#jason london one shot Tumblr posts

[ash5monster01]

Hi, can I request cuddling and falling asleep with Randall pink Floyd?❤️🖤

Only Comfort

Pairing: Randall ‘Pink’ Floyd x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, insomnia, anxiety, mentions of drugs/alcohol, friends to lovers

Summary: It’s not unknown to your friends that you struggle to sleep, insomnia being your biggest curse and the number one reason you’re the most fun to party with. Yet one night spent with Pink you discover he just might be the key to getting some rest.

word count: 1.9k

Masterlist

You couldn’t believe it. It was your senior year, a Friday night, but suddenly all your friends were too tired to party. As much as you understood where they were coming from, how you all had been doing the same thing every weekend, a part of you still wished they’d agree to go out. Mainly because it was the only time your nights weren’t so lonely. Sleep never coming to you in the late hours and emptiness filling the void. Weekends with nights that never ended was where you thrived so the idea of a Friday night spent home alone was the worst form of torture to you. A nightmare to be exact.

Pink doesn’t miss the panic on your face, how an anxious hand reaches to pick at the rips in your jeans. You’re uneasy all because no one felt like hanging out tonight. He knew you struggled with sleep, pretty much everyone did, considering that even when they got tired you were still ready to go. He just didn’t know it bothered you so much, made you this nervous to not be surrounded by a little life. So he jumps to attention before you spiral too hard.

“I’ll hang out with you, we can let these guys get their beauty sleep” Pink says, hand clasping over your shoulder and he can feel how you immediately relax at his recovery. You offer him a thankful smile and Pink decides it’s worth it to lose a little more sleep.

That’s how you find yourself in the passenger seat of Pinks El Camino after football practice. His hair was still damp from the locker room shower but he looked so soft in this light. The sun setting and caressing his golden skin. It was no surprise all the girls fell for a boy like Pink. Kind, handsome, charming, he checked all the boxes. Thing was, with everyone taking a break from partying, not a single soul was out tonight. Not even Wooderson had made an appearance and it almost made you double check if it was a full moon. The entire earth off its axis, something had to be explanatory for the quiet weekend.

“We can just go to my place and watch a movie?” Pink offers as you pass the Emporium for a third time just to see there was still only two cars in the parking lot.

“You sure?” you question, not wanting to feel like you’re overstepping but Pink just flashes a smile, chuckling lightly.

“Yeah, why not. Apparently we don’t have anything better to do” he says and you can’t help the wide smile that crosses your face as he pulls into the Top Notch for supplies.

You make it back to Pinks house in no time, juggling some milkshakes, fries, onion rings, and whatever other grease filled food you could get your hands on. It wasn’t your first time at Pinks before, having done the long trek up to the attic space that had become his own. The room is in a slight disarray but you don’t mind as you move to set the food on the small trunk used as a coffee table in front of his couch. There was something homey about it, how everything here had been passed down and worn in. Patches covering old holes in the couch and blankets tucked around cushions Slater had accidentally burned. His bed covered in a homemade quilt and mismatching pillows. It was Pink, in the simplest terms, and no other way to describe it.

“Any particular movie in mind?” he asks, clicking on the small television set, an old T-shirt hanging off the side. You smile around a bite of french fry as you slip off your shoes and begin to settle in.

“Not at all, something good” you tell him and he laughs before grabbing a VHS of American Graffiti and popping it into the TV. It’s not long until the boy has joined your side, the couch dipping you into him with the added weight. You accept it and settle in as the tape begins to play.

In no time, majority of the food has disappeared, and you’ve both been sucked into the movie. You lasted only ten minutes before wrapping a blanket around your form and maybe thirty before you rested your head against Pinks shoulder. He doesn’t mind, actually quite content with the situation he’s found himself in. He doesn’t question any of it but after the better part of an hour you’ve rolled against him, arm wrapping around his waist and pulling him tight, which makes him freeze. Dropping his eye-line he spots your closed eyelids, the soft breaths falling softly out in an even pace. You’re asleep and the idea makes him freeze because you never sleep. Not once in front of him at least, and he’s spent over 48 hours with you before.

The movie had been over for twenty minutes but Pink doesn’t dare move a muscle, knowing how much you need this, even if you hadn’t meant to curl against him. So slowly and carefully he begins to adjust you both on the couch. Turning to lay back against the cushions and lower you down with his chest. Once you’re tucked safely between him and the back of the couch, he pulls the blanket over you both, the wrapping his arms around your form and getting comfortable against your side. Allowing sleep to overcome him as well.

When you wake the next morning you’re more than confused, having not remembered falling asleep last night. It had been a long time since you felt so rested, so blissful, and so delirious. The room you open your eyes to is not your own, and the pillow beneath you is not a pillow but instead rises and falls with a breath. Eyes darting upward you find Randall ‘Pink’ Floyd evenly breathing and dreaming away, soft golden sunlight framing his face that peaks through the sides of his mismatch curtains. It’s then you feel the firm grip he has around you and realize your own. You must’ve fallen asleep during the movie but what was more unsettling about the predicament you were in, was how easily you had.

Breaking your thoughts, Pink lets out a soft groan, shifting in his sleep and rolling into you. You freeze as he snuggles closer, knee nudging between your own and tangling you whole. It’s then you realize you had only fallen asleep due to how comfortable you had been. Pink and this room had offered you something you hadn’t felt in a long time. The idea nearly brings tears to your eyes because he made you feel safe. Safe enough to fall asleep here and feel protected. He allowed you to get some real rest that you desperately needed, wanted more than anything. As you look at the long lashes that graze his cheekbones and his soft pink lips, your heart swoons. Pink was worshipped by every girl but in this moment you swear you love him. So you hug him close before kissing his cheek, soft yet firm.

When he doesn’t wake you kiss his other cheek before peppering him in kisses anywhere you can. Forehead, eye lids, chin, nose, and when your lips finally grace the corner of his own his eyes slowly flutter open. You watch as he processes the sight in front of him, you in his arms, and kissing his face. A dramatic turn around from the friendly and teasing relationship you had shared before this. “Hi”

“Morning Pink” you reply, hoping he doesn’t move from his hold on you. If you could stay like this forever now you would, sleeping right here peacefully in his arms.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, a small crease forming between his brows as he realizes he has no idea why you’d be kissing him the way you were.

“Yeah, I just wanted to say thank you” you say, throat already tightening as you use your hand to push some hair away from his face. That way he was easier to see.

“Thank you for what?” he questions, trying not to shiver from your touch. Mind reeling in how soft and warm you were against him. How beautiful you looked in the morning.

“I haven’t slept through a whole night in a very long time. It’s the one thing in life that makes me the most uneasy. So thank you for making me feel comfortable enough to finally sleep” tears fill your eyes and Pink notices, one slipping out and over the bridge of your nose due to your shared horizontal position. Quickly he reaches to brush them away before hugging you close.

“Of course, yes of course. Anytime” he mutters into your hair and you smile through your tears, feeling so much adoration and love for the boy beside you.

“I can leave though, I understand that I’ve probably overstayed my welcome” you say, beginning to lift yourself from between him and the couch but his hold tightens on you. Dragging you down and close.

“You have not overstayed, in fact you can’t leave until you tell me what all that kissing was about” he states and you blush cherry red, having realized that your joy for him had prompted some spontaneous action.

“I was just excited that I slept through a whole night. It was a thank you” you answer, unable to look him in the eye and he snorts.

“Really, that’s it?” and you groan, the blush darkening as you drop your head to his chest.

“Fine, I may or may not have been a little charmed by you. Couldn’t help myself” you offer and Pink chuckles, hand tucking under you to lift your chin. You allow him to pull your gaze back into his eye-line.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to a few more thank you’s” he whispers, lips close to your own and you gulp nervously. Feeling that magnetic pull and the thrumming of your heart that beat just for him in this moment.

When you’re sure you’ll combust you finally press your lips against his own, hands tangling in the chocolate strands of his signature hair, holding him close. Pink kisses back just as eagerly, unknowingly nudging his knee up more between your legs. His kiss is everything you imagined and when his tongue grazed along the seam of your lips you allow him entrance. Whining softly at the taste of him and how his tongue meets your own. He kisses you hungrily, desperately, wanting nothing more than to keep kissing you. In this moment you wish to keep him, not just for the comfort of sleep but for everything in between and after. You never want to stop thanking him.

“How was that for thank you?” you ask when you pull away for air and his grins, lips swollen and red from your own. He’s even prettier than before and when he tucks your hair behind your ear you know he’s meant to be yours.

“I don’t know, maybe we should try again” and you snort in laughter, hitting his chest lightly, but he draws you near again. When his lips brush against your own you stop fighting him and allow him back into a kiss.

Perfectly content with kissing him all day and sleeping in his arms all night.

[theartofthecover]

Rest in peace John Cassaday, a legendary comic book artist who worked on Astonishing X-Men, I Am Legion, Desperadoes, Marvel Knights' Captain America, Jason Aaron's Star Wars and various comics.

He was the co-creator of Wildstorm's Planetary.

- 1st cover: Planetary #27 (2009) by John Cassaday [pencils & inks] and Laura Martin [colors] - 2nd cover: Astonishing X-Men Vol. 1 #1 (variant cover) (2004) by John Cassaday [pencils & inks] and Laura Martin [colors] - 3rd cover: Hellboy: Weird Tales #1 (2003) by John Cassaday [pencils] and Dan Jackson [colors] - 4th cover: I Am Legion #1 (2009) by John Cassaday [pencils & inks] and Laura Martin [colors] - 5th cover: Desperadoes: Epidemic! (one-shot) (1999) by John Cassaday - 6th cover: Starlight #1 (2014) by John Cassaday [pencils & inks] and Ive Svorcina [colors] - 7th cover: Star Wars Vol. 1 #3 (2015) by John Cassaday [pencils & inks] and Laura Martin [colors] - 8th cover: Union Jack Vol. 1 #1 (1998) by John Cassaday - 9th cover: The Lone Ranger #7 (variant cover) (2007) by John Cassaday - 10th cover: Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight Vol. 1 #150 (2001) by by John Cassaday [pencils & inks] and Dave Stewart [colors] - 11th cover: Solomon Kane #5 (2009) by John Cassaday [pencils & inks] and Dave Stewart [colors] - 12th cover: Superman Vol. 1 #701 (2010) by John Cassaday [pencils & inks] and David Baron [colors] - 13th cover: Fantastic Four Vol. 1 #587 (spoiler variant) (2011) by John Cassaday [pencils & inks] and Laura Martin [colors] - 14th cover: Captain America Vol. 4 #1 (2002) by John Cassaday - 15th cover: Gen 13: London, New York, Hell TP (2001) by John Cassaday [pencils & inks] and David Baron [colors] - 16th cover: Irredeemable #1 (2009) by John Cassaday [pencils & inks] and Laura Martin [colors]

[pickingupmymercedes]

1K Jukebox

I don't even know where to start, but I'm so beyond mind blown that 1k of you chose to follow me and these stories.Honestly, thank you to each and every single one of you, from the bottom of my heart.

REQUESTS CLOSED

And to celebrate we’re creating our very own jukebox of blurbs and one shots.

Requested Songs

1:59 - Normani ft. Gunna

Me & U - Zeke Bleu

Agora Hills - Doja Cat

No chill - PND

Nothing without you - The Weeknd

Die with a smile - Bruno Mars & Lady Gaga

Ride it - Jay Sean

Partition - Beyoncé

Broke me first - Tate McRae

Rocket - Beyoncé

Through the night - Maeta

That girl - Olly Murs

Blessed - Daniel Caesar

Let me go - Lou Val

Bryson Tiller - Blame

Sexual love - Maeta

As you leave - Cannan Cox

Steal my girl - 1D

Grovel - April Jai

London boy - Taylor Swift

Do me - Kim Petras

Need to know - Doja Cat

34+35 - Ariana Grande

Pretty Please - Dua Lipa

Seven - Jungkook

Bed chem - Sabrina Carpenter

Kiss me - Cassie

Diamonds - Rihanna

Press me - Chris Brown

Wap - Cardi B ft. Megan Thee Stallion

Position - Ariana Grande

Always - Isak Danielson

Black Pearl - Exo

Haunted - Beyoncé

Neva Play - Megan Thee Stalion

Hands on you - Austin George

Back to december - Taylor Swift pt.1 pt.2

Next to you - Chris Brown & Justin Bieber

Nervous - John Legend

Sand - Dove Cameron

Red - Taylor Swift

Ausência - Marília Mendonça

Let it happen - Gracie Adams

Won't say I'm in love - Hercules Movie

Dynasty - MIIA

There you are - Zayn

Fallin' all in you - Shawn Mendes

You're in love - Taylor Swift

It Girl - Jason Derulo

Hold on 'til we're old - Jamie Miller

If you want to follow, all one shots will be under the ella1k hashtag

Rules:

Only Lewis requests

Please give me a general direction of genre and where you'd like things to go

I’ll write it as sfw and nsfw (please state if you don't want it nsfw)

I'll be accepting requests from the 29th of September through the 6th of October (a week)

They can range from 400 words to full 2k one shots (depends on what my mind comes up with)

I won’t write for a song twice (they’ll be listed down below and will be updated as they get requested)

The fics won't necessarily be posted in that order but they'll all be written (I'll try my best to get them all done asap)

Note: your idea might be incorporated into one of my on-going series.

