front of Harrison. 

“It was nice meeting you” Jessica smiled before taking your hand and squeezing it gently. 

“Y’too” you croaked out, reminding yourself to breath. In, out. In, out. In, get the fuck out. 

You pushed past them, rushing away from Tom’s apartment. A couple blocks later you stopped and took a deep breath. Leaning forward, you placed your hands on your thighs as the mental picture of the happy couple flashed in your mind. They looked good together. Of course they did. 

So there was the truth. Harrison Osterfield was completely and utterly over you. And you weren’t sure you would ever get over the ocean eyed boy who completely owned your heart.

tags list: @sleepybesson, @sophiatomlinson23, @supernatural-girl97, @tomhaz | @alt-ernativewonderland, @bbk8lin (not sure if you wanted to me to tag you?), @blackstarryroses, @bringmethehorizonandpizza, @butithasntkilledyouyet, @chims-kookies, @choke-me-sweet-pea, @deleteidentity, @divosterfields, @highladyjel, @hollandhearts, @jessiq31, @kateelyse96, @kayla-m1996, @lovelytrashure, @otheenglishsetters, @sarcasticvodka, @soccerstud004, @spider-mendes, @thefallenbibliophilequote, @valkyriesqueen101, @wolvesofthewinter

[queen-mischief-fanfiction]

Trailer #2

An: Okay everyone I think this will be my last trailer redesign but I’ll make this promise if this gets a lot of attention then after I see the new film, which is in a view days, I’m going to do a redesign of the film, I will write the movie like I’ve written these okay.

“Jellicle Cats meet once a year At the Jellicle Ball where we all rejoice And the Jellicle Leader will soon appear And make what is known as the Jellicle Choice

When Old Deuteronomy, just before dawn, through a silence you feel you could cut with a knife Announces the cat who can now be reborn

And come back to a different Jellicle Life For waiting up there is the Heaviside Layer Full of wonders one Jellicle only will see And Jellicles ask because Jellices dare Who will it be? Who will it be?”

A black cat is seen walking through the streets, avoiding cars and rummaging through bins. Bustopher jones stands in front of her “oh my, we better get you cleaned up” he says and the screen fades black. 

“Follow me home if you dare to, I wouldn't know where to lead you”

Three knocks are heard and the cat door opens up to a Jennyanydots “oh Bustohoer Jones what a surprise, Jelly and I weren’t expecting you” she says after a small curtesy and Bustopher bowed back “I know but I have an urgent matter about a dirty kitten and this time we will need a bucket of water” he says showing the cat with a streak of white on her cheek. The next shot she’s in the bubbly bath playing with the bubbles, one floats in front of her face and shows Plato’s face before it pops and he wasn’t there. “Sorry I’m late ladies I had a little trouble” duchess says coming inside with Quaxo and Alonzo seeing a clean Victoria with the pink bow “oh whose this darling little queen?”

“Should I take chances when no one took chances on me? So I watch from the dark, wait for my life to start With no beauty in my memory. All that I wanted was to be wanted Too young to wander London streets, alone and haunted Born into nothing At least you have something, something to cling to Visions of dazzling rooms I'll never get let into And the memories were lost long ago But at least you have beautiful ghosts”

*Dame Judi Dench*

“They call me Duchess and it’s now my duty to show you around, now the gentleman that brought you here is my Brother Bustopher Jones,” 

*James Barron*

Bustopher is seen sitting on his hat and the toms standing proudly around him, “duchess listen to me it’s not your fault, do not regret a mistake you did not make” he tells his sister “but it is my mistake Bustopher and I must pay for it until she is back in my arms” she says.

“,the Queen’s that cleaned you are Jennyanydots,” 

*Susie McKenna*

Jennyanydots is smiling wide finishing her song, “now which one? Oh yes thank you darling, run along now” Jenny thanks her mice friend taking the pink ribbon from his paws before tying it around Victoria’s neck “purrfect like a little queen”.

 “,and Jellyorum,” 

*Susan Jane Tanner*

Jellyorum pats Gus’s paw affectionately. “Jennyanydots I heard a rumour yesterday” she says “what is it this time sister?” Jenny was so over Jelly’s gossip “Bustopher Jones was seen strutting about town, perhaps he’ll join us tonight for the celebrations”. 