Note 2: I'm updating the requested songs list every other day, so if you sent a request and in two/three days it hasn't been added tumblr probably ate your ask (do send it again, please)

[moonwayne]

𝙸𝙽𝚃𝚁𝙾𝙳𝚄𝙲𝙸𝙽𝙶:

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚃𝚘����𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝙿𝚘𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

a collection of one-shots based on select songs from the tortured poets department.

disclaimer: i’ve only listed some of the songs because i felt as though i couldn’t write a story that would relate well enough to the missing tracks.

how it works: send me any character (that i write for)

< HERE!!!! > and a song, and i’ll write a fic that goes along with it!

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

Down Bad

So Long, London

But Daddy I Love Him

Fresh Out The Slammer

Florida!!!

Guilty as Sin

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) | Jason Todd

‎ loml

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

The Alchemy

The Black Dog

imgonnagetyouback

The Manuscript

[kelcemenow]

Just A Bit Of Spice.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 1479

Warnings Strong language and fluffiness!

Openly flirty Trav is my favourite kind of Trav...so this was fun to write! I hope you enjoy it Anon, whoever you are!! "Can you do a fic inspired by chicken shop date Travis x reader!!!"

Travis cleared his throat as he sat down in front of you. Your hands ran over the cool plastic covered table as your manager handed you a paper cup of water.

You swallowed hard, looking across to the handsome football player that you had always had a small crush on.

"Hey, thank you for coming." You said with a coy smile.

He flashed his perfect teeth at you with a wide grin, "No problem, I thought it would be kinda fun, actually."

You nodded your head as you took a sip from your cup, your mouth anxiously dry, "Hmm, that's what most people say. And it is fun."

Travis had eyes that seemed to bare into you. Your hands suddenly felt clammy and your knees were weakening. Carl, your manager, reached across and placed a small microphone on his collar and you almost felt jealous that he was so close to him. You were already sat down when Travis arrived, meaning you didn't get to greet him how you wanted to with a hug.

"So, when do we start?"

"Start what?" You lifted an eyebrow.

Carl lifted his head up from his iPad, taking your water from the table, "Hey, guys. Save it for the cameras."

You smirked at Travis who covered his mouth to laugh. The pair of you sat in a semi-uncomfortable silence, occasionally stealing looks with each other whilst the filming crew fiddled with wires and lights. You looked over your shoulder to see your assistant and best friend, Georgie grinning from her seat. You shot her a wink and as you turned back around to face Travis, Carl signalled that he was ready to begin.

You ran your hands through your hair and leaned forward slightly, "You ready?"

Travis nodded and rubbed his hands together, poking his tongue out between his teeth, "You know it, baby."

You waited a couple of seconds, waiting for Carl to give you a thumbs up, "Okay, so...hi."

Travis grinned and looked down towards the floor quickly, "Hey. This is nice." He looked around the small chicken shop with large windows and a classic black and white tiled floor, red pleather covered stools and booth lining the wall.

You twisted your mouth and lowered your eyebrows, "Are you joking? I'm sure you, Travis Kelce have been to better places than a chicken shop in a random street in London."

"Nah man, this place reminds of the shops me and my brother, Jason would eat at after school."

You looked across to the menu, "Okay, so first things first. How hot do you like it?"

Travis' eyebrows shot upwards, "Wow, okay. I didn't know we were going there straight away!"

You laughed and reached across, grabbing at his forearm. A tingling sensation filled your chest as you felt how large and toned his muscles were. "Oh, I'm a 'straight-in' kind of girl."

Travis winked and your knees softened further, "Just how I like it."

Your cheeks darkened, "Okay, I'm actually blushing. Stop it! I'm talking about hot sauce!"

"Oh, nothing too crazy, you know. I like a little bit of spice but if it impacts the flavour and the enjoyment of the food, then why do it?

You lowered your head slightly, "I saw you on Hot Ones, now that was impressive."

Travis laughed, "Ah man, that shit was hard! I was determined not to drink the milk or the water and I paid for it. I was in so much pain after that!"

You threw your head back, cackling loudly, "Awww, well I won't lie to you, it kinda fuelled my crush on you back then."

"Back then?" His eyes widened, "You don't still have a crush on me?"

You raised an eyebrow and shrugged your shoulders, "I don't know, we'll see."

You glanced over Travis' shoulder to see Carl nodding and holding his hand out with an 'OK' sign, silently telling you that he was happy with the episode so far.

You locked eyes with Travis, squeezing your things together under the table, "Okay, what are we eating?"

Travis glanced at the large menu on the wall to the right of you, "We could share a bucket?"

You smiled, "Sharing?"

"Well, this is a date, right?"

You nodded slowly, feeling the tension build up between you both, "Sounds good to me."

"So, is this your idea of a good date?"

You leaned back in your seat, "Wait, what? I'm the one asking the questions here. Don't you be trying to steal my job!"

Travis laughed and held his hands up and you could help but notice how large and strong they looked. Small veins were protruding out on his forearm and the muscles underneath flexed slightly.

You tucked some hair behind your ear, "No, to answer your question. I like relaxed dates, but something outdoors maybe. Like a picnic or a boat ride...or even a football game." You pointed to Travis with an open hand.

Two cans of soda were placed in front of you both and you reached forward to grab one, Travis taking the other.

He opened the can, "You'd go to a football game for a date?"

"Yeah sure! Does that surprise you?"

He took a quick sip, "No, not really. It is a pretty good date. You know, football games can be pretty exciting, the seats are quite close together...I'd say it's a good date location."

You placed your nail under the ring-pull and carefully opened the can, avoiding eye contact, "Is that where you'd take me?"

Travis leaned forward, "Nah, I'd do something more romantic. I'd take you ice-skating at Christmas."

You tried to hide the growing smile on your face, "I like the sound of that."

Travis grinned, slowly taking another sip of his drink, "You know, there'd be some hand holding, the lights are beautiful, maybe get some hot cocoa?"

You watched him as he spoke, your feet tapping nervously under the table, a juxtaposition of your calm and collected top half.

"Would you say you have a type?" You held the cold soda can in your hand, the temperature cooling your growing fever.

Travis smirked, "Not really. I think all women are beautiful in their own ways. And I don't meant this to sound cliché, but I am attracted to personality traits and someone's energy."

You snorted a laugh, "That is cliché!"

"But it's true! If someone is funny, that's big points there. If someone is confident or talented or ambitious, that shit's hot, man!"

You brought your hand to your mouth, your long nail positioning itself in-between your teeth. You bit down slightly and noticed Travis shift in focus to your mouth and back to your eyes. You lowered your head slightly, engaging your sultry gaze through your eyelashes.

Travis leaned back in his chair, his hands clasping behind his head and our eyes became hazy as you noticed his bulging biceps. As he stretched his back, his t-shirt lifted slightly, revealing a small line of hair disappearing down into his pants.

You could feel yourself getting hotter and after you ran your hands through your hair, you cleared your throat ready to ask another question, hoping to distract yourself, "What was Travis Kelce's dating life like in college?"

"College?" Travis rubbed his beard with both hands, "Man, I had some girls in my back pocket, for sure. I wouldn't say there was any serious relationships, I was too focused on football. But I had my fair share of flirting."

"Do you think you're good at flirting?"

Travis smirked, "You tell me."

"That wasn't my question." You brought your drink up to your lips, "Do you think you're good?"

He took a slow breath, "Yes."

You nodded lightly, "Interesting."

Travis laughed, "Wait, what does that mean?"

You swallowed the soda, "Nothing. It's just interesting, that's all."

Travis took a sip of his drink as your food arrived at the table. You instantly grabbed a piece of fried chicken, sliding one of the trays of fries closer to you. Travis followed, watching you intently.

After you took a bite of your chicken, you wiped your mouth with a napkin, "Do you have any dating moves? Anything from the Kelce dating playbook, so to speak?"

Travis swallowed his food, "I like giving a lot of eye contact."

"I've noticed."

He nodded, dipping his chicken in some barbeque sauce, "I think it's important, the non-verbal communication stuff. You can really tell if there's a connection with someone from their body language."

You shifted in your seat, "Do you think we have a connection?"

Travis breathed a laugh, "If I asked you if you were any good at ice-skating, would that answer your question?"

You felt butterflies in your stomach, a wide grin plastered over your face. You looked down at the table, trying to hide your expression.

"What are you doing around Christmas-time?"

______________________________________________________________

As I said before, I do like flirty Travis. And boy was he flirty. A girl can only dream, ey? Keep sending those requests in, I'm slowly making my way through the pile and I will continue to as long as people send them in! To be added to my Taglist, just let me know!

Taglist @rd14 @dandelionwrites8 @keiva1000 @fantasywritersstuff @caelipartem @anacarangel @she-lives-in-her-dreams @kkrenae @kristencochefski1125 @countrygirl120983 @killatravtramp @charmed2000 @nouis-bum @cixrosie @delicateearthquakellama @wordsaresimple-imnot @amylouwho9 @queenisa17 @talicat713 @luvvtrent @purecinnamonextract @savaneafricaine @caelipartem @beyxgrande @caitdaniels @ezgirl1108 @vir-tual @lightsoutstyles @macey234 @s294749w

[instantcaramel]

A month ago I went to Amsterdam and visited all the filming locations for Ted Lasso‘s „Sunflowers“, so I figured I‘ll finally put something together here.

First of all, basically all the scenes involving the majority of the Richmond himbos were not shot on location - their epic discussion followed by pillow fight was filmed in an abandoned hotel in London. (Info per David Elsendoorn). The same would go for Ted & Beard‘s room. Scenes on the bus or outside it were also filmed in Richmond.

The only Greyhound who doesn‘t have his own larger plotline in the episode who was actually in Amsterdam was David Elsendoorn, because they did film the first scenes at Johan Cruijff (you know how to pronounce it now!) ArenA, the home of Ajax Amsterdam (which is also the one place I didn‘t have time to visit). They could have easily filmed that in London in a different stadium but I guess they didn‘t want to pass up the opportunity - and give David something to do on his home turf.

Edit: I visited 3 months later, so here‘s some pics from the ArenA, I couldn‘t find out which hallway they used/dressed up for the press interviews, but here‘s some shots from the stadium and the VIP lounge we see at the beginning.

So, first up is Roy & Jamie‘s adventure: Jamie takes him sightseeing against his will, and the first place they stop on is Magere Brug (Skinny Bridge). (They run up the street to that before.)

Edit thanks to @warriorhoneybee: Roy grabs Jamie’s wrist at Diamond Factory on Rokin and then tells him he can‘t ride a bike outside Lyppens Jeweler at Langebruugsteg.

They go around the corner to Oude Turfmarkt (which is what I took a picture of) for Jamie to teach him how. For Grandad!!!

The fucking windmill they see before they lovingly gaze into each other’s eyes is De Riekermolen at the Southern end of Amstelpark, where they also cycle. (It‘s actually realistic for them to do that, it would be about half an hour between those locations by bike).

Rebecca doesn‘t see the obvious bike lane (that doesn‘t actually exist there) and falls into the gracht at Raamgracht. Boaty McBoatface‘s houseboat is still there, they just had it dressed up a bit with plants and such when they filmed. (Unclear if anyone currently lives there). The interiors were shot in a studio.

Trent follows Colin to Prik night club (which was absolutely buzzing when I was there, I really want to go back).

And then they sit at the Homomonument, the Pink Triangle memorial at Westerkerk, having that tearjerker of a conversation, before returning to party. (It walked that distance at night, it‘s a beautiful stroll and less than 10 minutes). When I visited someone had left sunflowers. 🌻

Leslie & Will first go to Hotel Prins Hendrik in the Red Light district (and steps away from Amsterdam main station) where Chet Baker died. They then make their way to Jazz Café Alto, which is just down the road from where Boom Chicago used to be on Leidseplein. (It‘s about 30 mins on foot between those two locations so they could have walked or just taken the tram for a few stops. The interiors were done at a studio though).