“Then we have Munkustrap he’s the next leader,” 

*Michael Gruber*

Munkustrap prowls around defensively awaiting an attack on his father behind him, “Everlasting Cat give me strength and sanity to last the Jellicle ball” he prays as his brother watches him bored.

 “, his mate Demeter,” 

*Aeva May*

Munk And Demeter share a dance with each other. “I wish I can be as strong and brave as you one day” Victoria admires Demeter making her smile and pet the younger queen “Victoria if you were any braver you’d be a lioness, and you are strong not every queen can tame a wild Tom” Demeter says “Plato isn’t wild” Victoria replies and Demeter chuckles “not all Toms are wild on the outside” she says mysteriously.

 “Alonzo,” 

*Jason Gardiner*

“Woah! Careful there, kittens must always watch where they are going” Alonzo says stopping the kittens from walking into a pollicle area.

“Bombalurina,”

*Rosemarie Ford*

Bomba saunters up to Victoria looking her up and down “little kitten you have a lot to learn about Toms and luckily auntie Deme and Bomba are here to help” she says making Deme smile as she shakes her head at her sister.

“Rum Tum Tugger!!” 

*John Partridge*

Cettie squeals moving to sit between his legs and rub herself against him as Victoria and Rumple playfully claw at his legs and he smirks blowing a kiss to Quaxo. “My darling Victoria I have discovered that life’s greatest treasures lie in having a family with the ones you love” Tugger tells Victoria as he looks over his litter of seven kittens, three are red, brown and yellow with a mix of stripes and spots and four are black, white with gold spots and two have similar looking names. “How did we let him talk us into mating with the both of us?” Misto asked Bomba “we love him and all his eccentricities” she answers.

“Then we have Cassandra,” 

*Rebecca Parker*

a close up of Cassandra shown dancing. Alonzo holds Cassandra back from Grizabella. “Look at her, she fits in so well with everyone” Cassandra tells Alonzo watching Victoria interact with the kittens, “I know it’s like she’s home” he says.

“,Exotica,” 

*Femi Taylor*

Exotica is shown near Deuteronomy during Gus’s song. She is also seen fawning over Tugger. “I wonder who’ll be picked to go tonight?” Exotica asks the other girls “I’m thinking it’ll be gus” Rumpleteazer says “ladies no one but Deuteronomy knows who’ll be chosen tonight, but Gus is a worthy candidate” Cassandra says.

 “,Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer,” 

*Drew Varley* *Jo Gibb*

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer peak into the house using the cat door before they acrobat their way in. They interrupt Misto’s song by jumping on the piano keys behind him making him jump and hiss at them, “tut tut Quaxo that’s not your story to tell” Jerrie chuckles finding his reaction funny “he’s right, time to let the us troublesome tigers sing our song” Teazer declares before they start singing their song.

“,Tantomile and Coricopat our psychic twins,” 

*Kaye Brown* *Tommi Sliiden*

The Psychic twins are seen reacting to an unknown presence in the yard. Tantomile and Corcipat watch Victoria and Misto sharing a secret smile with each other. “Will the yard’s magician make a big show?” Tantomile asks Misto “I believe it will be a sight one must see to believe” Coricopat says.

“,Skimbleshanks,” 

*Geoffrey Garratt*

Skimble And Jenny are tap dancing together and skimble twirls Jenny around and they pose finishing their dance in each other’s arms. “I still wonder how our daughter ended up with him?” Skimble says watching Rumple  and Jerrie, “if my memory serves me correctly you were just as wild as him in your youth, or did you forget how Rumpleteazer was conceived?” Jenny says smirking at her husband.

“,Gus the theatre cat,” 

*Ian McKellen*

Gus is sitting on a hat telling the kittens his stories. Flashbacks of him as Fireforefiddle and Growltiger are shown. “Back in my day you needed to do more than jump through hoops to be talented” Gus chided the kittens “back in your day dad, don’t be silly that was last week on the telly, we were watching an animal talent show” asparagus laughs.