Ted of course visits the studio-filmed fictional themed restaurant where he has a BBQ sauce induced, Corey Burton-narrated epiphany about triangles, but first he sees Vincent‘s „Sunflowers“ at Van Gogh Museum during Museumnacht (which btw would mean the episode is set first weekend of November). As you can tell they moved some things around, so at least currently the painting isn‘t hung on that beautiful blue wall anymore.

As a bonus, here is a picture of where Boom Chicago used to be when Jason Sudeikis, Brendan Hunt and Joe Kelly performed there - Brendan also used to live above the McDonald‘s on Leidseplein just steps away for a while. And the other picture is the current Boom Chicago on Rozengracht, definitely go enjoy a show there if you can.

Anyway thus concludeth my trip around Ted Lasso‘s Amsterdam. I visited for the Boom Chicago Comedy Festival and fell in love with the city, it was … magical / gezellig. I will never forget it, but then again, some people get Alzheimer’s.

[seeminglyranch87]

Taylor & Travis Timeline

July 2024 - Part 1

July 3 - New Heights Ep. 97 airs, season 2 finale. Jason & Travis Kelce discuss Travis' debut on the Eras Tour stage (x) (x 48:30)

Kelce said it was initially his idea to join the show at Wembley Stadium, recalling that he told Swift it would be “funny” if he “rolled out on one of the bikes” that dancers typically ride on stage during the 1989 portion of the show.

Kelce said Swift laughed, but then asked him, “Would you seriously be up for doing something like that?”

“I was just like, ‘What? I would love to do that. Are you kidding me? I’ve seen the show enough — might as well put me to work here,’” he recalled. “And sure enough, she found the perfect part of the show for me to come in.”

Kelce surprised the crowd in London last week when he appeared on stage in a tuxedo and top hat carrying Swift onstage in “The Tortured Poets Department” era of the show.

It happened on the third night of the London stops, after the brothers attended Swift’s first two shows there.

“There was no bike in case I ran into somebody else or hit one of the dancers or anything,” Kelce said. “It was the safest option.”

Kelce said his silly dance on stage was inspired by one Jim Carey does in the movie “Dumb and Dumber.”

“I always wanted to pull out this move, but I never knew like when I should pull it out where it made sense,” he said. “That’s one of my favorite moves of all time!”

All said, Kelce called it an “honor” being on the stage with Swift and her dancers.

“It was an absolute blast,” he shared. “It was such a fun, playful part of the show and it was like the perfect time for me to go up there, just be a ham and have some fun, not only with [Swift]… but the crowd and really try and get everybody excited for the rest of the show. It was awesome.”

“I didn’t disappoint Taylor, so that’s all that really matters,” he added, saying his only rule was “do not drop the baby.”

“The golden rule was ‘Do not drop Taylor. Get her to the couch safe,’” Kelce said.

His brother and co-host Jason Kelce laughed, adding: “No fumbles.”

A little serendipitous don't you think...?

July 4 - The Eras Tour, Johan Cruijff Arena, Amsterdam, Netherlands N1

Guilty As Sin x Untouchable (guitar) The Archer x Question…? (Piano)

“I’ve been the Archer, I’ve been the prey, who could ever leave me darling? Who could stay? It’s just a question….”

And if you want to stay what do you ask the other person?

Taylor Nation reposting…. They are so unserious!

July 5 - The Eras Tour, Johan Cruijff Arena, Amsterdam, Netherlands N2

Imgonnagetyouback x Dress (guitar) & You Are In Love x Cowboy Like Me (piano)

Our girl is in love!

Taylor mimics a Travis move during Midnight Rain

Taylor sang “Karma is the guy on the Chiefs” with Travis in attendance.

Taylor Nation are riding the Tayvis train - are they hinting at a 2nd appearance on stage for Travis tomorrow for Amsterdam N3?

July 6 - The Eras Tour, Johan Cruijff Arena, Amsterdam, Netherlands N3

Travis, Patrick & Brittany Mahomes are in attendance (in suite) and sing their hearts out 🫶

Sweeter Than Fiction x Holy Ground (guitar) & Mary’s Song (Oh My My My) x So High School x Everything Has Changed (piano)

"all I know since yesterday is everything has changed and in a blink of a crinkling eye, everything has changed and I'll be 87, you'll be 89, I'll still look at you like the stars that shine in my sky, oh my my my"

Note that the secret message in the lyric booklet for Mary's Song is Sometimes love is forever. This was a love letter to Travis. Travis got a little emotional during the 2nd mashup and was seen wiping away tears.

Taylor & Travis leave the stadium together (x x)

Taylor & Travis head out with Patrick & Brittany Mahomes & Summitt & Miranda Hogue in Amsterdam post performance.

Pics posted to IG July 15 (x x)

July 8 - It is one year today since Travis Kelce went to night 2 of the Eras Tour in Kansas City wanting to shoot his shot and give Taylor Swift a friendship bracelet with his number on it. News agency's jumping the gun on Taylor & Travis' anniversary releasing articles and timelines. Remember they had not met or had contact yet.

ET timeline (x)

CNN (x x)

July 9 - The Eras Tour, Station Letzigrund, Zurich, Switzerland N1

📸 Noam Galai, 9 July 2024

Right Where You Left me x All You Had To Do Was Stay (guitar)

“Happy 9th July to those who celebrate” says Taylor before belting out

Last Kiss x Sad Beautiful Tragic (piano)

July 10 - Travis finishes filming Grotesquerie, seen with Larry McGee and crew.

The Eras Tour, Station Letzigrund, Zurich, Switzerland N2

Closure x A Perfectly Good Heart (guitar) & Peter x Never Grow Up (piano)

July 11 - Travis films advertisement for Lowe's in Long Beach, California.

Travis participates in the American Century Championship charity golf tournament's karaoke competition in Lake Tahoe, Nevada. Travis sings belts out Whitesnake's 1982 hit "Here I Go Again." (x) Travis is awarded first place!!! He accepts his award (x)

“This is the greatest thing that’s happened this year. Taylor this is for you!”

Not sure how many drinks Travis has consumed but glad to know Taylor is on his mind!!! ; )

July 12 - Travis competing in the American Century Golf Championship with his brother Jason, Lake Tahoe, Nevada.

Travis Kelce is announced as the #1 Tight End in the NFL 2024. Taylor shows her support liking 3 IG posts below.

Go to previous update -> June part 3

Go to next update -> July part 2

Return to the timeline

[writtenjewels]

Pi3 Day

Pie Day, Pie Day Again

Salim was pleasantly surprised when he got a call letting him know Jason was here in London. Truth be told, Salim didn't expect to see any of the Americans again. He thought of them often, though--Jason specifically. No, Jason only. Many of his waking thoughts were wondering what Jason was doing these days. The marine featured in a number of Salim's dreams, too.

And not all of them were nightmares.

So when he was informed that Lieutenant Jason Kolchek requested his presence at the London Airport, Salim didn't hesitate. He didn't see Jason at first, but then a figure waved at him and called his name. The clothing was unfamiliar, but Salim knew that voice.

"Jason!" he greeted happily. He felt bad for not recognizing his friend immediately, but in his defense, he'd never seen Jason out of combat gear and without that hat on. Jason's dark hair was a little longer than a military buzz-cut; Salim wondered if it always looked that way, or if Jason had grown it out. Either way, it looked good on him. The black shirt he wore was an interesting choice, bearing the graphic of a white snake.

"Holy shit," Jason grinned. "It's so good seein' you." He held out a hand. It was so reminiscent of their last moment that Salim shook it reflexively. Jason tugged, bringing him in for a shoulder-pat hug. Jason let go again before Salim could get his bearings.

"It's good seeing you, my friend," Salim returned. They started to walk out of the airport, falling into step side-by-side easily.

"Thank God Nicky remembered your last name," Jason huffed. "You never fuckin' told me, so I had to ask him just so I could find you in the fuckin' phone book. He thought it was a long shot you'd be here, but I knew you'd wanna stay near your boy."

Salim let him talk, partly because he missed the sound of Jason's voice, and partly because he didn't know what to say. Jason went through so much to find Salim; it never occurred to Salim to go looking for Jason. Then again, this wasn't the first time Jason went above and beyond to find Salim. Salim smiled remembering that moment down in the vault.

"I hear you thinkin'," Jason prodded him.

"Just remembering our fight in the vault."

"You mean when you near took my fuckin' head off with that 'sword' of yours?"

"That 'sword' saved your life, jarhead," Salim retorted. Jason's expression softened a little and he caught Salim's eye.

"Yeah, I know." Salim got the sense Jason wasn't referring to the weapon, and felt his cheeks get hot.

"The 'shield' saved mine," he added. Jason ducked his head at that, but Salim saw a hint of color on those pale cheeks. "Are you hungry?" Salim wondered. "I know plane food isn't very satisfying."

"I'm good," Jason waved him off.

"Nonsense, you traveled all this way. You should at least let me treat you to a meal."

"All right, I guess," Jason conceded with a smile.

There was a pub not too far away. Salim led them inside, where a waiter brought them to a table. Jason frowned at the menu.

"Meat and alcohol in the pie, huh? I could grow to like this country." Salim chuckled at that. "You eat this shit, Salim?"

"Not that shit exactly," Salim said, "but they do make good pies. I think I'll order one with you. Americans normally eat pie as a dessert, don't they?"

"Usually," Jason agreed. "Except chicken pot pie. You ever try it?" Salim shook his head. "I'll make it for ya sometime," Jason promised.

"Really?" Salim was not expecting Jason to even know how to cook, let alone offer to make something. After Jason teasing him about cable TV, he should have known better than to assume things about his friend.

"Sure." Jason's smile grew. "I'd like to learn to make the pies here, too. Mama always said that nothin' beats a home-cooked pie."

Salim must have misunderstood what Jason meant. Surely Jason wasn't suggesting he would go home with Salim. Even if it was just to cook pie, that idea had Salim's heart racing. Wishful thinking, Salim decided with a shake of his head.

"I think we should enjoy these pub-cooked pies first."

Just then the waiter arrived with their food. The two settled into other topics of conversation as they ate. Still, Salim couldn't help thinking about home-cooked pies. Last time he saw Jason, he walked away from the marine to go home.

This time, he might just ask Jason to go with him.

[impossiblyizzy]

okay reasons you should watch Trying (apple tv) (2020-present?)

it's a story about adoption that is extremely cute but maintains some nuance

Nickie and Jason are THE BEST m/f couple on tv (sorry peraltiago)

full of scenic shots of london that will make you want to run to camden and get some street food (I recomend the plantain chips)

full of families and friends who are weird and difficult but so loving

there's a scene where Jason pretends to be a zoo employee because one of the kids wants to see the penguins being fed

a side character starts a group called Arseholes Anonymous but everyone quits because they're arseholes

one of the kids' comfort item is a lamp and everyone takes it completely seriously

please watch this show it’s so fucking funny

[your-divine-ribs]

Ice Cold Part 4

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: the story is getting dark 🫣 There’s a pretty gory murder, threat and Lyla is in serious trouble, Van is sexy even though he’s murderous… idk why villains are so hot I don’t make the rules 💙

Ice Cold Masterlist Main Masterlist

"Well I think you should tell Paul about Jason harassing you. He's been doing it since day one. He gives me the fucking creeps."

Jen visibly shuddered to prove her point, and we both looked across the crowded airport to see Jason making his way over, dragging his suitcase behind him. He came to a stop in front of us both, smiling, but I detected a slight smirk when his eyes raked over me.

"Ladies..." he addressed us both. "This visit will definitely be a little different to the last time I visited the Dam."

He mimed smoking a spliff and I rolled my eyes. "Don't even think about it. We've all got to keep clear heads. There's lives at stake here."

Jason opened his mouth to speak but at that point we were beckoned to the desk to check in.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I got my boarding pass and I was seated next to Jen. The thought of Jason leering over me for the duration of the flight was unbearable. I'd questioned Paul's decision to include him on the assignment but I'd been overruled.

Jen was probably right. Jason had acted inappropriately towards me since he'd taken the job two years ago and he was steadily getting worse. He was your typical entitled, misogynistic piece of shit who thought that a women's place was in the kitchen or the bedroom. I'd thought at first he'd taken a dislike to me because he hated to see a woman doing well in what he termed a 'man's job', but it had soon become apparent that his disdain ran deeper than that. He'd definitely singled me out. That much had become obvious when he'd pressed me up against the wall at the works Christmas party and snaked his hand up my skirt, telling me that I needed a 'good fucking by a real man' to bring me down a peg or two. What he hadn't counted on was my fiery temperament, and a swift knee to his groin had left him limping away with more than just a bruised ego. But rather than this putting him off it only made things worse.