“Asparagus Jnr,” 

*Tony Timberlake*

Asparagus And Munk share a look of disbelief as someone asked ‘what’s a Jellicle Cat?’ “Boys please settle down you know how upset Munk gets if everything isn’t perfect” he chided his sons stopping then from their prank, making them groan.

“,our leader Old Deuteronomy,” 

*Ken Page as Old Deuteronomy*

Deuteronomy sits down on the tire and he sons come up to bow before nuzzling him. A flashback is shown of a younger Deuteronomy with his sons of varying age with the oldest being Macavity and youngest Tugger. “Deuteronomy do you really believe that she’s out there?” Duchess asks him “all Jellicles find their way home eventually” he says as Grizabella and then Victoria is shown.

“The magical, the marvellous Mr Mistoffelees!” 

*Jacob Brent*

Music pauses as Misto And Victoria sit together on a windowsill “what do you really think of Tugger?” She asks him “I think he’s terrible bore,” a shot of Misto winking at Tugger is seen “,he’s my terrible bore” Misto finishes smiling at Victoria. 

“,the queen kittens, Etcetera,”

  *Jo Bingham*

“Wait! You know Tugger likes Misto then why do you fawn over him?” Victoria asks watching Cettie gussy herself up in the mirror. “Because the more I gush the more Tumblebrutus sees me and one day I’m hoping he’ll take me as his mate when we are older” she says excitedly.

“,Electra,”

*Leah Sue Morland*

“Don’t worry about Cettie I think she was dropped on her head as a kitten” Electra jokes sitting next to Victoria. Electra covers her ears as Cettie squeals loudly “Etcetera for the love of Everlasting Cat shut up!” She screams at her best friend.

 “,the youngest Jemima,”

*Veerle Casteleyn*

“You’re very lonely out there, you should stay” Jemima tells Victoria by the entrance of the yard, “How do you know?” “I can feel your sadness as you remember your life, so please for Plato, for duchess, for everyone please stay” Jemima begs grabbing the taller kitten’s paws, Victoria’s ears and tail tilt down “I can’t” a shot of sad Jemima standing alone at the entrance is shown.

 “,and the Tom kittens, George,” 

*Frank Thompson*

“Is he really a cat?” Victoria says not knowing she could be heard, Bomba slides up behind her “not sure we have a theory going he’s part pollicle” she says watching George smile goofily at Electra and wagging his tail.

“,Tumblebrutus,”

*Fergus Logan*

Tumblebrutus does a double flip and backflip before turning around and seeing Cettie wasn’t watching him. “How the hell can I get her attention if she’s obsessed with Tugger” Tumble rants to his friends “go and say hi” Plato says “that’s easy for you, you are tall dark and mysterious Queens love that plus you have very intense eyes. Meanwhile I’m quirky, flippy and akward especially talking to Queens” Plato groans finding Tumblebrutus’ plans stupid.

 “,Pouncival,” 

*Karl Morgan*

Pouncival and the other Tom kits are on top of boxes looking at Victoria after her bath, Pouncival leans forward too much and falls off the box landing on his feet as the others laugh at him. “,And please be wary of anyone named” “Macavity!” Demeter screeches as the other cats run and hide, Munkustrap stands tall in front of Macavity, who calmly walks up to him and Tugger who was hiding behind Munk “look at this a family reunion” Macavity says mockingly “leave Macavity there is nothing for you here” Munk states making Macavity cackle “Give me what is mine and there won’t be any cats getting hurt” he threatens and the light turns red as the other cats hiss at Macavity before everything turns black.

*Elaine Paige*

Grizabella is shown crying as she lays on the floor, Deuteronomy watches shedding tears for the queen he can’t help. “Does she really think one night can make 20 years of hurt disappear just because she’s sorry?” Tugger said enraged and Deuteronomy sighs “no but even the worst cat in history feels regret for actions made out of ignorance”.

*Bryn Walters*

Plato stares dreamily at Victoria as she talks with the Queens “fellas Plato has a case of Love at first sight” Tugger tells the toms as they watch Plato, “go on up and tell her how you feel” Tumblebrutus orders.

*Phyllida Crowley Smith*

Victoria gazes at Plato and the Queen’s look on hesitantly “be careful around him” Electra warns her “why he seems like a nice Tom?” Victoria asked as the Queens just go “you’ll find out”.

 “Who are you?” Victoria asked Plato as they circle each other in the moonlight, “I’m called Plato, and you?” He asks “I’m Victoria”. “Will it hurt?” Victoria asked as they start dancing together “I don’t wanna lie it will hurt, I can’t stop it but what I will do with your permission is give you the most pleasurable experience in your life” he promises and he drags his claws lightly down her back making her moan.

“And so maybe my home isn't what I had known

What I thought it would be But I feel so alive with these phantoms of night And I know that this life isn't safe, but it's wild and it's free”

Various shots are seen including the kittens all smiling as they dance a chorus line behind Tugger, Munk and Macavity fighting, Rumpleteazer and Mungojerrie in their Peke and Pollicle costumes messing up the barking line, and Deuteronomy nuzzling a shiny Mistoffelees. The final shot is Victoria throwing her magic glitter to the camera as Plato holds her up in the center of a circle of mating partners, Rumpleteazer and Mungojerrie, Electra And George, Etcetera and Tumblebrutus, Jemima and Pouncival, Misto and Tugger, Demeter and Munk.

*Cats*

[sternerstufftoys]

A slice of the action

Action Masters are panic. At the start of the 1990s the Transformers brand was collapsing faster than a flan in a wind turbine and for some reason the good folks at Hasbro were not okay with this. Toy franchises come and go all the time, and six years was a healthy lifespan. Hell, at the time He-Man had already gone the way of the plastic dodo and Mattel had basically just sighed, shrugged and gone back to churning out Barbies.

But for some reason Transformers was the brand that they would not let die. Kids apparently wanted the old classic characters back, but rising production costs meant that repeating the entire 1984 product line would be unfeasible (though a spirited attempt was made in Europe, gawdbless). What to do? Why, action figures of course! Action figures with accessories no less! Action figures that were poorly articulated even by the standards of the time, action figures that had to have all the distinctive alt mode kibble removed to the point of homogeneity in order to freely interact with said accessories and vehicles, and yes, vehicles for transformers even though that made no goddamn sense at all. Just try anything to keep Transformers alive, no matter how terrible the idea is!

Which brings us to Slicer, an interesting creation in his own right, being an early example of practice which would later become exceedingly common in the following decade - take an old and familiar character, gussy it up with new colours, and make it someone else. In this case, Wheeljack. So by the time Prime rolled around with it's weird sword-wielding Wheeljack, it made ludicrously easy sense to fire it out in blue and bronze as a new Slicer.

(only officially this is just regular Jack again, because securing a brand new name trademark for a BBTS exclusive would be a complete waste. As a collector, you'd have to be a ridiculously joyless pedant to insist that this was Wheeljack and not Slicer)

It's a remarkably good fit. Prime Wheeljack wasn't a bad character in the least, but it always felt like a strange choice to make the sword-loving bad boy loner character Wheeljack. I strongly suspect that orders from on high said that Wheeljack needed to make an appearance, but the show runners had no need for a wacky inventor and every need for an arsehole with a knife obsession. He might as well have been Drift, or Springer or Roadbuster or anyone else as Wheeljack.

So divorced from the context of the show, this mould is far better as Slicer than it is Wheeljack. The permanent scowl, so deep as to have pulled his entire face in with it, is perfect for a Decepticon. The long ape-like arms give him a feral quality. And, y'know, he's carrying a pair of slicers. So there's that. He has that issue that you occasionally find, where the figure looks awesome in almost any pose, but actual articulation is somewhat limited. The shoulders don't swing out very far and there's no rotation at the elbow, so actual sword swinging is limited. Maybe that's his thing. He's a massive poser, but can't actually fight all that well.

Transformation is far more traditional than many of the Prime line, with no real shellforming and plenty of steps. It's complex without being complicated, which is just great. Not only that but the car mode isn't overly-tiny, another common problem with Prime. You can stick the two swords to the front like massive angry tusks, but this dumb and stupid and people who do it obviously smell of biscuits and ennui. They'd either get stuck or snap off the moment you ram them into anything. Stick them on the sides so it looks more like massive angry bull horns. Made of knives.