In this day and age women shouldn't stand for harassment at work, and I should have really reported him, but there was something about the thought of doing it that made me feel weak. I never asked for help. I liked to sort out my own shit, fight my own battles. Jason just wasn't a priority at the moment.

"Is that the case file?" I said, reaching over for the folder I saw poking out of Jen's hand luggage.

She nodded. "Just be careful looking at that on here. Some of those crime scene photos are fucking horrendous. I almost lost my lunch looking at them yesterday."

Jen was right. The police had been called to an apartment in London the day before as neighbours were complaining about a smell. They'd uncovered a body so badly disfigured that they couldn't even tell the identity by dental records. The teeth had been removed, along with various other body parts.

"Fuck..." I breathed, my chest feeling tight.

"He'd been dead for over a week but they reckon he was probably kept alive for two days whilst he was being interrogated and tortured. Poor bastard..."

"Yeah, well... it couldn't have happened to a nicer bloke," I said, shrugging, trying not to show my horror.

"Lyla! No one deserves this. Not even this nasty pig. I know he was running with that rival gang involved with trafficking but... damn... can you imagine..."

But Jen's voice had faded out. I'd flicked through the remaining photos and come to a stop on one of Van. It was an old shot, a police mug-shot for some minor misdemeanour before killing had become his career. He looked younger, fresh-faced, a shadow of innocence still about him which had surely been eroded over the years.

"Bloody hell!" Jen exclaimed, leaning over for a closer look. "You wouldn't think he was the same person."

"I wonder what happened to him..." I murmured, pulling out a more recent photo.

There was no softness here, he was all sharp edges with a brooding darkness that set my pulse racing. His eyes blue fathomless pools. It was like looking into a void. Ice cold.

Jen reached over, plucking the photo out of my hands to peer at it closely.

"Jesus... those eyes... it's like looking at the devil himself..."

Our hotel was situated slap-bang in the middle of the city. It was late by the time we all piled out of the taxi with our luggage and we wound our way through the streets that were heaving with tourists and late-night revellers.

A large group of young girls stumbled past us all, scantily clad and obviously celebrating their friend's upcoming nuptials. One dressed in a figure-hugging tiny white dress and a huge veil decorated with L plates tottered drunkenly into Jason's path.

"I'm so sorry," she slurred, righting herself by grasping on to the lapels of his shirt.

I noticed Jason's hands shoot out to steady her, but then remain on her hips as she swayed unsteadily in front of him. "Woah, steady on love!"

"Ooh you're a handsome one!" She giggled, fluttering her eyelashes at him, ignoring her friends who were calling to her.

There was an awkward moment where the girl eventually tried to peel herself away from Jason's grasp and he held on tight, then I noted his hand slide down to grope her bum as she finally stumbled away, still giggling.

"For fucks sake Jason!" Jen cried, and he just looked at her as if to say 'what's your problem?'

"She was well up for it!" He protested, then as I pushed past him he leant forward to whisper in my ear.

"You can always tell the ones that are... even if they won't admit it..."

I shot him a poisonous glare.

The orders we'd been given were to check in at the hotel and await further instructions. A senior government official with a penchant for certain illegal sexual fetishes was scheduled to visit the Dutch capital. What he didn't realise was that whilst he was pursuing a hedonistic weekend fulfilling his darkest desires, he was being stalked by a deadly assailant.

To be honest, reading the files I sometimes fancied whether Van was almost doing some kind of service, ridding the world of yet another corrupt person in power. It seemed to me that the further you rose up through the ranks of society the less morals seem to matter. It was like some of these people thought they were untouchable. I'd even go so far as to say that some of them deserved everything that they got...

But of course there were the innocents too. That was the problem. Every gangster or corrupt politician who lost their life left behind families. Grieving wives and husbands... and children too. I knew that pain all too well.

I set my suitcase down on the bed, shrugging out of my comfy travelling clothes and slipping into a little strappy black dress. I wasn't expecting to hear anything until tomorrow midday at the earliest so me and Jen had arranged to have a few drinks at the hotel bar. I just hoped Jason had made his own plans.

I'd just finished applying some mascara and adding a slick of lipstick when my phone erupted on the bed. I grabbed it, my heart immediately pounding when I saw Paul's name displayed.

"Lyla! There's been another hit!" His voice came urgently down the line and I heard a loud noise like he was striking something in frustration. "That fucker's slipped past us again! It's literally just happened!"

"Just now? Where? Give me the details Paul. Maybe we can track him down."

My heart continued to race as Paul reeled off the details and I grabbed a pen, scrawling down the address on a scrap of paper. "We'll be right there... this is literally only streets away I'm sure of it."

"Lyla... wait!"

I'd just been about to end the call when Paul's desperate tone rang out. I pressed the phone to my ear again, impatient to get going but knowing I had to hear my boss out.

"I don't like this. There's something off about it. Usually McCann will slip in and out like a shadow. This has happened in the middle of a busy fucking nightclub. Either he's getting sloppy or it's something else. Its almost like he wants us to take notice... like he's taunting us..."

I tried to ignore the uneasiness that came with this comment. Tried to turn it into something else that I could use. A steely kind of determination that I wouldn't crumble if I came face to face with Van again. I couldn't afford to. Not after his warning.

"Be careful... please," came Paul's plea before I ended the call, slipping on my gun holster and jacket and rushing to alert Jason and Jen.

The Red Club was situated right in the heart of the Red Light District, flanked on either side by the sort of establishments that promised various sordid pleasures in exchange for cold, hard cash. Amsterdam was like that. Unapologetically mixing the sleazy side of the city with every day normality. The brothels and sex shops as much tourist attractions as anything else.

There was a heavy police presence outside the club and a huge crowd was gathered there. I could see police officers urging bystanders to disperse, and as we got closer I could hear shouts and screams. A young girl was on the floor sobbing uncontrollably. The three of us pushed our way through, Jason flashing his ID at the police officers.

"This way... I'll show you where it happened..." A stern looking police officer pointed towards the venue entrance.

I glanced down as I walked forward, taking in the hunched figure of the crying girl on the floor. She looked up at me as I passed, her face contorted in anguish, blood spattered across the pale dress that she barely wore. She looked no more than 14 and that was being generous. What the hell had she been doing in a nightclub? My gut clenched with anxiety at the sight of the blood.

We were led through a dark entry way into a large room. Deafening dance music was still blaring out through the speakers and the room was dark apart from the coloured strobe lights which flashed incessantly, blinding me.

"Can we get some light in here please?" I shouted over the noise as I walked over to the far side of the room where a small group of people stood over a figure lying on the floor.

"And someone turn off that fucking music!" Jason bellowed.

A stricken looking man in a suit immediately broke away from the group and rushed over to what looked like a DJ booth, ducking inside. The music abruptly cut off and the room was suddenly flooded with harsh fluorescent light.

I stepped forward and the figures gathered parted to let me through, and I looked down, instantly freezing. There was blood... so much blood. The male figure was lying on his back, spreadeagled with his arms outstretched, his dead eyes open and staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. The gash in his neck was so deep his head lolled back at an impossible angle, practically decapitated. The wall nearby was decorated with a thick spatter of arterial blood like some macabre abstract work of art.

"Ahhh fuck..." I heard Jason utter and I glanced down to see him shaking his foot, the tip of his shoe covered in blood.

"Would you mind not contaminating the crime scene," I hissed at him and he gave me a dirty look.

Jen was asking to speak to witnesses and the scared looking man from earlier stepped forward. She led him away from the body and I followed whilst Jason set up a perimeter around the scene.

"I saw it all!" The man announced. "It was a man, he was tall and slim, longish hair. I'd just served him at the bar and he'd ordered a whiskey. He struck me as odd as he just looked... I don't know... out of place. I mean, everyone comes here to have a good time, but not him. He just had this dead-eyed kind of stare about him. Chilled me to the bone it did."

He paused and I felt an involuntary shiver run through me. "Go on... what happened?" I urged.

"It was fucking horrible..." The man started shaking his head, then he screwed his eyes shut, burying his head in his hands.

"Take your time," I heard Jen speak from beside me.

"NO!" My voice came out loud and harsh and the man looked up at me, taken aback. "He's out there... the man that did this. Do you want him to get away? You need to start talking... now!"

"Lyla..." I heard Jen mumble but I ignored her, stepping in front of her.

The man carried on with a shaky voice. "He was standing there, at the edge of the dance floor, just staring across. I went to serve someone and when I looked back he'd moved. So I looked for him. He was behind that guy..." He pointed at the victim.

"He grabbed his hair, like this..." he showed us by grabbing a scruff of his own hair by the crown, lifting it clear of his head. "At first I thought there was a fight so I called to Levi, the security guy, but when I looked back he had this huge knife..."

A look of horror twisted his face and he paused before he carried on, miming a slicing motion across his throat with his finger. "He cut him... and the blood... it sprayed everywhere. And he didn't just slit it... he was fucking sawing at it. You've seen his neck! His head's practically off! And he was fucking smiling for gods sake! Like he was enjoying it! Who is he? This man? Will he be back? He saw me watching! He looked right at me! What if he comes back?"

The poor guy was working himself into a frenzy now. Jen stepped forward trying to calm him, an arm around his shoulder.

"Where did he go?" I said firmly, gripping the man's shoulders and pushing Jen out of the way in the process.

He was past talking now, so traumatised by reliving the incident that he could only babble incoherently. He raised a hand and pointed towards a door over the far side of the room. I didn't think, I just took off, ignoring Jen who called after me.

I crossed the room in a flash and lunged at the handle, slipping through without looking back. I was in a dimly lit service corridor with numerous doors leading off from it. There was what looked like a fire exit at the far end so I made my way quickly towards it, reaching up to feel my gun in the holster under my jacket for reassurance.

All of a sudden without warning the lights went out, plunging the corridor into darkness. I froze, listening for a sound but hearing none. I should go back. I started to retrace my steps but a sound made me stop in my tracks, freezing again. It was a door opening and shutting nearby and then quiet, scuffling footsteps getting progressively louder. Another door opened and shut. I span around, trying to discern the source of the sounds.

Adrenaline started to pump through my veins, preparing me for fight or flight, but how could I fight? I couldn't even see a hand in front of my face.

Run Lyla! Get the fuck out of there! My mind blared, but now I was disoriented and wasn't sure which way to go. There was silence again apart from my ragged breathing. I sounded scared. I was scared.

Stay calm!

I reached out, blindly groping to feel the wall to get my bearings. There it was. Now which way was back? I shuffled, trying not to make a sound but my shin connected with something hard and I yelped in pain.

Fuck! Pull it together Lyla! Just a few more steps and you'll reach the door.

But I never did. I shuffled forward, feeling resistance and reaching out a hand to feel solid warmth. There was a figure blocking my path.

The scream never made it past my lips. It was cut off as a large hand clamped over my mouth, stifling all sound but a desperate, muffled moan. My hands shot up to try and prise the hand away but it was no use. I could feel the heat of a body behind me, shunting me forwards until I felt the wall hit my front, pressing me against it. Then there was another sensation that made me stop struggling in an instant. Cold, sharp steel against my neck, pressing into the delicate skin. My head was immediately flooded with images of the dead man, the wound on his neck gaping like an obscene, bloody jaw. I tensed, uttering a desperate plea in my head, waiting for the blade to bite.

"One sound out of you and I'll fucking slice you from ear to ear. You understand?"

It was Van. Of course it was Van. But why? He should have fled the scene. He could have been miles away by now. But he was here... now... and for what?

He spoke again, his voice full of menace, answering my thoughts. "I've been waiting for you Lyla..."

[likeadaydreamorafever]

Mischa Barton: ‘The trauma doesn’t just go away overnight’

The OC made her one of the most famous stars of the Noughties. Now 37, and with a new role in Neighbours, she’s back — and this time it’s on her own terms.

There was a time, not so long ago — the Noughties — when we hunted young women until they went mad. A pack of men with cameras followed them, stalked them, waited outside their homes to take their photograph, so that people could devour their lives and their changing teenage bodies, and watch their rising panic as they cracked under the pressure we were putting them under.

“It was all very Hunger Games,” says Mischa Barton, 37, sitting in a hotel room in central London, hair blow-dried, coffee poured, legs crossed. The British-American actress was 17 when she was cast in the teenage TV drama The OC, catapulting her to worldwide fame and making her Karl Lagerfeld’s “face of a generation” — an It girl in an era of size-zero bodies, up-skirt shots and gossip blogs.

Barton was — reluctantly — a paparazzi favourite. She was beautiful, cool and sceney, with a trail of rock star boyfriends and wild child friends. She suffered as a consequence of rather than in spite of the fame. She was arrested for drink driving, spent time in rehab and was detained in a psychiatric hospital. In 2017 a video of her, incoherent, rambling and distressed, was sold to the gossip site TMZ, peddled as proof of her going off the rails. Her drink had actually been spiked with a date rape drug. That same year an ex-boyfriend tried to sell a video — filmed without her knowledge — of her having sex and being naked in her own home.

“You can go to therapy every day for the rest of your life,” she says, “but there’s just a certain amount of trauma [from] all that I went through, particularly in my early twenties, that just doesn’t go away overnight.”

Today her life is a little quieter — the paparazzi don’t yet know where her new home is in Los Angeles (though the sound of cameras can trigger a panic attack, part of her enduring post-traumatic stress disorder). The OC is coming up to its 20th anniversary, with a new generation of Gen Z fans going wild for the Y2K vibe. She has had a stint on Dancing with the Stars and the reality TV show The Hills: New Beginnings, as well as parts in horror films, indie films and now the resurrected teatime soap Neighbours.

Barton was, and still is, a valuable commodity. “They first wanted me to do an arc on Neighbours when I was in my twenties,” she says, dressed smartly in a blazer, A-line dress and preppy jacquard pumps. I’ve just finished watching the new season, I tell her. “Oh wow,” she says in her mid-Atlantic drawl, “have you actually been watching it?” Sure, I continue, it was nostalgic. “Oh wow,” she says again, flatly. “Yeah. I haven’t seen any of it.” Barton still has the cool-girl energy that drew so many people in: arch, a little judgmental, but fun. She is the popular girl at the party.

The “final” episode of Neighbours was broadcast on Channel 5 last July, after 37 years and 8,903 episodes featuring alumni including Kylie Minogue, Jason Donovan and Margot Robbie. A group of heartbroken fans campaigned for its return and four months later Amazon Prime signed a deal with the production company. The reboot features old favourites Susan, Carl and Harold, as well Barton’s new character, Reece Sinclair, the expensively dressed American hotel proprietor who is having an affair with the bellboy.

Barton spent two months filming in Melbourne, cramming lines for 5am call times. “They work crazy hard [on soaps],” she says. “Really, it was gruelling. You’re lucky to get a second take.” She did, however, rewrite some of her script. “They don’t let everybody change their lines” — she lowers her voice — “trust me. The other kids were like, oh, can I do that? And [the writers] were like, no.” She cackles. “Say your lines as scripted!”

The actress will always be known for The OC, in which she played Marissa Cooper, a rich, blonde Californian who was troubled and glamorous — and who every teenage girl was desperate to be. The first series, which aired in 2003, pulled in an average of 9.7 million viewers per episode in America and was a hit on Channel 4, and she won two Teen Choice awards.

“I don’t think I was fully prepared for that level of fame,” she says. “Because it has never been something that I have sought out. I really would much rather be anonymous.”

Still a teenager, Barton was lauded for her looks and treated, she says, as much older than her years. “You do look back and you were 18 dating 34-year-olds,” she continues. “With hindsight you’re like, yeah, that was weird.” An interview with Harpers & Queen has recently resurfaced in which Barton, 19 at the time, says she was told by her publicist to sleep with Leonardo DiCaprio, who was 30, “for the sake of your career”.

She left The OC after three series — she says she was bullied on set and exhausted by 18-hour days for each 24-episode series — asking the writers to kill off Marissa as brutally as they could. She died lying in the road, dripping in fake blood, her crashed car up in flames.

In the following years Barton became a familiar face on the LA nightlife scene, all smoky eyeliner and faded band T-shirts, photographed with Nicole Richie, Lindsay Lohan and Amy Winehouse, while dating the Kooks’ frontman Luke Pritchard, the American rocker Cisco Adler and the Roughs’ guitarist Taylor Locke. “I definitely got to tour with some cool bands,” she says, still a little thrilled by the whole thing. “I mean, I was obsessed. But I don’t know if I could date a guy in a band any more. It just sounds exhausting and dirty.” The paparazzi attention was certainly not “healthy” for romantic relationships. “Everything is just so heightened,” she says. “You depend on the person so much more, you think you’re that much more in love because they’re your grip on some sort of normalcy.”

In the gossip blogs she was considered fair game. She was criticised for losing a stone in a year, then criticised for being “bloated Barton”, with the celebrity blogger Perez Hilton often the leader of the pack. “Nothing I did was good enough,” she says today. “It was the peak of cruelty about young women’s bodies. It was wild.”

Could she leave the house without being followed by photographers? “No,” she says immediately. “I couldn’t. [The paparazzi] were doing all kinds of crazy stuff to me.” She says they tracked her car, tried to climb over the walls of her house, paid off restaurants and bought mobile phones for homeless people so they could tip them off. “I was stalked,” she says. “I did go a little bit nuts at [one] point. I just felt really helpless.”

Then there was an arrest (2007, driving under the influence, without a valid licence and possessing cannabis), rehab (court ordered) and psychiatric hospital. She said she was “depressed and overworked”, and then, she claims, pumped full of prescription drugs by her “team” to keep her working. People have got kinder about mental health, though, she says. “That’s one of the better things about society these days — people are more willing to talk about having had depression or anxiety, or it’s not so taboo.”

But it was her legal battle against her ex-boyfriend that was “one of the worst and most gruelling experiences of my life”, she says. In 2017 Jon Zacharias tried to auction off illicit videos of her to the internet’s highest bidder.

After a years-long legal battle she won the case to prevent him from doing so. “It’s shocking to realise that there is that type of darkness in the world,��� she says. “And you wonder what you’ve done to attract it.”

Mischa Anne Barton was born in Hammersmith in west London, the middle of three girls, her mother a producer and photographer, her father a foreign exchange broker. She went to St Paul’s Girls’ Preparatory School before the family moved to New York when Barton was six.

She was a bookish, shy child who found respite in acting. She had her first modelling job at eight and her first professional stage role the same year. By 11 she was in Italian Vogue. By 13 she was the lead in the movie Lawn Dogs, which had dark undertones of child molestation, followed by Pups, a crime drama. “Even from a young age I was sexualised,” she wrote in Harper’s Bazaar in 2021.

After her big break in The OC she starred as the “hot girl” in various music videos (Noel Gallagher, James Blunt, Enrique Iglesias) and became the face of Chanel, Calvin Klein, Monsoon Accessorise, Neutrogena, Herbal Essences and Keds.

“I was definitely told ‘sign here’ many, many times over,” she says. “I’ve gotten a lot better with legalese. Now I will read a contract front to back.”

Do people think she made more money than she has? “Oh, I know they do.” Today you can watch The OC on Amazon Prime, Hulu and ITV. “But I say to my friends, ‘Oh cool, I just got a direct deposit for $1.50.’ And they’re like, ‘What’s that?’ And I’m like, ‘Residuals.’ ”

She pushed herself into indie films and cerebral plays, which she loved, and then appeared on the rebooted reality show The Hills, which “wasn’t for me”, she says. “It’s the fame-chasing and the posing stuff that I don’t like. I found them to be very alieny.” She says the producers tried to make out that the original cast of The Hills had hung out with the cast of The OC in the Noughties, “but that was not the case. I never saw them around. I mean, it was a completely different world, a different type of celebrity.” She looks up from pouring herself another coffee. “You know what I mean.”

Today Barton lives between New York and LA. She is steady and grown-up, but still with a streak of flightiness. Her spontaneity “is a problem”, she says. She travelled around Indonesia alone over the summer, then France, then the UK, where she has been staying with her older sister, a barrister, in Kensington.

“I’m happy being single at the moment,” she says. “Because it comes up, the whole thing of ‘Do you wanna settle down and have kids?’ I am a weirdly traditional, conventional person when it comes to stuff like that, more so than people think. But it really depends on the person you’re with.”

In the past few years there has certainly been a collective reckoning regarding our behaviour towards young, famous women of that era. But does that regret mean anything to the women who suffered through it?

Recently the FBI knocked on Barton’s door, saying they were “working on a case” and wanted to play her a series of tapes. She listened to her conversations with people from years ago, which were recorded covertly. “Who knows who was doing it?” she says. “But I was almost grateful to know that they [the FBI] were going to such lengths, otherwise you feel crazy and paranoid.”

She has also had direct apologies. In 2019 Perez Hilton told her, on The Hills: “If I could go back in time and do things differently, I would.” Barton was largely unmoved. “This bullying you did for so long to so many young girls, I find it hard to let go,” she replied. “I can’t really accept the apology entirely.”

I bring up Hilton today and she rolls her eyes. “I don’t listen to anything he says because he’s so crazy,” she says. “You can see how sorry people feel for what they did to people like Britney [Spears] then. Everyone now is like, ‘I can’t believe we did that to those poor women.’” She pauses. “People feel so entitled to you and your body and your image. It’s a strange feeling. It’s strange.”

Video included in the article:

[thekiltongrammarwriter]

Girl I’ve Always Been | Childhood (1)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What town wasn’t known for their tea rooms?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Andie bell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Gotta go, buffalo." You squeezed back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you still scared?” You has asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Andie nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled, your little heart beating in your chest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled.

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

She just grumbled.

[afewproblems]

Okay, so I couldn't leave this alone so here is a Stranger Things Pride and Prejudice Steddie AU One shot!

There are two truths universally acknowledged, one being that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a spouse, the second is that Stephen Harrington the third is a bastard. 

However little known the feelings or views of such a man as Stephen Harrington may be on his first entering a neighborhood, this first truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property and target of some one or other of their daughter or sons, despite the nature of his rather frightful personality.

Now, he was not truly a bastard -not in the way that you may be thinking dear reader, no. 

The Harringtons were wed in an opulent ceremony that had not left the lips of the citizens in the surrounding hamlets and towns for nearly a decade. The pair were not particularly well loved, nor were they even reasonably well liked, however, their fortune allowed them considerable influence over the land and much of the people around it. Perhaps, in part, because of the lavish balls and beautiful grounds they were held upon. 

A child had been born to Phillip and Emma Harrington upon their third year of marriage, a healthy boy that grew up in wealth and comfort, becoming the very bastard that had plagued Edward's every waking moment with his arrogant manner and beautiful brown eyes.

It was an opinion not only cultivated by several interactions that left Edward puzzled and irritable, but by a troubling anecdote from the affable Lieutenant Hargrove. 

To withhold a sizable income, hoarding so much wealth all to one's self for what, for seemingly no reason at all? 

When the Munsons survived on a mere two thousand a year to sustain the 7 of them, and with his elderly uncles failing health, he was beginning to worry. 

And perhaps worst of all, that he had been the direct cause of his dear sister's broken heart.

Nancy had been devastated when she received the letter from Caroline Buckley, telling her that both the Buckleys, Caroline and her lovely sister Robin, and Harrington were returning to London with no plans to return. 

It didn't matter how many times Nancy assured Edward that she was fine, it did not cover up the soft weeping from behind the door of the room she and Ell shared. 

William, Dustin, and Ell came to Edward the next day with concerns for their eldest sibling, strong, whip smart, even-tempered Nancy who kept her heart so often sequestered that to hear of her open sorrows left Edward gutted and the youngest siblings morose for days. 

He knew this was Stephen's doing, since Colonel Byers had so graciously told him so. 

It had been at a sermon, not Edwards idea of an exciting afternoon when there were books to be read, stories to tell, or songs to sing, but it certainly appeased his wonderful friend Chrissy to see her so happy and taken care of, despite her bore of a new husband, Jason. 

Byers was an agreeable fellow, Edward was certain there was no reason that he and Harrington should be so close, but the universe was certainly owed at least one mystery, and Byers was good humored enough to find Edward charming - so Edward chose not to examine it too closely.

“So how long do you plan to stay in Kent Colonel?” Edward asks softly, happy for the opportunity to ignore the dry sermon taking place before them. 

Jonathan smiles warmly though his gaze remains unbroken, eyes staring straight ahead of him, “As long as Harrington chooses, I’m at his disposal”.

Edward snorts and leans forward to tip his face into the hand balanced on his own knee at the elbow, “Everyone appears to be at his disposal,” he finds Stephen in the crowd easily, there is no mistaking him,  “It’s no wonder he doesn’t marry and secure lasting convenience of that kind,” he murmurs, waggling his eyebrows at the Colonel.

Jonathan smiles though it's considerably smaller this time,“They would be lucky,” he says earnestly.

“Really?”

Jonathan nods, “Harrington is a most loyal companion, from what I heard on our journey here, he recently came to the rescue of one of his closest friends just in time.”

Edward sits up, dropping his hand away from his face and turning his body further to face both the Colonel and Stephen, “What happened?”