So yeah, it fits in with pretty much any CHUG collection, helps fill out the Decepticon ground troops and adds a nice pop of colour with his glittery translucent styles. And here's the thing, there ought to be way more like him. The old Action Master characters all had obvious nods to what they transformed into, like Skyfall's jet intakes, Rad's car bonnet chest or Kick-Off's surly disposition towards Sensible Soccer. They're easy targets for quick repaints of existing toys, and yet outside of overpriced Collector's Club exclusives they've barely been touched. It's Krok, Axor and Banzai-Tron, I guess? Give us some Autobots. Give us Jackpot. Or Mainframe. One of the dumb ones, anyhow.

[dzamie-oc]

6: Hidden

“...so by adjusting the variable theta here in the matrix, you can alter the angle of rotation.”

Ocellus kept her eyes on her note paper, making clean, orderly brackets to house the grids of numbers and trigonometric functions. She flicked her forked tongue, getting a cursory taste of the emotions in the room. The delicious, cool flavor of learning and understanding, soured slightly by a smattering of confusion. A couple spicy motes of frustration, largest from where Smolder sat. The changeling glanced towards the dragon, finding that her friend’s own eyes were darting between the chalkboard, Headmare Starlight, and... her. Pulling herself back from the draw of nibbling on the emotions, Ocellus startled when she realized she had missed two entire equations being written. That they were just the first steps in a practice problem was small comfort to the blue-chitin changeling; who knew what verbal instructions she could have missed, too?

After catching back up in her notes, she chanced another taste, intending to take more of a passive taste, paying more attention to class. However, what she intended was overruled harder Princess Celestia denying Prince Blueblood the last bite of her cake; an intoxicating wave of lust filled her tastebuds, overpowering nearly every other emotion in the room. Reflexively, Ocellus turned towards its source, both surprised and suddenly hungry - although she hated to admit it. Not only was it filling yet almost nutritionally useless, the taste and her reaction recalled memories in her from before the Great Reformation, when she had been drawn towards and fed on such strong love-adjacent emotions.

Nonetheless, she found herself staring at her dragon friend, who was now staring entirely at her. A light blush crept onto her cheeks as she considered the implications: her unsubtle, willful dragon friend was focused wholly on her, and thinking incredibly lewd thoughts at her. Her thoughts were once more diverted when the lust suddenly cut off, replaced by a more platonic desire. In the back of her mind, she acknowledged that Headmare Starlight was going over the answer to the problem on the board, almost unconsciously copying down the correct answer for later comparison; at present, though, she noticed Smolder repeatedly moving her hand. Thumb and fingers together, save for an extended pinky, rocking back towards the dragoness twice. Pause, hand still in position, and another two rocks. It was a sign the two of them had worked out - miming the high-society griffon etiquette for holding a teacup.

Ocellus smiled and nodded ever so slightly, then waited until Smolder smiled back, put her hand down, and turned back to the front of the class before doing the same herself. She mentally kicked herself for dropping her attention from class, but reassured herself that friends were important, as well. After all, the School of Friendship has “friendship” right in its name... as well as school, so she resolved to stay focused on the lesson until after class. Her pencil once more found the paper when the headmare moved onto three-dimensional transformation matrices, and her tail subconsciously began to sway back and forth as she drank in the learning - almost literally, as an emotivore!

After class, Ocellus met up with the dragon, who was leaning against the wall outside of the classroom. “Was that... necessary?” she asked, her blush returning with the memory of the wave of lust, “I mean, you could have asked me after class; I tend to linger the longest to speak with our professors.”

Smolder smirked. “No, but I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t stay for an hour or two after Starlight Glimmer dismissed us and take up all the time we could’ve used. Seeing your reaction was just a bonus. So, same place as before?”

Ocellus nodded, starting to walk with her friend. “That works. I’ll drop off my stuff back in our room first, and then we can head out.”

“Sounds good. I’ll tag along; I’ve gotta grab a-” the dragoness cut herself off, looking around at the ponies and creatures around, “a... a thing. My thing.”