Jonathan whispers, leaning in conspiratorially, “He saved her from an imprudent marriage--”

Edwards' heart rate increases, his palms begin to sweat, “...Who?”

Across the pews he can see Stephen sitting there, dark eyes downcast, long brown hair sweeping over his forehead in gentle waves, but he seems tired, bored, Edward hates him just a little more. 

“His closest friend, Robin Buckley”.

Time slows down, it feels as though the world has been plunged into the darkest depths of the ocean and Edward is swimming to the surface, his breathing stutters slightly as he exhales slowly through his nose, “Did Mr. Harrington give a reason for this interference?”

Jonathan nods again, “There were apparently strong objections to the lady,” he says softly, he glances at Edward once before turning forward once more, his expression betraying nothing.

“What kind of objections?” Edward stammers, “Her lack of fortune?”

“No, I think it was her family that was considered unsuitable,”

No…

“So…” Edward whispers, the words slice over his lips and teeth, “he separated them”.

“I believe so, but I know nothing else”.

It had been luck that Byers had no idea who Edward was, who he was to Nancy and who he was to Stephen.

It allowed him ammunition to arm himself with. 

His fury knows no bounds, how dare he, how dare this scoundrel, this villain! Edward stalks through the hills outside of town, the distant sounds of thunder and the deep gray clouds painting the skies do not deter him from his path. He breathes deeply and sweeps the long curls away from his face where they’ve escaped from the leather cord tying the locks back. He should have allowed Chrissy to braid it for him like she offered to before they left. 

No point now.

Rain begins pattering around him, starting small before suddenly beginning in earnest, he curses under his breath and takes off towards a short stone bridge with a strange monument on the other side, whatever it was, it was at least sheltered. 

Edwards chest heaves by the time he reaches the end of the bridge, he brings his hair around to squeeze out the worst of the water, there is no hope for the rest of his clothes, they will need to be hung to dry when he arrives back at Rosings estate to tell Chrissy what he’s learned.

He raises his hands to his face to wipe away the moisture, the Munson family ring glints in the low light and his chest aches with the sight of it. 

Oh Nancy.

He hardly notices a figure that walks up the steps, tall, dressed in blue wool that has deepened to a near black with the rain. 

Edward gasps and coughs to cover up his short lived fright as he finally notices him, Harrington. 

He stands there awkwardly, his normally perfect hair is drenched, flat against his forehead and ears. His nose and cheeks are pink with the cold and there is nothing endearing about this whatsoever.

“Mr. Munson,” Stephen says, the deep timbre of his voice loud over the gentle hum of the cascading rain, “I have struggled in vain, and I can bear it no longer.”

What?

“These last few months have been a torment,” he continues when Edward presents no argument, “I came to Rosings with the single object of seeing you, I, I had to see you…” and here he appears to lose his nerve, his mouth opens and closes until he clears his throat and swallows roughly.

“I fought against my better judgment, my family's expectations, the inferiority of your birth and my rank, the circumstance of all of these things that I am willing to put aside to ask you to end my agony”.

“I don’t understand,” Edwards says, he’s speaking so quickly, it's ridiculous--

“I love you”.

Edward blinks.

“Most ardently,” Stephen says softly, it's nearly indistinguishable from the patter of the rain and the thundering of Edward's heart, “please do me the honor of accepting my hand”.

He was right, it was ridiculous, and rude, it does top Carver’s bumbling attempts at a proposal though which he thought would be near impossible.

“Sir I,” Edward says eventually, haltingly, “I appreciate the struggle you have been through and I am very sorry to have caused you pain,” Edward lies, “believe me, it was unconsciously done”

Stephen’s honey brown eyes close as his expression shutters, “Is this your reply?”

“Yes sir,” Edward bites out. 

“Are you,” Stephen says in a near whisper, “are you laughing at me?”

If Edward didn’t hate him so much at this moment he would pity him, the heartfelt confession disappearing into smoke as Edward burns it down.

“No,” and he really isn’t.

“Are you rejecting me?” Stephen says, he finds his voice once more, the volume climbing back above a whisper as a thread of irritation pulls through the words.

You don’t get to be angry, Edward thinks viciously, you get nothing.

“I’m sure that the feelings, as which you have told me, have hindered your regard will help you in overcoming it”.

Stephen blinks and takes one step forward, they are of similar heights, Stephen just slightly taller than himself but he refuses to let the proximity intimidate him, “Might I ask why with so little endeavor to civility I must repulse--”

“And I might as well inquire why you chose to tell me you loved me against your better judgment--” Edward shouts, 

“No, believe me--”

“If I was uncivil then that is no excuse,” he speaks over him, the words continue to fall out in bursting shouts that would echo over the hills were it for the thunder and rain around them, “but I have other reasons you know I have!”

“What reasons?” Stephen says as his brow furrows, and Edward wants to shake him.

“Do you think that anything would tempt me to accept the hand of the man that has ruined, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?”

Stephen’s shoulders drop ever so slightly, his expression resigned but still determined.

“Do you deny it Mr. Harrington?” Edward nearly snarls, moving in for the kill, “that you separated a young couple who loved each other, exposing your friend to a world of caprice, and my sister to its derision for disappointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the acutest kind--”

“I do not deny it,” Stephen says softly, his eyes bore into Edwards own, they have not left his face once.

“How could you do it?” Edward whispers, the words are frayed though, jagged as they make their way out.

“Because,” Stephen says, “I believed your sister indifferent”. 

He says it so matter-of-factly, as though speaking the truth.

“Indifferent?” Edward scoffs.

“I watched them most carefully and realized that Miss Buckley’s attachment was deeper than that of your sisters--”

“That's because she’s shy!” Edward blurts out, he won’t have this, this blatant attack on Nancy’s character, she means too much to him while Stephen means nothing, the bastard.

“Buckley too is modest and was persuaded that she didn’t feel strongly enough--”

“Because you suggested it!” 

They’re shouting now, both of them inching ever closer, clouds of angry breath undulate together in the cool air as they share the space.

“I did it for her own good!” 

“My sister hardly shows her true feelings to me, to any of us!” Edwards chest heaves as he realizes what he’s said, he shakes his head and looks away from the stricken expression on Stephens face. 

Edward swallows sharply, the words come out smoother than he feels, “I suppose you suspected her, her fortune had some bearing on the matter--”

“No,” Stephen yells, speaking over Edward as he rears back in surprise, “I wouldn’t do your sister the dishonor, though it was suggested that…”

“What was?”

Stephen hesitates for a moment, his eyes flick between Edwards own before he breathes out, “It was made perfectly clear that an advantageous marriage--”

“Did my sister give you that impression?” Edward hisses, taking a step forward of his own.

“No! No, no, there was however, I have to admit, the matter of your family--”

“Our want of connection?” 

At this Stephen looks away, his chest rises in barely restrained frustration if the clenching and unclenching fingers mean anything, but Edward presses on, “Miss Buckley didn't seem too concerned about any of that--”

“It was more than that”.

“How sir,” Edward growls, his jaw set and teeth nearly bared. 

“It was the lack of propriety shown by your aunt, your younger siblings, and on occasion your uncle”.

“Forgive me,” he says eventually, the words nearly startle Edward after so long with only the quiet hum of the rain around them, “you and your sister I must exempt from these conclusions”.

Edward stops from rolling his eyes, though its a near thing, he takes a deep breath and speaks, “And what about Mr. Hargrove?”

This seems to catch Stephen off guard, he flinches and frowns,“Mr…Hargrove?”

“What excuse can you give for your behavior to him?” Edward continues, leaving his tone sharp and his words biting, he crosses his arms as Stephen strides towards him suddenly.

“You take an eager interest in that gentleman's concerns!” He grinds out, his brown eyes scanning Edwards own with a sneer. 

“He told me of his misfortunes--” 

“Oh yes,” Stephen mutters, “his misfortunes have been very great indeed”.

He shakes his head and steps back, rubbing his hand roughly through his wet hair, tossing it out of his eyes, his face drops to the ground as he refuses to look at Edward.

“You have ruined his chances and yet treat him with sarcasm?”

Stephen laughs bitterly and shakes his head, his hands come up to hold his hips with a white knuckle grip, “So this is your opinion of me,” he whispers darkly, he raises his head to meet Edwards gaze once more, “Thank you for explaining so fully, perhaps these offenses might have been overlooked if your pride had not been hurt--”

“My pride?” Edward shouts.

“--by my honesty in admitting reservations about our relationship”.

Stephen scoffs, whipping out a hand to gesture towards Edward, “Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your circumstances?”

“And those are the words of a gentleman?” Edward barks out, he steps forward, tilting his chin up just slightly, “from the first moment I met you, your arrogance and conceit, your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, made me realize that you were the last man in the world I would ever be prevailed upon to marry”.

Stephen recoils as though slapped, he takes a step back and then another, his face pales considerably as he raises his hand to pinch his nose briefly before lowering it slowly. 

“Forgive me,” he says eventually, the words so soft Edward nearly misses them, “for taking up so much of your time,” he tilts his head slightly towards Edward before turning abruptly on his heel, stalking down the steps and back the way he had come. 

Edward stands there, breathing heavily, ignoring the sharp sting and heat behind his eyes as he blinks back frustrated tears. 

Damn him. 

***

Hours later once Edward had made his way back to Rosings, walking through the mud and the rain, considering the shouting match that had taken place over and over, the words play on a terrible loop in his mind. 

Chrissy helps him change out of the cold sopping wet clothes, and starts a fire in the guest room, he ignores the diatribe that Jason begins, gesturing with his bible and at the deluge that continues outside. Edward sits numbly at their kitchen table until Chrissy takes him by the arm back to his room. 

He tells her everything, every terrible word, every excuse Stephen lobbed at him while he was gone. Chrissy listens patiently, holding his hand in her smaller ones as he speaks. 

“Once I started I couldn’t stop, the words were coming out like bile,” he mutters listlessly. Chrissy wrinkles her nose and stands up from the end of the bed, she crosses over to the small desk against the wall. There atop the glossy brown surface, sitting in the soft glow of the brass candelabra is a letter. 

She grabs it with soft hands and walks back towards the bed where Edward is perched curiously.

“He came by earlier,” Chrissy says simply, holding out the paper, “said this was for you, hoped it would clear the air a bit”.

Edward takes it, the letter feels heavy in his hands as he smooths shaking fingers over the seam of the paper and the small wax seal. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” Chrissy whispers as she squeezes his shoulder briefly before making her way back to the door, letting it close softly behind her. 

Edward takes a deep breath and cracks the seal, unfolding the papers as he begins to read. 

‘I'm not going to renew the sentiments which were so disgusting to you, but to address the two offenses you have laid against me. 

I had not long been in Hertfordshire before I saw that Miss Buckley preferred your eldest sister. I observed my friend's behavior attentively and I could perceive that her partiality for Miss Munson was beyond what I have ever witnessed in her. 

Yet when I observed your sister, I detected no symptom of peculiar regard, and witnessed only the family's coarse appetite for having their children married favorably. And so in London, perhaps erroneously, I persuaded her of the unfitness of the match, citing your sister's coolness towards her. It would not have been the first time her heart had been trampled.          

It was unknowingly done and though the motives which governed me, may to you appear naturally insufficient, they were done to protect my closest friend. 

Edward rolls his eyes and scoffs but continues reading.

As to the other more serious matter.

As you may not know, my sister, Maxine was adopted as a babe. My parents had always wanted a girl and were not able to conceive a second time. They did, with their wealth and power, manage to find a baby to bring home with no questions asked. 

I loved her from the moment she came home. She was my sister, she was ours.

What I’m sure Mr. Hargrove has neglected to tell you, is that he came to us out of the blue claiming a familial relationship to Maxine. Demanding money for his silence, to continue the narrative that the Harringtons had no skeletons in their closets, nothing to hide. 

My parents would pay him to the tune of $3000 so he could do as he wished, fritter it away on drink and gambling, but silently. 

At first.

Over the years he demanded more money, always more, he was a leach whose thirst was never quenched.

Eventually, at their wits end my parents told him it was over, Maxine was nearly fifteen and they were ready to tell her about her origins. Hargrove would have nothing to hold over their heads if the secret was out. 

But perhaps the worst part was that this man, this stranger, had never really been related to Maxine at all. He had been a records clerk in London and stumbled onto the entire plot, sheer terrible circumstance brought this vile man into our midst.

No, and we had found out this appalling truth upon discovering that he had connived a relationship with my sister whom he had persuaded to be in love with and nearly made her consent to an elopement. All under our noses. 

At this, Edward nearly drops the letter, he quickly scrambles to grab the paper, bringing it back up to the light. Oh Gods.

His prime objective all this time had been to obtain her inheritance of thirty thousand pounds.