Back in their room, the two students swapped out their schoolbooks for a small selection of carefully-folded dresses. Ocellus levitated a tube of lipstick into Smolder’s bag for her, and added a bottle of hoof polish and a compact of blush to her own. Loaded up with their secret payload of fancy fittings, the two girls strode out of their room, sharing fanged smiles.

They made it to the main hall before somecreature noticed and approached them. Silverstream, with her distinctly bubbly step, strode up to the pair. Ocellus flicked out her tongue and got back a hefty dose of curiosity from the hippogriff, fighting against that spicy taste of frustration (and the faintest hint of shame) from the dragon beside her.

“Hi Celly, Smolder! Are you two heading out?”

The changeling nodded. “Yep. Just the two of us.”

“Ooh, girl’s night! Or, girl’s afternoon. Whatcha gonna do?” Her bright, innocent smile was infectious, and Ocellus found her own lips curling up. She stayed silent, however, unwilling to tell her friend where she was going with the dragon.

Fortunately for her, Smolder had had years of hiding her secret interest. Unfortunately for her, Smolder was Smolder. “We’re going to set a new record for longest two-creature lesbian makeout session. Do you want to come?”

The sarcasm flew straight over the hippogriff’s head, and her enthusiastic nodding only abated when Smolder’s deadpan expression and admission that she had just been messing with her sunk in. With a promise to have a good time given, the pair strode out of the building, before making their way through the meandering, misleading path to a secret spot in the woods.

Ocellus and Smolder walked up to the large, flat stump in the middle of the forest clearing and set about setting up. From Smolder’s pack came a white tablecloth, fringed with lace. From Ocellus’s, a teapot, two saucers, and two teacups. The makeup came out next, and finally, the dresses. Smolder slipped hers on with an ease that came from far more practice than she would ever admit. As for the changeling...

“So, myself or Professor Rarity? She has the accent and mannerisms for it.” Ocellus held two dresses aloft in her teal magic, looking between them.

“Hmm... Probably not Rarity, but...” Smolder’s off-center stance and stroking of her chin were a stark contrast to the frilly, pale pink dress she wore as she thought, “I think, maybe... Oh! Could you do Gallus? I bet he’d look ADORABLE in a dress!”

That drew a grin and a giggle from the changeling. A wave of fire washed over her form, and in the next moment, a pair of yellow eagle claws caught the two floating dresses before they could hit the ground. ‘Gallus’ handed one to Smolder to fold and return to Ocellus’s bag, and the griffon set about fitting into the other one. After a little difficulty, getting stuck twice, and ultimately asking Smolder for help with the wings, ‘Gallus’ was proudly sporting a pale yellow dress. “Well? How do I look?” ‘he’ asked the dragoness.

“Heh. Actually, not bad. The next time we play Truth or Dare with the boys, I think I’ve got a good idea.” Smolder leaned to one side, then the other, taking in the griffon’s form. “But, I think you’re missing something very important.”

The grinning dragon held up a couple of the makeup implements before setting them down. The pair of friends spent some time matching blush to their scales and feathers, picking out the right lipstick - or beakstick, as it were - painting each other’s claws, and otherwise gussying themselves and each other up until they both looked like slightly exaggerated versions of the fanciest fancy bourgeoisie to be found in Canterlot - nay, all of Equestria.

Smolder cleared her throat. “Now then, Madam Gallus, shall we?” she prompted in a Received Equestrian accent, “it would be a terrible shame to come all the way here for some tea, and to then forget the beverage in entirety!”

‘Gallus’ gave a proper curtsey, then stepped up to the stump. ‘He’ picked up the teapot in one hand, held the lid on with the other, and gracefully tipped it over, pouring a cup for Smolder, and then a cup for ‘himself.’ With two steaming cups of tea properly set on their saucers, the well-dressed duo took their seats. ‘Gallus’ added two sugar cubes to the cup in front of ‘him;’ Smolder added only one. Keeping their pinky claws extended, they lifted their cups and politely toasted their friendship. 

Hidden away in the calm, peaceful grove, the disguised changeling and her dragon friend traded light gossip, homework tips, and compliments. Their table manners would put several Canterlot nobles to shame, and over time, the level of tea in the teapot declined. The pair were in the middle of discussing which creature in their friends group had the shapeliest rear when Sandbar wandered into the clearing and promptly did a double-take.