Upon this discovery we nearly killed each other, the only thing stopping the whole mess was Maxine. I will forever regret that she had to see such violence. 

I was lucky enough to persuade my sister of her folly. I hope that this goes some way to mitigate my behavior in your eyes. If you doubt my word please have it confirmed by my cousin Colonel Byers.’

The last page falls on the bed, away from Edwards shaking hands. He presses his fingers into his eyes until white sparks dance across his vision. 

He doesn’t know what to make of this. 

How could he?

Let me know what you think! (special shout out to @flowercrowngods for bouncing a few ideas around about this!)

[not-so-rosyyy]

TCR Episode 4 [initial thoughts]

before anything else, let me just say that this is the most confounding episode so far for me, but it's also the most rewarding in the end.

we start off the episode with Danny going to london, and from there everything was just ??? huh? what is happening right now ?? lol

i think it's hard to follow because it's random and nothing literally makes sense (yet!) so you're always asking yourself every second what's the point of all of it and where the story is going, making it a bit hard to focus on what's transpiring onscreen. (but patience, young padawan! the payoff is worth it.)

Danny's an unreliable narrator so you're also like, "is this even real?" i think it isn't

Tom, Amanda and Jason Isaac were able to carry the entire episode with their performances alone. their interactions, no matter how contrived the dialogues were sometimes, are riveting. i loved every second of their scenes together.

if you've read the book, it's pretty easy to spot who the alters are. Jack is one, no doubt. what i wasn't expecting is him showing up in the interrogation room with Rya in the end.

the reveal was just too good! like when the music suddenly shifted to an upbeat one, with the tracking shot of Rya just power walking to the prison like she's about to go into battle, I KNEW SOMETHING WAS COMING DOWN. the vibe was just different.

and then, boom! Jack appeared. AND RYA'S ENTIRE DEMEANOR CHANGED FROM HOW SHE WAS WITH DANNY. with Jack, she's firm and confrontational. whereas with Danny, she's gentle and careful. and it just blows my mind because you have to remember this is just one person she's actually talking to.

one of my biggest questions since the show started is how Rya seemed to already know what's up with Danny from the get go. how did she figure it out? that ending provided the answer--she's MET the alters (or at the very least, one of them, which is Jack)!

in the book, Arthur (Billy Milligan's alter whom Jack is presumably based on) is the one who's mostly calling the shots in order to "protect" Billy from harm. when the psychiatrists who were treating Billy wanted to inform him of the diagnosis, AKA let him know about the alters, it was Arthur who they were asking permission from. he was very against it at first. just like Jack was when he told Rya it was "a catastrophic idea" to let Danny know the truth.

I guess my biggest question still is how Danny is coming up with all these stories/ memories with the alters. did his mind just come up with all of it to try and make sense of the things happening to him or something? idk...

anyway, again, that ending is the highpoint of the episode because now that we know Rya and Jack has met before, it's fair to assume she's met the other ones, too. the interrogation room scenes will be that much more exciting and interesting from here.

[daydreamgoddess14]

Life After Richmond pt. 1

MASTERLIST

A Jason Sudeikis multi-chapter RPF w/ a reader insert/OFC. No use of y/n l/n.

A meeting with an author leads to the next project after Ted Lasso.

~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1

"You should read this, it's fucking life changing." Brett dropped the book into Jason's lap on his way to the writers room. Pre-production for season 3 was well underway and they were making the most of some time writing together. Jason picked up the book and thumbed through it, the front inside cover had been signed by the author: 

'You're a twat. Love Callie' 

"I hope you’re good friends. She's not wrong though, why's it so good?" he questioned.

"It's just... bloody brilliant. Honestly, give it a go. She's going to be writing the new wave of romcoms before we know it. I might try and get her to give some TV writing a go once we’ve finished here."

"Sure, sure, I have all the time in the world to sit and read, Goldstein." Jason rolled his eyes and stuffed the book into his backpack before following Brett into the room. Reading was definitely the kind of recreational activity he didn't have time for at the moment. With shooting planned for right around the corner, downtime was hard to come by. It didn’t take long for the writing to draw him in though and a month or two later, Brett saw the book being launched at his head in the makeup trailer.

"Great book, thanks man. I think I've sent a copy to everyone I know." Jason chuckled. 

"I can get you a copy of your own if you're interested. Signed. Callie texted me, she'll be in London in a few weeks. She’s coming over to visit her mum and sister - want me to set up a meeting?"

"Absolutely yes, if she's OK with that? Get it in my diary, I’ll tell Lisa. We can move stuff around to fit it in so work around whenever works for her." Brett nodded, pulling out his phone. 

"She's having a bit of a shitty time, she's just split with her dickhead boyfriend. They were together for about 5 years I think. He's an absolute weapon, she's well shot of him."

"That sucks. She's from the UK? Maybe being at home will help."

“Doubt it, she left when she was like, 17 to get away from her mum.” Brett said with a laugh. “She’s probably coming to see Beth really but if her mum finds out she’s in the country and doesn’t visit, she’ll go mad.”

“How’d you meet?”

“I’ll let her tell you - she loves to tell that one. Mostly cos it makes me look like a loser.”

“Poor baby Brett.”

“Oh fuck off. I tell you what I’m dreading having you two in the same room. I’m gonna be the punching bag.”

“We love you really, bud. I bet she only calls her true best friends a twat.”

“That’s true actually, she does.”

Callie brought her knees up and rested her mug in the V between her torso and legs, reaching around to type. Her sister had offered her spare room and empty-during-the-day restaurant as a quiet workspace. She’d had more than enough of her mum and so far was loving being back in London and with her sister. She felt like hell after the break up and hadn’t been looking after herself at all. It had caused tension with her mum who’d accused Callie of moping around and had told her to sort herself out. With Beth’s help, she was finally starting to do just that. She had half an eye on the front windows of the large dining space looking out for Brett, when a little tap on the front door shifted her gaze. With a big smile, she rose to unlock the door. 

"Alright, gorgeous? God it’s been a long time." She reached up to hug him. 

"Not bad, how have you been? Stupid question - you look like shit - you've lost weight." He chided, pulling at the baggy hoodie.

"Mate, I'll have you know that this is a vast improvement. My hair is clean, I've bathed, I'm actually wearing clothes - and they're clean ones. I haven't had a glass of wine in... three days, and I considered eating breakfast this morning. That’s enough dragging me in front of your boss though, where's the introduction?" Brett sighed heavily. 

"Fine, Cal, this is Jason. Jason, this is Callie Draper. She didn't always look a mess.” He said pointedly.

"This mess is lightyears from a few weeks ago." Callie gestured to her yoga leggings and oversized hoodie. “I’m practically glowing.” The dark circles under her eyes and drawn complexion clearly said otherwise.

"She's right. You should have seen what I picked up from Birmingham airport. It doesn’t look like it should be, but it’s an upgrade." A voice drifted through the swinging kitchen doors. 

"Well, isn't this lovely and supportive. Thanks, sis." Callie called through the door. She turned to Jason and explained, "I got home from the North American leg of my book tour to find my boyfriend fucking our upstairs neighbour on my kitchen counter. I spent a few weeks surviving on wine and chocolate biscuits so I'm now in recovery mode, my skin hasn't forgiven me yet - being dumped in your 30s is a lot harder than it is in your 20s." She said briefly. 

"I'm so sorry, that's fucking awful. If it’s any consolation, it’s fucking horrible in your 40s." Jason offered kindly. Callie smiled and shrugged, the smile not quite reaching her eyes. 

"Jeez, I think I’ll stay single then. Thanks. Shall we sit?" she gestured to her table. "I'll make some coffee - as long as Americano is OK? I can't do a Latte on that thing." She pointed at the barista coffee machine and set about making the three drinks. 

"Sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just worried." Brett dropped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a hug. 

"I'm OK. Getting there." She leaned into him before she started to fiddle with the coffee press, twisting it into place. 

"When are you going back to Chicago?"

"End of next week. I'm staying at Sara's at the moment, but I'm thinking of moving anyway."

“Where’s next on the list?” Brett asked curiously.

“Probably New York. I think Brookyn, my agent Laura lives just across the river and her office is in lower Manhattan so it seems like a pretty good spot.”

“Brooklyn is great, I’ve got a place there.”

“Excellent, you can give me take out recs.”

"Happy to. So how'd you two meet?" Jason asked, gesturing between Brett and Callie.

"I was at one of his gigs in San Francisco when he performed to 4 people and a dog. I was the only person who couldn't actually leave cos I was the barmaid. He was terrible!" Jason laughed and nudged Brett's shoulder, thanking Callie for the coffee she placed in front of him. 

"I couldn't understand why I was being heckled by a Brummie!" Brett shook his head. 

"Former Brummie. I'd been in the States for about 15 years by then." Callie countered, sitting back in her original seat. 

"When did you move?" Jason looked across at Callie, trying to connect the timeline.

"I was 17. I didn't want to go to uni, my mum was doing my head in, so I decided to do Camp America for a summer. I fell in love, wanted to stay so we got married when I was 18," Callie paused for effect, Jason's eyebrows somewhere near his hairline and Brett nearly doubled over laughing. "Then I was divorced at 22, and I've spent the last 15 years moving wherever I've wanted and doing any old jobs I can while I write. I just up and move when I’ve had enough. I’ve been in Chicago for the last 6 years though so it’s time for a change"

"Holy shit, maybe you should write that."

"Maybe I should." She laughed. It had been a while since she'd had to give her potted history, and it still made her laugh. 

"What happened with your ex husband? Tell him, Cal." Brett had tears in his eyes waiting for the final kicker in the story.. 

"He's happily remarried, we're still friends and I'm godmother to his and Andrew’s two little girls." She finished with a smirk.

"Are you serious? " Jason looked incredulous. 

"Yep, it was a bit of a wild time. My mum still hasn’t forgiven me, she adored him and she was devastated when she found out he was gay."

"You think? She was dreaming of babies on a ranch or some rubbish like that." Brett added with a laugh. "Anyway, enough of your crazy life. Have you got a book on you for Jason? And can you re-sign mine please: you called me a twat." Callie pulled a new book from her bag.

"I did that? Consider yourself honoured. I’m sure I only refer to my best friends as a twat. Got a pen?" she held out her hand, Jason supplied a red pen. "Ooh red, I like to edit in green. It feels less 'grrrr'." She tapped the pen to her lip, thinking, before lifting the cover so he couldn't see, and scribbled her message. Jason took it gratefully and put it straight in his bag without looking. Then she took Brett's dog-eared book and turned to where she'd last signed it. She sniggered at her previous message, and then signed just underneath it before passing the book back. Brett opened it. 

"Callie!" He held it out for Jason to see the new inscription:

'You're still a twat. Still love you though, Callie xo'

"I hope mine is nicer. Either that or I’m already in best friend territory." Jason teased.

"You won't know if you don't read it."

"The book? Oh I read it, I loved it. I sent it to everyone I know." Callie narrowed her eyes at him. 

"When you say everyone you know... do you happen to know Reese Witherspoon?"

"Not personally, but my friend Alexi does. And I sent her a copy, why?"

"My Insta went mental a few weeks ago, Reese Witherspoon, Drew Barrymore... fucking Jennifer Aniston! All tagging me with pictures of the book. It was insane. I’ve had to add more dates to the book tour when I get back, and I’m going on a couple of daytime TV shows as well."

"Jen? Oh that was me, I'm definitely taking credit for that one. And the others by association." Callie's eyes were like saucers. 

"Holy shit." She whispered. "Holy shit. I told Laura something weird had happened, she didn’t believe me. She said it was just word of mouth."

"You're like... Nora Ephron reincarnated. If your books are anything to go by, then I can't wait to read your screenplays. Post-its, shopping lists. You name it, I'll read it." Callie blushed into her coffee.

11am turned quickly to lunchtime, with Callie's sister bringing out food for them all. Callie told them that she'd spent the previous week at her mums binge watching Ted Lasso. Her time living in America had meant that she'd already been familiar with Jason from his SNL days. Conversation came easily between the three of them and lunch soon fell away to mid afternoon, and by 4pm they were being pushed by Callie’s sister into clearing away water glasses, coffee cups and cake plates to make way for the restaurant opening. Brett excused himself to go to the bathroom and Jason turned to Callie,

"You've probably heard this from everyone already, but it does get easier. You'll... find yourself again." She nodded. 

"Thanks. I'll keep trying, it feels good to be out of the pity party so I just need to keep going. I'm struggling to write though," she shrugged, "I can't get in the right headspace, I just keep getting into my own head and seeing, well, what I walked in on. And then it’s all I see. I've tried poetry, lyrics, plays, prose... I just can't get my words out." Her chin dropped to her chest and she brushed across her eyes quickly to get rid of any potential tears. "Sorry, I didn't mean to offload. It all just feels a bit bleak and dark foresty right now."