The three of them stared at each other for a minute, before ‘Gallus’ finally spoke up, “we... lost a bet to Ocellus. Why she has these dresses, I haven’t the foggiest, but she’s, uh...” the griffon turned his head to look around, “well, she’s one of these branches around, to make sure we keep the deal.”

Smolder’s look of shock faded as her friend spun the tale. “Yeah, but look. This whole thing? Never happened. You’re gonna leave, and next time we see each other, it’s like we weren’t even here, even if you ask. Right, Gallus?”

‘Gallus’ nodded. “Yeah, you’re actually lucky I’m not denying this right now. Anyway, we’ve got, like, another teacup to finish before this is over. See you back at school.”

Content with their answer, the pony silently nodded and walked back off through the forest. Once they were sure he was out of sight and hearing, both of the well-dressed creatures let out a big sigh of relief. Their secret was safe. And they still had some tea left to talk over.

[nimiumcaelo]

“Indeed, Miss?” -- Chapter 8

Chapter summary: And so it begins. Florence Craye pays a visit to the Wooster abode with Aunt Agatha stepping in as chaperone. Rosalyn is somewhat jealous.

Chapter 8: Miss Wooster’s First Suitor

Overall, I believe that Miss Wooster was charming throughout the affair, albeit in her bumbling, vacant way. She does not often intend this, but her simple ingénue manner around handsome men seems to be exactly what they find attractive. Perhaps that is why Miss Wooster found the ordeal so unpleasant in the end.

He had arrived a quarter of an hour later than he was expected and Miss Wooster sat on the settee twiddling her fingers absentmindedly whilst she waited. Mrs. Gregson was acting as chaperone. When the young man finally deigned to arrive, I opened the door and let him in, announcing a Mr. Florence Craye. He was a tall, willowy individual with bright blond hair and a noble countenance. Miss Wooster and I had had the chance to make his acquaintance previously, and I found that my former dislike lessened not at all upon finding he was one of the “suitable young gentlemen” Mrs. Gregson had selected.

Miss Wooster, to her credit, straightened herself and smiled. I removed myself to the kitchen to begin preparing tea.

“Good afternoon,” the young gentleman said. “Bertie—Mrs. Gregson.”

“Ah, Florence, darling, do sit down,” Mrs. Gregson cooed. “We are so pleased you could find the time to join us.”

“Oh, yes, absolutely,” Miss Wooster added. If her voice was a touch more bland than was usual, I do believe I was the only one who could notice.

“How was your literary meeting, my dear?”

“Oh, it was great fun, Mrs. Gregson, but terribly long-winded. They’re thinking of adding a new clause to the group’s constitution, which would let the members, instead of the board, vote on which books to include in that month’s recommendations column. I was one of the primary instigators,” he added importantly.

“Lovely, lovely. Bertie, here, has several friends in literary circles, too.”

“I do? Ow! Yes, I do! It’s um—what were their names again?”

“That interesting fellow in New York? I believe his name was Todd.”

“O-oh, Rocky! Yes. He’s a real brick, Rocky. I wonder if you’ve ever read his poems, Florence?”

“If I have I can’t recall. What has he written? Is he a modernist?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Miss Wooster said, “but he’s a real corker with words. Penned something about being today and not tomorrow and all that rot. Not much of one for clothes, though.”

There was a tense pause.

“Oh?” Mr. Craye uttered delicately. “How do you mean?”

“Just that he hardly ever gets out of his pajamas. I say, I’ve seen that man crawl out of bed at two in the afternoon and then simply put on a sweater! Poor Rosalyn just about fainted.”

“How very… unique of him.”

At this point, I re-entered the room with the tea-things, breaking up what may have become a brawl between Mrs. Gregson and Miss Wooster, the former of which was glaring at the latter with such venom that I wondered Miss Wooster did not clutch her breast and pass away. As it was, Miss Wooster spotted me and relief flooded her features.

“Oh, wonderful! Would you like a spot of tea, Florence? Aunt Agatha?”

I handed the teacups to their respective recipients.

Miss Wooster sipped at hers, then attempted to change the subject. “Speaking of friends, I got a letter the other day from Ginger. You know Ginger, don’t you, Florence? Pale sort of filly with pointed elbows and legs too long for her? Looks charming in riding breeches but awful in a swim-suit?”

“Yes,” said Mr. Craye over his teacup. “I know Ginger. I was engaged to her, once, if you recall.”

Miss Wooster, conscious now to the fact that she had touched upon a nerve, smiled sheepishly. “Ah. Yes, well. Love’s tides, what?”

“Quite. You said something about a letter?”

“Oh! Yes. See, Ginger ran away with this secretary chap and they biffed off to Italy for their honeymoon—but guess who they ran into?”

“Who?”

“Gussie and Matthias!”

“Who?”

“You don’t know them? Oh, well, Gussie’s another pal of mine and Matthias is her fiancé.”

“Perhaps,” Mrs. Gregson interrupted with a withering glance at Miss Wooster. “Florence might like to tell us a bit about his upcoming book.”

“You’re writing another one?” My sympathies were with Miss Wooster on this point.

“I don’t know, yet. I’ve thought about it, but there’s always the issue of how much societal criticism one can put into a children’s book without it becoming droll.”

“Societal criticism? What of?” Mrs. Gregson inquired politely.

Mr. Craye evidently felt, on this point, similar to Sherlock Holmes about his work. At Mrs. Gregson’s prompting, he began rattling off myriad reasons why, to his knowledge, the practice of regulating prices was something to be desired in this our fair country. He informed Miss Wooster how, over a holiday, he had become acquainted with an interesting young gentleman who was very favourable towards the cause of socialism. The young gentleman, it was told, had persuaded Mr. Craye towards his cause and the two had parted on the best of terms—as, Mr. Craye put it, “comrades.”

Miss Wooster valiantly attempted to follow along with this half-soliloquy, but her knowledge on the topic of government structures is somewhat lacking. She put in an “Oh?” and an “Ah.” every third sentence or so, yet it was obvious that she was grasping only the blunt points of Mr. Craye’s speech.

“Do you understand, then, the tenets of socialism, Bertie?” Mr. Craye asked at the conclusion of his tirade. “It is of the utmost importance that you do. I shan’t think I could live with myself if I had let you get away without true knowledge of the world.”

“Oh, ah—well, that is to say—I rather think I do?”

Mr. Craye sighed. “Bertie, Bertie, you have so much potential; it nearly makes me weep. There is so much that I could do with you, if only given the time.”

“Oh, ah, yes, rather.”

“I’ve always thought that is the way with spouses,” Mrs. Gregson put in. “There is quite a gratuitous amount of time spent together and each one ends up understanding the other so well, in the end. It is a beautiful prospect, is it not, Florence?”

“It is, Mrs. Gregson. I quite agree.”

Miss Wooster ducked her head and swallowed down the rest of her tea.

~

It was only after I had closed the door on Mrs. Gregson for the evening that Miss Wooster allowed herself to unbutton.

“Rosalyn!” she cried, collapsing on the settee. “I apologize for being rotten to you earlier! I take back all I said—you’re the most delightful person I have left to me, anymore!”

“Thank you, miss,” I said, setting beside her a small whiskey and soda. (Mrs. Gregson had searched the flat for any alcohol before she left, though she neglected to search in all of the cupboards.)

Miss Wooster, agog, grasped at the drink like a dying man to a priest’s hand. “Rosalyn, you utter brick. You wonderful, beautiful, amazing person. How did you hide it?”

“Mrs. Gregson, miss, does not know about the cupboards in my room. I assumed it might be prudent to relocate several items before she began her search.”

“It bally well was. Good Lord,” Miss Wooster moaned, downing the whiskey and soda quickly. “I could kiss you right now.”

“Thank you, miss,” I said. It was not her fault that I was so besotted.

Miss Wooster stretched herself, then sighed. “Do you think Florence’ll pop the question?”

“It seems likely, miss.”

She sighed again. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing for it. I don’t fancy you’ve got any more of that stuff tucked away?” She wiggled her glass meaningfully.

“I shall fetch the bottle, miss.”