"I'm glad you did, your words will come back. Give yourself time." Jason offered a hug, and she rose slightly onto her toes to accept. 

"Thank you. Really, thank you." She muttered against the neckline of his hoodie. 

"My turn." Brett interrupted and Callie reluctantly stepped away from Jason. She ruffled Brett's hair and he planted a kiss on her forehead. "When's your flight?"

"Next week, I'm back at mum's at the weekend for my last few days though. Got to go back for one more round of fucks disguised as a pep talk." Brett nodded, 

"She’s only doing it because she loves you. Don't be a stranger, and please look after yourself." She nodded. 

"Will do, it was really good to see you. A patented Goldstein hug makes everything ok. And so good to meet you Jason. Jesus, what a fucking understatement! Good luck with the show."

"Thank you, it was great to meet you too."

"Thanks babe, it wouldn't be half as good without this genius." Brett nudged Jason gently and the two left Callie to lock the door behind them. 

"Jennifer fucking Aniston." She whispered, shaking her head. "As if!"

A few days later, Callie's phone pinged with a Twitter DM. A screenshot. Of a tweet she'd sent from her sister's sofa,

"Meeting actual pop culture geniuses is all well and good until they turn out to be extremely hot and very, very distracting 🥵"

She frowned at the screenshot at first, before seeing the message it came with. 

'Just checking whether you've met any other pop culture geniuses over the last few days?' Callie's jaw dropped. He did not have Twitter. She was almost certain. Almost. "Shit," she whispered furiously, "shit, shit, shit. Bethhhhhh?" she wailed, calling her sister. 

"What's up?" Beth replied, coming in from her room, DVD in hand. 

"I might have tweeted about meeting Jason the other day. Might have called him hot. He's found the tweet." Beth looked blankly, 

"Did you seriously think he didn't have Twitter?"

"There's an account, but it's not active!" 

"Ohh.. Oh Callie, you plum!"

"Shit! I'm so mortified!"

"Ahh so own it, he's seen it now. You might as well just laugh it off. Speaking off, I knew I had one of his films somewhere - fancy watching it?" She held up 'Sleeping with Other People' Callie was too nose deep in her phone to say no. 

"How's this sound - 'Only Brett and I’m not sure he qualifies as a genius.'?"

"Cute, funny. Breezy, go for it. I'm getting popcorn, shall I open some wine?"

"Fuck yes, please do. I might as well continue to drink myself to death at this rate. I'm a walking mess, Beth."

"You're fine. You're getting over dickhead at your own pace, we got you through the heartbreak and booze diet, I know you’re in the forest but we're getting you out." Callie hummed, hitting send on the message and shoving her phone out of sight to watch the film. By the time it ended, the empty wine bottle sat on the coffee table while Callie and Beth lay head to toe on the sofa. 

"So… The film didn't help." Callie pointed out, gently kicking her sister’s head. 

"You're not wrong," Beth sniggered, "He really is hot!"

"Aghh, shut up. I'm in my heartbreak era. I'm allowed to lust over unattainable men. Thank god I’ll never have to meet him again. He is ridiculously gorgeous in person, I couldn’t cope with that again."

"Did he reply to you?"

"Dunno, I'm sitting on my phone. Probably not." Callie dug under the cushions to retrieve it, "Oh shit, he has replied - it just says 'good to know.' Oh, he's sent a link to a song, he said it reminds him of the book." Callie clicked the link and turned up the volume. She looked across at Beth. 

"Didn’t you play this on repeat for about 8 months while you wrote?" Callie nodded slowly. "Bit mad that he's gone for the same song." Callie nodded again, incredulous.

"I'm sending him the full playlist." She decided, getting the link and adding it to the message stream with the caption 'here's my full playlist for the book, crazy coincidence that you went for that track.' He replied with a purple heart, and Callie resisted the urge to keep the conversation going.

Callie landed in Chicago a week later, stopping briefly at her old apartment to get more of her stuff before continuing to her best friend's home. After some calls to her agent, Laura, she had managed to sign a lease on an apartment in New York within the month, and packed up the rest of her belongings. Messages from Jason dropped into her Twitter DMs once or twice a week, recommending the best place in Brooklyn for tacos,  they’d exchanged book recommendations. It felt strange after so long to be living alone. Laura had found her a tiny apartment close enough that they could regularly meet. Since traveling the country together on her book tour, and the break up, she and Laura had become close friends. Callie was grateful to not be starting over totally alone in a new city. She settled down to write, but found again that the words wouldn't come to her, it felt like an age since she’d managed to successfully put pen to paper. Without really thinking, she picked up her phone and sent a message via Twitter: 'What do you listen to when you write?' The response came through almost immediately with a link to Run The Jewels - a duo she'd never heard of. She hit play without replying to the message and emerged 4 hours and 10,000 words later to a new message. Not on Twitter, on WhatsApp, from a number she didn't have saved already. 

'I talked Brett into giving me your number, I hope you don't mind. Hope the music suggestion worked.'

'It did! I finally got something going. Nothing like a looming deadline to hurry me along. I was on a couple of talk shows last week - it was completely bizarre. I don’t know how you do it. Weird as fuck.’

‘You get used to it. Send me the link, I wanna watch.’

Callie dropped the youtube link into their message chain and got back to work. The messages became more and more regular back and forth - discussing new episodes of TV shows they’d recommended to each other, swapping playlists and books. Callie even sent over recipes she’d made, with photographic evidence of how they’d turned out.

Over brunch, Laura put a coffee cup down for Callie and caught sight of a selfie of Jason and Brett on her phone.

“Well this is unexpectedly wonderful Callie Draper. Does Brett know he’s got a new role as matchmaker?”

“Don’t be silly, we’re just friends. We really got along when we met and he’s just really easy to talk to.” Laura hummed, looking at her own phone. She froze reading an email and Callie looked up at the notable silence. She’d expected the Spanish inquisition but it was nowhere to be found. “What’s up babe?”

“Fuuuck. Callie, fucking hell.”

“Laura! What is it? What’s going on?” Laura slid her phone across the table and Callie read the open email;

‘We’d like to invite Ms Draper to the offices to discuss a potential collaboration in getting her book adapted as a series. I’ll send the details across shortly. I'm away in LA for two weeks so we’ll get something booked in early next month. Netflix would love to have something like this in our wheelhouse so I’m really excited to meet you both.’

“Netflix?” Callie whispered in awe, more to the phone than to Laura.

“NETFLIX baby! Netflix!”

“Fucking hell. Fuck me, what do I do?”

“We meet with them, obviously!” Laura took the phone back and frantically drafted a response. Across the table, Callie picked her phone up and wrote a message of her own.

‘Holy fuck, Netflix want to meet me next month to discuss adapting the book. Fuck me, what do I do?!’

‘That’s amazing news - congrats! Meet with them of course, there’s no harm in hearing what they’re thinking of. Meeting with them doesn’t mean you’re committing to them. You’ll crush it.”

‘I know fuck all about TV. Hope you’re ready for a Padewan?’

In London, Jason laughed at his phone before sending a Yoda gif in response. Callie beamed at the reply before concentrating on Laura who was practically combusting. A few days later, a huge bouquet of beautiful sunflowers arrived on her doorstep with a note from Jason and Brett.

Do it you must, young Padawan 💜

She’d cried and sent them both a picture, thanking them.

‘Anytime, anything you need. You’ll do great, I can’t wait to hear all about it.’ Jason had replied.

The Netflix meeting soon rolled around and Callie listened intently. It had sounded great, she knew very little about TV but she’d heard enough to be a little wary of their business model of cancelling both popular and underperforming shows. She wondered if she was ruthless enough for them but found herself hiding those fears from Jason and Brett. She asked Laura to keep Netflix at arms length for a while, playing on her other deadline commitments, while she tried to work the scenarios in her own mind. They were walking through the park when the call from Apple TV reached Laura. She excused herself away from Callie slightly to take the call, before returning with a huge smile.

“Apple wants to meet you now. It happens sometimes, they’ll have heard through the grapevine about the things Netflix are looking into. Sometimes they’re bothered and want to see for themselves, sometimes they leave each other to it. Could be good for you though to hear out another option? They’ve booked us in to meet next month.” Callie was speechless. They parted ways and Laura went back to the office while Callie went home to write. On the way, she sent Jason a message.

‘Now Apple wants to meet me. This is insane. Insane! I’m really wary of Netflix. I’m not sure they’re the right fit. How did you know when you went with Apple?’

‘Amazing news! We were lucky with Apple, we knew right away and they’ve been really supportive. Couldn’t wish for a greater bunch of folks to work with. At least you’ll have something to compare Netflix to.’

Callie smiled, she knew he was right. They’d batted enough ideas back and forth over the last 5 months to know when each other was on the right track. She settled back at her desk and picked a playlist to write to. Time to focus on the day job - not the possibilities of what might happen.

[romilly-jay]

[What is] the right amount of the right kind of pummelling people [in movies]?

***spoilers***

Tonight we watched Unlocked (2017), a spy thriller starring Noomi Rapace, Orlando Bloom, Toni Collette doing a fantastic Emily Blunt cut glass accent and sporting Excellent Short Hair, John Malkovich just this side of utterly menacing, and Trust Me Michael Douglas.

I'll try to get this first point out of the way quickly and efficiently - presumably I've already blathered about this on these very blog pages only my ST memory isn't marvellous and I can't quite recall.

I've learned that Me Loving A Thing - or liking it or finding it tolerable - is a very poor indicator for how popular That Thing is likely to be.

[It's not a neat negative correlation, either - it's not that I can *always* look at things I've enjoyed and know that this means that popular media take is to Hate Them. It... depends...

For a not-really-on-topic case in point, I share what I understand to be the very wide consensus view that The Empire Strikes Back was the best of the original Star Wars trilogy - and I think Rian Johnson's marmite-middle-movie was the best of the most recent trilogy, which I appreciate is a far more controversial take, though I'm not alone in holding it. And yes, I'm on that end of the opinion range that would be more likely to enjoy it... Might be losing the thread here a little.]

Back to the action movie in question. Didn't love love it, but definitely liked it considerably more than the critical 26% consensus on Rotten Tomatoes and, yes, quite a bit more than the audience rating.

I'd have given it - ack - 60 ish? Yeah, 60 ish.

I mean - look at that CAST...

For why?

NR is super watchable and IMO super credible (movie credible, not actually-capable-of-surviving-all-this-stuff credible) as the lead.

[That low score - not connected to being asked to watch a woman anchor this movie? One who Doesn't Sleep With Orlando Bloom?]

Speaking of... I'm projecting of course, but I got the impression OB was enjoying his Cheeky Burglar Chappie With A Secret role. On which note, I have a great deal of respect for movies that acknowledge the short cuts the audience is using to assign characters as Goodies, Baddies, Hotties, Untrustables, Victims, etc. And then plays around with those expectations with a nice blend of To Type and Against Type casting. Looking at youse, OB and JM.

Also speaking of... OB's character certainly learned that most basic of movie lore lessons - Do. Not. Kill. The. Dog.

Sort of a side-bar but I vm enjoyed seeing certain scenes playing out in parts of East London I was familiar with - and I also got a certain kick from the moments when I then found myself thinking WHERE's THAT and then it turns out that part of the movie was shot in Prague.

There was a moment near the start when I found myself worrying that the setting was going to be too Gritty and the violence Too Real.

Thankfully, not the case. From the moment NR rumbles what's going on and goes about digging her way out again, we were dealing with Spy Cartoonish Violence - where the look is superficially "realistic" but the beats are closer to graphic novel than graphic.

Personally, for me, the more cartoonish the better - and if it's Artfully Unrealistic in an overtly choreographed way - THAT's the dream.

Saw The Transporter for the first time the other day - and the fight sequence in the bus station is pretty much at my perfect level. Enjoy.

The kind of nonsense they get up to with Jason Statham's top in this scene is truly *chef's kiss* fight fantasy IMO - and thank you, thank you, from the bottom of my pedantic lil heart to whoever decided he was going to go back for the shirt once he'd erm - wiped the floor - with the rest of the Baddies? (watch the scene...)

PS I'm in what is perhaps the less popular opinion group [AGAIN!] where the thing I like re the top is the clever use of it as a resource NOT the way using it requires JS to remove it. Fair play, the guy has clearly worked extremely hard for that bod. His muscles have muscles. But do I need to see 'em? For me, no, not really. Entirely happy to trust that he's doing all the gym-work you'd anticipate.